The Family You Choose (25 page)

"Go to Hell."

"Drink some coffee."

"What do you want?"

"I want to say I’m sorry."

"Damn, this is familiar!" She grabbed a piece
of pizza and took a bite. "Isn’t this the same game we played last
Saturday? You telling me you were sorry for being such a pig your
whole life? Pretend I believed you now. What would happen next
Friday?"

He took a deep breath. "I staged what you
walked into last night. I waited until I saw you coming down the
street before I did anything with that girl, and she left as soon
as I was sure you wouldn’t see her." He scoffed. "I’m not as proud
of that as I thought I was going to be."

"If you didn’t want to play anymore, all you
had to do was say so. I mean, you could have driven me to Zainab’s,
but I don’t think…"

"I’m not playing!" She’d been a little afraid
of him last Saturday when he’d gotten that close, but now she
didn’t even blink. "I wasn’t playing. You have no idea what this
last week was like for me."

"Yeah, I think I do."

"No, you don’t." She could feel how hard he
was working not to touch her. "Was this really just sex?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I asked you what it was. You said sex."

"We were in bed. Naked. And I asked you, and
you didn’t answer."

"You fell asleep."

"So answer now."

"I don’t know."

"Then what are you being such a dick to me
for?"

"Because...I don’t know what it’s called when
you want someone so badly on every level. I don’t know what it’s
called when you can’t stop thinking about someone, and you know
they’re thinking about you too. I don’t know what it’s called when
that person doesn’t do anything except make you happy."

"Luck."

He smiled. "I don’t know why I should be so
lucky."

"Neither do I. And just for the record, don’t
worry. You don’t make me happy anymore. Considering our history, I
think you should just take last week and be happy with that."

"I was happy." He took a step closer. She
stepped back. "Were you really happy?"

"What does it matter? Especially since you
took such great pains to make me unhappy last night?"

"Nothing—really—happened."

Miranda threw her pizza at his white shirt.
She was shaking again, but this time with anger. "You wanted to
hurt me. You wanted to hurt me before. You did it. That is the one
thing I can count on you to do, sooner or later. You make me feel
better with sex—you make me feel amazing with sex—and then you use
that to make me feel worse. You didn’t do anything—really—with
someone else. You just wanted it to look that way. Next time you
will for real. I can’t trust you. Whatever we had...two days
ago...is totally gone. Kissing you, touching you—waiting for you to
touch me—is never going to be what it was because it won’t be so
amazing that you—you—could be so wonderful to me. It’s going to be
just waiting for you to jerk me around again. Why don’t we just
agree that that’s what would happen and move on?" She was blinking
very fast. "No hard feelings, okay? I know—in your own way—you
weren’t hurting me to hurt me. It’s just the way you are. And maybe
someday you won’t be like this with someone else, and then you’ll
really be happy and...really lucky." She took a deep breath. "I
want that for you, I truly do."

"You still loved Alex."

"Ugh!" She pushed him in frustration. "Shut
up about Alex already!" He grabbed her wrists.

"You still loved Alex even when he paraded
the flavor of the week in your face."

Miranda blushed. "Wasn’t that different?
We...it was just a crush. A one-way crush, thank you. He didn’t owe
me anything."

"But it hurt you anyway," he said, forcing
her with his eyes to look at him. "I know. I saw. You loved him
anyway."

"And wasn’t that foolish?" she said, her lip
starting to tremble.

"I think you still love me," he said, barely
above a whisper.

"I don’t think I said anything about love."
And now she was trying very hard to pull away.

He didn’t let her. Her wrists hurt almost as
much as they had that summer with the video camera. But she knew he
wasn’t trying to hurt her this time. "You’re right. I did. And I
think you still love me."

"I don’t care what you think."

"Then what about what I know?"

"Speaking of which, how did you know where I
was?"

"You used to talk about this place all the
time. I came here, I asked, I paid. I waited until I saw you leave
and then I followed you."

"Of course. Who reads a newspaper on a
Saturday night?" She tried to pull away again. "What is wrong with
you, you crazy, stalky creep?"

"Don’t change the subject. I know you love
me. And you know I love you."

"This is crazy."

"Tell me you love me."

"It won’t change what you did or what you
are."

He smiled. "You’re crying."

"You’re a sick bastard on top of everything
else, you know that? You’re hurting me."

He let go. She wiped her eyes. He kept
smiling, kept staring. "I don’t want anyone else."

"That’s not the point."

"Should I have let you go home with that
smarmy guy at the bar, or one of those losers at the club?"

"Right—then we’d be even. And I don’t think
you’re anyone to throw around terms like smarmy or loser."

"Then you’re just looking for an excuse to be
angry with me."

"Sorry, Oscar Wilde, careful what you wish
for."

He sighed. "I didn’t know what to do," he
said at last. "I don’t know what to do. Just tell me, and I’ll do
whatever you want. I want you to be happy too."

It was too hard to work at being angry. "Oh,
Michael," she heard herself whisper. She reached out to him and
stroked his arm with her fingertips through his shirt, then up to
his shoulder, neck and cheek. She couldn’t stop herself. "Can’t you
just be happy, Michael? Can’t you just let things be good?"

He closed his eyes. "I’m trying. It’s hard
when I know I don’t deserve you."

"I don’t know," she said, trying to smile.
"Someone who goes to all the trouble you did today
deserves...something."

He laughed and took the sides of her head in
his hands. He kissed the top of her head. He was crying too. "I am
so sorry," he said, resting his cheek on her head. "I wasn’t fair,
and it wasn’t real—at all. I haven’t even looked at anyone else. I
haven’t wanted to."

"Okay," she said. "Enough. I believe
you."

He put his finger under her chin. "And now’s
the time to tell me that you weren’t really going to do anything
with that guy at the bar."

Miranda looked from side to side. "I was on
my third drink. Very susceptible to suggestions."

"Mmm hmm." Michael tickled her on her side.
She retaliated and hit him with a pillow. They giggled as they fell
onto the bed, then they looked at each other in silence. He wiped
away the last of her tears.

She touched the center of his chest. "Your
shirt is dirty," she said softly. "You should take it off."

He bit his lip and shook his head. "Nope. Not
like that. If you want me, you have to tell me you want me, because
I told you."

"What was I doing this whole week?"

"I don’t know. That’s my whole point."

She touched his face, his neck, his chest. He
closed his eyes. "I want you, Michael Abbot. I want you more than I
ever wanted anything." He took a deep breath. "Anything or
anyone."

He kissed her forehead. She put her hands on
his warm neck. "Tell me what happened this week," he said
softly.

"Which day? It changed, I think."

"When did it change?" He kissed her cheeks,
her nose. He kissed her neck and she tilted her chin up.

"On Tuesday night," she sighed. "When I
wanted to play, and it was okay. Or maybe on Sunday night, when you
had to go to the hospital. Or when you let Alex punch you rather
than give me up."

"I wouldn’t give you up to anyone." He kissed
her, and she thought she felt her heart jump out of her body. She
unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hands over his broad shoulders.
She could stay there forever.

"When was it that for you?" she
whispered.

He rolled onto his back, bringing her with
him. He took off her tank top and unlatched her bra. "On Saturday
night, as soon as I got to Zainab’s." He kissed her. "On Friday
night, as soon as you left and I thought I’d go crazy knowing you’d
been there and I’d let you go."

He rolled her onto her back again. He took
something out of his pocket and unbuttoned his pants, then slid off
her skirt and tights. "So you’ve got me beat by two days," she
whispered as she used her feet to slide off his pants and
boxers.

Now there was nothing but bare skin between
them. "I’ve got you beat by a lifetime," he said, biting her neck
to a point right on the edge of pleasure and pain. "I think you’ll
have to spend a bit of time making it up to me."

She moaned and dug her fingernails into his
back. "What did you have in mind?"

"Tell me what you want from me right now," he
whispered.

She moaned as he touched her. "I want you to
show me what you feel."

He kissed her on the neck. He’d found a new
spot, and she thought she’d melt into the bed. She kissed him on
the lips she’d come to love so much over the past week. He pulled
away. "Just one more thing."

"Yes?" she asked, rubbing her knee on his
leg.

"I want exactly the same thing."

At two in the morning they were holding each
other again. She felt warm again, and better than she had the last
week. Better than her whole life.

"What now?" he asked, kissing her hair.

"Just a little sleep," she murmured.

"That isn’t what I meant."

"Sleep first, please." He didn’t need too
much convincing, but he held her hand while they slept.

Alex had wanted Tatiana to move in with him
the night after the benefit. He wanted her to start planning the
wedding. She smiled but she said no. "Not yet, darling. I just want
a little more time. A little more time that I have you and no one
else has to be invited in. Our own little world first, please?" And
because he could refuse her nothing, he agreed.

She met him at the address he gave her. It
was a big house, much grander than Stephen and Annabelle’s. The
door was opened by someone who introduced himself as Keith. "Wow,"
she said, standing in the front hall. "I didn’t think houses like
this went for sale."

Alex smiled. He’d never seen her genuinely
impressed by anything. "Everyone got greedy and overextended a few
years ago, even the people who used to own this house."

Tatiana put her arms around his neck. "Ah,
but not you, right? You’re too smart to be greedy."

"Only greedy for one thing," he whispered.
"And I make no apologies."

Tatiana giggled. "This is a big house, Alex.
What are you going to do with all this space?"

"We," he said, giving her a peck on the lips,
"are going to fill it up."

"With what?"

"With lots and lots of kids," he said. "I
think you and I should have at least—let’s see—four, in the first
couple of years. Just to start, and then we’ll see what else we can
do."

She beamed. "Oh, darling, that’s just what I
wanted you to say, but I didn’t think you wanted children."

"I never did until I met you. But a bunch of
beautiful little kids with your hair and eyes—how could I say
no?"

She rolled her eyes a little bit. "But you
know they’d probably look like you, right, Mr. Tall Dark and
Handsome?"

He thought it over a minute. "Yeah, well, I
bet they’ll still be as beautiful as their mother."

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

"And as an added bonus, this is my excuse to
keep you here so no one can ever take you away."

"When are you going to stop and believe I’m
yours?"

"As soon as you are." He kissed her again,
touching her face. "Come on," he whispered, "I want to show you the
room I want to use for a study. Tell me what you think." She
giggled again as he pulled her into the room off to the side and
closed the door.

Miranda and Michael showered at nine on
Sunday morning, then got dressed and walked out of the hotel.
Finally, Miranda was hungry. They walked to a little diner about
five blocks away. Michael ordered ham, eggs and coffee and Miranda
ordered pancakes and tea. Michael ate his breakfast quickly, but
Miranda was still picking at her food when he was done.

"What’s wrong?" he asked as he took her
hand.

She touched his face. "You’re scratchy."

"I didn’t have time to grab my shaving kit.
Is that what’s bothering you?"

"No." She looked down at her half-eaten food.
"I heard you last night. Your question."

He smiled and took her other hand. "Any
thoughts?"

"Why are you always asking me, like I
know?"

"By definition, you’re better at these things
than I am."

"Then we have a problem, because I don’t
know."

He paid the check. They walked to Central
Park, even though it was really too cold to be out for too long. He
leaned against a stone building. "I don’t want you to be my secret
anymore. I want to tell everyone about us."

"Hmm. What do you want to say?"

"I want to tell everyone that I love you. I
want to tell everyone that you love me. I want you to stay with me.
I want to tell Richard that we’re together and it’s not just okay,
it’s really good. I want us to be...a couple. I want everyone to
know that we’re together."

"I can live with all of that, as long as you
don’t get too specific about ‘really good.’"

"And I want you to tell your friends about
us."

Miranda couldn’t breathe for a moment. She
couldn’t look at him either. "Michael," she said at last, "I can
forgive you for what’s happened before, but I can’t make anyone
else do the same." She paused. "Especially the people you’ve
hurt."