Unbearable (10 page)

“I have some exciting news, Terese. I know how much you’ve wanted to move so I talked to Graft about it this morning. He has a small home in west Texas that he owns. It’s about thirty minutes from his
office. He’s offered it to me, rent free if we’ll fix it up for him.” He pressed his lips to my forehead. “Do you realize how much pressure that will take off me not having to come up with rent every month?”

Our own place.
Well, not our own, but anything had to be better than our tiny townhouse. Garen did stress about money constantly. Maybe this would help. “Rent free? That will loosen up the budget quite a bit. How bad of shape is it in?”

“It needs little things like paint and the yard weeded. It’s a tax write-off for him. Win-win for both of us. He uses it as a write-off so we’ll get it rent-free. It’s some sort of incentive to help the less fortunate. We’ll need to use your social security number for the application since I have a job. I guess it’s a good thing you don’t work, after all. Now we can get this place and save some money. There is even room for a garden, just like you’ve always wanted.”

I wanted to point out the dishonesty of it, but I held my tongue. Maybe with freeing up our income a bit, he’d not be so stressed. It was only for a little while anyway. When I graduated in three months, I’d get a job of my own. And with that money, I planned on leaving Garen. If I didn’t leave him . . . he’d kill me. I felt the truth of that in the marrow of my bones.

Chapter 12

Present day

“Thanks for lunch.” I shoved Book’s passenger car door closed, frowning at the thing that should
’ve been put down years ago.

“Yes, you’re right. I need to replace my car,” Booker said, as if reading my mind. He stepped around and pushed on the door to make sure it was secure.

“Did I scowl?” I asked, embarrassed.

“Maybe a little.” He chuckled. “I love this car. It’s only been in the shop once since I bought it ten years ago.” He lovingly patted the hood. “Sorry, sweetheart. It looks like it’s time to put you out to pasture. But never forget, I’ll always love you.”

“I’m sure she feels much better knowing that,” I said as we headed inside. He sighed dramatically and turned for the stairs instead of the elevator. “Good idea. We’d better take the stairs. You need to work off the half cow you had for lunch.”

“Don’t be knocking my carnivoreistic ways,” he
teased. “Personally, I don’t know how you can survive on a salad with ‘the dressing on the side.’” He made finger quote marks in the air.

“You know I’m teasing about your eating meat, right?” I said, unsure if I’d crossed any lines. “Just because I choose to be a vegetarian, albeit a lazy one, I certainly don’t think everyone has to be.”

Booker waved a hand. “I know you were. In fact, I’ve noticed you joking around a lot more lately. Good job.” He playfully tapped my shoulder with his.

“I’m trying to loosen up and relax, not be so jittery. Believe it or not, I knew how to shine at one time.” I dropped my head, disappointed in the woman I’d allowed myself to become. “I was a prima ballerina in high school. Now look at me.”

“I see a beautiful woman who’s recovering from a tragic situation.” He squeezed my hand. I chastised my heart for hammering in my chest. The past month had been hard. I tried not thinking about him in any way other than as a boss and a friend, but I often found myself staring at his mouth when he spoke, or felt stirrings in my belly when he laughed. Booker was doing much better than me at keeping our relationship platonic. Some days I wondered if he’d completely moved on, figuring I just wasn’t worth the effort.

Instead of heading upstairs after entering the building, he led me down toward the basement. “I’d like to show you something.” At the bottom of the stairs was a new
door with a glass window on the top half. Booker pushed on the door, and motioned for me to step inside.

The space, maybe thirty by thirty feet, was pretty much empty except for a wall of mirrors with a ballet barre running the length of it. “This was a ballet studio back in the eighties,” Booker said, stepping over to
the mirrors. “The basement had an inch of water when I bought it. I had the warped wood floors ripped out, so it’s just cement now.” He ran his hand over the splintered barre. “And this railing is shot.”

“Barre,” I corrected, running my hand gingerly over the wood. “I studied ballet most
of my life and dreamt of teaching ballet after I finished touring.” Memories washed over me like an old friend. Dancing in recitals and pretty costumes covered in sparkles. Blistered toes and endless hours of rehearsals, the smell of new leotards and pointe shoes; sweet, beautiful memories.

“You should see your face,” he said, watching me intently. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so blissful. What made you change your mind about dance?”

“Garen, my ex.” I wrapped my hand carefully around the weathered barre again. “I regret giving it up. I wanted to have my own studio.”

“So don’t give up on the idea,” Booker said.

“Maybe someday.”

“Why someday? Why not now?”

“Money, for one,” I said. “It’d probably take a good ten, maybe fifteen grand to get started.” I shrugged. “Like I said, maybe someday. Right now I’m happy having the rec center to teach and work out at.”

I met his eyes and could almost see his mind working. “What’s going on in that . . .”
sexy
,
gorgeous
, I settled for “ . . . head of yours, Gatto?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about the day in the park.” He cleared his throat and tugged on his blue tie. “You said then that your yoga class was ending soon, so I thought: why not create a space to workout in here? I’ve wanted to install a gym in my home, but with all this space going to waste, it’d be perfect here.” He pointed to one end of the basement. “I could put gym equipment and free weights there, and a place for yoga, or ballet for that matter, here, by this mirror.”

“Are you serious?” I snapped my mouth shut.

“Yes. I’ve already talked to Magpie and Lilah about it and they both said they’d help design the space, but they’ll need help with the specifics.” He folded his arms and leaned against the mirrors. “I can do the gym part, but would you mind helping with the yoga-dance area?”

“Yoga . . . Dance . . . Are you serious?” I repeated. I’d have a place to work out. No more trying to find a free room at the rec center. Feelings of excitement and hope rushed through me.

“Yes. In fact, I’ve been thinking about opening it up to the entire building. A gym may draw in new tenants. Seth and I have talked about teaching self-defense classes for women, too.”

“Self-defense classes?”

“Both of us miss our work with the MET. Magpie thinks we have a savior complex going on.” He rolled his eyes. “She takes one psychology course at the college and suddenly she’s an expert at diagnosing people.”

I didn’t want to rain on his parade, but from the little I knew about the two guys, Maggie hit the nail on the head. I smiled and nodded, as if I agreed with him.

“Anyway, Mags suggested we teach women self-defense classes as a way to feed our complex. Whatever. Personally, I think it’s a great way to empower women
,” he said it as if he were trying to convince himself that was the real reason. I suspected it was a little of both.

“I’d love to help.” Without thinking, I flew at Booker, hugging him. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close to him much longer than a friendly hug, before finally letting me go. Maybe he struggled more than I thought with our platonic arrangement.

“We’d better get back to the office,” he said, walking to the door. I followed silently, embarrassed at my over exuberance.

The next evening Lilah invited me over to her place. She and Maggie wanted to get going on the design for the gym. Booker gave them a list of the equipment he wanted. Maggie had pictures of each piece on the table in front of a layout Lilah drew of the space on a board.

Lilah wore thigh-high boots and black tights with a short skirt. Maggie, her opposite—and part snowman, I decided—had on a simple t-shirt and a pair of capris. I wore jeans and a button down shirt, along with a turtleneck underneath, and a bulky sweater to top it all off . . . and I was still cold.

“Book said he wants to open the space up to the entire building so I think we should have at least three treadmills and three ellipticals,” Maggie explained as she added pictures of each machine to the board.

“What about a couple of bikes?” Lilah suggested.

“Great idea. We certainly have the budget for it.” Maggie wrote bike twice on the layout.

“Hello, sleepy.” Lilah smiled as her daughter came over to the kitchen table we were gathered around and climbed onto her mother’s lap. Sofia stuck her thumb in her mouth and laid her head on Lilah’s shoulder as Lilah stroked her hair.

“Any luck in the baby-making department?” Maggie asked Lilah, waving at the droopy-eyed little girl.

“Not yet, but it’s only been three months.” Lilah’s attempt to sound casual failed. I rubbed the ache in my stomach, knowing I’d never carry a child.

“I’m still adjusting to Sofia, so it’s okay. Sometimes, at night, Cole and I sneak into her room and watch her sleep.” Lilah laid her cheek on the now sleeping child’s head. “Okay, back to work.”

“How is Innovative Interiors coming along?” I asked Maggie.

“Slow. But we’ve decided not to push it too much until I graduate in April.” She grinned widely at Lilah and added, “In five more months. No more tests, no more papers.
And most importantly, no more math. I’m done.”

“Then watch out, Port Fare,” Lilah beamed, as she should. The two of them recently decorated Cole’s house and it was beautiful with its warm greens and browns. They’d accented with a few pops of orange that to my surprise looked terrific.

Maggie nodded and drew our attention to the drawing. “Tess, we thought this area would be good for yoga and the self-defense classes the guys plan on teaching. What kind of flooring do you think—?”

Cole, Booker, and Seth burst into the room. I had no idea that Booker would be there and the surprise put a smile on my face.

“Not happening, Cole,” Seth said with a loud laugh. Sofia’s head popped up and Lilah shushed them. She pointed at her daughter as the child settled back to sleep. “Sorry,” Seth said, pressing a finger to his lips.

“Did you tell them our exciting news, Maggie?” Seth whispered, kissing her cheek.

“Not yet,” she said softly. “I planned to after we finished laying out the gym.”

“Tell us what?” Lilah straightened in her chair. “And hello, Booker. I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“Cole invited me over.” Booker nudged Cole in the shoulder with his fist.

“Seth has an announcement and he asked me to invite Booker over so he can tell everyone at once,” Cole explained. “Go ahead.” He signaled Seth.

“I’m opening a restaurant,” Seth grinned ear-to-ear.

“He and Maggie are heading out to New York next week to a restaurateur’s conference to figure out what they need to get up and running,” Cole
added.

“Next week?” Maggie turned to Seth. “But that’s the week of Thanksgiving.”

“It is. I figured we’ll get a turkey dinner at one of the local restaurants,” Seth explained. Oddly, instead of their conversation sounding spontaneous, both Seth and Maggie’s words were stiff, rehearsed.

“And what about Booker?” Maggie stood, facing him. Her eyes darted to me then back to Seth.

“Lilah and Cole will be here. Not to mention Sofia.”

“No, we won’t. We’re flying to Louisiana for a family reunion,” Lilah explained, in the same rehearsed tone. They were up to something. Lilah continued, “We can’t cancel. It’s the first time Sofia and I will meet his brothers and their families. Yeah, I’m petrified,” she added.

“They’ll love you,” Cole reassured his wife. “We’re also having a ring ceremony for everyone while we’re there since they missed the wedding. Remember I told you about that last week, Seth?”

“That’s right. I completely forgot.” Seth smacked his forehead with his palm. “Wait, Tess, do you have plans for Thanksgiving? Maybe you and Booker can get together for dinner.”

So that’s what they were up to.

“And the Academy Award for truly the worst acting job on the planet ends in a four-way tie.” Booker folded his arms and frowned.

“What are you talking about, Booker?’ Maggie stood and walked over to Seth, wrapping her arms around his waist as he wrapped his around her shoulders.

“Well, Magpie, that
’d be your first mistake,” Booker said. “If this were a genuine spontaneous conversation, you’d have called me Garfield or . . .”

“CC.” Pretty much everyone greeted Cole’s reply with blank stares. “CC, stands for Copy Cat or Carbon Cat depending on who you ask. It was the first cloned cat.”

“You’re making that up,” Booker insisted.

“No. I read an article about it in the New England Journal of Medicine just last week,” Cole said, taking the sleeping Sofia from his wife. She smiled up at him.

“Who knew smart could be so sexy?” Lilah stretched up and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, beautiful wife.” Cole bounced his brows at Lilah.

Booker tossed his head back and grumbled something under his breath. “Tess, so we can put an end to our misery and stop all this PDA’ing—”

“PBA’ing?” Cole interrupted.

“PDA, sweetie. Public Display of Affection,” Lilah informed him.

Cole smiled. “Yes, of course. PDA, something I am rather fond of.”

“Please say you’ll spend Thanksgiving with me so I can get out of here before I have to throw up?” Booker asked me. “I’ll even make you a tofu turkey.”

Not so sure Thanksgiving alone with Booker was a good thing. Being in an intimate setting, like his home, with just the two of us, may prove dangerous.

On the other hand, I’d spent the last four Thanksgivings . . . and every other holiday for that matter, alone. It’d be nice to have someone to share the day with.

Booker wrapped a hand around mine. “Tess,” he said quietly, “no pressure. If you have other plans, that’s fine.”

“No. I’d like to spend Thanksgiving together, but only if you promise no tofu turkey.”

“Lazy vegetarians eat turkey, I take it.”

“Since I made up the term I guess I can set the rules down. Seriously, Thanksgiving just wouldn’t be that same without a turkey.”

“Then turkey it is.” We glanced at his friends as we fist-bumped. Each had an ear-to-ear grin. Booker turned back to me. “Just ignore them. I do.”