A Man After Midnight (7 page)

Chapter Ten

“I was so hoping to get the Mystery Machine,” Aldy said, a tiny whine escaping through her voice.

Caroline looked behind her and down the Ferris wheel to see the car they had missed acquiring.  Each car was different, one being the Little Tykes car and another the alien spaceship from
Toy Story
.  While standing in line at the toy store ride, the conductors asked for two people, and so they had volunteered, jumping ahead in line.  Only their car ended up being the one they didn’t want.

“Yeah, I was never much into Cabbage Patch Kids,” Caroline added, looking at their car. 

Aldy was busy clicking away with her camera from atop the four-story wheel located inside the toy store, because where else would a Ferris wheel fit in the middle of Manhattan?

“I’m so glad this weekend is almost over,” Aldy continued, heedless of Caroline’s more somber mood.  “Just gotta get through the mixer tonight, and then it’s home sailing tomorrow afternoon.  It’s so hard talking with all the financial people.  It’s like we’re trying to run a business or something!”

Oblivious to her friend, Caroline’s mind wandered as she stared across the car’s door as the wheel went round and round. 

“Caro,” Aldy said sternly.

Caroline blinked and turned her gaze onto Aldy’s frowning face.

“That was a totally funny joke and you didn’t laugh.”

“I’m sorry, Aldy.  What did you say?”

Aldy sighed.  “Never mind.  You’re a space case today, you know.”

“I’ve been thinking of Wren,” Caroline admitted.

“That is still a sort of ‘ew’ subject,” Aldy replied, squishing up her face.

“Oh please,” Caroline bit back.  “You had sex in my bathroom once.  I had to scrub the toilet with bleach, Aldrin, and buy a new shower curtain.”

“I had completely forgotten about that!”  Aldy exclaimed.  Her eyes took on a thoughtful look as she searched her memory.  “What was his name?  Corey?  Cody?”

“His name was Stan,” Caroline reminded her dryly. 

“Stan,” Aldy repeated, pursing her lips and looking pensive.  “Stan.  Nope, got nothing.”

“You are such a slut.”

“So says the woman who slept with a man on her first date.  Wait!  It wasn’t even a date!”  Aldy stuck her tongue out and then started laughing so hard she had to wipe the tears that leaked from her eyes.  “God, Caro, I miss you.  When are you moving back to Los Angeles?”

Caroline looked at her friend. They had met years ago when they had been working in the same building, she on the third floor and Aldy on the second.  One morning the elevator had gotten stuck somewhere between the first and second, which wouldn’t have been so bad except they had both been on the damn thing when it malfunctioned.  It took the fire department more than half the day to rescue them.

They were almost night and day, in appearance and in attitude, but something between them clicked.  Aldy had been born in India and adopted by an American couple as a baby, while Caroline had grown up as a blonde southern cheerleader in a devout Christian home.  Yet regardless of their backgrounds, Caroline counted herself very lucky to have found Aldrin Crenshaw.

“I don’t know, Aldy.  L.A. is a little expensive for living on my own.”

“So move in with me,” her friend said.

Caroline thought for a moment, gathering her thoughts.  “L.A. is the place people go to chase their dreams of showbiz.”  She shook her head.  “I was never into that scene.  It was all about Greg.”

“Well then, how about New York?  I could transfer to our studio here, and we could get an apartment in Manhattan.” Aldy grabbed Caroline’s hand.  “It would be so awesome!”

“One, there’s nine million people living on an island, which makes rent about a hundred times worse than L.A.  Two, you hate the cold.”

Aldy cocked her head.  “Cold?”

Caroline nodded.  “They have winter here, you know.  December.  January.  Snow and lots of it.”

Aldy actually shivered, letting go of Caroline’s hand to hold it up, as if warding away what she said.  “Okay, so I’m going back to California.  Nice, always sunny California.  And you’re going back to Baton Rouge, to what?  Rusticate?  Become a cat lady?”

“No!” Caroline laughed.  “I’m allergic to cats.”

“Thank God for the little things.  You should totally find a good man and fall in love, but do it properly this time.”

Caroline’s eyebrows shot straight up.  “Properly?  What does that mean?”

“Find a career-minded working man, date him an appropriate amount of time, and eventually graduate to sex, marriage and two point five kids … instead of marrying a dreamer and supporting him for years.”

Caroline sighed. “I now realize that Greg was a schoolgirl love, and once I came to terms with that then it was easier to understand: no matter what I would’ve done, my marriage never could have survived.”

“So you’re over Greg.  Does that mean you’re in love with my boss?”

“No, of course not,” Caroline replied.  “I’ve known him only two days.”

“Sometimes falling in love only takes an instant.”

“Insta-love doesn’t exist.”

“Of course it does,” Aldy stated emphatically. 

“Oh yeah?  When have you ever experienced insta-love?”

A sad darkness passed over Aldy’s face.  “When I was twenty years old, I met a man.  His name was Eric.  As soon as he said hi to me, I was hopelessly in love.”

Shock poured through Caroline.  She’d known Aldy for years and had never heard of a man named Eric.  “What happened?”

“He died.  Car accident.”  Aldy shook her head.  “You never know how long you have on this earth, Caro.  If you can find a way to be happy then you have to grab onto it and not let go.”

The words shook Caroline to her core. They brought back all the things she’d thought about last night.

“For a long time after I found out about Greg’s affair, I hated the entire male population,” Caroline said. 

“Honey, any girl would hate a penis after being cheated on.”

“Crude, but effectively succinct.”

Aldy pointed to herself with her thumb. “That’s me, the epitome of succinctness.”

“But then my anger faded and I felt … nothing.  And for a while now, I’ve decided the only way to live would be to play it safe.  To not fall in love ever again.”

“That’s unrealistic,” Aldy said.  “It’s who we are as humans, to find and be with others.  Love is natural and wonderful and when it’s right it’s everything those sappy songs say it is.  Believe me, Caro.”

Caroline looked out the Ferris wheel car at the shopping levels as they rolled by.  “Wren asked me who I was last night.  I didn’t know how to answer him.”

“What if he asked you to move to Paris to be with him?  Would you go?”

“No,” Caroline answered immediately. 

“Why not?”

“Because he won’t ask.”

“How do you know he won’t?”

“Because this is a weekend fling, destined to end tomorrow at four in the evening.”

“It doesn’t have to end, Caroline.  Granted, if you end up marrying him it’ll be like seeing my parents do the nasty all over again, but I’m willing to live with it if he makes you happy.”

“Aldy, I don’t love Wren. I
can’t
love Wren.  He’s the rebound.”

“What if he’s not?”

“Well, like you said.  I have to find the perfect man for me.  Besides, he’s never once mentioned wanting more from me.”

“He might ask,” Aldy persisted.  “About moving to Paris.”
“Don’t hold your breath, my friend.  Now, aren’t you hungry?”  Caroline asked, smiling brightly as she changed the subject.  “I’m starving.”

“Not very subtle, but yes.”

“What do you feel like eating?”

“Perhaps we should go someplace other than Times Square.  I don’t want to pay twenty dollars for another hamburger.”

“You’re on.”

Chapter Eleven

Caroline walked into the hotel bar, searching in the dimness for Wren.  He had invited her to the mixer that signified the end of Troublemaker’s semi-annual financial and pre-planning meeting.  She saw his tall frame toward the back and started walking. Only as she neared did she see the stunning redhead from the other day standing next to him.  Their bodies were leaning toward each other and Wren had his hand resting on her shoulder.  Ordinarily, such an innocent pose would not knock the breath from her body.  But this did.  There was something very intimate about Wren’s hold, his thumb lightly rubbing the redhead’s skin.

Jealousy surfaced, and before Caroline could tamp it down, she locked eyes with the woman.  A moment passed, one that didn’t need words because the meaning was clear.  A language only two women after the same man could speak.  The redhead gave a dark, mocking smile before saying something to Wren, who bent his head to hear. 

Caroline escaped into the bathroom to take a moment to collect herself.  She stood in front of the mirror, seeing not her reflection but an image of Wren and the woman in bed together.  His body thrusting into hers as she clawed his back in equal desire. 

It shouldn’t have bothered her because she made her peace with her emotions. Or she thought she had.  In any case, she thought she’d come to terms with her temporary position in Wren’s life, but jealousy didn’t respond to common sense.

The door opened and the redhead walked in, coming to stand beside Caroline and staring into the mirror as she reapplied lipstick.  Caroline’s heart hammered but she refused to stare at the woman.

“So,” the redhead said by way of greeting.  “You’re the weekend plaything.”

“Excuse me?”  Caroline snapped, her eyes flashing over to meet the woman’s.

“I could see it on your face.” The woman sighed as she put her lipstick back in her clutch bag.  “He’s not a faithful type of man.  I should know,” she added, smiling ruefully.  “I was engaged to him.  Being faithful isn’t in his nature.  But then again, is it in any man’s?”

The redhead turned and walked out without a backward glance.  Caroline watched her retreat, a mixture of rage and frustration surging through her. The comments reverberated through Caroline’s mind, down through her body to punch a hole into her heart.  The air left her lungs in a deflated hiss, and she slumped against the sink counter.

He had cheated on his fiancée? 

The thought had her old fears roaring back to life.  Even if she had been contemplating more with Wren, she could never be with someone who had cheated in their relationship.  It was then she realized she might be a bit more emotionally invested in Wren than she’d previously thought, and the knowledge rocked her to her core.  She was playing with fire, because he was not a permanent situation.

She had to get out of there.  Get away from him.

Caroline returned to the party, the redhead’s words playing through her mind like a broken record.  She saw Wren immediately and a smile lit up his face when he saw her.  She could see the desire flare in his eyes as he appraised her from head to toe.  Caroline knew she looked great in the cherry red sheath gown that hooked at her neck and fell in a ripple of silk.  Her arms were bare and she clutched a dainty bag in her left hand.

But despite the warmth of the room and the heat of his gaze, she felt cold inside.  Felt her soul slip back into that comfortable numbness.  He held out his hand for her but she couldn’t take it.  After a moment, with a puzzled frown, he dropped it back to his side.  Instead he moved beside her and placed his hand in the small of her back, guiding her forward, and she let him because slipping back into the mask was easy.  It was safe to let the void inside grow until she was nothing left but a beautifully wrapped shell.

They spent some time mingling, though most of the people blurred around her. She caught glimpses of Aldy, always with a nearly empty champagne flute, smiling and having fun, but unlike her friend she wanted to escape the crowd, the people.

“Ready for dinner?”

Caroline looked up at Wren and nodded, anxious to escape the cloying sensation of the room squeezing in on her.  He waved goodbye to various people as they made their way out of the banquet hall toward the elevators. 

As they took the elevator to the top floor restaurant, Caroline stared out of the glass capsule.  Wren stayed silent next to her, though the tension between them snapped like electricity.  His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets and he looked far from relaxed. 

“What’s the matter?”

Caroline jumped at the unexpected question.  “I have a headache.”

He didn’t reply but she could feel his stare on her.  She didn’t look at him.  When the elevator doors opened, she hurried out, walking in front of him toward the restaurant’s maître d'.  They were shown to a table immediately, next to a glass window that overlooked the East River.  The bright lights of the city gave it a warmth and charm missing in the daylight hours. But the magic was lost on Caroline as she sat stiffly in her chair.

“Is it really just a headache?” he commented once the maître d' had left.

She looked at him finally and her heart ached at how handsome he appeared in the romantic candlelight that flooded around them.

“I saw you with a redheaded woman earlier,” she said, ignoring the question.  “In fact, I saw you with her yesterday as well.”

He didn’t acknowledge the statement, but she saw his jaw tighten.

“Who is she?”  Caroline asked.

“She’s nobody,” he answered.

“Really?  It seemed as if you knew her.”

Wren’s eyes narrowed.  “I know her.  But like I said, she’s nobody.”

Caroline bit her lip and wondered why she felt the need to voice the jealousy clawing in her chest.  “Your nobody approached me in the ladies’ room.  Said you two had been engaged.” 

“She’s right.  Once upon a time, we were.”

“But no more?”

“Not for a long while.”

“I see.”  Caroline’s mind raced, not wanting to believe the redhead but finding Wren’s words disturbing.  She was half afraid to ask the next question.  “Why is she here, then, in this hotel?  Hundreds of hotels in Manhattan and she picks this one?”

“Caroline, you haven’t told me anything about your past relationship … why should I tell you about mine?”  He replied in a rather bland voice and bridged his fingers to rest his chin on them as he stared at her.

She stared at him, trying to read the neutral expression on his face, but finding the wall he had thrown up impenetrable.  Doubts tumbled through her mind, feelings she knew very well from her marriage to Greg.  And she hated herself for remembering the shame that he had heaped on her, the pain and anger.  Was Wren the same type of man?

Caroline scooted her chair back and stood.  “Excuse me,” she mumbled as she hurried from the table toward the ladies’ room, her bag clutched tightly in her fingers.

In front of the bathroom mirror she looked at herself.  Her forehead crinkled with a frown.  Did the redhead still love him and this was the only time, when he was back in New York for the meeting, that she could see him?  Was Caroline’s presence interfering with the redhead’s ability to be with him?

The thought was enough to make her almost gag.

Settling her shoulders squarely, she left the ladies’ room and walked back to the table.  Wren stood up as she approached, but she held out a hand.

“I can’t do this,” Caroline told him softly.

“Can’t do what?”

“I can’t be the other woman, Wren.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He sounded so innocent, so perplexed.  Her free hand curled into a fist, the nails biting deep.  The pain kept the tears at bay. 

“Is this about Leslie?” he demanded in a low voice.

“Is that her name?  The redhead?”

“Sit down, Caroline.”

She shook her head.  “I can’t.  I don’t know your relationship with her, but even if she’s your ex-fiancée it’s clear she still loves you.  I can’t do that to someone.”

Wren grabbed her arm.  “I can assure you that Leslie does not love me.  And I don’t love her.  Stop trying to find an excuse to run away!”

Caroline broke his grip and took a step back.  By this time people seated around them started to stare.  “I have to go,” she muttered, turning and exiting through the densely packed tables.  

He didn’t follow her.  Once out of the romantically lit restaurant, restless energy filled her, so she headed down to the hotel’s piano bar.  Melancholy music greeted her, welcoming her.  She sat down at a table, the haunting strains of the piano surrounding her like a friend.  A waitress came by and Caroline ordered a rum and coke, something bitter yet sweet to match her mood.

When she had found out about Greg’s affair, the memory of him denying it played over and over in her head like a mantra.  Caroline remembered she had gotten up and started pacing.  It was almost cosmic fate that the phone had rung at that moment and she answered it almost savagely.

“Caroline?”  Greg had asked.

“I just had dinner with Winnie,” she told him.

“Really?  How’s she doing?”

“She told me she met your girlfriend,” Caroline had answered in a clipped tone.  “She told me when.”

He fell silent for a moment.  “Oh,” was all he said.

Suddenly the dam broke and it became impossible to keep emotions at bay.  “You lied to me!  I asked you to your face and you fucking lied to me!”

“I guess you don’t want to talk to me right now.”

“I don’t ever want to talk to you again!” she screamed at him before slamming the phone down
.

After Winnie had left that night, Caroline had sat at the table, the anger building with every breath she took.  She had wanted to cry, but hadn’t let the tears fall to release the burning depression deep within.  So she turned the sadness inward and pushed the anger even higher.  His total lack of respect for her was the ultimate betrayal.

Were all men the same? 

She had vowed to herself that she would never be vulnerable again, so why did her juices run every time she thought of Wren?  Why did her heart pound when he stepped into her line of vision?  Why did her breath hitch when his beautiful eyes turned her way?

And then, as if her mind had conjured him up, he was there.  Wren pulled up a chair on the other side of the table and sat down, quietly waiting for her to acknowledge him.

The music turned sultry, romantic, and with a jolt Caroline recognized it as
Moonlight Serenade
.

How appropriate.

“I had invited a friend over for dinner, a mutual friend of mine and Greg’s, because I was rather lonely in the house without him,” she said, her voice soft with the memories.  “After I brought out the baked chicken, I asked this friend, Winnie, if she’d met Greg’s new girlfriend.  We had been broken up just over a month before when Greg had personally told me about this new woman he started dating.”  Caroline folded her hands together.  “But then Winnie proceeded to tell me how they, Greg and his new girlfriend that is, had brought soup when Winnie had been sick.”  She licked her dry lips.  “A lovely bisque of roasted tomatoes and shrimp, she described. Of course, after I pointed out that Greg and I had broken up at the end of August and she had been sick at the
beginning
of the month, did she realize the mistake she had made by telling the secret she was keeping for Greg.  He had been seeing this other woman for quite some time.  I had always suspected,” Caroline shrugged.  “She apologized, of course.  Stated since we were both her friends she didn’t want to be caught in the middle, which she was, of course. So I asked her to leave and I’ve never talked to her again.”

“I’m sorry,” Wren said softly, reaching for her hands.  He separated them and then intertwined their fingers.

“I had been angry for so long,” she said quietly.  “Angry at him, angry at myself for ignoring my gut feeling.  I can’t do that to another woman, Wren.”

“There is no other woman,” he said in a firm tone.

“Leslie told me you cheated on her.  And I just can’t…”

“Was this before or after I caught her in bed with another man?”

Caroline fell silent.  Her eyes widened as the air left her lungs in a whoosh. 

“I hadn’t been very happy after Leslie and I became engaged.  I had this feeling of dread every time she mentioned the wedding.  So I decided to end it.  I walked into our condo and there she was, in our bed, with the man I thought had been a friend.”

“Seems like we’ve both made terrible choices in friends.”

“And in life partners,” Wren conceded.  “It was the only time I have ever been engaged.”

“Did you love her?”

“No,” he sighed and shook his head.  “At the time I thought we both wanted the same things, but now, as I stand back and look closely at the relationship, I can see the flaws and the cracks.  I discovered basing a marriage upon mutual goals and ideas doesn’t make a couple happy.”

“That’s funny,” she said.  “I’ve discovered that love doesn’t necessarily make a couple happy.”

Wren reached with his free hand, using the pad of his thumb to ease the crease between her eyes.  “You frown a lot,” he murmured.