Dating da Vinci (29 page)

“No, I'll have Zoe, so she'll want to play with the boys. It's not that. It's about Monica.”

Judith rolled her eyes and blew a puff of air. “I have nothing to say about that woman.”

Cortland looked at us back and forth, before it seemed to register which Monica we were talking about. I didn't care if he heard. I'd waited long enough.

“I know you don't like her, but I need to know how Joel took the break-up.”

Judith jaw fell slack, as if I'd just slapped her. “How do you think he took it? Joel had his entire life planned out. He loved her and she betrayed him.”

“But did he forgive her?”

“You mean did he stop loving her?”

“Maybe.”

“He loved you, Ramona. With all his heart. That's all that mattered.”

“But it
was
different, wasn't it? Just tell me.”

Judith's face softened. “Yes, it was different. But honestly, she's not what hurt him the most. He missed Jonathon most of all. Friends since they were three. His mother is still one of my best friends, but she knows not to discuss her daughter-in-law with me.”

“You never told me that.”

“Why would I? What does it have to do with you?”

“I'm just trying to piece things together. I'm sorry if it upsets you.”

Judith stepped forward and lifted my chin with her index finger. “It's
you
I worry about. Why don't you bring all three kids by tomorrow and they can play, and you can go out and have some fun.”

She never mentioned da Vinci by name. I knew she disapproved. She wore it on her skin as obviously as her coat. Her code for him was “fun.” He was a fling to her. I hoped she didn't find out about his moving in.

“I guess I'll see you at Thanksgiving dinner, Cortland,” Judith said as she turned to leave.

“Oh, I don't think I'm coming.”

“Of course you are. Don't be ridiculous. Your mother said she'd send you over for some pie.”

“Pie. I guess a man needs his pie.”

“Ramona makes a delicious pecan pie.”

“She does, does she?” He tilted his head my way. “I can't resist her pie, I suppose.”

“'Night, Mother.”

Judith turned off the main kitchen light, leaving Cortland and me sitting in the near dark, the full moon beaming through the cracked kitchen window. “I guess I should shove off unless you need me.”

Cortland stared at me and even when I looked away, I could feel his gaze on my face like a hot blast to my cheek. “I
do
need you, Ramona.”

“You know I meant with the baby.”

“I know what you meant. And you know what I mean.”

“I've told you—”

“I was going to break up with her tomorrow.”

Relief washed over me. “Still.”

“Da Vinci.”

“Yes.”

“Well, if you love him, I'll get out of the way. But if there's a chance.”

“A chance.”

“Possibility, probability, likelihood.”

“I know the synonyms, thankyouverymuch.”

“I put my house on the market. Will you help me look for a smaller one tomorrow? I don't trust realtors. They just tell you what you want to hear.”

“Kind of like men.”

“You don't believe that.”

“I have the kids tomorrow.”

“Nice try. Judith offered to watch the kids so you could have fun.”

“And house hunting with you would be fun?”

“Well, if delivering a baby in the middle of a shelter can be fun, then yes, house hunting can be fun.”

“I couldn't even pick out a bed, much less a house.”

“That's just it. I need your critical eye. Otherwise, I might just buy the first house I see.”

“I'm cleaning out my garage. I'm trying to purge the clutter before the new year.”

“A pre-new year's resolution?”

“Something like that.”

“I'll tell you what. You look for houses with me in the morning, and I'll help you clean your garage in the afternoon.”

“You don't take no for an answer, do you?”

“Not where you're concerned.”

“It's complicated.”

“Maybe. But worth it.”

I stood to leave, and Cortland held my pinkie. “You just never know what life's gonna throw you.”

“Take a chance?”

“On me.”

“On you.” My heart sped up. I could hear the baby crying in the other room. The kitchen felt smaller and smaller, until it was only two feet of space between us. Arm's length, yet I could still feel him in my heart. He moved his hand up my arm, his touch sending electrical vibrations throughout my body. Rachel would be gone, history. She was nothing to him, I knew. But it didn't mean she wouldn't hate me for it. It may not register on the Richter scale of betrayal like Jonathon and Joel, but she could see it as betrayal all the same. She was my sister, far from perfect, the most egotistical woman I knew, but she was family.

And what of da Vinci? If I gave Cortland a chance and we didn't work out, I'd lose da Vinci forever.

ANH HANDED ME THE Flirtini—a martini made of vodka, champagne, and pineapple juice—and tossed her flip-flops off her feet. She wore them all year around, even in the dead of winter. She said Vietnamese were hot-blooded, but I told her in her case, it was more likely her hot-headed nature. She didn't argue.

It was Girls' Night In, something we were used to since I couldn't afford Girls' Night Out anymore. The last of Joel's life insurance money had been used for that bed and some Christmas gifts for the boys I knew their father would want them to have. I would be on my own financially, yet for the first time I knew I could make it.

Anh had become quite a cocktail waitress from our GNI evenings. “She's unbelievable,” Anh said, taking a sip of the concoction she'd mixed and rolling her eyes. “This is why a woman should not get in a relationship with a divorced man: you don't just date them, you date their exes. It's a threesome, without the pleasure.”

I joined her on the couch, still high from my own unbelievable Saturday, only for a very different reason. My garage was pristine, every inch litter-free, as organized as an After on a home improvement show. And the house hunting with Cortland hadn't been bad, either. That is, until he spotted the house across the street and two doors down that was for sale, a cottage-looking home with a wraparound front porch, blue shutters and immaculate landscaping. Mrs. Thompson had died six months prior, and her three grown boys were selling it and splitting the profits. I'd watched enough HGTV to
know the reason her house wasn't selling wasn't because it wasn't cute, but because it was cutesy cute. Mrs. Thompson had collected ducks. She had duck borders and duck towels and duck rugs and ducks painted on the walls.

Cortland saw beyond the ducks. Besides, he claimed he liked to renovate. “My wife wanted everything brand new,” he complained. “I like to fix things with my own hands.”

Which got me to thinking about his hands: ones that had lulled people to sleep for surgery, ones that had pulled out a beautiful baby girl the day before, ones that had roamed over my body at the restaurant two weeks prior.

“At least da Vinci has no ex,” Anh went on.

“I'm not so sure,” I said, tossing her an envelope he'd gotten in the mail that day. It would've been an ordinary air-mail envelope, save for two things: the penmanship was beautiful, carefully scripted by someone who relished writing da Vinci's name, and the return address noted the sender as Chiara, which meant “bright and famous.” None of his sisters were named Chiara, I knew, and I doubt they would've spritzed the envelope with perfume, either.

“Smells sexy,” Anh said. “I thought he didn't have anyone special back home?”

“Who knows,” I downed the Flirtini as Anh poured me another. “He's at another frat party tonight, so I'll ask him tomorrow. I hate feeling jealous.”

“Of Chiara or the frat party?”

“Both. When I'm away from him, I start thinking I'd be okay with him leaving, but as soon as I see him, I want him again.”

“It's the pheromones. He's a magnet guy. You can't help being drawn to him. Especially with amazing sex. He got chakra two back in action. As long as he doesn't make a habit of peeing in the bed.”

I considered the sex, wishing I hadn't gotten used to it. Da Vinci did things to me I'd never let Joel do. I'd been so afraid to explore
with Joel, afraid he would think badly of me, especially after we had kids. The sex kept the loneliness at bay. I grabbed a chocolate-covered strawberry from the dish on the table. Anh insisted our Girls' Night In consist of more than Ruffles and ranch dip this time, so she set us up properly: sushi, loads of chocolate and enough Flirtini mix for a party of twelve. “So you were saying … about being in a threesome with my sister?”

“Ugh. This is why I can't date Michael. She calls him nearly every day, and it's not always about Zoe, although she had a mouthful to say about your little stunt at the pageant.”

“Well, Zoe gets to play soccer now, so it was worth it.”

“Michael thinks she'll flip out when she hears we're dating, and I stopped him and said, 'Excuse me? We're dating? Because I thought we were just sleeping together.'”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. So he goes, 'Fine, then I'll return the tickets to the Bahamas I ordered on Priceline.com today.'”

“You can't resist a guy who knows how to find a good deal.”

“Or a beach far, far away from my grandmotherhood.”

“Where is Vi tonight?”

“With her mother.”

“On a Saturday night?”

“Don't even get me started.”

“Fine. I'd rather hear more about you and Michael. And I'd love to see you and my sis in a bitch-slap contest.”

“Funny. I don't know who she'd hate worse: me for screwing her ex or you for kissing her current.”

“He's dumping her.”

“Time will tell.”

“No, he wants to buy Mrs. Thompson's house. Probably already made the offer.”

“The duck house?”

“He's into home improvement.”

“Thrifty with his money, too, huh?”

“If he didn't break up with Rachel, his downsizing alone would cause her to break up with him.”

“Crap,” she said. “No offense to you, but I wish things would've worked out with her and Cortland just so she'd have a diversion.”

“Her diversion is her career. Besides, maybe she'll hook up with Leonardo DiCaprio tonight.”

“Her head wouldn't fit on the plane. So does this mean that my widowy friend now has
two
guys in her life?”

“I can feel da Vinci slipping from my grasp. He says he loves me, but I think he's just scared to let go. I've been his lifeline in America up to now, and maybe he's been mine, getting back out there again, but being with him isn't the same as being with an American or someone my own age. He's as lost as I am.”

“We all need something or someone to hold onto.”

“This coming from someone who swore she'd never love again.”

“I'm not loving again. I'm
liking
. And I can like going to the Bahamas, too.”

“Well, maybe you should start being a little nicer to him, then. Just because he's a lawyer doesn't mean he doesn't have feelings.”

“Nice? What am I, a putz? Maybe I'll just call and see if he needs some company later.” Anh grabbed up the phone.

“Oh, my God, you're making a booty call and you've only had two drinks.”

“Am not,” she said. “Besides, your booty call is on autopilot. Some of us have to work at it.”

“Whatever.” I poured myself another Flirtini, swearing it would be my last and thankful the boys were staying at Judith's. The doorbell rang. I wondered if da Vinci had changed his mind about the party and wanted to make our own instead. I slunk over to the door and nearly dropped my martini glass when I saw who was staring back
at me, as handsome as the photos in his yearbook—older certainly, but distinguished and still All-American.

“Jonathon.” I said, trying to shake off the effect of my three drinks. Perhaps he was a mirage.

He wore a jogging suit, and sweat was trickling down his hairline, but he was still gorgeous, perspiration or not. “Ramona? I'm sorry to drop in like this, but I was out jogging and …”

“Not exactly on your jogging path.” His and Cortland's neighborhood was at least five miles from mine.

“Monica told me you two were going to meet.”

“She did?”

“She's still sick at home, but …”

“Yes, come in, of course.” I stepped back to let him pass, as Anh made her way into the foyer. Her mouth dropped open.

“Anh, this is Jonathon. Jonathon Blevins.”

She tossed her hair back, a classic flirtation, brought on by his looks and the aptly named drink. “Can I get you a Flirtini?”

“A what?”

Anh and I giggled. How girlish. Men like Jonathon probably didn't drink Flirtinis. “It's good I promise. And we won't tell anyone you drank one.”

Jonathon removed his jacket, revealing a Nike shirt clinging to his ripped stomach and biceps even bigger than da Vinci's. “Sure,” he said. “After I drink a bucket of water.”

We stared at him before Anh broke into a surprised smile. “Not sure about the bucket, but I think we're good on the tall glass.”

“Can I get you a T-shirt? I have some of Joel's packed away in the closet. At least Joel liked to wear them big.”

Jonathon flinched at the sound of his friend's name. “That'd be great.”

An hour later, Jonathon was drunk on Flirtinis and Anh excused herself. “I have a thing I have to do.”

“His name is Michael,” I said with a laugh.

She playfully slapped me. “Jonathon, it was nice to meet you. I think you and my friend Michael would love to talk shop. I'll call you.”

Jonathon kissed her on the cheek, and Anh blushed. Now I got it: I'd thought Monica was a heartless bitch for breaking Joel's heart, but being around Jonathon, even after just an hour, I could see why she was torn between the two for more than a decade. He was everything Joel wasn't and vice versa. I got what Monica meant about the two of them together being the perfect man. Still. It didn't make what she did any less awful. Same goes for Jonathon.

“Nothing helps,” Jonathon said, wrapping his large hands around the comparatively small glass. “I've gone to every type of counseling. Marriage counseling, grief counseling. I can't get over losing Joel. Not once. But twice.”