Diving In (36 page)

He knew she was using her twin powers again, so he wasn’t surprised when she asked, “Why don’t you just fly out there and see the woman, you big dope?”

“You don’t think it’ll ruin her vacation?”

Rachel swatted him above his left ear. “Dumping her was much better.”

“I didn’t dump her. I practically
proposed
, for God’s sake.”

“Which was the perfect thing to do after knowing her for, like, two weeks.”

“Three,” he said. “And actually, we met years and years go.”

“Which was so pivotal to your life, you didn’t remember her face or her name.”

“Shut up.”

“You came on way too fast,” Rachel said.

“Please shut up.”

“You can’t blame her for freaking out.”

He shifted into first to make it to the peak of the hill they were climbing. She hadn’t freaked out;
he
had. “I don’t blame her for anything.”

“Then—”

“I’ve already bought a ticket, all right? I’m flying out first thing in the morning.”

Rachel exhaled. “Thank
God
. I won’t blame her if she kicks you out on your ass.”

He swallowed, fearing the inevitable. “Thanks.”

She held up two matching cell phones. “We did it again. Same model, same color case.”

He glanced over and smiled. They didn’t have identical DNA, but they had odd moments of sharing identical taste.

On a street near his apartment, he parallel parked with inches to spare before taking his phone from her. As they trudged down another hill to his building, he powered it on—his mother always turned them off—and checked his messages.

When he heard Nicki’s voice, he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Rachel, not noticing, continued on.

“Hey,” Nicki said. There was a long pause. “It’s me. Nicki. I don’t know if you want to hear from me, and I don’t care. I’m sitting in my car. I just saw Miles and his new wife, and I don’t care about that either. Do you get it? I don’t care. You were wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Yes, I’ve had a few drinks, but that’s not why I’m calling. I know I love you, and my love is much stronger than yours is even though it took me a while to figure it out—and I would never just run away without talking to you about it. Like you did. Everyone thinks I’m the coward, but I’m only afraid of stupid things. I think
you
’re stupid—”

With a beep, the message was cut off.

Rachel finally noticed he wasn’t moving and turned to yell up the street at him. “What’s the matter?”

He shook his head, frantically looking up the time of the call—7:45p.m.—and put it back to his ear.

Another message from Nicki.

“And I think your phone is stupid for cutting me off. Where was I? I’m sitting in my car. I have your laptop. Not with me, at my apartment.” Loud sigh. “I can’t go there now, though, because I have to sober up first. I only got in the car to call you, and you didn’t even answer.” There was a long pause, then a click.

Rachel was at his side. “What happened?”

He swallowed with difficulty. “Nicki was trying to reach me.” He looked at his sister, lit up from one side by a lamp across the street. “Over four hours ago. I’m such an idiot. I never should’ve given Mom my phone. I’m thirty years old. What is my problem?”

“It makes her happy,” Rachel said, “and you’re a people pleaser.”

“Fuck that. Nicki wanted to talk to me. Now she’s pissed. Damn it!”

“Call her back, Einstein,” Rachel said.

He was already listening to the third ring on her line, waiting for her to pick up. “Nicki, Nicki,” he whispered.

“Want me to try on mine? Maybe she’s screening her calls.”

He ended the call and tried again as he started to march back to his car. “I’m going over there.”

“Where?”

“Her apartment.”

“It’s kind of late,” Rachel said.

“Don’t remind me,” he muttered.

Rachel pulled out her own phone. “I’ll text you the address.”

“I’ve already got it.” Back in Hawaii, he’d asked Nicki for it. He got behind the wheel, blinking fast, hating himself for everything he’d ever done to risk this shot at happiness, and slammed the door.

Rachel ran after him and pulled it open. “You want me to come?”

“No, I have to do this myself.” He revved the engine.

“Then can I have a key to your apartment? I’d rather not sleep on the street.”

He put the car back in park and detached his keys. “Right,” he said, handing them to her. “It’s 3C, last one on the left—”

“I was there a few hours ago, bro. Good luck. Let me know if you need me to argue your case.”

He waved, barely stopping himself from driving over his only twin sister in his desperation to get moving.

Chapter 31

S
HE
HEARD
THE
BUZZER
THROUGH
several layers of consciousness, a pillow, her left arm, and what was left of three glasses of wine—and one of champagne—swimming in her bloodstream.

She’d had the sense to get a ride home from the wedding reception. Taxis, she’d told herself hours ago as she’d climbed out of the dented suburban cab, a station wagon from the 90s, existed for a reason. She’d have to retrieve her car in the morning.

The door buzzed again.

She got out of bed, confused but relatively sober. It must be late. Her mouth was parched and foul, as if she’d snacked on vomit before sucking on a blow dryer.

Maybe she’d imagined the buzzing. She used the toilet, brushed her teeth, and guzzled tap water for five long seconds before she heard it again.

She blinked at her own reflection in the mirror, more concerned about the mascara on her nose than whoever was ringing her bell.

Another buzz.

“Fine,” she said, storming out of the bathroom to her door. She had a small apartment; crossing the living room took her four strides. She held down the white button on the intercom near the door. “Yes?”

“Nicki, it’s me.”

She took a step back, questioning her senses. She’d imagined his voice as she was climbing into bed, only to admit a moment later that it had been a neighbor’s TV.

She held down the button. “Who?”

“Ansel.”

Her heart began pounding so hard, she couldn’t move. She swallowed but didn’t know what to say. She’d expected a phone call, a grudging willingness to talk, not a home visit.

“I’m so sorry. Nicki? Please let me in. Hello?”

She needed time to figure out how she was going to approach this.

Now
he wanted to see her? After weeks of silence, in the middle of the night?

She put her mouth near the mic. “Come back in the morning.” A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. In the four years she’d lived in the building, she’d always thought the intercom was a hassle; the price of living in a low-rent neighborhood near the freeway. Now she’d pay extra for it.

Thirty years old was late to learn you had a taste for revenge.

There was a long pause. So long, she started to regret her vengeful impulses. After counting to five in Japanese, she pressed the button again. “Ansel?”

He responded immediately. “I’ll come back in the morning if you want me to. Or right now. Which would you prefer?”

Involuntarily, she smiled and put a hand on her chest.

She missed him so much.

All right, so her taste for revenge was a small one. He’d said he loved her. Maybe it was true.

She held down the other button to let him in.

He’d gotten her messages and come over in person. What had she said? She’d told him she was over Miles. She’d called him stupid…

She put her forehead against the door, waiting for him to climb the stairs and knock, which he did very gently, a tap so quiet she wouldn’t have heard it if her head weren’t pressed up against the wood.

And that thing about loving him.

She stepped back and opened it.

He was dressed in the usual monochromatic shades of charcoal but more formal than she’d ever seen him in Hawaii: slacks, button-down shirt, closed-toe shoes.

The sight of him sliced her right between the ribs and pinned her where she stood.

He returned her stare. He looked short of breath.

She stepped aside to let him in, then dead-bolted the door behind him with clumsy fingers.

He had said, with some evidence, that fear ruled her. But she had a spine when it mattered, and it mattered now.

“I love you,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. She lifted her chin. “Is that why you’re here?”

“I love you, too,” he said. He took a step closer.

She let the words sink in, like butter into hot toast, before she responded. “You sure give up easily. You ran away at the first sign of trouble.”

“I never meant to stay away so long. I have a ticket to fly to Kahului first thing in the morning.”

She wasn’t ready to let him see how much that meant. “Booked it as soon as you got my message?”

His face melted into a grin that made her breath catch. Shaking his head, he moved closer, about two feet away. “Booked it yesterday. I’m so nervous, I’m about to vomit, but you make me laugh anyway.”

“I’m about to vomit because I drank too much.”

His eyebrows went up. “Are you kidding?”

“Mostly.” She combed her hair with her fingers. “I was celebrating a little too hard.”

“I came as soon as I heard your messages. I’ve never driven so fast over the Bay Bridge as I did just now.”

“Did your girlfriend mind you leaving her alone?”

He shook his head, the humor draining out of him. “There’s nobody else. There’s never been anybody like you.”

“Oh,” she whispered.

“You terrify me. Ever since I saw you floating off that boat and I realized I could lose you. Since you’re the only one of you, you know?”

An unfamiliar joy washed over her. He was kind and funny, sexy, smart, everything she loved; she loved him, and he said things like that to her. “I’m sorry I scared you. If it hadn’t been for that boy—”

“I know. You thought you had to do it, which is why I’m so afraid. You have these impulses that could kill you, and then who would I live with for the rest of my life?”

She stopped breathing.

“See?” He put his hands on either side of her face, capturing her. “You think you love me, but you’re not ready for me. I’m impulsive, Nicki. I do things all the way. I dive right in. I’m stupid that way. I can’t help it.”

“Like leaving me?”

“Exactly. How could you ever forgive me for that? I never meant to stay away so long, but for each day that went by, I got more hopeless. I convinced myself you’d had a good time and you were done with me. I was just a substitute for a hot pool boy, nothing you’d want to bring home with you.” He moved his mouth to her cheek, not kissing, just breathing. “Especially after you found out I was broke.”

She drew back. “But if I wanted you just for sex, why did I need you to be rich, too? If I was just going to chuck you overboard, so to speak, when I was done with you?”

He moved closer again. “You’ve got to understand, Nicki, until I met you, the money seemed to affect what most people thought of me. Not just women. Everybody.”

“I think it affects what you think of yourself more,” she said.

He rested his cheek against hers and pulled her close. “Yeah. I’ve been working on that.”

His jaw was rough against hers. She put her arms around his waist. “I don’t want you to be rich if it makes you unhappy.”

“Being rich was fine. Trying to get there, not so much.”

She smiled into his neck. “I like you right where you are.”

“Yeah.” His hands moved down her body, caressing, exploring. His voice lowered. “You scared the hell out of me when you said you didn’t love me,” he said quietly.

“I never said that.”

“You couldn’t say you did, though. That was enough.”

She slid her hand down to his chest and felt his heart beating through the fabric. “I thought I was in love with you when we met. Way back when.”

“But seeing me again cured you?”

“Getting to know the real you made it true,” she said. Her body melted into his. She felt hot and charged, brilliant, happy, alive. “And I’m not afraid of this.” She kissed him. “I want it all.”

“I’ll give you everything I have,” he said.

“Same here.”

“And if that’s not enough,” he added, dropping kisses along her throat, “I’ll get more.”

Deep anxieties, not the kind that had made her faint near swimming pools, but the more profound, existential type, stopped her from pulling him down to the couch and taking off his clothes just yet. “What if I’m not enough?” she asked him.

He caressed her hip. “Oh, you’re perfect.”

“I write for a blog about my phobias,” she said. “I never told you about that.”

“Sounds cool.” His hand slipped under her shirt and fondled her breast.

“But as soon as I’ve tackled each one, I’m going to stop writing about it. I don’t want to have any incentive to hold on to this way of thinking.”

He ran his tongue along her lower lip. “Sensible.”

“Ansel?”

He was sucking on her earlobe. “Mmm?”

“What if I cure myself?” she asked, closing her eyes. “I’m starting to believe it’s possible.”

“You will,” he mumbled against her mouth, tilting his head to kiss her. “You’re amazing.”

She kissed him back, forgetting her worries for a minute and then pulling away as she remembered. It was too important to ignore, just the thing to sabotage this shared life they were starting. “Will you still want me if I do?”

“Want you if you do what?”

“If I get over the anxieties. If I’m not a mess.”

“You’ve never been a mess, Nicki.”

“Brand and Diane, even Rachel, say you like your women screwed up,” she said, “but I’m not going to stay screwed up just to turn you on.”

“Swear to God, I’m going to kill them,” he muttered. “You, Nicki, are the least screwed-up woman I’ve ever known.”

She stared at him. “How can you say that?”

“Who are you comparing yourself to?” He held her shoulders and looked into her face. “I’ve been with women who couldn’t hold down a job or who relied on me for the cash to gamble or buy drugs.”