Dumping Billy (31 page)

Chapter Thirty-four

T
he morning dawned beautifully. Kate knew because she was awake—as she had been, on and off, for most of the night. The window in her bedroom faced east, and she saw the murky brown that passed as darkness turn first beige, then pink, and then, last, salmon as the sun rose. The light would last till past eight that evening, but there was no light in Kate’s heart. Though this was Kate’s favorite time of year, she woke with a heaviness in her chest and a gray despair that no dawn could affect. For the past few days she had been working and eating—though without an appetite—and walking to and from school, but she felt barely conscious of any of it. Although she didn’t regret breaking up with Michael and she didn’t expect anything from Steven, she felt lonely and hopeless. Like so many women in Manhattan, she would go without a partner because either she wasn’t good enough or they weren’t. Her Brooklyn friends had exhausted her, and like a sore spot on her gums that she couldn’t keep her tongue away from, there was something annoying and painful about Billy Nolan and Bina’s affair with him that she preferred not to think about but kept going back to over and over. Perhaps worst of all, she couldn’t talk to Rita or her other Manhattan friends about it because they would never understand, and she couldn’t talk to Elliot about it because he was the instigator, and the truth was she didn’t want him, like a dentist with a fine instrument, picking at this sensitive spot.

She drifted into a light sleep. It was a quarter after six when the phone rang. She couldn’t imagine who it would be. She picked up the phone to hear Bina’s imploring voice at the other end. “Please, Kate, help me! I couldn’t do it right, and now I have to go to the airport. I went out with Billy last night and I acted as snotty as I could, but he just laughed. I flirted with another guy, but he didn’t seem to mind—”

“Whoa. Bina, slow down.”

“Kate, I tried everything everyone suggested. You have to help me. Billy hasn’t dumped me, and Jack lands in an hour and a half, and . . .”

Bina began to cry. And while Kate had heard Bina cry through almost every phase of their lives, there was an element to this that was new. Kate made shushing noises while she tried to wake up enough to figure out what was different. And then it came to her. For the first time, Bina was crying like an adult. Gone was the hysteria that allowed Bina to be so infuriating and yet sweet. Instead, Kate heard overlays of guilt, and shame, and anxiety.

“I made a mistake, Kate. But I don’t want to have to tell Jack, and if Billy doesn’t dump me, Jack won’t propose and I’ve ruined my life.”

“It’s all going to be all right,” Kate assured her. “I’ll get a limo and pick you up this afternoon. I’ll drop you at the airport. Just look good. I’ll take care of everything. I promise you, it’s all going to be all right.”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?” Bina asked. Kate smiled. Same old Bina, she thought, and reassured her friend.

Dressed, made-up, coiffed, and scented, Bina sat beside Kate in the limo. Kate had done some deep thinking, called the car service, picked up Bina in Brooklyn, and swept her into the backseat. Although she was impressed with the car, Bina was still nervous.

“But what are you going to do?” she asked.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to never find out,” Kate said, and leaned forward. “Take the BQE,” she told the driver, who seemed to be taking the scenic route—as if there were one—to JFK.

“Do you know which terminal he’s coming into?” the driver asked.

“International arrivals,” Kate said. “Follow the signs.” She leaned back into the leather of the seats and turned to her friend, looking into her eyes. “Listen to me,” she said.

“I am,” Bina told her.

“Okay, really listen to me. You have nothing to tell Jack. You have nothing to confess.” Kate paused. The idea of Bina and Billy together, the idea of him, of her . . . She repressed both the thought and her jealousy. “It only happened that once.”

“Well, no. Last week I saw him and we got caught in the rain, and he took me to his apartment to towel me off, and . . .”

Kate imagined the scene too vividly. The image of Billy gently drying her hair and other body parts was disturbing and arousing. She could see why Bina would fall from grace again. “It doesn’t matter. You and Jack broke up. He’s been a free agent, and so have you. Remember the army had that policy: ‘Don’t ask. Don’t tell’?” Bina nodded. “Well, follow it. And if you’re asked anything by Jack, remind him that you love him. Ask him if he loves you.”

“But I slept with—”

“There are no buts.”

“But even if I don’t tell him about the sex . . . Okay, I won’t tell Jack anything.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. But to make this work, I have to get Billy to dump me.”

“I’m going to take care of that,” Kate said. “Now, fix your makeup.” Obediently, Bina rooted around in her huge purse and pulled out a cosmetics case. Kate helped her with her primping and then turned the mirror on herself. She looked a little pale, and there was bruised-looking skin under her eyes because of her lack of sleep, but she would take care of all that later.

“Okay,” she said as they pulled up to the sidewalk at the airport. “You look great, you should feel great, and Jack is coming here just for you. Because he loves you.”

Bina hesitated. “But I’m not sure—”

“I’m sure,” Kate said. “Now go to the arrivals waiting area, where passengers get out of customs. He’ll probably be out of there in less than thirty minutes or so.”

“Aren’t you going to wait with me?” Bina asked, her eyes opening wide.

“No. I have something else to do,” Kate said, and gave Bina a hug. “Keep your cell phone on and your powder dry. Call me the moment anything happens.”

Bina got out of the car and walked through the sliding glass door entrance, then she turned and waved and gave Kate the thumbs-up sign. As soon as she disappeared, merging with the crowd inside the terminal, Kate leaned forward to speak to the driver. “Take me back to Brooklyn,” she told him.

Chapter Thirty-five

K
ate rang Billy Nolan’s bell. It took several minutes before he responded. Kate put her hands over the intercom and murmured something, pitching her voice higher than normal. Surely this wasn’t the first time that he’d had an unexpected visit from a woman at an inopportune time. The more realistic worry was that some other woman was there. But, as she’d hoped, the door buzzed and Kate pushed into the hallway. I’m only doing this for Bina, she told herself, but she knew it was a lie.

Since Bina’s confession at the shower, Kate had felt herself possessed by her desire for Billy Nolan. No matter how hard she had tried to deny it, she had been jealous and intrigued by Bina’s flirtation with Billy. To be brutally honest, from the first moment she had met him on the terrace, she had felt an almost irresistible pull toward him. She had tried to resist it, knowing that he, like Steven, was not “relationship material.” However, she reasoned, if she did this for Bina, maybe she would also be able to get Billy Nolan—his smile, his charm, and his easy physical grace—out of her system once and for all. She wasn’t going to waste time in a meaningless relationship, but if this would precipitate a breakup with Bina and give her confidence, then . . .

Kate stopped to look in the mirror at the stair landing. She wasn’t wild about what she saw. Her face was pale, and there were still dark circles under her eyes. Well, it would have to do. She pulled out a brush from her purse and puffed up her hair. Her lipstick was still holding up, but she did a full-face smile to see if there was any on her teeth. Walking up the stairs, Kate caught herself licking her lips. Then she remembered Elliot’s absolutely ridiculous acronym and regretted it. Well, she told herself, I’ll regret more than that after this day is over. She got to Billy’s door, took a deep breath, and knocked.

Billy, his hair tousled and a loose cotton robe drawn around him, obviously just out of the shower, opened the door. “What . . . ?”

His physical presence was almost a blow to her. She could smell shampoo on him. It was better than any cologne.

Kate pushed in past him. She walked across the room, put down her purse, sat at the edge of his bed, and crossed her legs.

“Sit down. Make yourself at home,” Billy said with as much sarcasm as he could muster. He closed the door behind him. “To what do I owe . . .” He gave up trying to be urbane. “You want a cup of coffee?” he asked, and, scratching his head, began to move toward the kitchen.

“No, thank you,” Kate said, trying not to lick her lips. “I didn’t come here for coffee.”

Billy stopped at the sink, his hand midway between the coffeemaker and the faucet. She had not gotten an opportunity to look at his hands since the dreadful bowling evening. Kate had always been interested in men’s hands. She considered herself a sort of connoisseur, disliking short, stubby, or hairy-backed hands, yet equally turned off by overly slender, almost feminine hands. Now she was transfixed by Billy’s. They were perfect, strong yet sensitive, the hands of competence and sensual knowledge. She blushed. He walked toward her slowly, pulled a chair opposite her, and sat down. “What did you come here for, doctor?” he asked. “Is this another consultation?”

Okay. She deserved that. And probably more. If he was going to make her eat humble pie, she would. But couldn’t he feel her almost ridiculous longing? She was grateful that it wasn’t palpable to him, since it suffused her being. “Look, I was wrong,” she admitted, then paused. She’d rehearsed this coming from the airport, but all that she had prepared seemed to have evaporated. “The thing with Bina isn’t working, is it,” she blurted.

Billy looked at her. “Have I missed something? Are we still in high school?” he asked.

Shit! Jack should be walking with Bina at this very moment. “Just tell me the truth,” she said. “Bina means nothing to you, does she.”

“Bina is a very nice girl,” Billy told her.

“I know that, but that isn’t the question I asked you.” She looked down at her exposed toes, and the Pre-Raphaelite painting titled
King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid
appeared before her eyes. She’d always found it erotically charged. “Look,” she said, “I came over here to admit that I made a terrible mistake. Bina is beginning to be really attached to you, and it isn’t fair. She’s going to get hurt, and it’s going to be my fault as much as it is yours.”

For the first time since she had arrived, Billy actually looked alert. He looked down at the floor for a long moment, then back at her. “Look, I never meant to hurt her. I go out with women who know how to take care of themselves.”

“Well, Bina isn’t a woman like that.”

“I know. That’s why I never slept with her. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Kate looked away from his beautiful face. So he was a liar as well as a flirt and a serial dater.

“Don’t waste my time with lies,” she told him.

“Hey!” He stood up. “I don’t lie. I’ve never dated more than one woman at a time, and I break up with one before I start in with anyone else. I never promise what I don’t deliver. I own a bar, for God’s sake. They know I’m . . . well, not serious right now. And if that’s a repetition compulsion, well, that’s my problem. Meanwhile, I make them feel good about themselves.”

“It’s time to break up with Bina,” Kate said firmly. The fact was she felt anything but firm. She was more frightened than she could ever remember being. What if he was disinterested or, worse, if he laughed at her and threw her out? At that moment she felt it would be unbearable. Yet she couldn’t show her fear. She looked at him, his hair still messy from the shower but as adorable as ever, his brow wrinkled in incredulity. “It’s time,” she repeated.

“What are you? Her social secretary or her mother? And how do you know how I feel?”

Kate stood up, leaned forward, and looked into his eyes. She felt the heat from his chest, and she could have melted. There was a place beyond words where honesty and intention are felt. Kate did more than apologize. She bared herself and let him in through her eyes. Silently, she kept her eyes on his and let him feel her intentions. All of the sexual heat, all of the longing that she had repressed, was there, visible to him if he would look. Billy actually pulled back for a moment, then leaned forward.

“Doctor, are you . . . ?” His expression changed from confusion to incredulity to . . . well, it looked like delight.

Kate stood up, took the sweater off her shoulders, and tossed it onto the chair behind her. Then she sat back down on the bed and unbuttoned the top button of her blouse. “I think you should call Bina,” she said. “She won’t be home now, but you can leave a message.”

“That seems pretty cold,” Billy ventured.

“Her old boyfriend is in town. She won’t mind if you break up with her right now.”

“B-b-but over the phone?” he stammered.

Kate looked him full in the face. She felt surprised at his sense of honor and guilt at her own manipulativeness. But she put both emotions out of her mind. “I promise this way is best. I wouldn’t hurt her for the world.”

And, as if hypnotized, Billy did just that. He picked up the phone, and Kate had the delicacy to leave the room while he left the message that Bina felt was so crucial. In the bathroom, she called in sick—only the third time she’d missed a day of work. Then she had a moment to look at herself in the mirror. What are you doing? she silently asked her reflection. She couldn’t convince herself that she was giving her body to this man simply to ensure the ending to a crack-brain scheme that she certainly had never believed in. She wanted to sleep with Billy, but she was already afraid that she wanted more. And she knew his record with women. Could she afford to spend more of her time in a relationship that would lead to nothing in the end?

She looked away from her own pale blue eyes. She knew she didn’t really have a choice. She wanted Billy Nolan more than she had ever wanted anyone. But this has to mean nothing, she told herself. There is no future, only the present. I won’t make the mistakes I made with Steven and Michael. This isn’t a relationship, she told herself firmly. This is what other people call “fun.”