Olive Oil and White Bread (13 page)

An hour later, Jillian and Boo returned home. Boo wolfed her dinner as Jillian made herself an omelet and ate it, alone. After dinner, she
busied herself with some housework—cleaned the bathroom, mopped the kitchen floor, made a grocery list for her shopping trip the next day. Then she took a glass of white wine up to the bedroom and read, Boo curled up at her feet. The book was engrossing, and she fully intended to wait up for Angie—partly to spite her for that irritating “don't wait up” message, and partly because she missed her terribly and wanted a hug.

She was asleep long before Angie got home.

Eleven

Jillian blew out a breath as she flopped onto the couch, alone there for all of two-and-a-half seconds before Boo joined her, crawling up her body so her front paws lay across Jillian's chest. Jillian couldn't help but laugh.

“You are so not a lap dog, young lady,” she said with a grunt. “Didn't they tell Mama you'd stay small? Fifty pounds is not small.” She kissed the top of Boo's head as her thoughts swirled around her brain.

By the time Memorial Day weekend rolled around, Jillian was angry, frustrated—and worried. Angie's work hours hadn't eased up. True, they hadn't gotten any worse (as if they could), but she wasn't coming home any earlier. They'd been going around and around about it until Jillian's head spun. She felt like she had a girlfriend half the time. They had dinner together once a week, for sure, and that was at the Righettis. No way would Angie miss Sunday dinner at her parents'—and that was another thing: Angie would blow off dinner with her girlfriend nine times out of ten, but not once did she miss a family dinner.

Jillian lay on the couch stroking her dog. Something else was causing her worry. Angie was drinking a lot more than usual. Her excuse was that she was schmoozing the clients—and if she wasn't drinking, her clients wouldn't be drinking, wouldn't be comfortable enough. And she needed them comfortable. She'd been taking clients to dinner or out for drinks at least a couple times a week now, and even at home she was drinking quite a bit.

“Sweetie, do you really need another glass?” Jillian had asked just two nights ago when Angie had refilled her wine glass for the third time.

Angie shrugged off the question. “It helps me relax. I'm too wound up. I'll never get to sleep if I don't calm down. No big deal.”

Jillian wondered now if she should have been less gentle about it, firmer, more obvious that she didn't approve. Or maybe she should have just said, flat out, “I'm worried that you're drinking too much.” Why did people always tippy-toe around things that needed to be said? Her mother was like that, never coming right out and saying what she meant. Now Jillian was taking after her.

She hadn't even tried to bring up their sex life. Or lack thereof. The biggest drawback of Angie's long hours was that she was tired. Too tired to make love. It had been weeks.
Weeks
.

As if sensing Jillian's frustration, Boo slipped out her hot pink tongue and coated Jillian's cheek with affection. Jillian wrapped her arms around the solid body that was anything but soft and cuddly and squeezed.

“I love you, too, Boo-Bear.”

Their lovefest was interrupted by the sound of the side door. Another grunt was pushed from Jillian's body as Boo bounded off of her to check out the visitor. A glance at the clock told Jillian it was just after six, normally much too early for Angie to be home. But the sound of her voice cooing to Boo brought warmth and a smile as Jillian popped up from the couch and headed for the kitchen.

“Hi,” Jillian said, wrapping her arms around Angie's neck. “You're home early.”

Angie hugged her tightly. “No, I'm home at a normal time. I'm home early for me.”

“That's what I meant.”

“Hardy har har.” Holding Jillian at arms' length, she said, “What are you doing?”

“Right now? Hugging you. Why?”

“No, I mean are you in the middle of something?”

Jillian made a face. “No.”

“Good. Go pack a bag. Three nights' worth.”

Jillian blinked at her. “What?”

“I'm taking you away. My sister's coming over to watch Boo.”

“Where?”

“It's a surprise.”

Jillian backed away, a grin spreading across her face, then raced up the stairs to do as she was told.

It was just before eight o'clock when Angie parked the car. Strathmore-on-the-Lake was gorgeous in the dusk: a stone, almost castle-like building tucked away on the shores of a small, secluded lake. Lit sconces at the door, and subtle, ankle-height lights marked the several walking paths that led from the inn to the lake and back. The latespring breeze carried with it the scents of water, trees, and fading lilacs.

Jillian had drifted off to sleep about a half hour earlier; Angie gently shook her awake. “Babe. We're here.”

Jillian inhaled deeply and rolled her head around on her neck, working out the kinks that came from napping in a car. She blinked several times. “Oh, Angie. It's so beautiful.” She'd figured out their destination after an hour on the road (there wasn't much else in this direction worth sneaking off to), but she'd only ever seen pictures before. “Oh, my god.”

Angie smiled at her. “Ready?”

“Hell, yes.”

They grabbed their bags, and headed for the front entrance. Despite the beauty of the outside, the opulence and elegance of the lobby inside surprised Jillian, given that they were in the middle of nowhere in upstate New York. A fountain of marble stood in the center, directly beneath a circular skylight, its water gurgling pleasantly. Angie couldn't wait to see it in the daylight, especially with the sun gleaming through the skylight and reflecting on the water. Hanging plants and potted trees lent an almost tropical feel. Soft music came from an open door to their right, the restaurant and bar, Angie guessed. Their next stop. She approached the front desk and gave a friendly woman their reservation information. They were directed to follow a young, clean-shaven man who led them to their room. Within ten minutes
of pulling into the lot, the door clicked shut behind them, and they were alone.

“Oh, my god, Angie.” Jillian's voice was quiet, just above a whisper. “I can't believe you did this.” She let go of her duffle bag and wandered farther into the room. Her breath caught as she looked in the corner and noticed the Jacuzzi tub. “We are so getting in this,” she told Angie.

Angie laughed. “Yes, we are. Want to get something to eat first? I know it's kind of late, but I'm starving.”

Jillian stepped to her, wrapped her arms around Angie's neck, and pulled her down for a searing kiss. When they parted, both women were slightly breathless. “I can't believe you did this.”

Angie's expression softened. “You deserve it. You've been so patient with my ridiculous hours. I told Hope the next big order that I closed, I was taking you away for a weekend. That happened earlier this month.”

Jillian's blue eyes widened. “You've been planning this for nearly a month?”

Angie nodded. “I had some details to take care of—somebody to watch Boo, make sure you didn't have a meeting or something that would keep you late at school tonight, be certain I could actually get us a room. This place is almost always booked on the weekends, especially long ones.”

As she shook her head, Jillian's smile was huge, her dimples in plain view, and Angie realized that it had been far too long since she'd seen that big, genuine look of happiness.

“I can't believe you did this,” Jillian said a third time and rested her head on Angie's shoulder.

“Well, this won't be the last time, you know. My long hours and schmoozing have really been paying off. I got my biggest commission check yet this month.”

Jillian wanted to tell her that the money didn't matter, but Angie was so excited, her face shone with such pride, that Jillian simply smiled and said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I'm still starving.”

A laugh bubbled out of Jillian. “Okay. Let's go eat.”

Throughout their entire meal, Jillian felt like she had the old Angie back. The Angie that wasn't worried about work, the Angie that didn't seem preoccupied and stressed out. She'd even left her cell phone back in the room. Turned off. They ate by candlelight—filet mignon for Angie and broiled scallops for Jillian. They drank a bottle of full-bodied, delicious cabernet, and they talked about everything and nothing. By the time they returned to their room, it was nearly eleven.

“This night has been incredible,” Jillian said as they entered their room. She turned and wrapped her arms around Angie. “I've missed it being just the two of us.”

“The night's not over.” When Jillian looked up, Angie gestured to the Jacuzzi with her chin. “You up for it? Or are you too tired?”

“Too tired to soak in a hot tub? Never.”

It didn't take long for them to fill the tub—adding some of the scented bath oil provided by the Inn—and settle down on the seats. They groaned simultaneously as the luxuriously hot water sluiced over their naked skin.

“Oh, my god,” Jillian said, her eyes closed, her head back against the pillowed edge of the tub. “I never want to leave this spot.”

Angie scooted her body closer so their thighs were touching. “Maybe when we get a bigger house, we can get our own hot tub.”

Jillian smiled, but didn't open her eyes. “Maybe.” Her tone said she knew Angie was just talking, her ideas were just that: ideas.

“No, I'm serious.”

Jillian opened her eyes. “About what?”

“A bigger house.”

“We don't need a bigger house, babe.”

Angie nodded, settled back so her position mimicked Jillian's. “I know. I'm just thinking out loud. I'm making decent money. I can make more. Dominick moved to something bigger when he started making money. Maybe it's time for us to start thinking about leaving the city and finding a place in the suburbs. Don't you think Boo would like a bigger yard to run around in?”

“Of course she would.” Jillian could tell by Angie's reasoning that this was something she'd been thinking about. Resting her head on Angie's shoulder, she voiced her worry. “I don't want you working any harder than you already do. You're doing amazingly well at your job, and I can't tell you how proud I am of you. We're doing just fine financially. And I like our little house.”

“Me, too.”

“I'd rather have you home at dinnertime than have more money in our bank account and a bigger house for me to wander around in by myself.”

Angie sighed, rubbed water over her arms. “I just want to make sure you're happy.” The way she said it—a mix of worried lover and small child—made Jillian's heart ache.

“Babe, what's brought this on?”

“I don't know. I just, I see my parents, and my dad works so hard to make sure my mom's happy, and I just want that for us. I don't want you to ever think you're not important.”

Jillian cocked her head and smiled widely. “And I see
my
parents and how miserable my mom can be, and I
know
how lucky I am to have you. I wish you wouldn't worry so much. You make me very happy.”