Plum Girl (Romance) (32 page)

His wall crumbled. He kissed her back gently, and ran his hands over her neck and back affectionately. "Forget about Terry," she whispered against his mouth.

"What about his underwear?" he asked, resting his forehead against hers.

"Forget that, too."

"Lonnie..."

"Well... the truth is..." She hesitated, but knew she had to tell him. "He visited me a few weeks ago." Dominick started pulling away, but she wasn't having it. She kept him locked to her, and explained, "It's not what you think. His visit had already been planned for a long time. Remember that day we spent at Borders?"

"How could I forget—it was the first time we kissed. And also, I got my face ripped open." Instinctively, she moved her hand to his temple and caressed the spot where he'd gotten a cut and a huge bruise trying to protect her.

"He came that night," she said. "That's part of the reason why I acted so weird after what happened between us. I just felt so guilty and confused, and believe me, the last thing I wanted to do was have a romantic weekend with Terry."

"So then he stayed over here?" he asked, irritated, and starting to pull away again.

"Yeah, but nothing happened. Peach was here, and everything was platonic. Really." He seemed to be mulling it over. "I'm crazy about you," she added on a whisper. "You're the only man in my life right now. And you're the only man I want."

He leaned in closer. "Well, not counting Twit," she teased, and his face broke into a grin. Hers followed, and soon there was a kind of warm haze that settled over them. Infatuation had become caring, and now it was out in the open.

The phone rang again.

Lonnie reluctantly let go of Dominick and went to answer it since she'd shut off the machine when she body slammed it. "Hello?"

"Lonnie? Hey!" Oh,
Christ.

"What do you want?" she asked bluntly. "You just called."

"Oh—I know, but the machine cut off in the middle of my message. We need to talk—"

"No, I'm sorry, we don't," she said. "Please, Terry, I think it would be best if—"

"Just listen for a second, please!"

She relented because she thought maybe if he said his piece and got everything he had off his chest, he wouldn't bother her anymore. Meanwhile, Dominick came up behind her to hear what was going on.

Terry started rambling at some length about all the pressure he'd been under lately, how his bipolar mother was driving him crazy, how his car was impounded somewhere outside of Queens, and how he's struggled with low self-esteem since boyhood. This was worse than she'd thought it would be. He'd been yammering for almost ten minutes, and still hadn't mentioned their former relationship. Her feet were tired from standing there, and it was a little awkward having Dominick leaning against the mini-refrigerator, waiting to find out what the hell Terry wanted.

Finally, he broached the subject. "About us," Terry said. "All I want is a chance to explain all of this in person. I'm coming to Boston on Friday night."

"What—Friday? No, don't do that!"

"I have to come for a show anyway. Lonnie, please, I'm not taking no for an answer. I can't. I have too much to explain."

She surveyed her minikitchen with desperation. Why was he doing this? She didn't want to listen to his explanations about anything. He was the one who'd officially ended it, so why did she feel like he was the one who was desperately hanging on? "Terry, I—I can't. I have plans. Why don't I just give you a call sometime?"

"No, I'm coming into town on Friday anyway, and I need to see you. Please. Don't just blow me off after all the time we've spent together." Didn't he have it the other way around? Didn't he remember that lunatic phone call he'd placed to tell her that she didn't "stimulate" anything but his temper? "All I want is an opportunity to tell you what's been going on in my life lately. Please, Lonnie. Don't shut me out without letting me explain myself. We are
friends,
aren't we?"

Low blow, but effective.

Somehow he'd successfully made her feel guilty about trying to dodge him, which was truly ridiculous since he'd dumped her under no uncertain terms only a week before. Life was so
weird.
Nevertheless, she wasn't a heartless bitch, and if Terry was coming to town anyway, she figured it would only be decent of her to meet him for a cup of coffee and finalize things face-to-face. After all, she'd like to end on a nice note, rather than the bizarre, irate way they'd left things.

"Okay. We can meet Friday night—" Dominick stood upright, and his mouth dropped open. She held her hand up to calm him.
"But
just a cup of coffee, Terry, okay? I have plans Friday, so I can only grab a cup of coffee and talk for about twenty minutes."

"Fine! No problem!" Obviously Terry was excited. What Lonnie couldn't figure out was
why.
She told him to meet her at seven o'clock at the Starbucks on Boylston Street. She couldn't hang up fast enough. When she turned to face Dominick, he didn't look too thrilled.

"You're gonna meet this guy Friday night?" he asked as though it were the most ludicrous thing he'd ever heard. "I thought you said it was over!"

"It
is
over. Come on, you heard what I told him. I'm giving him twenty minutes, and then we can bring closure to this thing with Terry once and for all."

"Lonnie, wake up! He doesn't want closure; he wants
you."

She shook her head. "No, you've got it all wrong. He didn't want us to keep seeing each other, either. I think all he wants now is a chance to apologize for being such an asshole about it. Believe me, there's no way he's trying to rekindle anything."

He didn't look very convinced, so she pressed on. "If you heard the things he said to me—well, let's just say he made it perfectly clear he wanted nothing to do with me romantically. Only he said it a lot more obnoxiously than that. I'm sure he just wants to apologize, that's all."

Dominick sighed heavily. "Okay, I mean... Look, I'm not trying to be possessive, or anything, but—"

"No, I understand," she said quickly. "I completely understand, but you have
nothing
to worry about." She sealed the space between them and encircled his waist with her arms. Hugging him tightly, she rested her head over his heart.

Reluctantly, he hugged her back. "But I still don't see why you have to go at all. Just blow the guy off. Tell him to drop dead."

"I can't do that! It sounds like he's having personal problems. That would be too mean." Her tone left little room for negotiation, and Dominick realized that. She hugged him tighter, pressing her cheek to his chest, and sealed the deal.

* * *

"I still don't understand why you're going," Peach said. She'd opted to spend her Friday night mixing paints on an oversize palette, while waiting for her cucumber face mask to crack. Matt would be so flattered.

"I already told you. I owe him that much—"

"You owe him zilch," Peach said, and Lonnie rolled her eyes while she shrugged on her parka.

"Fine, fine. I don't 'owe' him. But... I don't know. We did date for six months."

"Not seriously."

"It's only decent that we end things face-to-face," she insisted, a little annoyed that no one seemed to grasp this concept but her. "Anyway, he begged me for twenty minutes of my time. What, I'm going to tell him that I can't spare that?"

"What about all those things he said on the phone?"

Lonnie shrugged and wrapped her black cashmere scarf around her neck. "Supposedly he'll explain all that."

"And you care about his explanation because...?"

"I don't really care. But if he wants to apologize for acting like an ass, I'm not going to stop him," she said, and stooped down to double knot her fake Doc Martens.

"I think you just feel guilty because you were already with Dominick when Terry went psycho." Lonnie ignored her and grabbed her keys. Peach added, "Just don't let him charm you into giving him another chance."

"Okay, I won't. See you later."

"When will you be back?" Peach asked.

"Soon," Lonnie said. "This won't take long."

Chapter 24

"Terry, I've been waiting here for thirty minutes!"

"I know, I'm sorry," he apologized through garbling static. "I got a late start, and there was a big detour near Waterbury."

"Oh... well, do you just want to forget it?" She tried to make the offer sound as nonchalant as possible—as if she weren't praying with all her might that he'd accept it. She'd been sitting at Starbucks, in a purple armchair, watching rain streak down the front glass in flickering lines that inverted streetlights and blurred Boylston traffic. She hadn't taken her cell phone, figuring this would be a quick cup of coffee. She should've known it wouldn't be that easy.

Finally, she'd braved the rain to use the pay phone on the sidewalk. And luckily, Terry had picked up his cell. Unluckily, it didn't sound as if he were right around the corner.

"No, I don't wanna forget it," he said, referring to her suggestive plea that they take the proverbial rain check. "Sorry I'm running late, but I definitely still wanna get together. Look, it's eight now. I'll be in the city within the hour."
An hour!
How did she get roped into these things? She was going to wait another hour just to meet him for a twenty-minute cup of coffee?

"We'll have dinner," he added.

Well, that answered that question. "Terry, I—no, I... can't do dinner," she lied. Technically she could, but she didn't want to. She wasn't hungry, and she didn't feel like killing an hour just so she could enjoy a strained dinner date with her ex-practically-semi boyfriend. Was it just her?

"Lon, I'm starving," he whined. "Come on, dinner, my treat. It's the least I can do for being so late."

"No... I—"

"Look, I gotta go, my battery's running down."

"Terry, wait!" she exclaimed. Honestly, she wasn't trying to be stubborn—she was simply trying to avoid being manipulated. "I never agreed to dinner," she stated firmly.

"What's the big deal?" he asked testily. "I can't believe this—I drive four hours to see you tonight and you won't have one quick dinner with me—
my treat?"
When he put it like that, it did sound pretty petty. Except...
Wait a minute!

"What do you mean you drove four hours just to see me?" she challenged. "You told me you had to be in Boston tonight anyway!"

Static broke up the connection for a few defining moments.

"Lon? You there?"

"Yes... but..."

"Lon, listen, we'll go to that seafood place nearby."

"But—"

"I... I'll see you in an hour...," he croaked out before the line went dead.

Damn it!
She slammed the phone onto its perch harder than she'd intended, and only then did she realize how drenched she was. The sleeves of her bulky white parka leaked steady, fat drops, and her hair—long, black, and soaked—was plastered to her face. Fortunately, she hadn't worn makeup, so at least she could avoid the goth effect. Yet, oddly, that provided little consolation at the moment.

Seeing the happy couples and packs of friends scurrying down Boylston, gathered under umbrellas, she felt jealous. Not for the umbrellas, but because they appeared to actually want to spend time with each other.

She dug into her pocket for change and placed another call. After three rings, Dominick's voice mail picked up. Great. She'd wanted to explain what was going on to
him,
not an automated answering service. He'd been at a conference all day, so she'd hoped they'd get to see each other later tonight. It was still a very good possibility, if Terry would just get here already. "Hi, it's me," she said after the beep. "I... Listen, I'm not sure what's going on for tonight. Terry hasn't even gotten here yet. I just spoke to him, and he's running late, and... well, now we're supposed to have dinner when he show's up... and his phone kept breaking up, so I couldn't get out of it.... Anyway, I'll call you when I get home, but I don't know when it will be.... Not that I think it'll be late or anything, but I just mean, I don't expect you to wait. Okay, your tape's gonna run out. I'll call you later. Bye."

She hung up, crossed the sidewalk, and went back into the warmth of Starbucks to get a decaf white-chocolate mocha to take the chill off. (Well, she didn't want to get a
cold.)

Nearly an hour and a half later, Terry showed up. Unfortunately, Lonnie missed his entrance because she'd fallen asleep in her purple armchair. It must have been that third herbal tea that did her in. "Hey, Lon," he said, shaking her arm.

She jerked awake, and once she realized where she was—and felt appropriately embarrassed by her public nap—she was overwhelmed by the painfully pressing need to pee.

Several minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom and actually caught Terry looking at his watch impatiently. She locked her jaw and decided to chalk it up to residual sleep delirium so she could get this night over with as civilly and
amicably
as possible. "Ready?" he asked.

They had no trouble getting seated at the restaurant since it was so late. Then Terry spent another half hour savoring his appetizer of fried calamari. Just as Lonnie was about to put her foot down and demand they speed up the meal, their waiter brought out a bottle of Dom Perignon. Terry must've ordered it when she was in the ladies' room earlier.

Immediately, she protested. "Terry, I don't want to drink this. It's too expensive and we're not celebrating anything."

"No way," he countered, shaking his head and sending a few light brown shaggy locks out of their loosely defined place. "Don't worry about it. My treat, remember?" And he smiled at her. His smile reminded her that he was only trying to be nice, and that made her feel guilty, because she still didn't want to be there.

She wasn't bored; she was
antsy.
It felt like eons had passed while Terry droned on about his career—how it was really starting to take off, how he was "this close" to getting a role in a commercial, how his agent saw big things ahead. Now, while he drank some more champagne, Lonnie tried to get a word in before he launched back into his self-aggrandizing treatise. "I can really only stay for one glass," she said. "Then I've got to get going, okay?" At this rate, she had no idea if he was ever planning to explain his tirade over the phone, and she really didn't care anymore.