Wreathed (27 page)

“
My pants are coming off!
”

He reached over, grabbed the back of my belt, and lifted me bodily over the fence as I kicked and flailed. He overbalanced and fell to the turf, with me on top of him.

“Ow,” I said. “Bastard.”

Adam hooked a thumb towards the house, and started walking up to the back porch, and tried a small door on the right side. It was locked.

“Unbelievable,” I said.

“Patience.” He got his wallet out and extracted a credit card. He slid it into the latch and the door popped open. A staircase led up to the second floor.

“After you,” he said.

The room at the top of the stairs was large and tastefully decorated and had a gas fireplace roaring happily away. A king-size bed sat in the far corner, with high-thread-count sheets and a down comforter, with a door beyond it that looked like it led to a private bath. In front of the fireplace, there was a bright-red Persian rug and a cushy sofa with dark maroon leather.

“Did you do all this?” I asked.

“Every bit of it. It’s nice, don’t you think?”

“It’s gorgeous,” I said. It looked every bit as stunning as what Sheldon had done with the house in Cape May.

“I have the fireplace synched up with an iPhone app. I turned it on when you were getting dinner at the mall. I was hoping that you’d want to come up here with me, and here you are.”

He’s trying to seduce you,
I thought.
And it’s working.

“It’s been a long day,” I said. “And I have to admit, it would be nice just to sink down on that couch and watch that fire for a while, sitting next to you. But first, I would like to know where we stand, you and I.”

“We don’t need to stand,” he said. “Sit. Relax. Be comfortable.”

“You asked me to trust you, and I did,” I said. “But it has to be a two-way street. You still owe me an apology. And unless I get it, you’re going to need to find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

Adam sank down on the couch. “You’re right,” he said. “It has been a long day.”

“If you want to grab a blanket so you can sleep more comfortably downstairs, I would be all right with that,” I said.

“I’m not going to grovel, if that’s what you’re waiting for. If you’re looking for someone who does that, I guess you can keep looking. I know I screwed up today. I know I overreacted when you said Sheldon was alive. This has not been the best day I’ve ever had, or the best week I’ve ever had, but that’s not an excuse. Sometimes I am a jerk. But not often, and when I’m not, I’m actually a pretty decent guy, if you give me a chance. That’s if you want to give me a chance.”

“If you can’t be honest with me, I can’t give you a chance.”

“Then I’ll be honest,” he said. “I like you. I think you’re smart and attractive and sexy. You don’t put up with bullshit or dish it out. I want to try to make this work, and I hope that you do, too.”

“I want to try,” I said. “But I can’t be with someone I don’t trust, and who doesn’t trust me. We have to build that, together, and maybe we’re not there yet.”

Adam took a long look into the fireplace. I took a step towards the fire, feeling its warmth on my hands and radiating up my body. I was suddenly conscious of just how warm the room was at that moment. It would feel good to be warm all over, I thought, to be under the thick covers on the bed.

“I made this room for you,” he said. “I mean, I didn’t know who you’d be at the time. But I did everything in here myself. I laid the bricks for the fireplace. I sanded the floors. I nailed in the crown molding. I wanted this room to be special, because I knew a special girl would come along who would want to be here, alone with me, and sit by the fire. I trusted that you would come along, and you’re here, and I’m here, and the fire is warm. I think we can build on that.”

I shouldn’t do this. I should walk out of here, like he said. Teach him a lesson.

In his own clumsy, backwards way, he is trying to be romantic.

He’s not Prince Charming, and he never will be.

But he’s smart, and he’s handsome, and when he smiles he makes me feel warm and soft inside. And when he touches me that warm softness blazes into something hotter than that fireplace.

What was it Pacey had said? “Romance is the socialized expression of frustrated sexual desire.” By that standard, I was feeling romantic as all hell. And Adam was standing there, looking at me in that lascivious, carnivorous way of his, like I was a treat he was just waiting to unwrap.

Adam was right
, I thought.
He wasn’t being mysterious. This is someplace warm, and it’s not just the fire.

I took a step backwards, towards the leather sofa. I sat down at what I hoped was an inviting angle. It must have been, because Adam pressed his body closely against mine and leaned in for a kiss. His mouth felt hot and salty against mine. He smelled like smoke and coffee and desire.

He thrust his tongue deeply into my mouth, holding it there for a long, delicious moment. Then he lifted himself off the couch and knelt on the floor in front of me. He started nuzzling my neck, while one hand worked its way down my body to my belt buckle, which he started to undo.

“I thought you wanted to go slowly,” I said.

“I do,” he said. “Later.”

I woke up the next morning happy, content, and wreathed in Adam’s arms. The sun was peeking through the lace curtains. It was the start of a new day, one that we would spend together.

Chapter 32

Vanessa’s car was still in the driveway when I woke up. I had no idea why she was there, unless she wanted to torment me. I didn’t have an idea of how much food Adam had in the house, so it might not be possible to starve her out. There was also the possibility that he didn’t have adequate stores of coffee, which would have been an unquestioned disaster. Something had to be done.

I decided not to wake Adam up right away. He’d had a hard day, and I noted that he looked very fetching when he was asleep. That had to do, I reasoned, with the fact that he wasn’t teasing me. I got dressed, did the minimum I needed to do to make myself presentable, and went downstairs to the kitchen. It turned out that Adam had one of those single-serve coffee makers, and a Costco-sized box of pods to go with them. I was going to be able to withstand a lengthy siege.

I was checking Adam’s pantry to see if his taste in alcohol ranged anywhere beyond light beer when the doorbell rang. I had no intention of answering it, but I also didn’t want Adam to wake up just yet. I glanced at the front door and saw that it had a chain on it. I hooked the chain up and opened the door a crack.

“Go away,” I said.

“I just need a very quick moment of your time,” Vanessa said. “I promise.”

“I do not believe a single thing you say,” I said.

“I hate to ask you. Really, I do. But it will be quick.”

“You are not supposed to be talking to me at all. You shouldn’t be here. You should leave. Now.”

“I can’t leave,” Vanessa said. “Not right this minute.”

“What is your problem?” I asked.

“I need to pee,” she admitted. “Please.”

“Try the deli,” I said.

“Wendy, I know you’re upset, but if you make me wet my pants, I will take it very personally.”

“You just spent the night in your car so you could block my car. That’s stalking, technically. I take that very personally.”

“I am begging you,” she said.

It would be a petty revenge to make her wet her pants on Adam’s front porch, but I knew I would have to clean it up. I undid the chain. “Quickly,” I said. “Don’t make me regret being nice to you.”

“Thanks loads,” she said. “Watch out that I don’t hit your foot with the cane.” She was wearing a ridiculously oversized walking boot, and wielding one of those canes with four legs that extremely elderly people use to get around. Her equipment didn’t seem to inhibit her pace as she raced to the downstairs bathroom.

The way I figured it, it was about fifty-fifty that Vanessa had tracked me down in order to try to extort a quick settlement for her lawsuit. That was the best-case scenario. Otherwise, it meant that she had come up with some other clever idea to torment me. I just hoped that, whatever it was, it was ill-advised enough that I could use it against her somehow. I couldn’t hit her, or even touch her. All I could do was let her do whatever she came to do, and then drive home and amend the pleadings I had prepared if I needed to do that. I was going to win this confrontation in the end, so long as I kept my cool.

She stumped her way out of the bathroom a few minutes later. “I am quite grateful to you,” she said. “Honestly. We may have our little disagreements, but we can still be civil, can’t we?”

“That’s rich, coming from a woman who’s just spent all night in her car so she could block mine in the driveway. Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get a picture of you behind the wheel. You know, for evidence in the countersuit.”

“You do say the drollest things, Wendy. But it’s your picture I’ve come to take.”

“I can’t imagine why,” I said. “I’m not the least bit photogenic.”

“Perhaps not,” Vanessa said. “But your boyfriend is. Or, at least, that’s what I’m hoping the state bar association will think.”

“Is that your little plan? It’s not enough to get me suspended from my job, but you want to get me disbarred as well?”

“It wouldn’t be me doing it, you understand. It would be the state bar association. You’re not supposed to have a sexual relationship with the opposing party in a pending case. They frown on such things, or so I understand.”

I had another one of those flashes of realization, but this was a soft glow. A very warm, soft glow. “Won’t you sit down,” I said. “Your supposed injury must be very tiring for you.”

“That’s very tempting,” she said. “I will take you up on that. It speaks well of your character that you should be so accommodating.” It took her a moment to settle on the love seat. I sat down opposite her, with my hands folded neatly in my lap.

“I can see that you’ve been busy,” I said. “So have I. I have an e-mail sitting in my drafts folder. It’s complete, just not sent yet. It will go out right after this conversation is over. I’m sending it to everyone I can find at Gawker Media, and copying it to all the daily newspapers in the Northeast. I’m hoping that’s all I have to do to help it go viral, but I can certainly send it elsewhere if the need requires.”

“That’s a remarkably feeble threat, Wendy,” she said. “An e-mail. I’m quite frightened.”

“The e-mail will allege that you colluded with one Sheldon Berkman to forge an obituary of his alleged death, which you then hawked to Gawker Media in order to get a job of some sort. They bit on it without checking to see if he were actually dead, which he isn’t. You helped perpetrate a hoax, and they fell for it. They’ll be embarrassed enough to retract the whole thing.”

“Embarrassed?” she snorted. “You don’t know anyone at Gawker, do you?”

“I know enough to know they like pointing out hoaxes a lot more than being hoaxed themselves. And they won’t forgive you for trying to fool them.”

“But it’s not true. You have no proof. You can’t make anything like that stick.”

I sat quietly, with an impassive look on my face.

“You’re bluffing,” Vanessa said. “And it’s a bad bluff. Wendy, I’m disappointed in you.”

I waited for a long moment. I knew Sheldon didn’t have any money, and I knew he needed coffee. Adam said he was an early riser. And sure enough, I heard the squeal of badly maintained rental truck brakes from outside.

A moment later, Sheldon walked in the door. “Good morning,” he said. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Vanessa Sullivan,” I said, “I would like to introduce you to Sheldon Berkman.”

Vanessa jumped to her feet. “This is outrageous,” she shouted. “Sheldon Berkman’s dead.”

“A lot of people thought that,” Sheldon said. “I was much more convincing than I thought I was going to be.”

Vanessa stomped over to the doorway where Sheldon was standing. “Who are you, really?” she asked. “An actor or something?”

“You forgot your cane,” I pointed out, helpfully. “Wait, can you do that again? The walking thing. I want to get it on video.”

“This is a shabby stunt you are trying to pull, Wendy,” she said. “Even if this is Sheldon Berkman.”

“It is Sheldon Berkman. Believe me, I was just as surprised as you were. But you’ll never be able to convince anyone that you didn’t know that ahead of time.”

Vanessa wasn’t wearing the pale makeup she favored, so I could watch the color drain out of her face.

“You can’t send that e-mail,” Vanessa said. “Even if that is Sheldon Berkman, the collusion part is not true.”

“Says Little Miss Walking Boot,” I said. “Do you mind if I keep this cane? You know, for evidence, at trial. Speaking of trials—they’re very expensive undertakings, you know—did you know the most important factor is credibility? I wouldn’t want to call a witness who had been exposed as a hoaxer by a large media outlet, even if it was just Gawker.”

I was waiting on Vanessa to give me a snappy comeback. Anything would do, so long as I could throw it back in her face. But she didn’t. She walked back to the love seat and started to unbuckle the walking boot she was wearing. “I hate this thing,” she said. “It’s uncomfortable, and hot, and I’m afraid I’m going to trip over something and break my neck.”

“What a tragedy that would be for journalism,” I said.

“Says Little Miss Snappy Comeback. All right then,” she said. “Cards on the table. Do you want to make a deal?”

“We start with unconditional surrender,” I said. “We can work on the details after that.”

Adam came down the stairs just then, unshaven, wearing sweat pants and an orange T-shirt that celebrated the 2005 Big East Championship, whatever that might have been. I made a mental note that I needed to work on having him improve his wardrobe.

“What’s going on?” he said.

“Peace negotiations,” I said.

“Will they be concluded before I’ve had a chance to drink some coffee?” he asked.

“Not a chance,” Vanessa said.