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Ыоуве Been Warned :: Patterson James
Страница: 65 из 138But there’s something else and it’s been killing me.”
“What’s that?”
“The guilt. It never occurred to me until the relationship ended,” he says. “I mean, where did I get off trying to break up a marriage?”
I hear him say the words and I have to remind myself that he’s not talking about me. This is abouthim. But weirdly, I can’t help feeling defensive. The parallel to Michael and me is unmistakable, and more than a little unnerving.
“Clearly this woman you were seeing doesn’t have a good marriage,” I point out.
“Yes, but good or bad it’s still a marriage – I shouldn’t have been trying to ruin it. They’ve got kids, for Christ’s sake.”
“But she doesn’t really love them!” I blurt out.
He looks at me sideways. “Excuse me?”
Uh-oh. Say something, Kristin. Anything! At least get your size eight out of your mouth.
I clear my throat, trying to reel myself in. Then I put my hand on top of his. “I just think you’re being too hard on yourself, Stephen. Remember, it takes two to tango.”
“Yeah,” he says, leaning in closer. “Except you’re forgetting one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“No one’s ever forced to dance, are they?”
8
Chapter 50
I NEED SOME AIR!
That’s all I’m thinking as I say good-bye to Stephen. Our evening ends on the sidewalk outside Elio’s with an exchange of awkward smiles, a peck on my cheek, and the unspoken understanding that this is our first and last date.
“Can I hail you a cab?” he asks.
“That’s okay. I think I’m going to walk for a bit.”
It doesn’t matter where, and for the next hour or so, I pay no attention to the street signs. I wander aimlessly. It’s only when I get a strange feeling in my stomach that I look up for the first time and see where I am.
Sixty-eighth and Madison, right smack in front of the Fálcon Hotel.
Coincidence?
I wish.
I’m starting to believe that everything is happening for a reason. If only I could figure out what it is. Something has to tie all this together, make sense of it.
Maybe the strangest thing of all: the Fálcon and I have a history. Something I never talk about, not even to Michael. It happened my first week in New York, actually, just before I left Matthew of Boston. Since then, I try not to think about it.
“What’s that?”
“The guilt. It never occurred to me until the relationship ended,” he says. “I mean, where did I get off trying to break up a marriage?”
I hear him say the words and I have to remind myself that he’s not talking about me. This is abouthim. But weirdly, I can’t help feeling defensive. The parallel to Michael and me is unmistakable, and more than a little unnerving.
“Clearly this woman you were seeing doesn’t have a good marriage,” I point out.
“Yes, but good or bad it’s still a marriage – I shouldn’t have been trying to ruin it. They’ve got kids, for Christ’s sake.”
“But she doesn’t really love them!” I blurt out.
He looks at me sideways. “Excuse me?”
Uh-oh. Say something, Kristin. Anything! At least get your size eight out of your mouth.
I clear my throat, trying to reel myself in. Then I put my hand on top of his. “I just think you’re being too hard on yourself, Stephen. Remember, it takes two to tango.”
“Yeah,” he says, leaning in closer. “Except you’re forgetting one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“No one’s ever forced to dance, are they?”
8
Chapter 50
I NEED SOME AIR!
That’s all I’m thinking as I say good-bye to Stephen. Our evening ends on the sidewalk outside Elio’s with an exchange of awkward smiles, a peck on my cheek, and the unspoken understanding that this is our first and last date.
“Can I hail you a cab?” he asks.
“That’s okay. I think I’m going to walk for a bit.”
It doesn’t matter where, and for the next hour or so, I pay no attention to the street signs. I wander aimlessly. It’s only when I get a strange feeling in my stomach that I look up for the first time and see where I am.
Sixty-eighth and Madison, right smack in front of the Fálcon Hotel.
Coincidence?
I wish.
I’m starting to believe that everything is happening for a reason. If only I could figure out what it is. Something has to tie all this together, make sense of it.
Maybe the strangest thing of all: the Fálcon and I have a history. Something I never talk about, not even to Michael. It happened my first week in New York, actually, just before I left Matthew of Boston. Since then, I try not to think about it.