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The corners of my mouth tug downward and I tap my pen against the marble countertop. It’s not a great feeling, to be put on hold. Then again, he’s a busy man.
When he speaks again, it’s rushed, “Hey, sorry about that, hon. I had my publicist on the other line. How are you?”
“I’m…”I’m stuck in a log cabin with an irritatingly hot guy who I used to be in love with. “I’m fine. Just wanted to hear your voice. Catch up a little, you know.”
“Aw, that’s sweet of you. It’s always nice to hear from you, too. Business good?”
“Great. Hey, I’m actually in Vermont. I think I saw that you’re going to be up this way…?”
He hesitates. “Er, yes. Yes, in fact, I am. Making the drive tomorrow morning, actually.”
I wait for him to extend some more details, but he doesn’t. Maybe he feels awkward about this because we’re not officially an item any more. But he did call me “hon” just like he used to…
He should invite me to the conference. I want to go. I want to see him.
I have to take matters into my own hands, clearly. “Central Vermont, right?” I prompt. “The economics forum? I read that it's a really good lineup. Nice that you’re getting there early. That should give you a little time to unwind, before you lecture. I’m sure you’re speaking…?”
“That’s right. They have me giving a keynote speech Wednesday night, plus presenting two talks on Saturday.Volatility in IncomeandLabor Force Dynamics. Rather drab stuff, but I’m saving the cutting-edge show-stoppers for the Cornell Lecture Series in January, after this next book launches.”
“Wow, awesome. Good for you. Hey, would you be up for a visit, maybe Monday? I’d love to take a drive, and it’d be great to see you.”
“Ah… er.” He clears his throat.
I tap my pen against the counter top faster. What is going on here? It’s almost like he doesn’t want to see me.
I’m going crazy. That’s what’s happening. Being stuck in this log cabin with shirtless, bed-head Parker is making me lose my grip on reality. I can’t let that happen.
Get your head straight Gemma,I tell myself.Mortimer Laughlin is your Mr. Right. Star of your Life Plan. The man who will one day slip your great-grandmother’s engagement ring onto your left index finger.
I reach for the vintage ring I wear on a chain around my neck, every single day.
“It’s been a while and it’d be really great to grab a cup of coffee, maybe, and chat,” I say, as I run my fingertips over the smooth ridges of the ring. “Plus, I’d love to see your lectures if you think you can get me seats on Saturday.Volatility in Income… that sounds really interesting.”
Chapter7
Parker
I could sleep for another two hours, easy.
But I can hear Gemma out in the kitchen, and as I lie in bed I realize that I don’t want to miss this time with her.
She’ll be back to her life in the city in no time, knowing her.
Gemma was always busy, back when she was in high school. It was like she always wanted to be two places at once: presiding over a student council meetingandplaying field hockey. Gossiping with the girls at the lunch tableandrunning on the track.
Perfecting her backstroke in the backyard poolandflirting with me on a lounge chair in the sun.
I close my eyes and remember exactly what she used to look like, when she’d perch at the end of whatever chaise lounge I was sprawled across. She’d flick water over me or tease me for being lazy, and I’d eat it all up like a marathon runner at a spaghetti buffet.
I can almost feel the hot sun on my chest, and smell her suntan lotion and that marshmallow lip gloss she used to wear.
Man, that lip gloss used to drive me wild. It sparkled on her lips and made me think about kissing her every single time she layered it on.
I think she knew it, too. She’d pull the tube out of her pocket whenever I entered a room, and then look me in the eye as she passed the wand over her bottom lip. Then she’d rub her lips together, all the while holding my gaze.
Now she’s here, right out in the kitchen.
I wonder if she’s wearing lip gloss today. Or, has she graduated to lipstick? Or is she a no-muss, no-fuss kind of woman these days, forgoing makeup for the natural look? Gemma doesn’t need makeup, obviously. Her face is perfect, even with green goop smeared all over it.
