Chapter 48

“Yeah. Okay.” Her stomach gave another unsettling tug. “On one condition.”

Candace froze with her pinky still in her mouth. “Uh-oh.”

“You stay another month.”

“No.”

“Two weeks.”

“Michelle.”

“A week and a half.”

Candace pressed her lips together, but a smile threatened anyway. “Five days.”

“A week, Candace. Come on. He’s worth it.”

“Maybe.”

“Good.” She finished her own cone and pushed away from the car, too twitchy to stand there anymore thinking about men. She wanted to go home, change and jog a few miles, get rid of this restless energy. Tomorrow she’d visit Nick after work. It did seem like a sensible idea, and she was trying very hard to be sensible. Plus, having decided to go, she might as well get it over with. She’d pretend to stay late at the office after he went home, or have a drink somewhere first, maybe with Jenny, to give Nick time to settle in for the evening with Emma. Jenny could give her courage…or stop her by telling her she was crazy. That would work. And be so much easier.

Michelle climbed into Candace’s passenger’s seat, custard still turning traitor in her stomach. Her earlier conviction that this time she had it together and Candace was a mess had broken up and dissolved. She felt like her old messy self again. Hooray.

Candace started the car, pulled onto Blue Mound heading east and home. Michelle buckled up and leaned back in her seat, watching the neat rows of houses passing, tense with dread. What happened if after all this progress it turned out that understanding her problems with men didn’t bring her any closer to fixing them?

__________

Michelle walked down the Street, taking small precise steps. Six o’clock and she was exhausted. She’d been on time to work that morning, part of her new, more serious leaf-turning-over commitment, but there had been meetings and deadlines and a birthday lunch for Jenny’s cubicle partner Doreen. Through it all she’d felt like she was high on something, but not pleasantly. Talking to Nick had been torture, especially because of course he noticed the change and wanted to know what was wrong. She’d asked him about Emma, what had they done the previous evening? Watched TV on the couch, then he went to bed and read. Emma didn’t read? No, she wasn’t much of a reader. What did she do? Took a bath, then came to bed with him.

Emma sounded really boring. But who was Michelle to judge? She’d gone after romantic thrills her whole life and never managed to be remotely happy. Another block gone, another one to go; her steps got smaller. She hadn’t found a miracle parking place this time. Was that a bad sign? She didn’t know.

Another half block. His building grew as she got closer. Maybe he wouldn’t be home? But then she’d have to come back sometime and that would suck. She crossed Erie Street, the last barrier, and made it up the steps to his front door. A few more steps and she was in the foyer, scanning the buzzers for his name. She pushed 3C with a shaky finger. Waited.

“Oh, well.” She turned away from the panel and made for the exit.

Obviously he wasn’t— “Yeah?”

—home.

She sighed, turned back and approached the speaker. Time to live by her brave and noble words. “Hi, Nick, it’s Michelle.”

“Michelle.” His voice softened into concern. “Are you okay?”

“Can I come in?”

“Um…yeah. Yeah, sure, come on up.”

The buzzer sounded, the door clicked unlocked. She pushed through and trudged up the stairs, wincing when she passed Sledge’s door. Another flight and Nick met her on the landing outside his apartment, took her arm anxiously.

“Did something happen? You’ve been acting strange all day.”

Her stomach gave a little flutter, but she couldn’t tell whether it was pleasure or dread. “I need to talk to you.”

“Yes. Of course. Sure.” He waited expectantly.

“Uh.” She looked around the dingy stairwell. “Can we go into your apartment?”

“Yes.” His voice was overly hearty. “Yes. Come on in.”

Was his place a mess? Or was there another reason he didn’t want her there? Had he not told Emma they were close friends? Were he and Emma about to have sex when she buzzed? Was Emma inflatable?

He pushed open his door and gestured her in. “After you.”

His apartment was not what she expected. First, it was neat. Very neat.

And clean. Scary clean. And elegant. Dark wood furniture; chairs and sofa with fabrics in shades of teal and burgundy and gold, even coordinating throw pillows; pots of plants and African sculptures on end tables and bookcases; Indian woven tapestries on the walls, which were a warm ochre color; a small fountain cascading water over pretty stones into a glazed bowl; a tank with colorful fish swimming happily around water plants. Brilliant use of the modest space so that even though the room was well-furnished, it didn’t feel at all crowded.

Emma wasn’t a skunk. She was a woman with incredibly sophisticated, international taste. Michelle had spent all these months—years, actually— thinking she was too cool for Nick, and it might turn out to be the other way around. She shouldn’t have come.

“Nick, your place is gorgeous. Look at this.”

“Oh. Thanks. Thank you.” He seemed nervous, rubbed his hands on his bright green shorts, which he’d paired with a maroon T-shirt, shudder.

“Is Emma around?”

“No. No, she’s not. Not sure where she is right now.” He paced toward the kitchen, then came halfway back. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Oh, sure. Beer if you have it. If not—”

“I have it. Or wine. Or anything stronger.”

“I’ll take a beer, thanks, Nick.” She heard the sound of a refrigerator opening and even in her misery over discovering Nick might be out of her league, she couldn’t keep her curiosity at bay and followed.

His kitchen was gorgeous, too—professional range, impressive cookware hanging from an iron rack easy to reach from the stove. More plants by the window and on the solid, quality kitchen table. Why had she been so sure his place would look like a college dorm room?

“You and Emma must love to cook.”

“I love to cook. Emma loves to eat.” He poured salted almonds into a bowl, grabbed a bag of sweet potato chips from the cabinet and a dish of baby carrots from the refrigerator.

“Nick, just the beer is fine.”

“Oh.” He stood holding the food, looking lost.