Betrayals
Page 90
“By persons unknown.”
“The point, Olivia, is that all practical justifications aside, you want this house.”
When I said nothing, he looked over and after a moment said, “You want it, yet you will not accept it.” Before I could respond, he said, “Is it Ricky?”
“What?”
He walked to the corner of the Oriental carpet and bent to straighten it. “You have been together for months. I understand that, after a certain amount of time, it becomes impractical to continue moving from apartment to apartment, and cohabitation is a natural progression. Clearly, Ricky would not be comfortable living in Cainsville, nor would I advise it. His apartment is hardly suitable for two, and he is graduating this term and must give it up. If you had plans, then, to find a more permanent residence …”
“Move in together? No. That’s not happening.”
He glanced over. “Is there a problem?”
“No. We just don’t plan to move in together. That would add pressure, and it’s just … It’s not what either of us wants. We take it as it comes and take it for what it is.”
He frowned slightly, as if he didn’t understand, and I suppose a lot of people wouldn’t. If you’re in love, you should want to live together and begin that trek toward a wedding and babies. I’d been on that road before, and I was happy to step off it and just enjoy what I had, while I had it.
“So the house is simply … too much?” he said finally.
“I’m worried about the message it sends to the elders, and I’m worried about getting too comfortable.”
“That making Cainsville your home would influence your ultimate decision.”
I nodded. “Otherwise, I’d take it in a heartbeat.”
“Let’s talk about that, then.”
GIFT
As they walked up the stairs, Gabriel struggled to prepare his defense. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem. Even in a prison visiting room with his client in tears, Gabriel could pretend to listen while mentally composing his opening arguments. Now, though, he was distracted. By two things.
First, he had not, evidently, committed a grievous error in preparing the house for Olivia. He knew a comment on that would be forthcoming, once she’d settled distractions in her own mind, but it did not seem it would be negative. His goal was to show Olivia that he could be what she needed in a partner. In knowing that she wanted this house, he’d proven he understood her. In readying it for her, he’d proven—he hoped—that he could be considerate and anticipate her needs.
Second, the matter of Ricky. He hadn’t considered that Ricky and Olivia might be moving toward cohabitation until she’d hesitated at the thought of moving in here. They’d been together for months. They spent most nights at one apartment or the other. Cohabitation was the next logical step. Followed by …
He tried not to consider the “followed by” part. He’d spent the last few months trying not to consider it. Yet Olivia had no intention of moving in with Ricky, much less anything else.
That gave him hope.
So why was his stomach tightening and twisting with every step up those stairs? Because hope was a dangerous thing. It said the failure would be his own fault alone.
He should be fine with that. That’s how he lived his life: control all factors and thereby accept the blame for failure. But here? Yes, here, if he failed, he wanted to be able to say he’d had no chance of success—
“Bedroom?” Olivia asked, pulling him from his thoughts. They were at the top of the stairs, six closed doors surrounding them—four bedrooms, a bath, and the attic. “I’m guessing not that one?” She pointed at the rear corner room, with the triskelion.
“Definitely not.”
“I wouldn’t want to trigger visions stumbling to the bathroom at night.”
He noticed she didn’t add if I do move in.
He motioned to the front right door. “That appears to be the master bedroom.”
She passed him, threw open the door, and said, “Oh my God,” and ran inside, the door swinging behind her. By the time he opened it, she was in the middle of the room.
“The tower,” she said. “Obviously, I knew there was a half tower … but wow.”
There was indeed a half tower, extending up from the bay windows in the living room. In the master bedroom it formed a cupola, a semicircle of cushioned window seats with windows that reached to the ceiling, decorated with stained glass along the top.
“Reading seats,” she said. “A table for my tea. Even pillows.”
She scooped one up and surreptitiously sniffed it, as if checking for mildew.
“They’re new,” he said.
“The elders bought me pillows?”
He started to say yes, they must have. Because that was the safe answer. He was not a man who bought pillows. He was not a man who noticed that someone liked pillows. But if he was trying to show her a better side of himself, it did not behoove him to pretend the elders had bought Olivia pillows. Still, it was with no small amount of trepidation that he said, “I picked them up in the city earlier today.”
“So you weren’t working all morning?”
“No.”
“They’re perfect.” She turned toward the huge sleigh bed, the wood gleaming.
“You’ll want to replace the mattresses,” he said. “But that set will do for now with new bedding.”
“The point, Olivia, is that all practical justifications aside, you want this house.”
When I said nothing, he looked over and after a moment said, “You want it, yet you will not accept it.” Before I could respond, he said, “Is it Ricky?”
“What?”
He walked to the corner of the Oriental carpet and bent to straighten it. “You have been together for months. I understand that, after a certain amount of time, it becomes impractical to continue moving from apartment to apartment, and cohabitation is a natural progression. Clearly, Ricky would not be comfortable living in Cainsville, nor would I advise it. His apartment is hardly suitable for two, and he is graduating this term and must give it up. If you had plans, then, to find a more permanent residence …”
“Move in together? No. That’s not happening.”
He glanced over. “Is there a problem?”
“No. We just don’t plan to move in together. That would add pressure, and it’s just … It’s not what either of us wants. We take it as it comes and take it for what it is.”
He frowned slightly, as if he didn’t understand, and I suppose a lot of people wouldn’t. If you’re in love, you should want to live together and begin that trek toward a wedding and babies. I’d been on that road before, and I was happy to step off it and just enjoy what I had, while I had it.
“So the house is simply … too much?” he said finally.
“I’m worried about the message it sends to the elders, and I’m worried about getting too comfortable.”
“That making Cainsville your home would influence your ultimate decision.”
I nodded. “Otherwise, I’d take it in a heartbeat.”
“Let’s talk about that, then.”
GIFT
As they walked up the stairs, Gabriel struggled to prepare his defense. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem. Even in a prison visiting room with his client in tears, Gabriel could pretend to listen while mentally composing his opening arguments. Now, though, he was distracted. By two things.
First, he had not, evidently, committed a grievous error in preparing the house for Olivia. He knew a comment on that would be forthcoming, once she’d settled distractions in her own mind, but it did not seem it would be negative. His goal was to show Olivia that he could be what she needed in a partner. In knowing that she wanted this house, he’d proven he understood her. In readying it for her, he’d proven—he hoped—that he could be considerate and anticipate her needs.
Second, the matter of Ricky. He hadn’t considered that Ricky and Olivia might be moving toward cohabitation until she’d hesitated at the thought of moving in here. They’d been together for months. They spent most nights at one apartment or the other. Cohabitation was the next logical step. Followed by …
He tried not to consider the “followed by” part. He’d spent the last few months trying not to consider it. Yet Olivia had no intention of moving in with Ricky, much less anything else.
That gave him hope.
So why was his stomach tightening and twisting with every step up those stairs? Because hope was a dangerous thing. It said the failure would be his own fault alone.
He should be fine with that. That’s how he lived his life: control all factors and thereby accept the blame for failure. But here? Yes, here, if he failed, he wanted to be able to say he’d had no chance of success—
“Bedroom?” Olivia asked, pulling him from his thoughts. They were at the top of the stairs, six closed doors surrounding them—four bedrooms, a bath, and the attic. “I’m guessing not that one?” She pointed at the rear corner room, with the triskelion.
“Definitely not.”
“I wouldn’t want to trigger visions stumbling to the bathroom at night.”
He noticed she didn’t add if I do move in.
He motioned to the front right door. “That appears to be the master bedroom.”
She passed him, threw open the door, and said, “Oh my God,” and ran inside, the door swinging behind her. By the time he opened it, she was in the middle of the room.
“The tower,” she said. “Obviously, I knew there was a half tower … but wow.”
There was indeed a half tower, extending up from the bay windows in the living room. In the master bedroom it formed a cupola, a semicircle of cushioned window seats with windows that reached to the ceiling, decorated with stained glass along the top.
“Reading seats,” she said. “A table for my tea. Even pillows.”
She scooped one up and surreptitiously sniffed it, as if checking for mildew.
“They’re new,” he said.
“The elders bought me pillows?”
He started to say yes, they must have. Because that was the safe answer. He was not a man who bought pillows. He was not a man who noticed that someone liked pillows. But if he was trying to show her a better side of himself, it did not behoove him to pretend the elders had bought Olivia pillows. Still, it was with no small amount of trepidation that he said, “I picked them up in the city earlier today.”
“So you weren’t working all morning?”
“No.”
“They’re perfect.” She turned toward the huge sleigh bed, the wood gleaming.
“You’ll want to replace the mattresses,” he said. “But that set will do for now with new bedding.”
