Once Upon Stilettos

Page 25

That didn’t give me a lot to go on. He was the most difficult person to get to know that I’d ever met.
“What about you?” he asked.
“About the same as you, I suppose.” I hadn’t thought about it that way, but my list of outside activities wasn’t all that interesting, either. “I do stuff with my roommates. A lot of the time that involves blind dates. Most of the time, I’d rather stay in if they’d let me. I read a lot when I have the chance—nothing literary or good for me, only fun stuff. I go to movies sometimes, but I prefer old movies, the kind that usually aren’t at the theater. I cook. That’s about it.”
“When your work is as exciting as ours is, maybe you need your personal time to be quiet.”
The waitress dropped the check on our table as she walked past, and he grabbed it before I had a chance. “This one’s on me,” he said.
“No, I can pay my part.”
He shook his head. “No. I owe you.”
“For what?”
“Well, if you don’t count saving my life—which I do—I do owe you for a breakfast.”
I felt like I should protest more, but I also got the impression I’d never win. I gave a sigh of defeat. “If you insist.”
“I do.” He grinned. “You should know better than to get in my way.”
“Oh, like you could do anything against me?”
“I’m sure I could think of something.”
I laughed at the mischievous look on his face. There was something familiar about the way I felt at that moment. It wasn’t the crush. It wasn’t even like anything I’d felt with a man before. Then I realized that it reminded me of the times when my brothers and I sparred verbally, all in love and fun. Great. Just what I needed, another big brother.
As he walked me home, I realized that if this had been an actual date, it would have been the best date I’d had since I’d moved to New York. Maybe even since before that. I couldn’t remember a date where I’d had that much fun, been that at ease with someone.
It hadn’t been a date, though, even if he had picked up the check. In spite of all the bonding we’d done, he still didn’t come close to touching me—no hand holding or even near-miss brushing of hands as we walked, no arm draped around my shoulders. But did that really matter? I’d had fun. I enjoyed being with him.
When we stopped in front of my building, I said, “Well, thanks for dinner. I’m glad we did that. Otherwise, it was going to be mac and cheese in front of the TV.”
“I’m glad you joined me. I think I needed to get out.”
There was a long pause. I wondered if I should invite him up. I hoped he was wondering if he should kiss me good night. Before I made a decision about what to do, he said, “See you in the morning,” then turned and headed off toward his place. He didn’t even try to hug me or shake my hand.
With a deep sigh, I climbed to the third floor. The apartment was still empty when I opened the door. Both roommates must have made their own dinner plans. The light on the answering machine was blinking, so I hit the PLAY button as I removed my coat. “Uh, this message is for Katie,” my mother’s voice said. Someday maybe she’d get used to newfangled things like answering machines. “This is your mother. I need you to call me as soon as you can. I have big news for you.”
My mother will wait to tell you about a death in the extended family so it won’t ruin your day, and she hates answering machines, so the fact that she’d actually left a message and had said she needed me to call as soon as possible could mean only one thing: a death or serious injury in the immediate family. One of my brothers must have accidentally shot another brother while they were out hunting, or something equally dire.
I wished I’d invited Owen to come up with me so I’d have someone nearby when I got the bad news. My hand shook as I picked up the phone and dialed home. When my mother answered, I could hear a quaver in my voice as I said, “Mom, it’s me, Katie.”
“Frank! It’s Katie!” Her voice sounded like she was talking away from the phone. Then she spoke into the phone. “Hi, honey, that was fast. I wasn’t expecting to hear back from you tonight.”
“You said to call as soon as possible,” I reminded her. The fact that she’d left a message would have made me call back right away. If she just wanted to chat, she’d keep calling over and over again for hours instead of leaving a message. She always said she didn’t want to be a bother or make anyone feel obligated to call her back if it wasn’t important. “What is it, Mom? What happened?” I asked.