Nine Women, One Dress(34)

At night she would sleep in the almost nude, on her stomach, and she would always fall asleep before me. I would watch her. Not in a creepy way, I swear. Her suntanned body and her peaceful face and her tousled hair—it was like looking at a sunset. I couldn’t help but watch her until my eyes got tired and shut as well. Two more nights and I would have to fall asleep to Jimmy Fallon again. I used to think that was just fine.

She was obsessed with the great service at the hotel. She had been so pleased to learn that whenever you threw something into the little hamper in our room, it magically appeared clean and folded on our bed a few hours later. She didn’t take anything for granted and was grateful for everything. It made me realize how much I needed that in my life. On our last night we ordered in lobsters and champagne, and on account of everything being clean and dry and packed up, Natalie convinced me to go skinny-dipping. I know you’re thinking I probably didn’t need that much convincing, but I didn’t think I’d be able to make it through. I’d somewhat resigned myself to being platonic, and had gotten used to keeping a safe distance. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself from kissing her if we were naked in the water together. But she really wanted to go, and I couldn’t say no to her.

I was right—I wasn’t able to make it through. By the third time she brushed by me and rose above the water looking like a Greek goddess of the sea, I pulled her toward me and kissed her. It lasted a few minutes, and I don’t think I’d ever wanted anyone so badly or waited so long to act on it. I broke away.

“Should we go inside to continue this?” I asked, barely audible.

“I don’t think we should continue, Jeremy,” she responded, completely audible.

“Why?” I asked, a little surprised.

“Why?” she responded, and seemed even more surprised. My desire began to wane. I didn’t know what her deal was, but I was beginning to feel toyed with.

“Yes, why? Why are you all gaga over that idiot who can’t see past his Ivy League rulebook and for me you feel nothing?” I had said it. I don’t remember ever leaving myself so vulnerable in my life. She stopped for a moment to think. I felt very naked, and I think she did too as she crossed her arms over her breasts as she spoke.

“Jeremy, I’ve just had my heart broken, and I didn’t like it. In fact I pretty much hated it, and I don’t want to go through that again, at least not so—”

I interrupted her. “Natalie, I’m absolutely crazy about you, everything about you. Every minute with you leaves me wanting more. I promise I will not hurt you,” I pleaded.

“You say that now, Jeremy, and I’m sure you believe it, but down deep inside you like men, and I know that with the moonlight and the nakedness and all this pretending to be a couple you temporarily found me attractive, but I think you’re just caught up in the moment.”

“Hold on!” I shouted. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not gay.”

Her face turned ashen. She backed away from me and ran to get a towel. I ran after her. I was confused, but she just seemed angry. She was pacing around the room throwing her last few belongings in her suitcase. Finally she stopped.

“How could you?” she asked.

“How could I what?” I responded.

“How could you have lied to me like that? And for so long. You slept in my bed…and you brought me here and shared a room with me. I was naked in front of you!”

“I’m sorry…I thought you were just a free spirit—it’s one of the things I like about you!”

“Really?” She seethed. “Well, I’m not. I’m not a free spirit! I’m a prude! I’m only a free spirit in front of my girlfriends! Thelma and Louise, remember?”

“I never told you I was gay!” I said, losing my temper a bit.

“You never told me you weren’t!” she shouted, losing hers a lot.

She yelled at me without giving me the chance to defend myself. I kept thinking it would end up okay, but she was possibly the most stubborn person I’d ever met, and the night ended with her sleeping, I kid you not, in the bathtub fit for a king, with all the bedding and most of the pillows. The next day I didn’t know what to say and she seemed to have said everything she felt, so we rode home on the private plane in silence. Except for one parting sentence—hers.

“Goodbye, Jeremy. I liked you better when you were gay.”

She took her own cab from Teterboro. In the limo home I consoled myself with one reassuring fact: although now she didn’t like me in that way or in any way whatsoever, at least before she hadn’t liked me in that way because I was gay.





CHAPTER 18


Love in the Afternoon


By Felicia (aka Arthur Winters’s Executive Assistant)





He got me there on the pretext of needing a file for a client. The whole way over I secretly thought he’d remembered I had said the Carlyle was on my bucket list. Of course I’d said it picturing us listening to Sutton Foster at the Café, not in a tryst in a suite upstairs. Looks like I may have to write myself a new list!

I went to the front desk as instructed and asked for Mr. Winters.

The concierge said there was a note for me. “Suite 402” was written in the most familiar handwriting I knew, with a little heart drawn on the bottom of the card. That part was new to me. I pressed the fourth-floor button six times, but it didn’t make the elevator go any faster.