Virtuous(54)

I’m waiting outside her school at three o’clock sharp when she emerges with her workbag slung over her shoulder and a suitcase in tow. I figured Leah would be with her, but she’s by herself. As she crosses the street to me, I can almost feel the emotions coming from her—hesitancy, excitement, caution, fear, curiosity and maybe, just maybe, a hint of pleasure at seeing me.

Pleasure is too benign a word to describe what I feel at the sight of her. Relief, anxiety, delight, desire and excitement for the adventure I’m about to take her on. I feel all of that at the same time. I feel more for her than I have for any woman, and rather than run from it, I want to wrap myself up in it and in her.

“Hi,” she says when she reaches me.

“Hi there.” I take her bag and toss it into the backseat with mine and then help her into the car. I’m not sure if I should, but I feel like I haven’t seen her in days, so I lean in to kiss her after I buckle her in.

She kisses me back, and I take that as a good sign.

“Missed you.”

Smiling, she says, “You texted me constantly.”

“No substitute for the real you.”

I want to bury my face in her hair, nuzzle her neck and breathe in the scent of her, but I do none of those things. Hopefully, I’ll get to do all of them on the plane. I pull myself away from her and close her door. The second I’ve got the car moving toward our destination in Teterboro, New Jersey, I reach for her hand.

“How was your day?” I ask her.

“Good but busy. We’re doing some testing this week, and the kids hate it so they’re out of sorts, which means we’re out of sorts, too.”

“You have three days to decompress.”

“Believe me, I know. I’m looking forward to it.”

I’m so glad to hear that, I want to sing Hallelujah or some other celebratory song. But like all my other impulses where she’s concerned, I resist. It’s far too soon to celebrate, especially when she’s still deciding whether she’s going to give me a chance.

The ride out of the city is slow thanks to Friday afternoon traffic on the Henry Hudson Parkway. I used to think there was nothing quite like LA traffic until I spent time in New York. Most people don’t drive in the city, but public transportation can be a challenge for me, so I put up with the traffic. Today I’m annoyed by anything that delays me getting to the airport and onto the plane, so I can be alone with Natalie and focused completely on her rather than the traffic.

“I’ve been thinking about ‘Wicked’ all day. Thank you again for that.”

“You’re very welcome. I love that you enjoyed it so much.”

“It was… I need to find a way to expand my vocabulary where you’re concerned, but I keep coming back to incredible.”

“That’s not a bad word.”

“No, but I teach my kids that any word that’s overused becomes a cliché after a while, and I don’t want to become a cliché where you’re concerned.”

“Not possible.” I give her hand a squeeze and wish I could look at her when I say, “Everything about you is fresh and new and interesting to me. And this entire thing between us is the furthest thing from a cliché that I’ve ever experienced. It’s quite possible, in fact, that my entire life up until about a week ago was a gigantic cliché and you’ve saved me from all that ridiculousness.”

By now she’s laughing, which pleases me greatly. I do love that laugh of hers. It’s quite… incredible. Because I already know she hasn’t had a lot to laugh about, it’s extra special to be the one to give her that, even if it only lasts for a minute or two.

“Where do you come up with that stuff?”

“Despite your insulting laughter, I meant every word of what I said.”

Once we get over the George Washington Bridge, the traffic into New Jersey begins to move. Finally.

“Are we leaving from Newark?”

“No, Teterboro. It’s a small regional airport.”

“Oh. Do the airlines fly out of there?”

“We’re not going on the airlines.”

“Oh. Oh!”

“So here’s the thing—commercial flying, like any form of public transportation, can be difficult for me, and while I’m acutely aware that my carbon footprint is way bigger than it should be, I don’t really have a choice. I’m not afraid of many things, but crowds and big crushes of people freak me out. You never know who’s in that crowd or what their agenda might be.”