Chapter 29
After Midnight—Kansas City, MO
They were in his room at the Marriott. Nora’s room was three floors above him; they’d flipped a coin to decide where to go.
“You’ve got a bigger TV than I do,” she said. “And a better view. I’m looking down at the parking lot.”
They’d been talking like this since they got here, dancing around anything meaningful. She probably didn’t know what to think, or what she wanted now, any more than he did.
That wasn’t true. He wanted to make love with her, and he was sure she did, too.
But if they did, what would it mean? They’d said their goodbyes at his graduation, two years ago. He didn’t want to mess things up, or make them more complicated, or—he didn’t even know what.
“Daniel,” she said, sitting on the bed and motioning for him to join her. “We don’t have that much time. I don’t want to waste it.” He sat next to her, but she didn’t turn to look at him. “I don’t know what I want. I never imagined I’d see you here.”
“Me neither.” He’d never actually pictured running into Nora. “I didn’t dare think about it.” He thought about Nora every day, every day for twenty-six months, but he’d never actually given any thought to what a meeting with her would be like, where and when it could happen.
Now she was looking at him, and holding his hands in hers. “I know what you mean. I couldn’t let myself imagine how we might find each other. It would’ve hurt too much. I didn’t even try to find out what company you were working at.”
Just like he hadn’t looked into where she’d gone after graduation. It wouldn’t have been hard to do, but then it would have been torture every day having to not call her, not write her, not buy a plane ticket to fly to her.
“We’re still not—whatever it is we’re supposed to be, are we?
” She didn’t answer; she just nodded her head ever so slightly, and squeezed his hands harder, waiting for him to go on.
“I wish I was. But even if I was, how would it work? I don’t think either one of us is ready to quit our jobs and move a thousand miles. ”
Especially not after this conference, when he was earning the respect of his team, and she was scoring interviews with leading scientists and tech executives.
And yet, if she asked him to, he’d do it. He’d give Mr. Kincaid two weeks notice, apologize to Jeff, pack up his boxes and take his chances in Boston. But she would never ask it, any more than he would of her.
“So where does that leave us?” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper. He could feel how much it hurt her to say it. Just as much as it hurt him to answer her.
“I hate it, but—I think the same place we were before tonight.”
Nora , a moment later
Daniel was right.
Of course he was. A few hours, a few kisses, and two off-key karaoke performances didn’t change anything. How could they?
She still loved him. He still loved her. They still couldn’t be together.
“You remember our promise?”
He didn’t answer, at least not in words. He pulled the necklace out from under his shirt.
“Is that really why you’re still wearing it? Or do you just not know how to take it off?”
It was a joke; he had to know it was a joke. So why was he blushing?
“The truth?” She nodded, even though she definitely didn’t want it. “It’s ninety-eight percent our promise, and two percent I can’t get it off myself and I didn’t want anyone else touching it.”
She wanted to laugh. Or throw something at him. Or both. How could he joke about it, especially right now?
Or maybe this was a perfect time to joke.
And, anyway, ninety-eight percent was pretty good, wasn’t it?
“You honestly don’t know the trick?” He shook his head.
She reached over, grabbed the necklace gingerly, and pulled it around until the clasp was in front.
“You’ve got a computer science degree, and you’re a Team Leader and your IQ probably qualifies for Mensa, and you couldn’t figure that out for yourself? ”
Now he wasn’t merely blushing; he was beet red. “Swear to God, I never thought of that. It seems pretty obvious now.”
“It was obvious to me when I was seven years old, Daniel.” She believed him, though. It was exactly the kind of simple, practical thing that a man who’d never worn jewelry except possibly for his high school class ring, wouldn’t know. “But now you know. So you can take it off whenever you want.”
He shook his head again. “I don’t want to. The only time I even thought about it was a year ago, at Uncle Fred’s house. I was going to go in his pool, and I wanted to take it off so it wouldn’t get—I don’t know, corroded or something. You know, with the chlorine in the water?”
“That wouldn’t hurt gold, Daniel. People don’t take their wedding rings off to go swimming.
You know that, right?” He had been returning to his normal color, but he was back to red again.
“Right. You never thought about that. One more question. Why didn’t you want to let someone else help you take it off? ”
“Because nobody besides you should ever touch it.” He smiled, a gentle, loving smile. “Do you honestly not know that?”
Daniel , an hour later
He didn’t want this to end. But it had to.
Putting all his emotions aside, it was a matter of practicality.
It was already after one o’clock in the morning, almost one-thirty, and he had to be up at six-thirty so he could shower, dress and be at the booth by seven.
And he needed to be at his best; it would be the busiest day of the conference.
And surely Nora had a big day ahead as well. She needed her rest just as much.
He could ask her to stay here, sleep here—but regardless of their best intentions, if they were together under the covers, there wouldn’t be any sleep.
It was difficult enough to keep his hands off of her sitting up and fully clothed, and he could see it was the same for her; she gave it away with her eyes, and in the way her breathing was too fast and shallow and in every bit of her body language.
She was thinking the same thing; of course she was. “I think I should go.” She paused. “I don’t want to. But…”
“I know. I feel the same way. I’ll walk you down to your room. And maybe ...”
She smiled; it was that smile. “Maybe after the show floor closes today, we can have dinner.”
He stood up, held out a hand for her. She took it, and let him lead her to the door.
“Not maybe. Definitely. Come by the booth at closing time, meet me there.” Unless she had a big interview, or something else she couldn’t get away from.
“Or, if you can’t get there right then, call me.
” The cell phone was right there on the dresser, next to the coffee pot.
He grabbed it and read her the number. She went into her purse, pulled out a pen.
The pen he’d given her. Of course she still had it.
“Got it,” she said, jotting it down in a little notebook. “See, pen and paper. You know, I started putting a notebook in my purse that morning, as soon as I got back upstairs to my room.”
“You always were a fast learner.” They were down the hall, in and out of the elevator and down the hall again to her room in a minute. Much too fast.
“If I remember right, that was you,” she said, giving him a look that would have melted his heart if it wasn’t already a puddle.
He leaned in, kissed her. She kissed him back, and it was so difficult to pull away. He didn’t know where the strength to do it came from, and a part of him wished he didn’t have that strength.
“Nora, I—I can’t wait until later. Until tonight. I’ll be counting the minutes.”
One more kiss.
“Me too, Daniel. Until tonight.”
She opened the door, stood there in the doorway. After a few seconds—or an hour, it was hard to tell—she pushed it shut.
One of them had to, right?