Bankers' Hours(28)

Tristan grinned. Apparently my gloom amused him. "Every minute of every  hour until I see you again." He kissed me before I could answer.

"Really?" I asked, less dour than a second before. "You think about me that much?"

"You bet I do. That's why I kept coming to the bank. I'll make time again once I get some things squared away."

I nodded. It was unfair to guilt him into visiting since his reasons  were very mature. Of course he had bills to pay and things to take care  of. This was not like the other guys I'd dated who never returned after  one date. I could trust Tristan to come back to me.

"Hey, look at me."

When I brought my chin up, he paused and then kissed me again, slow and  deep. I wrapped my arms around his neck and mewled into his mouth. When  he released me, I was good and relaxed. I needed the feeling to carry me  through until he kissed me again.

"I'll see you Wednesday. If you need anything, you can drop by anytime. My door's always open."

"Open." The word prompted me to remember something I had for him. "Oh,  wait," I said, fumbling to reach into my pants pocket. "I have a key for  you. I made it for my mother, but I forgot to give it to her the last  time we had dinner together. I want you to have it. I don't leave my  door open, but you're welcome to drop by anytime."

He took the key and smiled. "Thank you, Grant." He kissed me one more  time. "I really have to go. I have a brake job I'm supposed to get done  before lunch, and the day is already disappearing. Take care of that  document."

I held it up. "Sure thing. I'm very responsible, I promise."

"I'll see ya." Another chaste kiss, and he was gone.

I had to go to work and put on a happy face. Could I? I set the manila  folder that protected our marriage license on the seat next to me as I  drove to work.





THE ANSWER was yes. I acted normal on Monday and all day on Tuesday.  Luckily the two hickeys Tristan had given me were below my collar, so  when I wore a tie, no one at work noticed. My life seemed normal and  fine, except for the seventeen trips I took to the bathroom. I wasn't  sick, and I hadn't drunk gallons of water like I'd told Jessica; I'd  gone into the bathroom so I could text Tristan. He didn't always respond  right away, but after several texts he had gotten more responsive. It's  like he knew I needed just a little something. Anything. Even a smiley  face was better than hours of silence.

Mel called Tuesday night.

"Hey, stranger. What've you been up to all weekend? It's not like us to  go four days without talking, or at the very least texting." He sounded  chipper, not upset or anything. I also noticed how much deeper his voice  was. I had been used to hearing it every day. Now, with some time in  between, he sounded huskier.                       
       
           



       

"I thought you'd let me know how your date went, since I live  vicariously through you. You did go out with that guy, right? Tristan?"

I dried my hands after I finished washing the last of my dinner dishes. I  had the phone perched between my ear and my shoulder. Not comfortable,  but the position was doable until I'd finished washing. "Yeah. We went  out."

"Uh-oh. That's a short answer. Don't tell me this guy bombed too. I was  hoping this would be it for you." He sounded so sad for me. "One of us  has to score."

How could I tell Mel everything? I knew I had to, but how? "Um, no. He  was fine." I knew the short answer would prompt more questions.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You don't get to abbreviate. Tell me everything."

I strolled over to the couch and sat. I touched the cushion Tristan had  sat on just a couple of days before. We'd snuggled there. Tristan had  stretched out on my couch and held me against his chest. He'd played  with my hair and drawn lazy circles on my arm while we watched Pitch  Black.

I miss him.

"Grant? Are you crying?"

"What? No, of course not." I sniffled and wiped my nose. Not crying, but  certainly working myself close to it by reminiscing. "No, I was just  thinking about the weekend. It was fun …  and different."

"How so? I need details."

I grabbed the small sofa pillow and held it in my lap as I talked. I  liked fingering the silky fringe around the edges. "First we went to  dinner, which started out rough because I spilled my drink across the  table and it ended up in his lap."

"Oh, no. Like Kenny," he gasped.

"Yes. Exactly what I thought. I tried begging for forgiveness, but  Tristan was totally cool about it. He asked if I'd done it on purpose,  and after I'd told him no, he said to forget about it because accidents  happen."

"Wow. That's terrific. Sounds like he's leagues beyond those other guys already."

I agreed, "He is. After dinner, we watched a movie at his house and ended up making out on his living room floor."

"And?"

"And nothing. He told me I needed to go. Tristan doesn't want our  relationship to be about sex. He's really into me and wants this to be  long-term." I had to work up to telling Mel I was about to get married  to the guy.

"Really? He can tell that about you already? You've been on one date.  Unless …  unless more happened over the weekend that you're not telling  me? Did you see him again on Sunday? I ran into your mother at Starbucks  in Ellicott City, and she said she hadn't heard from you."

"My mom? I texted her late Sunday night."

"Ah! That explains it. But get back to Tristan. What happened next?"

I removed my glasses and set them on the side table, then rubbed my  face, thinking of where to begin and how to explain everything. I ran my  hand over my hair, appreciating the fact it was soft, slightly wavy,  and easily managed. It rarely got messed up, even on windy days, because  I kept it cut fairly short. All I had to do was rake my fingers through  it, and it all fell back into place. Jessica was right: I had perfect  hair.

I gathered my thoughts and answered Mel before he asked the same  question again, as was normal. I had a habit of taking too long. "To  answer the question you're thinking, no, we didn't have sex."

"Bummer."

"No, it's fine. Well, sort of. Okay, I'm hard as hell most of the time,  but I understand his reasons. Tristan pretty much described himself as a  sex pig in his twenties."

"Twenties? How old is he now?"

"Thirty-two."

"Hmm, not bad."

"No. It's perfect, actually. I think he needed to mature past that stage. Now he's looking to settle down. He wants a husband."

"Whoa. Talk about pressure? I hope you told him this was your first  relationship ever, and that marriage was way down the road." That tinge  of skepticism in his voice pained me. How could I explain I was engaged?

"Well, it's all a part of his desire to go slow with me. He said I'm  worth waiting for. Even when I spent the night in his bed, we-"

"Hold up! You what?"

"I spent the night."

"And you didn't have sex?" Yes, that was the shrillest shriek of  disbelief I'd ever heard from Mel, and I pulled the phone away from my  ear.

When my head stopped ringing, I answered him. "No. We didn't. But gosh,  waking up in his arms was …  wonderful. I didn't know it could feel like  that. Last night the bed felt empty."                       
       
           



       

"I can do the math, Grant. You just implied that you've slept together three nights."

"I know. We did. Once at his place, and twice at mine. He's so sweet,  Mel. I almost fell asleep watching the movie when he was playing with my  hair."

"No shit. I know you like that. You probably haven't had a head massage since you moved to Westminster."

"No. You live too far away to drop by four times a week."

Mel laughed. "Yeah, but my visits dwindled after we made those special brownies and didn't show up for work the next day."

"Oh, my God. You had to remind me. We are never doing that again! So … ," I broached. "Have you talked to her?"

"And now we go back to the conversation about you," he suggested. "What  else did you do? I assume there was at least some kissing."

I laughed. Normally I wouldn't let him off the hook like that, but he'd  been super sensitive the last time I mentioned talking to Cindy. I knew  he needed time, but I felt it was my job to encourage him with gentle  nudges to get out of his dateless funk. I had faith that the universe  would bring Mel happiness; I only wished he had the same hope. "Ok. Yes.  Lots of kissing. I think my lips were numb and swollen Sunday night.  I've got two hickeys on my neck the size of Rhode Island. Luckily my  collar comes up just high enough to cover them at work."