We both knew what was coming. I'd arranged for a hotel room for the night, but instead of growing more nervous as the day wore on, she seemed to settle into a state of languid ease. Late in the afternoon, after we checked in, she took a long shower while I lay on the bed, flipping through channels on the television. Afterward, she wandered out wrapped only in a towel to retrieve a change of clothes.
"What are you watching?"
You, I could have said. But instead I answered, "Nothing, really. Just waiting for you to finish in the bathroom so I can shower, too."
"It won't be long," she promised.
It occurred to me that Emily, more than any woman to that point in my life, made me feel comfortable because she always seemed so comfortable with me. I gave her a few minutes before getting up from the bed. By then, she was dressed and applying a little makeup.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Just watching you." I met her gaze in the mirror.
"Why?"
"I think watching you put on makeup is sexy."
She turned around and puckered her lips. We kissed and she turned back around.
"What was that for?"
"Once I get my lipstick on, you won't be able to kiss me for a while. Unless you want to wear lipstick, too."
I continued to watch for another minute before heading back to the bed. I plopped down, pleasantly buzzed by her kiss and the promise of the evening to come.
We ate at a bistro overlooking the Intracoastal Waterway, lingering over dinner long after the sun went down. On our way out, we heard music and followed the sound to a bar down the street, where we found a live band playing. We danced until the bar closed, pleasantly weary as we strolled back to the hotel after midnight.
Electricity crackled between us as I unlocked the door and we stepped into our room. The maids had turned down the bed and the lights had been dimmed. I slipped my arms around Emily and pulled her close, feeling the warmth of her body against my own.
I kissed her then, our tongues coming together while my hands slowly began to explore the contours of her body. She gave a shallow gasp and our passion became more intense as I felt her breast through the thin fabric of her dress. Her fingers reached for the buttons of my shirt.
We continued to kiss as she undid them one by one. I lifted her dress and she raised her arms to assist me. I slipped it over her head while my shirt fell to the ground, her skin fiery against my own. Her bra came next, and soon we were naked on the bed and moving together, lost in our own feelings and the mysteries of each other.
It finally happened on Wednesday, and I'll admit that I was as surprised as the receptionist, but I'll get to that. First things first.
On Sunday, Marge and Liz weren't at my parents' when I arrived, and when I called her house, Marge sounded utterly miserable. Coughing, achy, feverish, the whole nine yards. When my mom found out, she decided then and there to make chicken soup, which I was then tasked with delivering to Marge. If possible, she looked worse than she sounded, and joked that even Liz was keeping her distance, since she had clearly been infected with the plague.
Deciding to take my chances, I hugged her anyway, before heading home.
Vivian left around six thirty, after bringing London back from dinner. Her departure was as cordial as the rest of the weekend had been. She asked no questions about my day and I asked no questions about hers; instead we simply wished each other well as she headed out the door. After I put London to bed, I called Emily to ask if she would mind picking up London from school on Tuesday, since I'd be filming all day. Emily assured me that it wouldn't be a problem.
On Monday, Taglieri's new website went live, and the first two commercials began to air. I posted the commercials on his website as well as on YouTube. I worked from home so I could watch the spots as they aired, feeling an almost physical thrill as I watched them. Meanwhile, I worked on templates for direct mail and billboards for the plastic surgeon, getting the messaging right. On Tuesday, I filmed his patients-a very long day, as I'd predicted-and then went to pick up London at Emily's, where we ended up staying for dinner, much to London's delight.
On Wednesday, as I was driving to the office, I received a text from Taglieri asking me to call him and I felt my heart sink. Maybe because the previous weekend had been devoid of drama with Vivian, I felt certain that he was calling with what could only be bad news on the divorce front.
I returned the call right after I parked, standing outside my office. I felt like I needed to be standing when I spoke to him.
"Hi, Joey," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I got your text. What's up?"
"My business," he said. "My future bank account."
"Excuse me?"
"You know that new toll-free number? The one you splattered all over those two commercials? The phone's been ringing off the hook. It's crazy. People love that commercial with the kid. They think it's hilarious. And now, we can direct them to the website for basic information. It's incredible. I never would have believed it. My staff is going crazy just trying to keep up."
"You're happy," I said, stunned.
"Damn right, I'm happy. When's that dog commercial going to run? And you need to come up with some more ideas. So put your thinking cap on."
"I can do that," I said.
"And Russ?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
I hung up the phone and strode into the office, feeling like I was six inches taller. When I waved to the receptionist, I watched as she raised her hand.
"Mr. Green? Don't you want your messages?"
"I have messages?"
"Two, actually. They're both from law firms."
Again, I thought of Vivian and wondered if she'd told her attorney to reach out to me directly. If so, I wasn't sure why Vivian hadn't given the lady my cell phone number; as far as I knew, Vivian didn't even know my work number.
But it wasn't Vivian's attorney who'd called. One call was from a firm in Greenville, South Carolina, that specialized in class actions, the other from a personal injury firm in Hickory. In both cases, I was connected immediately to senior partners, each of whom seemed eager to speak with me.
"I like those commercials you're doing for Joey Taglieri, and we were wondering if you would consider coming in to make a presentation about your services."
After hanging up, I let out a whoop of excitement. I just had to tell someone.
I reached for my phone, about to call Marge, but then decided at the last second to call Emily instead.
Floating.
That's how I felt the rest of the week. Like I was floating free of the worries that had been weighing me down for months.
Though it might be only be temporary-what goes up always comes down and all that-I decided I was going to enjoy every single minute, even if I didn't land the two new firms as clients. While it would be great to sign those firms, I received three more calls from lawyers by Friday, making five new potential clients, all of whom had reached out to me. I'd set up presentations with all of them and depending on how many I signed, I thought I might be looking at potentially needing to hire another person, just to keep up.
The Phoenix Agency was officially on its way.
"What are you going to do with all that extra money you'll be making?" Marge said to me over lunch. It was Friday afternoon, and I'd decided to work only a half day as a reward. "Because you happen to have a sister who's in the mood for a new car."
"Wouldn't that be nice?"
"I always knew you'd make it."
"I haven't made it yet," I cautioned. "I still have to make the presentations."
"You're good at that part. You just weren't so good at getting the phone to ring."
I smiled, still on a high. "I'm so excited. And relieved."
"I can only imagine."
"How are you feeling?"
She made a face. "A little better. I'm not coughing too much during the day now, but the nights are still pretty rough. I finally convinced my idiot doctor to prescribe some antibiotics, but I just started taking them yesterday. He said I might not feel any better until Monday."
"That's a bummer."
"It's bad for Liz, too. I kept waking her up, so I've started sleeping in the guest room."
"So Mom's chicken soup didn't work?"
"No. But it tasted good." She pushed her sandwich away. "What are your plans this weekend? Vivian's not coming, is she?"
"She'll be here next weekend. For London's birthday. And I can't imagine London not wanting Bodhi to be there, which means that Emily will probably make an appearance at the party as well."
"And me," Marge said, grinning. "I can't wait to watch."
"Nothing's going to happen. She's been on good behavior lately."
"Hmmm … let's see how long that lasts," Marge said with a skeptical look. "By the way, are you going to Mom and Dad's tomorrow? Liz and I are planning to swing by for a little while, especially since we weren't there last weekend. Since I had the plague, I mean."