It Happened One Night (23 page)

Charlotte sat playing with one of her earrings, a tiny wrench hanging from a silver chair. “You haven’t said a word about
the wedding. How was it?”

“Fine,” Lana said, though her head was still spinning from that night. She’d almost let Eli kiss her. Or worse, she’d almost
kissed him. She didn’t know what was more excruciating—knowing what had almost happened or knowing what didn’t. “Eli has been
acting… funny.”

“What do you mean?”

“He… I don’t know. He’s different.”

Charlotte frowned. “You’re going to have to give me a bit more to go on than that.”

Lana bit the inside of her lip, afraid of speaking the thing she didn’t want to acknowledge in words. “He’s been flirting
with me!” she said fast.

“Flirting. You mean,
really
flirting?” Charlotte asked, pushing her gray-brown hair behind her shoulders. “Like, more than your usual flirting with each
other?”

“I think he wanted to kiss me. I saw it in his eyes.”

Charlotte laughed. “Tell me something I don’t know. Lana, he’s had a thing for you for years. I thought you knew.”

Lana looked down. “In the beginning I thought he did. But then… then I was sure it went away. I guess I was wrong.”

Charlotte’s smile was a little sad. “He’s in love with you. But I could see why you’d downplay it in your mind. I mean, it’s
easier that way.”

“I don’t know what to do. He’s changing the rules.”

“Is it a game you want to play?”

Lana took a deep, heavy breath. “Part of me does. But… I don’t think I could make it work with him romantically. I’d be too
afraid of losing him.”

“Why couldn’t you make it work? You’ve been friends for so long. What exactly would change apart from the physical stuff?”

“I don’t know.” Lana rubbed her palm hard against the cushioned arm of her seat. “Maybe he would change. Maybe I would. And
then what? I’d lose him if it didn’t work out.”

“There’s always risk when you’re talking about love.”

“I don’t want any risk,” Lana said, anger rising from some deep, hidden well. “I want something steady. Something that I can
depend on but that isn’t going to chain me down.”

“Isn’t that exactly what Eli does for you?”

“Yes. Right now. As my friend.”

“I’m really not convinced.”

“It’s like baking a cake,” Lana said. “Why would I want to change the recipe if the cake is perfect just the way it is?”

Charlotte nodded, her eyes warm and understanding. “But what if you only think the cake is perfect because you’ve never had
anything better? What if there’s more?”

The nurse announced a name from the doorway, and the two teenagers looked up with twin “deer-in-the-headlights” expressions.
Together they rose and followed her out of the room.

“I suppose you might be right,” Lana said.

“And what have you decided about the baby?” Charlotte asked, lowering her voice.

“Adoption.”

“But could you really do that?”

“Why not?” Lana looked down. “It would be more ethical to give it away than to keep it. I mean, look at me. Look at my life,
my dreams. I’m not ready to give up on having an adventure. So I’m not cut out to be a mom.”

“You can have an adventure
and
be a mom.”

“No. I know what it’s like to live in a house where people aren’t dependable, where they just come and go. This baby needs
a mother who’s down-to-earth. Solid. Predictable. Someone less like me.”

“You would have help,” Charlotte said warmly.

“You mean Karin.”

“And me. And Eli. The baby wouldn’t want for family.”

“No, I suppose not. But no matter how much help you guys would be able to give me, at the end of the day, I would still be
its mom. It would all come down to me. Either I have to give up my dreams of traveling, or put them off for the next twenty
years until the baby’s grown. And even if I do keep it, I might screw it up.”

“Why do you think you’ll screw the kid up?”

“Because even if I love it right now, what if I end up resenting it in a few years for getting in the way of the life I want
to live?”

Charlotte shook her head. “Lana, you’re not
him
. You’re not like Calvert. I don’t think you should be worried that you are.”

Lana lowered her voice. “The thing is, Karin is the one who was meant to be a mother. Not me. I feel like our fates got shuffled.
I feel like it’s pretty clear what I’m supposed to do.”

“My God.” Shock flashed across Charlotte’s face. “You want to give the baby to Karin.”

Lana sighed. “If she even wants it. But I’m not sure she does. If they were going to adopt a baby, they probably would have
by now.”

Charlotte frowned.

“It’s not really that bad. It makes sense. I could still see the baby and be in its life, but I wouldn’t risk screwing it
up by being a bad parent.”

“Does Karin know?”

“Not yet. But I think maybe she’s been hinting. Nothing too obvious. The other day, she was talking about storing her exercise
equipment and she said, ‘Gene and I put the treadmill in the extra room that was supposed to be for the baby. Too bad you
don’t have any extra room at
your
house.’”

“That’s mean,” Charlotte said.

“Not exactly. It’s just Karin’s way.”

“You shouldn’t give Karin the baby just because Karin wants you to.”

“But it’s not totally about Karin. It’s about me too. I told myself that when Karin had a family of her own, then I could
go away for a while. So it makes sense: I give the baby to Karin, Karin gets the family and stability she always wanted, and
then I’m free to live in Costa Rica for a while like I’ve always wanted.”

Charlotte shook her head. “There’s something missing from this plan.”

“What?”

“Your feelings.” Charlotte took her hand. “That baby is yours, Lana. It’s part of you. And you’ve always had such a soft and
caring heart. I just don’t think you’re going to have as easy a time handing over that baby as you think.”

Lana swallowed the lump in her throat. She worried that Charlotte was right. It would be hard to give up the baby, but she
had to. From the doorway, a nurse called her name, the summons as finite as a judge’s gavel. “I think it’s the only way,”
she said.

Eli pulled a handful of crumpled dollar bills from the pocket of his jeans and did his best to flatten them out before handing
them to the cashier. He and the woman, a young redhead who might have been the same age as his students, had somehow fallen
to chatting about crossing guards and busy intersections, but the conversation had been cut short by Eli’s groping for bills.
She started packing his groceries into his reusable bag while he fumbled and apologized. She was laughing when he handed her
the money at last. He took his bags and drove home.

Generally, he was in a good mood these days. He felt as if he’d turned a corner, but that it was just the first of many corners
and whatever waited around the next one was big. For the first time in his life, he felt totally and completely like himself.

The consequences of this transformation had been astounding. It suddenly seemed as if people liked him more, and he liked
them too. He was interested in everything. He felt generous and good toward everyone. Women were especially responsive. He
wasn’t sure, but he thought they flirted with him more, or he caught them checking him out. Ordinarily he might not let himself
believe it was happening. But why deny the truth? He was different now.

He carried the groceries into his house, humming under his breath. And when he started to unpack his food, he found a receipt
that wasn’t his, with the cashier’s name and phone number written in swift blue ink. He laughed a little to himself but crumpled
the receipt in his hand.

There was only one woman for him. The possibility of failure, of being forced to use his newfound confidence to forge a future
without her, was real. But he would not cave. He was more optimistic than he’d felt in years; this was the same high he felt
when he was on an expedition and he felt certain of finding something big. He was too close to give up now.

Lana had thrown on an old sweater made with inch-thick wool and a slouchy brown collar that piled up to her chin. If Eli had
been surprised to see her at his door at nine o’clock in the evening, he didn’t show it. She didn’t miss the way he put his
arm around her on the pretense of ushering her inside.

Eli’s house had always been a safe haven for her. His taste in furniture was much more studied than hers. While she tended
to favor exotic colors and mismatched chairs, his brown leather couch and russet walls showed a preference for economy and
simplicity. And yet, for all his interest in design, he took no pains to keep his apartment overly neat. Books were strewn
on the floor and papers obscured the coffee table. Various remote controls sat on armrests, and his sneakers were untied in
the middle of the floor.

“What can I get you?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said. She sat down on the couch, her back not touching the cushions behind her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Come sit with me.”

His mouth turned down slightly at the corner. He sat on the couch beside her, closer than she would have liked.

She took a deep breath. The conversation they needed to have would not be easy. He seemed to be in a good mood and she hated
to ruin it. But what choice did she have? Waiting would only make things worse.

She’d practiced her lines a hundred times at home and on the way over.
Eli, I just want you to know that I value you as a friend, a very close friend. I’ll always feel that way.

Yet now that she sat beside him, she trembled with nerves and realized she had no idea how she was going to launch into the
conversation they needed to have. She hadn’t schemed up any introductions, hadn’t preplanned how to broach the topic aloud.
Talking with Eli had always been so easy. But now, no words came.

“What is it?” he prompted.

She looked into his eyes, their brown so rich and luxurious and caring. The freckle that winked like a star just under his
lower lashes. Tonight he wore a navy blue hoodie and slouchy jeans, and his chestnut brown hair stood up at the very back
of his head as if he’d been sleeping. She could smell his laundry detergent and the sporty scent of his body wash. All at
once, she wanted to bury her face in the warmth where the cotton of his sweatshirt met the smooth heat of his skin.

His eyes narrowed as if he knew what she was thinking, as if he registered the subtle shift in her gaze and was reading her
mind. She panicked, trying to make herself look away. Yet the gravity was unbreakable. He shifted slightly, turning toward
her a fraction of an inch. She caught the scent of mint on his breath. She saw his gaze drop to her mouth.

Eli, I just want you to know that I value you as a…
The words were stuck in her throat, replaced by a longing that had burst inside her like a geyser, rising from someplace
hidden and deep.
Please just kiss me
, she pleaded.
Please.

And when he did not, she took his face in both hands and leaned in.

She felt the delay of his surprise, and for a split second she thought,
Oh, no, I misjudged him
. Maybe she’d been imagining the longing in his eyes. Maybe she’d attributed to him a need that was entirely her own.

But then his hands were in her hair, on her shoulders, everywhere, and his mouth was a demanding, greedy heat, fire bursting
through an open door. She dug her fingers into his sweatshirt, rising up on one hip to slant her body closer. This was better
than she remembered. So much better. He shifted on the couch, pressed her back into the soft cushions to align their bodies,
and when his chest pressed flat against hers, she arched toward him, her whole body crying out for more. She was overwhelmed
by him. He touched the beginning and end of every nerve in her body, those on the surface of her skin and deep inside. She’d
meant only to dip a toe in water, to test the temperature. But now she was in over her head, drowning, sinking with him.

His hand curled around the back of her knee, and with a quick tug, her leg was bent and lifted, linking their bodies in age-old
alignment. The intimacy of it shocked her, the firm pressure of his hips. She came up for air, struggling to clear her head.
But she caught only a glimpse of that clarity before his mouth was on her neck, driving her crazy, dragging her back down
once again.

Wait.
She heard the word in her head long before she found the lucidity to say it aloud. “Eli. Wait.”

A gruff noise came from the back of his throat.

“Please.
Wait
.”

He didn’t lift his head immediately. He’d stopped moving, but she could feel the difficulty of his restraint, the pounding
of his heart and his breath hot against her skin. When he finally looked up, his eyes were cloudy with want. He moved back
slightly, and she pushed him off the rest of the way. She stood as quickly as she could, blood rushing to her head, and she
went to the other side of the room. She couldn’t bear to look at him, and so she stood at the window, peering through her
own reflection at the dim lights in the street.

She needed to say something. He expected it and deserved it. But words seemed worthless and lame. When she spoke, her breath
marked the window in a mottled, shifting white. “That wasn’t what I meant to happen.”

He said nothing.

Panic warred with the urge to explain herself, to undo what she’d done. She thought as quickly as her sluggish brain would
allow. “Eli. I came here to tell you that I value you as a friend.”

“I know you do.” She turned around to face him and saw that he was sitting on the couch, leaning his forearms on his knees
and looking at her intently. His hands were clasped tight. “I value you as a friend too.”

She nodded, not quite sure they were on the same page. “I didn’t mean to kiss you.”

“But you did.”

“I did.” She leaned back against the windowsill, both hands holding on to the wooden edge. A thrill of something exciting
and wonderful raced through her, burning up darkness and doubt. “I definitely
did
.”