Nowhere but Here (12 page)

“I’ve dated a few. I had one long-term relationship for three years after college.”

“What was her name?”

“Julia.”

“What happened?”

“She left me.”

“Why?”

“She wanted other things in life.”

“Like what?”

“Material things.”

“Were you in love with her?”

“Not when I realized what she wanted from me.”

“Were you hurt?”

“Yes.” He remained serious.

“So you don’t sleep around?”

He chuckled. “I’m a man. I’ve dated, but I’m not interested in sleeping around. I want to be with someone who intrigues me, who I can have fun with, who I can laugh with, but who will challenge me. I’ve been looking for the same thing most of us are looking for.”

“What’s that?”

“Someone to come home to.”

My eyes filled with tears. He leaned in slowly and cautiously and then he kissed me softly before whispering, “Can we have fun now?”

“Yes!” I said passionately. “What do you have in mind, sailor?”

“Well, first I’m going to feed you tiramisu. Then we’re going to walk across the street and I’m going to kick your ass at shuffleboard and darts. And then, if you’re lucky, I’ll take you back to the winery and show you my barn.” My eyes went wide. He laughed. “No expectations.”

“That is by far the strangest offer I’ve ever had, but I’d love to see your barn. There is one thing you must know, though.”

“Uh-oh. What?”

“I’m known as the shuffleboard champion east of the Mississippi.”

“You’re all talk. You said that about karaoke.” He slipped a bite of tiramisu into my mouth.

“What are the stakes?”

He kissed cream away from the side of my mouth before answering. “If I win, I get to kiss you for as long as I want.”

I nodded enthusiastically. “And if I win . . . then you get to kiss me for as long as you want.”

“Deal.”

We went to a little dive bar where I won two games of shuffleboard but lost three games of darts, so Jamie still claimed that he was the champion. He talked me into doing three Fireball whiskey shots, and every time I did one he kissed me for an entire minute afterward.

“I like the taste in your mouth,” he said.

“You just like getting me drunk.”

“It’s not about that, I just want you to enjoy yourself.”

“I am, but you’re going to doom me all night.” He laughed so loudly when I said it that I quickly realized what the words sounded like.

“Katy, I would love to, but don’t you think that’s a lot of pressure to put on me?”

I offered to settle the bar challenge score with a game of pool.

“I think I should get you back. Plus I’m ready to claim my prize. I won fair and square.” Just as he said that, a short, stocky fellow took a seat at the bar next to me on my right.

The man next to me said, “Hi,” in a kind, friendly voice.

I turned toward him slightly and said, “Hi,” very blandly.

The man had one of those chests that stuck out in some futile attempt to make him look taller, and he wore a black muscle shirt that hugged his large, gunlike biceps. Not my style at all. “Do you live here or are you just visiting San Francisco?” he asked. I looked at Jamie first before turning back to answer. He swept his hair back out of his face and I could see his jaw flex, but his expression never changed. He looked unaffected.

I swiveled back toward the man. “I’m just visiting.”

He put his hand on my leg and rubbed it up and down. “Can I get you another shot?”

I gasped and pulled my leg away. I blinked twice and Jamie was suddenly standing on the other side of the man, gripping the back of his neck and pushing the guy’s face to the bar. Jamie lowered his own face to the man’s ear and spoke in a steely voice that was so quiet but so powerful that it gave me chills.

“You see that she’s with me, don’t you?” Jamie was looking right into his eyes. I could see the man struggling. He was breathing through his mouth. Jamie’s grip on his neck was so strong, the veins in his forearms and in the man’s neck were bulging and pulsing. “Answer me.”

The man nodded.

“Then keep your fucking hands off her.”

The guy stood from the bar and held his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Okay, man, back off.”

I stood as well. “I have to use the restroom,” I said quickly then marched off. I turned back just as I entered the bathroom door and saw Jamie standing at the bar, looking shattered as he watched me walk away. My heart was beating out of my chest.
What do I say? That was so weird and possessive.

Gathering myself, I took two deep breaths and splashed cold water on my face. When I opened the door, Jamie was standing against the wall just outside the bathroom, waiting for me. His hands were in his pockets and he was looking down.

“I’m sorry,” he said to the floor. When he looked up, I noticed his eyes were misty. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not a violent person at all. I would never lay a hand on you. I just want you to know that.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I just thought he was being really disrespectful, and I wouldn’t want anyone to treat you that way.”

“We barely know each other, Jamie. You don’t have to do that for me.”

“Did I ruin the night?”

I walked up to him and pressed myself against his body. Looking up into his eyes, I brushed his hair back and said, “I have mixed emotions right now. It scared me a little, but no one has ever done anything like that for me.” I kissed his cheek. “Thank you. It made me feel important.”

“You are.”

We walked several blocks back to the truck. Every time there was a shadow cast on the wall of a building, Jamie would push me into it and kiss me like Armageddon was around the corner. Once we were back at the parking garage, I felt like the world was spinning. I stumbled just before I got to the truck. Jamie braced me by the elbow. “I’m pretty drunk,” I said to him as he opened the truck door for me.

He cupped my face and gave me the lightest kiss. “I’ll take care of you.” He helped me in and then went around to his side and gave himself a shot of insulin.

I scrunched up my nose. “Smells like Band-Aids.”

“Yeah, the insulin has a really potent smell. Does it bother you?” He looked over at me apprehensively.

“Not at all. I was just making an observation, and I’m drunk. Just ignore me.”

“Never.” He winked at me then pulled the truck out onto the street and into the bustling city traffic.

“Didn’t you do that before we ate?”

“What?”

“Use the insulin pen.”

He looked up. His eyes were wide, and there was a faint look of fear in them. “Did I?”

“Yeah, you did.”

“I felt hot, so I thought . . .”

I giggled. “Maybe it was all the kissing.” His expression never changed. He looked bewildered. “Are you okay, Jamie?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said quietly as he looked up into the rearview mirror and over his shoulder to change lanes. “I’m fine.”

We were approaching the Golden Gate Bridge. Jamie was very quiet. I started to fade, and the last thing I remembered was laying my head in his lap and him stroking my hair.

Page 9

Cutline

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that my head was pounding from the alcohol. The second thing I realized was that we weren’t moving. I was still in Jamie’s lap. His forehead was resting on the steering wheel and his right arm was on the dashboard out in front of him. My initial assumption was that he was sleeping. I shimmied out from underneath him and saw that he was clutching the bottle of glucose tablets in his left hand. We were across the bridge in the parking lot of Golden Gate Overlook, facing the city. I looked closely at Jamie and saw that his eyes were very slightly open.

“Jamie.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Jamie, are you okay?” I grabbed the bottle from his left hand and discovered that it was empty. I became frantic. I put my hand to his forehead, and he tried to give me a weak smile.

“What is it?”

“Low,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for me to hear.

It occurred to me, very brutally, that Jamie had given himself too much insulin. I started searching the car but couldn’t find the glucagon kit. “Jamie!” I screamed, but at that point his eyes were closed and he was unresponsive. He started to lean left. I gently laid him against the driver’s side door and then glanced out at the bridge. The traffic had stopped; the pedestrians were frozen in space and time. I felt frustrated and powerless, like in a dream. I screamed again, “Where is it?” And then I prayed and reached for my phone, but just before I dialed 911, I visualized the orange case under the seat.
Visualize to realize.
When I looked, it was there. Yanking it from below and popping it open, my motions were fluid and precise, as if I were on autopilot. Somehow I knew exactly how to pump the liquid into the vial of powder. I filled the syringe and pushed a drop up through the needle, removing any air. I unbuckled his belt and yanked at his jeans to where I could see just enough skin below his hip to give him the shot, and then I jabbed the needle into his flesh and pushed the liquid through. I was crying, panic-stricken.
Please be okay. Please be okay.

I dialed 911 on my phone, just in case, but right before I hit
SEND
, I heard Jamie speak.

“Katy?” he murmured.

“Yes?” I slid toward him. He sat up against the seat, his head falling back, and took two deep breaths. I straddled him and cupped his face, searching his eyes. They were dilated and he was clammy, but he was conscious and watching me.

“Oh my god, Jamie! Oh my god!”

“I’m okay,” he mumbled. Between each loud sob, I kissed him all over his face and neck. His hands rested on my thighs. He let me smother him with kisses while my tears spilled all over his face. I wanted to cradle and rock him like a baby. I wanted to soothe him. But at that point I was the one who needed the soothing.

“Baby, stop crying, please. I know that was scary for you, but I’m okay. I messed up. That’s never happened before.” He became more alert. He brought his hands up to my face and wiped away the tears. “I’m sorry I couldn’t take care of you.”

“We can take care of each other,” I said instantly, and then as if a new portal in my brain had been unlocked, I remembered my dream.
The whispers.

It was a moment, like so many I’d had before, where I’d go the entire day not remembering my dream from the previous night and then suddenly, it would be triggered by a smell or a song or a comment made by a colleague and the dream would rush back to me, like a tidal wave of memories. That’s what happened in the truck that night. I remembered my dream—
the
dream. I was there again, hovering over Rose’s body, the sound of heartbeats streaming loudly, except I realized there were two sets beating. I leaned down over her to listen, but the sound wasn’t coming from her. It was a human sound, a living sound. My memory of the dream was clear, finally. When she spoke, her voice was soft and melodic, but pleading.

Take care of each other
, she said, and then she glanced at the figure standing next to me. It was Jamie, and the heartbeats were ours. His and mine.

In the truck, still straddling him, I held my hand to my heart.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing.” I shivered.

“Calm down. Everything is okay.”

“I know.” I laid my head on his chest and he held me tightly. An hour must have passed. Every few minutes I would look up at his face to check on him and he would smile at me every time, but we remained quiet and still, just holding each other.

Finally, I crawled off of his lap. “Shouldn’t I take you to the hospital?”

He shook his head. “I’m okay. I just need to eat something.”

“Oh yeah.” I pulled a Balance bar from my purse, unwrapped it quickly, and held it to his mouth.

He laughed. I knew he was going to be okay. “I can feed myself. Thank you, Katy.” Before he reached for the bar, he swallowed and then stared sharply into my eyes. “I mean it. Thank you.”

I shook my head. “I know, I know. You don’t need to thank me. Here, eat this, please.” He bit off half of the bar and then set it on the dashboard. I looked at my phone. It was two a.m. He pulled his jeans down to where I had given him the shot and looked at the injection site. He rubbed the area and winced a little.

“You’re going to have a bruise. I jabbed you really hard.”

“You did,” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “You got me good, lady.” He buckled his belt and pulled out his meter to check his blood sugar. “Do you always carry food in your purse?”

I blushed. “I read on the glucagon kit the other day that sometimes you have to give diabetics food right away.”

He looked up beatifically. “God, you are the sweetest thing.”

I smiled, but a tear fell from my eye at the same time. “How’s your level?”

“I’m good.”

“I think I should drive, Jamie.”

“Sweetheart, even if I were half conscious, our odds of getting home safely are much higher with me behind the wheel.” He smiled playfully. “No offense.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Did you pull over here because you felt groggy?”

“Yeah. I should have metered earlier. Sometimes it gets confusing, especially if I’m distracted, and then I ran out of glucose tablets. It was stupid, I’m really sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, you did the right thing by pulling over. Next time wake me up.”

“I promise.”

It was a promise for a next time. That was all I could think about in that moment. Not a next time Jamie got that low—just a next time, period.

Jamie drove us back to the winery with his window all the way down and the heater cranked up so he could keep himself alert without freezing me out. I kept my eyes on the road along with him. He pulled up the long driveway and then continued onto a dirt road until we were parked in front of the barn.

He looked over apprehensively. “Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

“It’s already tomorrow.”

“Do you want to stay with me tomorrow?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He held my hand until we were inside the barn, and then he flipped on the lights and watched me take it all in. It was no barn on the inside. Whoever the brilliant designer was, he left the natural beams exposed but finished the walls with white slate wood. The floors were aged teak and there were large rustic chandeliers hanging from the highest points of the ceiling. It was at least forty feet high in the center. Above one set of beams in the gable space were shelves filled with books and a little ladder leading up to it. I walked around, fascinated. The décor was warm, rich, and masculine. It was an immaculate snapshot of a Restoration Hardware catalogue. The kitchen followed in the same vivid design, with a farmhouse sink and Shaker cabinets. Jamie leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets, watching me.

“It’s amazing. Who did this?”

“I did.”

I laughed to myself. Of course he did. “R.J. let you have this space?”

He nodded.

The entire floor plan was open. There were only partial walls dividing the spaces, much like a loft, except for the bathroom, which had a modestly designed door compared to the rest of the barn. In one corner there was a drafting desk with all kinds of drawings of machines on it. There were some framed drawings on the walls above the desk that I recognized almost immediately as copies of da Vinci. I saw the sketches for the water-lifting machines and the Vitruvian man in the circle representing the ideal proportions of a body. Jamie was a thinker, there was no doubt. I realized at that moment that, even though he could be social when he needed to be, he was a little bit of a loner, too . . . like me.

I walked toward the opposite end of the barn, and in the process, tripped over my own damn feet. I stumbled but quickly regained my balance. I looked back and caught Jamie smiling. “Oh, wipe that smile off your face. I’m clumsy, okay?”

“You’re adorable,” he said.

In the center of the opposite wall was the bed. I walked toward it and felt Jamie following me. The lights behind me went off one by one until there was just one tiny desk lamp on, filling the space with a faint warmth like a glowing ember in the darkest night. We shuffled around for a few minutes and then stood on opposite sides of the bed. He untucked his shirt, I took off my coat, and we both kicked off our shoes.

“It’s beautiful in here.”

He came toward me without hesitation and lifted my dress from the bottom. I raised my arms to accommodate him. He never took his eyes off me as he threw the dress onto the chair next to him. “It is now,” he said.

I stood in my panties and bra and didn’t feel a modicum of shyness. I unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off of his shoulders, letting my hands linger there. His hair had fallen down against the sides of his face. I pushed it back, slowly and sensually. He kissed me while he unbuttoned his jeans, only breaking the kiss to step out of them.

“Do you feel okay?” I asked.

“Yes. Let’s rest for a bit, though.” He pulled the duvet back and slid in wearing only his boxers. “Get in here, Katy,” he said with a lazy smile.
Who would say no to this man?
I glanced at the old-fashioned clock on the nightstand before slipping in beside him. It was three thirty a.m. We were lying on our sides, facing each other, but our bodies were flush. I fit perfectly into the space of his chest. We dovetailed our legs, and then I felt him kiss the top of my head.

“We can stay like this all day. We have nowhere to be but here. Sleep, angel.” And just like that, I was out.

It was morning twilight when I woke. There was a glow coming through the window shades. Our bodies started moving at the same time—he was waking up, too. We were hyperaware of each other’s presence, of skin against skin, of heat radiating from our bodies. We started moving more intentionally. He rolled me over until we were spooning. He kissed my neck and behind my ear and pressed himself forward, and I felt him hard against me. I moaned so faintly, I thought only I could hear, but he responded to it by pushing against me again, harder and more urgent. He unhooked my bra and it disappeared.

He rolled on top of me and trailed light, slow kisses over my breasts and down to my stomach and down further. I fixated on the muscles in his arms as he held himself above me effortlessly. I felt him kick off his boxers; he was very good at that. He was also very good at making me crazy. He was kissing me through my panties, right there in that perfect spot. I felt myself moving toward him, bucking slightly and encouraging him to continue teasing. He rolled my panties down and those disappeared into the galaxy as well. There were hands and lips and teeth and tongues everywhere, but it was slow. He stopped and hovered over me, gazing into my eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

“Do you like me, Jamie?”

“Yes. A lot.”

“What blood type are you?”

“O positive.” He shook his head and laughed.

“Do you have a savings account?”

“Yes.”

“And health insurance?”

“Uh-huh,” he murmured as he kissed his way down my body and back up again.

“And you’ve had a checkup recently?” When he looked up, I opened my eyes wide so he knew what I was talking about.

“Yes, of course.”

“What’s your last name?”

“No more talking.” And then his lips smashed into mine and I felt him enter me, filling me until my back arched. He moved fluidly, like perfection mixed with just a tinge of pain from the newness. He kissed my lips like they were cherished, priceless jewels, and then he kissed his way to my ear. We breathed heavily, and I moved with him, letting him in deeper and closer. It felt so right. There was something so natural about the way our bodies moved together. There was no awkward clashing of teeth as we kissed, or confused, fumbled movements. It was like we had relinquished control to some power stronger than us. He grabbed both of my hands, interlacing his fingers with mine, and stretched them above my head.

“Open your eyes. I want you to see me when you come.”

I did, and my toes pulsed, shooting waves of radiation up my spine until I felt that buzzing tempo between my ears and in the back of my throat. Gazing into his eyes made it so intense. There was the familiar pounding heartbeat between my legs. He jerked and drove deeper but watched me intently, then he gripped my hip. That’s when we both came undone. It was slow, sweet, sleepy sex, but it was more powerful than anything I’d had before. I thought maybe that’s what making love was supposed to feel like.

My hands grabbed his hair as the last tremors left my body. He finally closed his eyes and collapsed, burrowing his face in my neck. We fell asleep again just like that, with him still inside of me, but I didn’t mind because I didn’t feel alone.

There were a few hours filled with hazy memories of the sun blasting us through the blinds and Jamie getting up to shut them. He brought me water and juice. I heard him talking to Susan on the phone before coming back to bed, and then the next time I woke up I heard him tinkering in the kitchen. I smelled pastries and became convinced that I had died and gone to heaven. I slithered out of bed and searched the space for my undergarments.
Do people just walk around naked in heaven?
I used his toothbrush covertly and then quickly realized how stupid it was to be sneaky about it after what we had just done.