Nicholas Sparks - Two by Two

I stared at her. “You do know that you continually say things that surprise me and make me think.”

“That’s because I majored in the humanities, not business.”

I laughed, suddenly flooded with gratitude that she’d come back into my life, just when I needed her most.

It wasn’t until well past midnight that I finally made it home.

“You were out late last night,” Vivian remarked as we crossed paths in the kitchen the next morning. “I thought you said you’d be home by eleven.”

Despite the late night, I’d risen early and was ready to start my day by the time Vivian made it downstairs.

“Time got away from me,” I offered. I could tell she was curious about where I’d been and what I’d been doing, but it wasn’t her business. Not anymore. Changing the subject, I asked, “What time do you think you’ll be leaving? Since you have to drive?”

“Six, six thirty? I don’t know for sure yet.”

“Do you want to have a family dinner before you go?”

“I was going to take London out for an early dinner.”

“All right,” I said. “I’ll be here at six, then.”

She seemed to be waiting for me to announce something about my plans for the day. Instead, I went back to sipping my coffee and perusing the paper. When she realized I wasn’t going to speak, she finally went back upstairs, no doubt so she could shower and get ready for her day with London.

Emily and I saw each other six times before we ever slept together. Our first date after the wedding was the hike she’d suggested; we also went to a concert. We’d had lunch and dinner a few times. By then, I was already falling hard for her, but I wasn’t quite sure how she felt about me.

That morning I picked her up early and we drove to Wrightsville Beach. We lunched at a small ocean-side restaurant before strolling to the water’s edge. We collected seashells in my baseball cap as we rambled down the beach in the direction of the pier, and I can still picture the way the breeze lifted glinting strands of her hair as she bent down to retrieve a particularly beautiful shell.

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.”