Danielle Steel - The Apartment

“We just had it. Good talk, good food, no pressure, someone nice to talk to, who isn’t having a fit that I was late, and might have to go back to work in five minutes, and doesn’t care what I wore to dinner. I like getting dressed up sometimes, but most of the time I’m too late to dress, and I’m too tired to care when I come home from work. And I fall asleep at the dinner table because I never got to bed the night before.” He had met all her criteria for the perfect date.

“I’m a little disappointed,” he said, looking slightly woebegone. “You never mentioned sex. That’s not part of your dating plan?” he asked hopefully, and she burst out laughing.

“I forgot,” she said honestly. “Do people still do that? Who has time for sex with jobs like ours?”

“I hear some people still do it,” he assured her mock seriously. “It’s an antiquated notion, I’ll admit, but I’m kind of an old-fashioned guy, and I like the old traditions, though not on the first date. Maybe second or third? Or nineteenth?” He looked at her hopefully, and she was smiling. She really liked him, and she could tell that he liked her, exactly the way she was, not in clothes she borrowed from her sister, and Claire’s ridiculous high heels. She had never been so comfortable on a first date.

“Yeah, sex on date nineteen sounds about right,” she teased him. “By then you might be married and could give it up completely.” Her parents hadn’t slept together in years before their divorce and had separate bedrooms.

“I don’t know if I agree with that,” Alex said seriously in response to her comment. “My parents still seem like they’re in love with each other, though God knows how, with my brother and me driving them crazy when we were growing up. But they seem to have survived it, and get along pretty well. I’d like to have a relationship like theirs one day. I suspect you have to work at it.” She nodded, and was fairly sure her parents hadn’t, and had slowly grown apart, until their marriage imploded. Her father had admitted to her that he’d been miserable and wanted more than he’d had with his ex-wife. He’d been starving for affection, which made sense, knowing her mother. “So do we have a plan here? Sex on date nineteen? Does lunch in the cafeteria count if the intention to date is there? If so, that makes this date two, which means we only have seventeen to go. Are you free for the next two and a half weeks? I could clear my calendar if you want me to.” She was laughing at what he said.

“Maybe we could stretch it out to three weeks,” she countered only half in jest. It was just talk, and easy banter between them. She liked his sense of humor, and his stories about his brother and parents. They sounded like the kind of family she wished she’d had, instead of her constantly angry mother and absentee father.

“Actually, the last date I had, I fell asleep on the couch watching a movie. When I woke up, my date had gone to bed without me, locked her bedroom door, and left me a note telling me to let myself out. It was the third time I had done that to her. She said ‘Call me after you get some sleep.’ I never did, I figured three strikes you’re out, and she was really boring. Maybe if we’d ever talked to each other, I could have stayed awake. The notion of sex as a sport you can play with a stranger, or a form of gymnastics, has never appealed to me. I’m a hopeless romantic and have this ridiculous idea that you’re supposed to care about each other. Maybe that sounds stupid to most people, and the last person I said that to, an ER nurse in the trauma unit, asked me if I was gay after I said it. She was sleeping with guys she met online, on the first date, and she thought I was a weirdo when we didn’t wind up in bed the day I met her. That’s fun at eighteen. After that, it’s nice if you care about, or at least know, the other person. Sleeping with strangers is too much work.” She liked what he was saying and agreed with him. His values were similar to hers, unlike Valentina, who openly admitted to sleeping with men on the first date. And she had been just as sexually adventuresome in high school. Love wasn’t necessary for her in order to have sex. Sasha was more old-fashioned, and so was Alex.

“I agree with you,” Sasha said quietly. “I think we’re kind of a throwback to another time. A lot of people don’t think like we do. The guys I’ve gone out with think sex is what you give them in exchange for a hamburger or a steak.” Alex smiled and was familiar with the theory too. He hadn’t felt that way since college.

“By the way, it’s okay if sex isn’t on the schedule until date thirty-six, or never. I like you, and I like the idea of getting to be friends first. Maybe we could get together and fall asleep in front of the TV sometime, or at a movie. Put me in the dark, after three nights on call, and you can count on me snoring in five minutes. I wake up for the credits, though. I like to know who made the movie I missed.” She laughed and admitted to doing the same thing.

“That happened to me at the symphony last year. Someone gave me tickets, and with the lights off and the music, I slept through the whole thing. I figure I’ll wait till I finish my residency before I try it again. It’s kind of wasted on me.”

“That’s why sports are so great. You can’t fall asleep playing touch football. Although I did fall asleep at the U.S. Open with my brother last year. He nearly killed me and said he wouldn’t waste a seat on me again. I’m actually pretty impressed we both stayed awake through dinner tonight, aren’t you?” He was beaming at her, he loved talking to her, and she was so beautiful it took his breath away, and he would have loved to sleep with her, but he didn’t want her to feel pressured, and preferred to move slowly. It made her feel comfortable and safe with him, and he could sense that. She was not a woman who was going to leap into anything.

The hospital hadn’t called her all through dinner, and she decided to go home when they left the restaurant, but she invited him to dinner at the loft the next day. She was off duty and so was he. Max was cooking, everyone was coming, and it would be a nice opportunity for Alex to meet them in a low-key way. She hadn’t had time to mention him to them, but for the moment they were just friends, and he said he’d like to meet her roommates. He put her in a cab after dinner, and promised to be at the loft the next day.

“Thank you for dinner. It was terrific,” she said, smiling at him. And the conversation had been even better than the food.

“See you tomorrow,” he said, and waved as the cab drove away. She had given him the address in Hell’s Kitchen, and he was looking forward to the evening and seeing her again. And her roommates and extended family sounded like a fun group to him.

—

On Sunday, Morgan went to the park with Max, before he came over to cook dinner. Claire went uptown to go shopping, and she wanted to check out the shoe department at Bergdorf’s to see if there were any brands she’d missed to send her résumé to. Abby was supposed to spend the day with Ivan, but he had called that morning to say he had the flu, so she hung around the apartment, working on a new play for him. And Sasha slept until early afternoon and caught up on sleep. It was a sunny September day and the weather was starting to turn cool.

Sasha set the table for dinner before the others came home, and by six o’clock, everyone was back, Max had arrived with the groceries, and Oliver and Greg turned up shortly after. And they were all milling around the loft laughing and talking, as Max and Morgan poured the wine, when Alex appeared. Sasha had told them he was coming, and said that he was a friend from work. No one thought much of it, and anyone was welcome at their Sunday-night gatherings.