Part 20 (1/2)

”I know. And our relations.h.i.+p's different than any I've had before, too.” This was difficult, knowing which fears made sense and which didn't. ”But one of the reasons I didn't want to live with anyone again was because of my fibro. I didn't want to inflict my weird lifestyle on another person - and before you say anything, I realize that's already happened with us. But the difference now is that you can always go home if you get sick of tiptoeing around the house, or eating mostly vegetables. If you were living here, you couldn't.”

He smiled. ”I thought about that, and it's not an issue. There are plenty of places I could go, if I needed to get away for a while - my athletic club's open twenty-four hours, or I could go to a movie, or one of the pubs. I admit that I've thought I might mind the food long-term, but it hasn't happened so far. To the contrary, I've found that I appreciate a good steak or lobster tail more, now that I don't have them all the time.”

He seemed to have an answer for everything. Could that possibly mean it was a good idea? Well, here was something they hadn't discussed. ”Another issue is that you've ended up doing all the work recently.

That's not fair, but I don't know how we could do anything different. Since I got fibro, I've sc.r.a.ped by with doing the minimum around the house, and you're a lot neater than I am.” ”You're neat,” he said. ”I'm a little obsessive about dust and clutter, I admit, but that comes from growing up the way I did. I don't mind cleaning - or cooking, for that matter. Doing either of them always reminds me how lucky I am now, to be out of that mess.” His mouth twitched. ”Actually, being with you's helped me get over my problem with leftovers. Ma used to serve the same d.a.m.n thing, night after night, no matter how bad it had been the first time. When I started cooking for myself, I swore I'd never eat leftovers again - and you can't imagine the amount of perfectly good food I've thrown away, just for that reason. But last month, you had me make those big pots of soup, and I felt stupid only eating it once. So I ate it every time you did, and I realized that what I'd hated wasn't that it was leftovers per se, but that the original meal had been awful.”

His words made her list of possible problems fly out the window. He, a man who'd spent his whole life keeping the world at an arm's length, felt safe talking about his past with her. He, a man who'd never dated a woman more than a handful of times, had been involved with her for four months and now wanted to prolong that indefinitely.

She licked her lips and swallowed hard. ”Give me a few days to think about it. Okay?”

Bill had a hard time concentrating on work on Monday. Nik hadn't said anything more about living together, and he was doing his best to give her enough time to decide. That alone would have been enough to keep him on the edge of his seat all day, but added to that, it was Valentine's Day.

He was glad he'd already ordered her flowers before the weekend, or he'd have been tempted to make them outrageously showy, just to demonstrate how much he wanted her answer to be yes. Of course, she'd probably think they were extravagant, anyway, even though he'd only gone for a dozen and a half deep red roses. They were supposed to be delivered here, but he guessed they hadn't come yet. Nik would have at least called to thank him if they had - he thought.

Unless she'd decided against living together. Then, she might think she should wait until tonight to break the news, and not feel comfortable talking to him before that. No. He wouldn't think negatively like that!

Scott stopped by mid-afternoon, seeming almost aimless at first, as though they were pals and he was there to shoot the breeze. After a minute or two, though, he said, ”There's something I feel kind of funny saying to you, but I really think I need to.”

Geez - what a lead-in! ”What is it?” Had he screwed up somehow? ”You want to sit?”

Scott leaned against one of the guest chairs, but didn't sit. ”Nah, I'm okay. It's - well, I was just doing some calculations on lines of code written and stuff like that, and I realized that your numbers are way out of line with everyone else's.”

”That's because I've got all these reports and meetings and stuff.” Just like Scott did. What were his numbers like?

Scott shook his head emphatically. ”No, no. That's what I expected, but your numbers are the opposite - you're writing tons of code these days. More than Carolyn, and that's frankly amazing.”

More than Carolyn? She was a one-woman coding factory. ”Maybe your numbers are wrong. I mean, sure, I write code most nights and some on weekends, but it couldn't add up to that much.”

”It does,” Scott insisted. ”And that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Seth's given me the speech a zillion times, so I ought to have it down pat by now - basically, it's not healthy to work so many hours soconsistently. Your mind needs a chance to rest other than when you're sleeping. It's not good for your eyes to stare at a computer screen for so many hours, either.”

Bill couldn't help it. He had to laugh. ”So you're telling me to stop working so much?”

Scott joined the laughter. ”I know. It's pretty unbelievable, isn't it? But yeah, that's what I'm saying.” After a moment, he sobered. ”Seth used to say I should spend more time with Francine. I wish I'd listened to him more. Maybe things would have worked out better for her.” He flicked a very serious look at Bill and said, ”I did love her, and no matter what you think, not a day goes by that I don't wish she was still alive.”

Bill felt the sincerity in his words. ”I don't doubt you.” He needed to respond in kind, to help strengthen whatever kind of bond was developing between them. ”I'm glad the things I did last summer didn't keep you and Carolyn from getting together. The two of you are going to be great parents for Rachel, and I really wish I deserved to ask to be part of your wedding.”

Scott's jaw dropped, but no words came out of his mouth - probably a good thing. Just then, Carolyn appeared in his office doorway, carrying a vase of flowers.

Bill welcomed the interruption, and he was reasonably sure Scott did, too. He smiled at Carolyn and said, ”You already got flowers this morning. Do you have a secret admirer, or is Scott in the doghouse and trying to buy his way out?”

She grinned. ”These aren't for me. They're for you.” She handed them across the desk to him, and he nearly dropped them in his surprise. They were gorgeous - a mixture of huge red tulips and amazing white lilies - perhaps a dozen of each. The vase was clear gla.s.s, adding to the weight of the arrangement. With a smirk, Carolyn added, ”Nancy says these are the best flowers so far. She was getting tired of roses.”

”I wonder who they're from?” Scott's tone made it clear he had a pretty good idea. As Bill reached for the card, he heard Scott ask Carolyn, ”So where are my flowers?”

Carolyn probably answered, but Bill had no idea what she said. He was too busy staring at the card. At the single word written on the card.

”YES!”.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT.

Nik made a list of things she and Bill should discuss. How could they rearrange the bedroom to provide enough s.p.a.ce for his dresser? Could she free up enough closet s.p.a.ce for his clothes? What furniture from his apartment would he like to use in the living room? The list went on and on with the practicalities of living together.

But then, she heard the front door open and she dropped the pad on the table - making a mental note to add reorganizing the garage to her list, so they could both park inside - and ran to greet him. He grinned and slipped an arm around her waist. ”As I remember from old sit-coms, aren't you supposed to bring me my pipe and slippers when I come in from a hard day at work?”

She - well, she guessed she had to admit she giggled at that, and burrowed in closer to his chest.

”Sorry.”

He placed a soft kiss on her lips and said, ”This is just fine - perfect, in fact.” They kissed some more. At some point, she noticed that he was holding her with only one arm, and when she glanced at the other arm, she saw a bottle of champagne. ”You brought champagne?”

”I thought we should celebrate,” he said with a guilty hesitancy that melted her heart all over again. ”I know you don't drink much, and with it being a weeknight and all, maybe you won't want to.”

She reached for the bottle. ”Tonight's a special occasion.” She giggled again - twice in two minutes? She was clearly out of her mind. ”The champagne'll go great with the Chinese food I ordered for dinner.” Just the fact that she'd ordered out was amazing enough, but wait until he got a load of what she'd ordered!

Two wonderful main dishes, super- fancy fried rice, hot-and-sour soup, and - her favorite - a double order of egg rolls. To heck with her diet tonight!

They walked into the kitchen hand-in-hand. Her list would have to wait until another time.

”Hey, Phillip.” Bill was careful to use the preferred version of his co-worker's name, rather than Phil which he'd called him in the past to annoy him.

Phillip looked up from his desk. ”Hey, Bill. What's up?”

He hated asking for favors, but sometimes it was necessary. ”Uh, you still have that pickup, don't you?”

”It's my dad's, but he doesn't mind if I borrow it. Why? Do you have something that needs moved?” It always gave Bill a start to hear someone as educated as Phillip use that awkward colloquialism.

”Yeah.” His smile felt weak. ”My stuff. I'm moving in with Nik.”

”You are?” Phillip's face lit up with that goofy grin of his. ”That's great! I hardly know her, but she seems real nice.”

”She is.” Oh now, that was certainly brilliant conversation!

”How much stuff? Just your clothes and stuff, or your furniture, too?”

Geez. He should have thought about that. A pickup wouldn't hold all his furniture. ”The whole shebang - but I guess maybe I should hire somebody to do it. There's an awful lot.”

Phillip waved one of his larger-than-life-size hands. ”That's okay. I've helped a bunch of people move whole apartments of stuff. If we get a couple of the other guys to help, we can do the whole job in a few hours.”

”Really? You wouldn't mind?”

Phillip shrugged. ”Nah. The way it usually works is you buy everybody pizza and beer when we finish.