“Hmm.” Fraser was noncommittal on that point. “Did you ever go out with guys your own age?”
“Of course.”
“But…?”
“Nothing. It was fine. I never fell in love until Noah. Noah was…”
“Handsome, rich, cultured, and your boss.”
I stared at him. “It wasn’t like that,” I said shortly.
“Why wouldn’t it be? That’s not criticism. I can see why you fell for him. He sounds perfect. Too perfect, if you want my opinion. I can see you don’t. So, what went wrong with this idyllic life you worked so hard to build?”
The waiter brought my drink, and I had a couple of sips thinking over that telling comment.
“You
“I tend to come on too strong when I’m…” He lost track of that thought in his apparent interest in capturing the last crumb of onion loaf.
“Too what?”
“Hmm?”
“You come on too strong when you’re too what?”
Fraser looked blank.
I realized belatedly that maybe I didn’t want to know. We finished our meal more quietly than we’d begun it, although we did relax again over the hot fudge brownie desserts.
When the bill arrived we argued briefly.
“
Next time?
The sidewalk sparkled with frost. A Volkswagen Beetle sped past, demons and goblins yelling out the window.
“What now?” Fraser’s breath was warm in the cold night air.
Our gazes tangled. I knew what I
Fraser stared right back as though he could read my mind. “Well,” he said casually, “we could always see a movie.”
Chapter Six
Believe it or not, when I finished laughing, we went to the movies.
We arrived in time to catch the second feature, which was the 1932 version of
“Did you know this was filmed in Mojave?” Fraser whispered.
I shook my head.
He snickered over Ardeth Bey’s “Excuse me… I dislike being touched,” and downright guffawed over “Maybe he got too gay with the vestal virgins in the temple.”
I watched him out of the corner of my eye and smiled. I liked that he shared my same loony sense of humor. I liked his lack of self-consciousness. And I really liked how much he was enjoying himself. I tried to remember the last time I’d had such an uncomplicated good time.
I didn’t let myself think about my article. I didn’t let myself think about Noah. I watched Ardeth Bey try to reclaim his reincarnated true love and concentrated on nothing but the warmth of Fraser’s shoulder pressing against mine, the occasional brush of our hands in the popcorn barrel.
It could have been any first date. But that was also something I didn’t let myself think about.
When the movie was over we walked back to the hotel along quiet and by then mostly deserted streets. The scent of wood smoke drifted in the sparkling night air. Every so often someone in costume appeared in the distant peripheral of our vision, as though at the far end of a telescope. Kids. Teenagers. Milking the last few minutes of the spookiest night of the year.
“What time is it?” I asked as we walked past a house where a jack-o’-lantern sat on the porch steps, eyes glowing eerily, yellow mouth laughing silently.
Fraser checked his wristwatch. “A quarter to midnight.”
“The witching hour.”
“Yep.”
After that we seemed to be out of things to talk about. I was coming down from the booze, and I felt tired and depressed when I remembered the fight with Noah. Which was every couple of minutes.