Page 79 of Suddenly Dating
It was a warm, humid night, and they ended up at the side of the pool, their arms folded over the pool’s lip while the rest of their bodies floated. They gazed out at the lights on Lake Haven. They talked companionably—Lola had hit a rough patch on her book, and wasn’t sure if Sherri was going to kill again before Lola allowed the detective to figure a few things out. Harry told her about the nightmare of the water main, and how it was draining his bank account. It felt nice to talk about it without a debate over whether or not he was doing the right thing by starting this company.
And yet, a tiny part of Harry had begun to wonder if he was doing the right thing. It seemed as if every step forward was met with two blows to knock him back.
When Harry wasn’t with Lola, he thought of her. Alot. At weird times, too, like he was a fourteen-year-old all over again. When one of his subcontractors was reviewing the blueprints with him, Harry was thinking of Lola. When the drainage pipe repair cracked within twenty-four hours, he thought of Lola. On the long drive to and from work, he made himself crazy by reliving those nocturnal moments in her arms.
If he could trust himself to be objective about this sudden dating thing, he would say there was something happening within him that he hadn’t quite plumbed. He was intrigued by that notion in some ways, confused in others. It felt a little like he was turning over on himself; old notions about life and goals were suddenly on shaky ground, and newwhat-ifscenarios were popping up in his head. He didn’t fully understand these thoughts, and moreover, he didn’t want or need the entanglement of a relationship or relationship angst right now...
Wasn’t that exactly what had happened with Melissa? Hadn’t putting his career first cost him the woman he meant to marry? Didn’t he need the time now to get his company off the ground, and then think about issues like life and marriage? Yes, he needed that time. And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking about Lola.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her so much that he’d stopped noticing the state of the lake house. One day it was tidied up, the next day a wreck. She even washed two of his shirts and said in the note she left that they’d mysteriously appeared in her laundry basket. He could only imagine how that had happened in the way she tossed clothes around, then gathered them up. But in return for her thoughtfulness, he picked up the kitchen one night and made sure he programmed the coffee machine before he left.
He worked Saturday with his crew. The general contractor on the project was breathing down his neck about all the delays. Harry had calculated that what he would make on this job—assuming it was clear sailing here on out—would barely cover what he’d put into it. For the first time since embarking on a career in civil engineering, Harry’s doubts were growing. He had yet to make any money building bridges and had done nothing but pour money into it. If he didn’t get a shot at contracting soon, he wasn’t sure where he was going to end up.
Lola wasn’t home when he finally arrived, exhausted and filthy, on Saturday night. But he awoke on Sunday to the sound of feminine chatter in the living room. He stumbled out, desperate for coffee and a couple of aspirin. Lola and Mallory were in the living room, and there were several dresses draped over the back of the couch. Lola was wearing a red one that was sexy as hell, turning this way and that for Mallory.
“There he is! What do you think, Harry?” Mallory chirped when she saw him. She gestured grandly to Lola. “Which should Lola wear to Birta’s dinner party tonight? The one she is wearing? Or this one?” she asked, and held up a long blue dress that looked to have rhinestones glued to it.
“Ah...”
Lola twirled around for him; the skirt on the red dress flared out, giving him glimpse of her excellent legs.
“That one,” he said, pointing at her. “Hands down.”
“Ooh, handsdown,” Mallory said, nodding in agreement.
“I knew you were going to say that,” Lola said with a sigh.
“Don’t listen to her, Harry,” Mallory said. “I found this dress in the city yesterday and I thought Lola would lookfabulousin it, so I brought it back with the rest of these.”
“Don’t you like it?” Harry asked curiously.
“Iloveit,” Lola said, then whispered loudly, “But it’ssix hundreddollars.” As if Mallory didn’t know how much she’d paid for it.
“Wear it tonight, return it tomorrow,” Mallory said with a shrug.
“No!”Lola said, aghast.
“Then I’ll loan you the money,” Mallory said. She fell onto one of the couches and propped her feet up on the ottoman.
“No, Mallory.”
“Then it’s a gift!” Mallory exclaimed. “You have to wear it, Lola. You look fantastic. Doesn’t she look fantastic, Harry?”
“She does,” he said. He was ogling her, he realized. She was gorgeous, really, and he had to be honest—highly fuckable—which is exactly where his male mind went. Kudos for Mallory; she couldn’t seem to dress herself, but she had picked out a perfect dress for Lola.
“That good, huh?” Lola said.
“That good. You look beautiful, Lola.”
She glanced down, considering it. “Okay,” she said. “Okay, okay, I’ll take it. But I’m not borrowing money and you’re not giving it to me. I’ll buy it. Somehow.”
“Yippee!” Mallory said, clapping her hands. She didn’t seem to understand Lola’s reluctance, which was really unsurprising given that Mallory had obviously been raised in crazy wealth. Like him, Mallory probably didn’t understand crazy poverty.
“Now Harry, I didn’t bring anything for you,” Mallory said as she twirled a tassel on her shirt around her finger. “Do you have something to wear to Birta’s tonight?”
“I do,” he said as he headed for the kitchen. “Do you?”
“Yes, I do,” Mallory said. “Lola, we better get going.”
