Page 2 of That Birthday in Barbados
I leaned back and gave him a look. “Are you trying to tell me something, James?”
“You know what they say. There’s more to life than work. Take babies, for example. Don’t most marriages get to a point where a baby is the next step?”
“When would I have time for a child, James?”
James shrugged, looked out the window where Manhattan skyscrapers glared back at us. “Yeah. I know. It’s just that I’ve been listening to a book by Dr. Wayne Dyer on the train coming to work. Dr. Dyer said, “Anything you must have, owns you. When you release it, you get more of it.”
“More work?” I teased.
“More life, I guess.”
“Do you think that’s true?” I asked, serious because he’s serious.
“Maybe,” he said.
I tapped the keyboard of my Mac desktop and brought up my calendarscreen. “Do you think this business owns me?”
“Some days,” he said without hesitating. “Most, actually, if I’m truthful.”
At the sober note in his voice, I looked up from the calendar. “ActivGirl is my baby right now. I’ve created the little monsterand slowing down isn’t an option. I’m getting ready to sign the next five years of my life away.”
“Yeah. I’ve been thinking a lot about choices lately. How every single one we make links to the next choice. And together all those choices make what ends up being our lives.”
I gave him a questioning stare. “What exactly did you have to drink last night, James?”
He smiled a half-smile, shaking his head. “Deep for me, huh?”
“A bit for your age. But why do I have the feeling there’s something more than an audiobook behind this sudden insight of yours?”
He chewed on his lower lip, looking worried and then trying to clear his expression. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“What’s nothing?” I asked, a funny flutter hitting the center of my stomach, my inner radar sending up a sudden sonar blast.
“If I say something, and it’s nothing, I’ll feel like a real jerk.”
I considered shrugging this off. Something told me I should. That I’d regret not doing so. But I wasn’t made like that. Once the red cape appeared in front of me, I couldn’t ignore it. “Okay, ‘fess up,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “What is it?”
He looked down at his hands, rubbed his palms together, and then pressed them against the sides of his head. “Oh, crap. I wish I hadn’t said anything.”
“James. Whatever it is, just say it.”
I saw the struggle on his face, the deep desire that he wished he’dremained silent. The equal realization that he was already in the curve, and it was too late to turn back now. Nothing to do but accelerate.
He exhaled. “So I stopped off at the Plaza Hotel yesterday after work to meet a friend for a drink.”
“Yes?” My heart pounded. I could feel it beating against the wall of my chest, hammering my temples. I was standing on the tracks, and I could hear the train coming, see it too, but I couldn’t move.
“I really don’t want to tell you this,” he said, and it was clear he wished he’d stayed quiet.
“James. Please.” Even as I demanded that he say whatever had him so undone, I wanted him to stop. I wanted to pause the moment. Rewind to ten minutes earlier when I walked out of the elevator, thinking the only possible kink in my day could come from a deal falling through.
James bit his lip, visibly struggling, and then leapt off the ledge. “Connor and Nicole were having drinks at one of the back tables.”
“What?”
And then relief flooded through me, liquid, golden. I laughed, hearing my gratitude for the reprise. “Oh. I bet they’re planning something for my birthday. Those two? ”
“Were kissing. Passionately.”
