“Yup, and getting smaller every day.”
I had a strange feeling I was missing out on an inside joke. Booker handed a plate of cookies to both Maggie and Lilah.
“Here. Eat,” he said firmly, clearly trying to stop them from talking.
“No thanks,” Maggie said through a yawn. “I’m stuffed.”
“You okay, Magpie? You looked exhausted.” Booker’s eyes scanned her face.
“We’ve been working like crazy getting everything ready to open the restaurant,” she said.
“I’ve begged her to take it easy, but you know how she is,” Seth complained. “And with Christmas coming she’s running around like a chicken without a head.”
“Speaking of Christmas, Tess, would you like to come over for dinner on Christmas? Seth has some vegan recipes he wants to try out for the restaurant,” Maggie asked.
“See?” Seth pointed to his wife. She waved him off.
“You’re doing vegan on Christmas?” Both Cole and Booker whined.
“Just a couple side dishes,” Seth assured them.
“I have to tell you, I’ve enjoyed being your guinea pig over the past several weeks.” I stood. “I can’t remember having eaten so well.”
“You’re the only vegetarian we know, and Seth is a stickler for details.” Maggie yawned again.
“I certainly can’t ask these two carnivores if a vegan dish tastes good,” Seth nodded to Cole and Booker. “You gotta go to the source.”
“True,” I said. “I also need to get going. My boss is a real slave driver and I have some work I need to finish. Thank you, Seth, for the wonderful dinner. And, Lilah, thanks for the makeover.”
“Anytime,” Lilah said with a short wave.
I turned to thank Maggie, but she’d fallen asleep in the chair. Booker helped me get my coat on and walked me out to my car. I groaned when I saw an inch of snow on the ground.
“Get in and start the car. I’ll scrape your windows,” he said as I fished the keys out of my pocket.
“You always scrape my car.” I handed him the scraper.
“I like the snow. You don’t.”
“Thank you.”
When he finished, he opened the door and handed me the scraper back. “Tess, you do look beautiful. Is this color real, or another disguise?” He tugged playfully on a strand.
“Real.”
“I like it, a lot. And your eyes, too. They remind me of the Caribbean Sea.” He sighed dramatically. “I have a hard enough time concentrating on work with you in the next room. Now it’s going to be near impossible.”
I dipped my head. “Thank you,” I said, embarrassed.
“Don’t worry, Tess. I’m not going to break my promise.”
“I know you won’t.” I looked at him and smiled. But I wish you would.
“But I may drool a little,” he warned, adding his Cheshire Cat grin. “I never promised not to drool.”
***
The next day Maggie stopped by to show us how to work the new sound system in the workout room. We made our way to the elevator as Booker argued with Nikkolynn over the phone. He demanded that her nasty emails to me end or he’d withdraw his recommendation letter. They were still arguing when we left. Maggie chuckled as the sound of clinking coins hit the bottom of the curse jar.
She looked even worse today. Her cheekbones were sunken in and her hair was pulled up in a ponytail.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
She pressed the B button and the elevator rattled to life as we slowly descended to the basement. “I’m fine, don’t worry. After Christmas, I’m going to sleep for two we . . . eks,” she said through a yawn. “The restaurant opens in February, and Lilah said we’re holding off on any more design jobs until I graduate, so all is good.”
The elevator rumbled to a stop and the doors groaned open. “That doesn’t sound good.” She shook her head and led me to a box in the room next to the mirrors. “We can’t open the gym up to the rest of the building for a few more weeks. To get anything done in New York requires a mountain of paperwork and a mile-long list of fees and permits.”
The room looked incredible. Shiny new stationary bikes and ellipticals lined one wall. A metal stand off to the left held rows and rows of dumbbells. Four treadmills faced two flat screen TVs on the right, and juice and water stocked a refrigerator with a glass door. A metal rack lined with white towels and a large hamper sat next to it for soiled towels.
“This is perfect.” I admired the foam floor and ballet barre yet again.
Booker came rushing in. “Am I too late?”
“Nope. I was just about to show Tess how to use the sound system.”
“Good. I haven’t heard it yet.” He folded his arms. “You still look like he . . . heck, by the way. I thought you were going to sleep in today.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bigglesworth,” she growled.
“Okay, you made that name up,” Booker insisted.
“Google it,” Maggie snapped.
“No need to get snippy.” Booker’s eyes narrowed as they went from playful to concerned. “We can do this tomorrow, Magpie, if you’d rather.”
“I said I’m fine.” She turned back to the box and pulled on a knob. “You open this door and there’s a—”
A putrid smell oozing from the box forced us back. Maggie and I slapped our hands over our mouth and nose while Booker reached inside and removed a green moldy ham sandwich. I cringed. Maggie ran to the bathroom in the back corner of the gym and threw up. I followed her, rubbing her back.
“Probably one of the workers left it by accident. I’ll take this out to the dumpster,” Booker said, hurrying out with the moldy sandwich.
I watched as Maggie slid down the wall and sat on the floor, knees bent, arms draped over them. She dropped her head onto her arms.
“How far along are you?” I asked. I handed her a cool damp towel to wipe her face.
“How did you know?” She pressed the towel to her neck.
“You’re tired all the time, you’ve lost weight, you’ve been a little . . . uptight lately—”
“You mean grumpy,” she admitted, dropping her head back down. “Please don’t say anything to Booker yet.”
“I won’t.”
“I don’t know how to tell Lilah. She and Cole have been trying for four months now. We haven’t been trying and, bam, I’m pregnant. This is going to devastate her.” Tears welled in her sad blue eyes.
“She’ll be happy for you,” I assured her, wrapping my arms around her and patting her back again as she stood. “She may be a little sad that she’s not pregnant, but she’ll still be happy for you.” Maggie nodded. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks. We wanted to wait until I was done with school, but . . .” She rubbed her tummy, a tender smile on her face. The outer door opened and Mags placed a finger to her lips, reminding me not to say anything.
“That was disgusting.” Booker washed his hands in the sink. “The entire room smells like rotten meat now. I’ll get an air freshener and you can show us the sound system tomorrow.” He studied Maggie’s face as we got back on the elevator.
“I’ll come by before lunch tomorrow,” she said, getting off on the main floor.
“Go home and go to bed,” Booker said as the door shut. He narrowed his eyes, clearly worried about Maggie.
Chapter 21
Booker
“Thanks, Book.” Seth slapped an arm around my shoulder and gave me a side hug.
“Thanks for what?” I asked. “I just told you your wife looks like crap.”
“And that you are concerned for her.” He opened his refrigerator door and grabbed two cans of Diet Pepsi, tossing me one.
“Thanks, and if this explodes you’re cleaning up the mess.” I sat the can on the counter.
“Sometimes adding someone to the complex dynamics of a family can mess everything up. I’m grateful that you’ve accepted Maggie into the family.” He opened his soda and took a swig, and t
hen looked at the can and shook his head. “I’m a chef about to open my own restaurant and I drink this stuff. Do you have any idea what all these chemicals can do to you?”
“Are you trying to avoid talking about Magpie? Is there something wrong with her?” I pressed.
“Nope. In fact, she went to the doctor yesterday morning for a checkup. They gave her some vitamins, and told her to rest. She’s enjoying a lazy Saturday afternoon nap as we speak.”
I sank onto a barstool and risked opening my soda. A small squirt shot out of the can and landed on my new, blue t-shirt. Seth chuckled and handed me a damp sponge. “Good news about your wife. After Cole’s cancer scare this summer, I’ve been worried.”
“Yeah. Cole’s illness had us all on edge. He had a follow up scan last week.” Seth took another drink. “Lilah’s been pretty stressed out waiting for the results. He thinks that’s why she’s not pregnant yet.”
“Could be. Stress can kill ya.” Of that I knew personally. As much as I missed police work—and man, did I miss it—I was enjoying my peace of mind so much more.
“What’s going on with you and Tess?” Seth asked. He tucked his hands into his jean pockets and perched himself against the counter, a stupid grin on his face.
“Not much. She doesn’t want a relationship right now, so I’ve been kicked to the curb.” I still thought about her night and day. At the office I found myself looking for excuses to talk to her. Idiot. I laced my fingers behind my head and leaned back, doing my best to look as if I hadn’t a care in the world.
“Nice try,” Seth laughed. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. You got it bad.”
I shifted forward, planting my hands on my knees. “Seth, I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time,” I finally admitted aloud. “I think Tess feels the same, but she had a pretty abusive relationship before and she’s scared.” I took a swallow of the soda and set the can down with a clank.
“As in physical abuse?” Seth asked, his jaw tight. We’d both witnessed domestic abuse while we worked for the MET. It turned Seth’s stomach as much as it did mine.
“Yes. And from what I’ve gathered, it was bad,” I said, frowning. “So I wait, for who knows how long. I’m pathetic. Why do I always pick the wrong girl? What’s my problem?”
“Sorry,” Seth said. “I can fix you up with this new waitress I hired. She seems nice.” He grinned hopefully.
“No thanks.” Tired of my little self-inflicted pity party, I said, “Of course, if you told me the secret ingredient in your Beef Burgundy, it just may cheer me up.” I’d been trying for years to get him to reveal it, but he wouldn’t. I added a long face to my plea in hopes of invoking sympathy.
He snorted. “Not even, bro.” He tossed a dishtowel at me. “So where’s Tess now?”
“Probably doing her dancing in the new gym. Or maybe yoga. She’s been down there every evening after work since it’s been finished doing one or the other.” I looked at my watch. She planned on stopping by there today around three. That was ten minutes ago. I stood and slid the chair under the table.
“Thanks for the soda.” I tossed the empty can into the recycle bin. “I’ll see you around five for our annual Christmas Eve dinner.” I started for the door.
“Where are you going?” Seth asked, following me to the truck. The roads were pretty slick with a fresh coat of snow. The tires were much better on the truck then the POC. Frankly, everything was better on the truck. I needed a new car.
“I’m going to the gym to get a workout in before inhaling all the fattening food we’ll be eating tonight.” I zipped up my coat and pulled on my gloves as Seth laughed behind me.
“Good luck, Romeo.”
“I hate that play. They were cowards who gave up,” I said, jogging down the porch.
“I know. You tell me that all the time. I wouldn’t let Cole and Lilah hear you, though. They’ll get you coal for Christmas.”
“True that.” I waved. “See you later.”
I drove home and changed into sweats and a gray sleeveless t-shirt. I brushed my teeth and put on some fresh deodorant. Yup, I’m a glutton for punishment. I planted my shameless butt in my truck and hurried as fast as I dared drive on the snow packed roads to the office.
I parked near the front of the building and, tucking my sneakers under my arm, jogged slowly across the parking lot. I took the stairs to the basement, stopping at the door to look inside. Tess stood stretching in the center mat wearing her “yoga pants”—as she informed me they were called on Friday before changing into them. Not going to lie, I did like her yoga pants. I could hear classical music playing over the sound system. It was the Jennifer Thomas music she loved listening to. Whenever we worked after hours, she’d turn the CD on low.
I sat on the steps and changed my sneakers, not wanting to get the floor all wet with my snow-covered boots. I set the wet boots aside and reached for the door, stopping when I looked through the window at Tess again.
She now danced around the mat, a graceful angel. The way she waved her arms and moved her body, I stood mesmerized at the elegance. Her body moved as if she were using it to tell a story. The look on her face—pure joy. I couldn’t ever remember seeing her like that. No fear, no worries. Just sheer pleasure. Tess was born to dance.
Feeling like a stalker, I reluctantly pressed the door open. The look of peace evaporated from her face. She stepped over and turned off the music.
“Hello, Booker. I didn’t expect to see you here today.” She removed a white towel from the barre and looped it around her neck.
“Seth’s making some amazingly fattening, a.k.a. delicious, food for our annual Christmas Eve dinner. I wanted to work out a little so my clothes would still fit on Monday.” I looked around for the thermostat. The room was an oven. “I think the heater’s malfunctioned.”
“I did that, sorry.” She jogged across the room and turned down the heat. “I wanted to do some Bikram yoga. It has to be hot, like a hundred-five. I was stretching a little while I waited for the room to heat up.”
“Berkram Yoga?”
“Bikram,” she corrected. “It’s a pretty intense workout. You should try it.”
“Yoga is good for girls; men need weights to challenge them.” Yup, I actually said that aloud. You’re going to be alone forever, Gatto.
“For girls?” she said, with an edge. An edge that I found quite sexy, to be honest. Wanting to see how far I could push her, I continued in my un-PCness. “Yes. You can’t get muscle like this from touching your toes and breathing deep.” I flexed my biceps.
She tugged the sleeve of her shirt up and flexed an impressive bicep of her own.
“From yoga?” I asked, impressed.
“Yup.” She tugged the sleeve back down and grabbed the ends of the towel around her neck. “I’ll bet I can outlast you in Bikram yoga poses by . . . let’s make this challenging. Let’s say four poses.”
“A real live bet this time, not a promise?” She nodded firmly to my question. “And all I have to do is hold four poses longer than you. Seriously?” I snorted, and then added, “Deal.” It took all I had not to kiss her and her cocky attitude. I’d never seen her like this before. Clearly this hot yoga thingy was her element, her domain. Well, that and dance. Watching her strut around the padded floor, I could see that this girly yoga gave her a sense of pride. It made me smile to know that her jerky ex hadn’t stripped everything from her.
Tess turned on some yoga-y chanting music and faced me. “To show you my heart’s in the right place, we’ll do some easy moves first, to warm you up. Then I’ll crush you.”
I held my hand out to the mat. “Crush away.” Oh yeah, very sexy!
“This first move is called the Utkatasana.” She set her feet about six inches apart, then squatted somewhat. “It’s similar to sitting in a chair,” she pointed out.
“Easy.” I followed her example.
“Your butt’s sticking out,” she said. “Straighten your back.” She ran her
hand up my spine. I about fell over as a chill followed her fingers. I straightened, and noted the pose wasn’t as easy then. “Now lift your arms. Keep them straight and next to your ears.”
That was a little more difficult, nevertheless, still easier than working out with weights. She stood across from me and copied the pose.
After several deep breaths she said, “Good. I’ll turn the heat back up so we can get the full benefit of the yoga. We’ll try another simple pose before moving on to the challenging ones.”
She turned the heat up and tossed me a clean towel from the rack. “You’re going to need it,” she insisted.
Next she showed me the Pasa-Ha . . . something or other. It was a straightforward pose. Bend over, press your head to your knees . . . more or less.
“Easy stuff’s over. Ready, Gatto?” Her eyes twinkled.
“If I fall asleep, don’t be offended.” I said it with a straight face, which earned me an eye roll from her beautiful Caribbean blue eyes.
“This is called the Danday—”
“Do any of these have English names?” I interrupted.
She laughed. “In English, this is called the Standing Separate Leg Stretching Pose.”
Like a graceful butterfly, she set her feet at a wide stance, wrapped her hands around the outside of her feet, and put the top of her head on the mat. Knowing I wouldn’t look half as graceful, I swallowed my pride, widened my stance and copied her pose, or tried to, anyway. My legs were nowhere near as stretched out as hers and I could only grab my ankles. I toppled to the side, unable to hold the pose.
“Strike one, Gatto.” She straightened and bowed, a hint of a gloat firmly planted on her pretty face.
I tried one last time and fell on my butt. She slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.
She held out her hand and helped me up. Still a little dizzy from having my head down, I stumbled. She grabbed me around the waist.
“Are you okay?” Tess asked.
“I am now,” I said with a grin.
She pushed me away playfully. “One down, two to go. This is called the Tad . . . ah, Tree Pose.”