Michelle nodded. “They used to play it a lot. My dad would turn up the CD player—back in the day—and pull her in close, and they’d dance. Funny, because it’s not typical dancing music, you know?” she said, her gaze hooking into his and he nodded. “But even so, they’d laugh and dance, and I always felt as if they were remembering their wedding. He’d twirl her around, and they were like some postcard, like a happy black-and-white postcard of two people still in love. And who were still happy about it years later.”
He smiled against the back of her neck. His parents weren’t like that at all. His memories were of snippy comments, bitter moments, barbs and cut-downs. No happy times. No dancing. He wasn’t envious though. How could he be? Hers were gone. His were simply miserable when he was younger, and happily divorced now. They’d filed for divorce two days after Casey graduated from high school. “And you love it now? The music?”
“I do,” she said, her lips curving up. “I think it’s beautiful. I could see why they’d get married to it. It is a joyful piece of music. It makes you want to celebrate.” She placed her phone on the coffee table and relaxed back into him. “What about you? Why is a Ravel sonata your ringtone?”
Here they were, curled up on his couch, the view of Central Park and its lush green trees greeting them through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and they were discussing their phones, for Christ’s sake. But they also weren’t discussing their phones. They were talking about something that seemed to matter.
“I listened to classical music a lot when I was stationed overseas.”
“You did?” she asked, quirking her eyebrows in curiosity. “Why?”
“It reminded me of home. It reminded me of the world beyond the battle. Even if I wasn’t one of the guys on the front lines, I was studying them. Helping our boys to understand them, to navigate what was going on.”
“What were you working on? Or is that classified or something?”
“We provided the intelligence support for some of the operations in Afghanistan and Iraq.”
“I can’t even imagine what that’s like,” she said, shaking her head, perhaps in some kind of admiration. “Playing a role in something so big.”
“It was our job to make sure they had the right information to act on. Sometimes, when I was studying the reports coming in, I would listen to Ravel or Brahms or Mozart. It helped me sort it out. I found it strangely calming.”
“I can picture that,” she said, and this time she reached out, running her hand down his arm. “I can see how that would help.”
He liked that they both had reasons for their ringtones that were deeper than just randomness of the universe. That it was about music, and the way music mattered to them both. It mattered differently, but it was equally important. A cigar wasn’t always a cigar.
“Stay the night,” he said, trying again with her. He wanted more of her. He liked himself better when she was near.
She shook her head.
“Please. I like the way you feel next to me, even just like this.”
“No. I need to be in my own bed.”
“But you look so good on mine.”
“I feel good in it. But I need to go home.”
“First things first,” he said, then dropped his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply, the way she liked, the way that made her wriggle underneath him in seconds, and wrap her legs around his waist. The way that turned her on in a heartbeat. Made her wet and hot and needy for him. He’d learned her body quickly, studied her cues, and knew how to turn her on in record time. It was as if he alone possessed the secret code to unlock her desire.
He pulled off her panties, rolled on a condom and entered her. Within seconds she was moaning, her head back, her arms wrapped tight around him, her legs gripping him. It was a quick fuck, a goodbye-and-see-you-tomorrow one. It was a promise that this wasn’t the last time, that there would be many more.
And that they both just needed one more moment of connection before she left without staying the night.
* * *
from: [email protected]
date: Sept 10, 10:32 AM
subject: Your email address
Been meaning to ask this—I take it there are no devilishly handsome CEOs of lingerie companies who have access to this email? That you set it up just for me?
from: [email protected]
date: Sept 10, 10:55 AM
subject: Spotting it from across town
You have a bit of a jealous streak, don’t you? And I assure you, there are no other devilishly handsome CEOs that I know at all, lingerie or otherwise, and they certainly wouldn’t be emailing me here, seeing as I just set it up for you. But I have often thought the handyman in my building is quite cute.
from: [email protected]
date: Sept 10, 10:56 AM
subject: Couldn’t resist
I’m just kidding. He’s not that cute. OK, maybe a tad cute.
from: [email protected]
date: Sept 10, 10:57 AM
subject: Couldn’t resist either
Not as cute as you though, when you’re jealous.
from: [email protected]
date: Sept 10, 11:01 AM
subject: A mile wide
My jealous streak knows no bounds. Especially not after this weekend. Not after the hallway. Not after the couch. Not after the shower. Hell, not after what you did to me on the Met Life Tower.
from: [email protected]
date: Sept 10, 11:03 AM
subject: WHAT I DID TO YOU?
I think it was the other way around.
from: [email protected]
date: Sept 10, 11:11 AM
subject: YES
No. It was not. What you did to me was make me want more of you. I have a large appetite when it comes to you.
from: