Читать книгу Dating By Numbers - Jennifer Lohmann - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

WELL, I’M NOT sick to my stomach.

Rolling over in bed made Marsie reconsider her hopeful sentiment.

Yet.

Once her head had found its place on her shoulders, she swung her feet over the side of the bed and steadied herself with the help of the nightstand as she stood, her toes sinking into the plush rug. All things considered, she wasn’t that bad off. She didn’t vomit as she reached down for her clothes and the throbbing in her head hadn’t hit a level she would call pounding. She was too old to go through one, two—please, God, say it wasn’t three—bottles of wine with Beck in one sitting.

The mattress sank as her butt hit, helping to steady her when she put on her socks. Everything about Beck’s guest room was cushiony. Her feet sank into the rug. The mattress had practically swallowed her whole. The curtains had enough fabric to be properly called draperies. The only nonsoft things in this room were the tchotchkes covering every flat surface and the wood of the four-poster. The guest room made up for the rest of the house with its hard edges and modern furniture. Whenever Marsie stayed over, she wondered if this was what the rest of the house would be like if Beck lived alone, or if she put all her girly decorating energy into this one room and the effect would be diluted if she had the entire house to play with.

Not that Marsie imagined she would ever find out. Beck and Neil had been together since their first year of a college and, since Marsie had known them, had only seemed to grow into a more solid couple.

As she passed the mirror over the dresser on the way to the door, she considered checking her hair. But if her hair was as bad as she thought, she’d feel the need to fix it, and she didn’t think she had the energy. Better not to know.

The sound of a couple arguing assaulted her ears as soon as she opened the door. Not that Beck and Neil were being loud, but the anger in their voices pulsed through the house like a sonic wave. She shut the door, then backed into the room and sank her butt back into the bed with a sigh.

All couples fought, at least according to all the books she read—both when she had still been trying to work things out with Richard and in preparation for knowing if her own future marriage was healthy. Apparently fighting could even be good for a marriage. Better to get everything out in the open. Of course, all the books stressed the importance of how couples fight, but she wasn’t going to listen at the door to evaluate how Beck and Neil were doing.

Instead, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand and opened her dating app.

Nothing.

This was what she had remembered from last time ’round. People said women were inundated with requests for sex and a boob shot, but she never had been. Which was fine by her. But despite all the preparation that had gone into this round of online dating, she was no more successful than when she’d plopped her résumé online and crossed her fingers.

Marsie Penny, you are smarter than that. She tossed her phone to the end of the bed. She’d also been told not to take anything that happened in online dating personally. Anyway, she’d started back into this thing only last night. There was no way she could interpret one night of no responses as an indication of her worthiness as a person. That was the hangover and listening to her best friend’s marital spat talking. Plus, if she allowed herself to go down this road, she’d be entering a dark, scary forest from which she might not return. She had to remain positive and not take anything that happened in online dating to heart.

Easier said than done. Especially with her phone still within arm’s reach. She had set herself up a schedule of when she could check for messages, and she’d be breaking that schedule if she checked again.

And Jason said online dating was fun! Well, she’d never understood Jason, and thinking about online dating and him didn’t help her comprehension. She needed to stop thinking about him at all, unless it was in relation to work. Work was safe.

What she needed was to get out of this room and leave her phone ensconced in the divot made by the down comforter. She could make it to the bathroom without infringing on her friend’s privacy. Though that meant she wouldn’t be able to escape fixing her hair.

Once out of the bathroom, her hair fixed and her mouth rinsed with mouthwash, Marsie made another attempt toward the stairs. She tiptoed, trying to be as quiet as possible as she got close enough to the top of the staircase to fully judge if the argument was over. Several breaths later, she deemed it safe to go down.

Beck was standing in the kitchen, her back to Marsie. The first drips of morning coffee hit the bottom of the carafe, and the delicious scent was beginning to make its way across the kitchen to Marsie’s nose. But even with the slight hangover, her friend’s shaking shoulders were more important than the first cup of coffee.

She put her hand on Beck’s lower back. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Beck sniffed, still trying to cover up the fact that she was crying. “Yes. I don’t know.”

“How about I fix you a cup of coffee while you think about what you want to say.” Marsie kept one palm in contact with her friend while she got mugs out of the cabinet and set them on the counter. Then she busied herself pouring cream in a pitcher while the coffee finished brewing. When it was done, she made her friend a cup with extra sugar and cream, then steered her to the living room so they could sit.

Whatever Beck was crying over, it was not a conversation to be had sitting on bar stools.

Marsie had finished her entire mug of coffee by the time Beck put hers down, full, on the table, and looked ready to speak. “Neil and I are going to get a divorce.”

Marsie’s cup clanged on the glass of the table when she set it down with more force than she’d intended. “Like you’ve seen a lawyer and you’re getting your separation agreement ready, or like you’re fighting a lot and it’s scary?”

What she wanted to ask was, “Why the hell is this the first I’m hearing about it? I thought we were friends?” but even in her not-quite-hungover state, she knew that wasn’t supportive.

Beck reached for her mug, brought it to her lips, then set it back down without drinking anything. “No lawyers.” She sighed. “Maybe I exaggerated. I don’t know. Right now, it feels like divorce is coming at any moment.”

“What are you arguing about?” Marsie asked, her hand braced on the side of the couch. Of all her coupled friends, Beck and Neil were the ones she thought least likely to split. They’d been together forever, seemed to have the same life goals and, well, just seemed in step.

“Money, of course. Sex.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad. Don’t all couples fight about those things?”

Beck shrugged. “Sure. I mean, we’ve always had tensions over what to do with our money and how much sex to have or who gets what fantasy. But the past couple months, it’s been different. Meaner.”

“Oh.” Marsie wouldn’t be so worried if Beck were crying, but instead her friend kept blinking away the tears in her eyes. Like if she didn’t cry them, then they weren’t there. She put her hand on Beck’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.

Her friend looked up at the ceiling and blinked several times. It wasn’t enough to keep tears from running down her face. “I want a kid.”

And Neil didn’t. He’d never made a secret of that fact.

“Oh, honey.” Marsie wrapped her arm around Beck and pulled her close. Finally, her friend started to cry.

Beck cried noisy snotty tears onto Marsie’s shoulder. She shook with grief for several minutes while Marsie held on to her, not able to offer anything but support while her best friend fell to pieces in her arms.

When Beck’s sobs slowed, she sat up and wiped her nose on her sleeve. She had to use both arms and the fabric of her T-shirt was gross by the end. Wiping her cheeks with the heel of her hand didn’t do anything but spread the dampness around.

“Here, use mine,” Marsie said, offering up her arms. They looked at each other for a moment and giggled before Beck leaned over and wiped her cheeks on Marsie’s already damp sleeves. When she sat back up, they giggled again. Not that anything about this morning was funny, but they both needed the release of tension.

“Do you need a fresh cup of coffee?” Marsie asked.

Beck nodded. “And tissues.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” It broke Marsie’s heart to see her friend curl up on the couch again, protecting herself from the grizzly bears of the world.

She got them both another cup of coffee and stuck a box of tissues under her arm. Beck drank about half her cup of coffee as soon as Marsie handed it to her.

“Thank you,” Beck said.

“It’s what friends are for.” The only sounds in the living room were the ticktock of the clock and the slurping of hot coffee until Marsie asked, “Why didn’t you say anything about this earlier?”

“You were starting online dating again and so into it with your research and your beta testing. I didn’t want to sound like a downer by complaining about my marriage.”

“I’m your friend. I want to hear about your downers.”

Beck’s head fell against the back of the couch. “God, now I’m failing at being a friend, too.” Her tone was light and she had a slight smile on her face, but Marsie could tell that her friend believed the nonsense she was spouting.

“You’re not failing at being a friend, but I hope you feel like you can talk to me. No matter what, we’re here for each other.”

Beck set her now empty cup on the coffee table and leaned against Marsie. “Always.”

* * *

BACK AT WORK on Monday, Marsie checked the clock on her computer. She was supposed to meet with the vice president in charge of research in twenty minutes. She’d prepare for the meeting, but she didn’t know what it was about, other than a new grant application. All her emails had been either replied to or sorted into the appropriate folders and...

And she was coming up with excuses to justify checking her online dating profile. She’d spent all of Sunday with Beck, goofing off and talking about everything under the sun that didn’t have a penis attached to it. Late Sunday afternoon a notification had shown up on her phone that there was a message. Marsie had ignored it.

But now that little icon at the top of her phone was calling her name.

Marsie spun around in her chair, away from her computer. Checking her profile on her work computer was a mistake she would only make once. She dug her phone out of her purse and set it on her desk. Then she took a deep breath and tapped the app.

“Are you looking at what I think you’re looking at?” Jason’s voice asked from her doorway.

“What?” She exhaled all her frustration and embarrassment into the word, inwardly cursing the universe. “Do you have a tap into my computer?”

He raised one finger and one eyebrow. “If I did, I’d have to have a tap on your phone, too.” He smiled, all charm and ease. “How’s online dating going?”

“Fine.” That was close to the actual truth of, I don’t know. Or, I’m afraid to look.

No. She swallowed her sigh. I don’t know would have been a true enough answer. She hadn’t wanted to do this alone, and Beck wasn’t able to go along for the ride right now.

“You don’t have a very good poker face,” he said, an amused smile dancing on his face.

“No, but I’m hard to beat online,” she retorted, pleased that she had clearly caught him off guard with her answer.

“You really play poker online?”

“Played,” she corrected. “The heydays of online poker winning are over, but it’s just a math game. And I’m good at math.”

He nodded, clearly still reeling from the shock of imagining her playing online poker but also, just as clearly, impressed. “So why economics instead of math?”

“My dad’s influence. I had this idea to follow in his footsteps.” Follow in his footsteps. Win his approval. Same thing.

“And, are you?”

She gave her head a slight shake. “Not really. I mean, I’m an economist too, but my mom’s influence means I’m here, studying health and the economy rather than making more money somewhere else managing a hedge fund.”

The firm’s wide-ranging studies and analysis into everything, including pharmaceuticals, economic policy and the environment, were aimed at improving social conditions around the world. A lofty goal that her mom approved of and father scoffed at.

As an adult, Marsie didn’t often think of that, the constant push and pull and tug from her parents. Baby boomers, both of them. They’d had this idea that love was enough to bring together their two disparate views on the world. And, if you counted that they’d made a baby who used a conservative-leaning social science to try to make the world a better place, they had brought their views of the world together perfectly.

If you considered “bring together” to mean stay married, that hadn’t happened. They’d gotten divorced when Marsie was two. Her dad had stayed in California. Her mom had run off, child in tow, to start an organic farm in Wyoming of all places. If her mom had decided to start a ranch, at least that would have made sense. But her mom didn’t believe in sense. She believed in signs and dreams and hopes.

Hopes didn’t grow enough vegetables to make money. They’d always had food to eat, and child support meant Marsie always had clothes, but she hadn’t just been the smart girl in a tiny school—she’d been the poor smart girl.

“Right. Better for me that you’re here and not at some hedge fund somewhere. You are one of the people who make my job interesting.” His teeth glinted through his easy smile.

She knew that smile, had seen him flash that smile at other people, and still it relaxed her, making her less interested in what might be happening in the dating app on her phone and what could happen if Jason sat down in one of her office chairs and leaned against her desk again.

Maybe she’d come around and sit on the edge, pull one leg up so that her skirt fell open just so...

No. Stop. Jason wasn’t tall enough. And that was only one strike against him. He was also too smooth and too charming and they worked at the same place. He didn’t have the kind of education she was looking for in a man. Or the type of career. Six strikes when only three were needed.

“Speaking of jobs, I’ve got to be on my way to one.” His voice was easy, but the twinkle in his eyes made her wonder if he knew what she was thinking.

Since he’d come to her first cubicle at this office to remove a keyboard tray she had banged her knees on, Jason had always been able to make her feel like the world under her feet wasn’t stable. Like if she moved too quickly or took a wrong step, she would fall. And she never knew what to do with that information.

There wasn’t a formula for social interaction. Not one that worked well, anyway.

“I’m going to grab a cup of coffee first,” he said. “Wanna come?”

“Sure.” She had wanted a cup before her next meeting. Plus, the world wasn’t stable when she was around Jason, but it wasn’t boring, either.