Josie covered him gently with one of his soft baby blankets, then went back into the living room to get Lucy.
The four-year-old weighed a great deal more than her little brother, and Josie had to sling her up into her arms, kind of like a sack of potatoes. But Lucy didn’t wake up, and Josie tucked her into her bed.
She’d eaten her microwaved potato and had nearly the entire living room cleaned up before Cooper woke.
He blinked at her groggily in the dim light, groaning slightly as he straightened up from the twisted position he’d been sleeping in.
“ ’Bout time you showed up,” he said, knowing that such an adversarial greeting wouldn’t make things any better, but unable to stop himself.
“Sorry I’m late,” Josie said.
“You
promised
you’d be home—”
“Cooper, I said I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”
He rubbed his face with his hands. “I don’t blame you,” he said tiredly. “If I were you, I wouldn’t want to come home either.” He looked up at Josie and laughed in despair. “I had one fucking awful day.”
From the other room, Ben woke up and began to cry.
Josie closed her eyes. This was her fault. She should’ve changed his diaper before she put him in the crib.
Ben’s noise woke Lucy, who also began to cry. “I don’t
wanna
go to bed!” she sobbed.
“One
fucking
awful day,” Cooper said, almost to himself. “And it’s not over yet.”
“We think we’ve found her,” Josie announced to Annie. “Our troubles may soon be over.”
“Live-in or out?” Annie asked, putting a bowl of cut fruit on Josie’s desk.
“Out,” Josie answered, making a face. “You’ve seen our place. Where would we keep a live-in nanny? We don’t have enough room for the four of us—let alone a fifth.”
“You could get a new place,” Annie suggested. Her long, blond hair was pulled back into a chic chignon. Her dress was new, and she was wearing makeup, Josie noticed. Had she given up on David and agreed to go out with someone else? Or was this simply a newly launched effort to catch David’s eye? “Maybe something closer to the office?”
“Move?” Josie rolled her eyes. “Ben and Lucy are just starting to get used to the place we have. No way are we going to go through
that
again. You look great today, by the way. Going someplace?”
“I have a lunch date.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Actually, yes,” Annie said. She smiled, her cheeks tinged with a slight blush. “Alex Winfield.”
“The lawyer from Briscoll, George, etc., who looks like he works nights at Chippendales?” Josie grinned. “Oh, baby. If you don’t come back at least two hours late, I’m going to be upset.”
“How come you never say that to me?” Frank asked, joining the conversation.
“Say what to you?” David said, coming into Josie’s office.
“Annie’s having lunch with some hotshot stud lawyer, and Josie just gave her permission to come back at three in the afternoon,” Frank grumbled. “Meanwhile,
I’ll
be having a tuna on rye, standing up in the mail room, barely taking enough time to chew.”
Josie glanced up at David, who didn’t seem at all perturbed at the thought of Annie having lunch with another man. Annie, on the other hand, had focused all of her attention on sorting the faxes that had come in overnight.
“Don’t complain,” Josie scolded Frank. “Who is it that leaves early every Thursday night in order to go skating at Rockefeller Center, simply for a chance to be on the same ice as the elusive strawberry blonde in the white sweater?”
Frank grinned. “You’re right. You win.”
“The things I let you guys get away with around here in the name of love,” Josie said, shaking her head.
“I’m having lunch with the guy,” Annie protested with a quick look at David. “I didn’t say anything about love—”
“At least Annie’s date has a
name,”
Josie teased Frank.
He smiled wistfully. “My ice-skating blonde does, too,” he said. “I finally got up the nerve to talk to her last night.”
Annie and Josie stopped what they were doing and gave their full attention to Frank. Even David looked up.
“Her name’s Dana Rousseau,” he said. “And before you guys start singing the theme from the wedding march, I’ve got to tell you—there’s a major catch here.”
“All hair, no brains?” Josie suggested.
Frank laughed. “No—”
“Funny voice?”
“No, no, she’s perfect,” Frank said. “She’s as smart and funny as she is gorgeous and she’s got a
great
voice.”
“Married,” David suggested.
“Not even close,” Frank said, shaking his head.
Josie looked at Frank. Her assistant was young, only in his early twenties, and darkly handsome. His features were classically Italian. His eyes were heavily lidded and dark brown, his lips elegantly shaped. He wore hand-tailored suits to work, and even though they fit him well, he looked slightly uncomfortable, as if he’d be happier wearing blue jeans and a black leather jacket.
Either way, he’d look great, Josie thought. Added on top of his good looks was his extraordinary intelligence, his quick sense of humor
and
the fact that he made a salary most men didn’t usually earn until they were in their forties. Josie couldn’t figure out why on earth this Dana Rousseau would ever turn Frank down.
“She’s a nun,” she guessed.
“No, but believe it or not, that’s a little closer to reality. She’s, well . . . she’s still in high school,” Frank said ruefully. “I’m in love with a seventeen-year-old.” He laughed in disbelief. “I feel like I should turn myself in to the police or something. I’m a confessed wanna-be cradle-robber. Man, you shoulda seen the way her father looked at me when he came to pick her up.”
“Frank—” Josie started to say.
“No comments, please. I can kick myself enough for everyone.” Frank took a deep breath, then beat a short tattoo on the top of Josie’s desk. “That’s it for the morning’s soap opera report. Did I hear you say you found a nanny? Does that mean Cooper’s going to be back soon?”
“He’s going to work at home for a while,” Josie said, sorting through her “in” basket. “Lately he’s been working a few hours every day—in the evenings, after I get home. But with the nanny around, he should be able to do full days. After Lucy gets used to her, he’ll even be able to come back and work here again.”
“Good,” Frank said. “I’m going to need Coop’s attitude coaching if I’m going to make it through the next four years.”
Josie glanced up at him. “What’s happening during the next four years that I don’t know about?”
“Time will be passing,” Frank said, his dark eyes dead serious. “Amazing thought, huh? Add a little time, and everything gets better. Dana will get older, I’ll get richer, and maybe her old man will start to believe me when I tell him I’m not a hit man for the mob.”
He breezed out of the room, and Josie turned back to the work on her desk.
Where would
she
be in four years? At the rate she and Cooper were going, their relationship would have crumbled to the point where they’d be no more than polite strangers. They’d no longer connect the way they used to, and their conversations would be restricted to schedules and events—who’s going to pick up the children, who’s going to attend the dance recitals and school plays and sporting events?
Add a little time and everything gets better?
If only it were that easy.
Annie stuck her head into the conference room. “Cooper’s on line one,” she said.
Josie frowned impatiently. “Tell him I can’t talk right now,” she said. “I’ve got clients coming in less than ten minutes.”
“He’s calling from the hospital,” Annie said.
“Oh, Lord, what happened?” Josie reached for the telephone, pushing the flashing light on line one. “Cooper, what’s the matter?”
“Everyone’s all right,” he told her. “But nanny number three is history. She gave Lucy a cheese sandwich for lunch. I gave the nanny her walking papers.”
Josie sighed. “If I remember correctly, there was a similar incident involving
you
and a cheese sandwich,” she said. “Did you really have to fire her?”
“There’s a list of the foods the kids can’t have posted on the refrigerator,” Cooper said angrily. “It’s hardly the same situation. Back then, I was ignorant. This woman was plain stupid. God, I was so mad!”
“But this is the
third
nanny we’ve tried—”
“Would you let Ben and Lucy be cared for by someone who lets them play with matches?” Cooper asked.
“Well, no—”
“Lucy’s milk allergy is just as life-threatening,” he said. “And I’m not going to leave her with someone who might forget about it.”
Josie could hear Ben fussing on the other end of the telephone.
“You could probably use some help down there,” she said. “I’ve got a meeting that’s scheduled to start in a few minutes, but I could send Frank over.”
Cooper was silent.
Josie sighed impatiently. “You said she’s all right,” she said, “and this meeting has been scheduled for three weeks—”
“When I said Lucy’s all right, I meant that she’s not going to die,” Cooper said tightly. “But she’s scared and sick to her stomach and pumped full of medicine that makes her unable to tell which end is up. And me, I’m still—Jesus, Joze, I honestly didn’t think we’d make it here on time.” His voice shook, and he cleared his throat. “I couldn’t find Lucy’s antihistamine prescription anywhere. It must’ve been part of nanny number two’s haul.”
When that nanny had been fired, she’d taken the entire contents of the medicine cabinet with her.
“Oh, Cooper, I can’t leave right now—”
“I need you,” he whispered. “Please, babe . . .”
Josie closed her eyes. “All right,” she said. “I’ll be right there.”
“Yeah,” Cooper said into the telephone. “Yeah, Harry, I realize I’m behind schedule with this work—”
He stared out the window, not paying attention to the verbal lashing his client was giving him. “I’m sure you can understand where I’m coming from,” the man said in conclusion.
“Of course,” Cooper said. “And I’m sure if you’ll listen, you’ll realize where
I’m
coming from. I’m usually not into giving excuses, but this one’s major.” Briefly Cooper explained about the accident, about how he and Josie had inherited the children, and about Lucy’s emotional problems.
Harry apologized immediately. “I had no idea,” he said. “But unfortunately, that doesn’t change my deadlines.”
Cooper looked down to see Lucy tugging at his shirt. He covered the telephone with his hand. “Not now, Luce,” he said. “Give me five more minutes.”
“But Ben—”
“Is in the living room,” Cooper said. “He’s fine. There’s nothing in his reach that he can get into.”
Lucy lingered uncertainly for a few more seconds, then wandered back out of the room.
“I need this work completed by Friday,” Harry was saying. “If that’s unrealistic, tell me now, and I’ll replace you. I hate to do it, but—”
“Hold on a sec, can you?” Cooper sat up straighter in his chair, listening hard. Hot damn! That’s what he’d thought he’d heard. It was echoing down the hallway. It was Lucy, and she was laughing.
Lucy was
laughing!
He stood up. “Harry, I’ve gotta call you back.”
“I need an answer now, Coop,” the man said. “If you don’t tell me otherwise, I’ve got to assume you want out of the project.”
Lucy
was
laughing—great big, beautiful peals of high-pitched laughter. It was better than any music Cooper had heard in his life.
“I’ll call you later, Harry,” he said.
“I’m serious—”
“Gotta go.” Cooper hung up the phone and went out into the living room.
Lucy wasn’t there—and neither was Ben.
Cooper moved faster now, toward the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway, his mouth dropping open at the sight that met his eyes.
Lucy sat on the tile floor, weak and giddy with laughter. Ben sat nearby, covered with imitation maple syrup.
How the hell had he gotten hold of the bottle?
Lucy had had pancakes this morning, and Cooper had left the bottle of syrup on the little kid-sized table she used to eat her breakfast and lunch. That explained what the syrup had been doing out, but how the hell had Ben gotten hold of it? A better question was, how the hell had Ben gotten into the kitchen?
The answer was obvious—Ben had learned how to crawl.
Goddamn,
the kid was a mess. He had maple syrup in his hair, all over his belly, in his diaper. But Cooper couldn’t get angry. How could he be angry with Ben? He’d made Lucy laugh again.
Ben looked up at Cooper and grinned as he sucked one maple-syrupy hand.
“Ben’s a pancake,” Cooper said, and grinned with satisfaction as Lucy howled even louder.
He crouched down on the floor next to Lucy. “What do you think we should do with him?” he asked when she’d caught her breath.
She considered the question carefully. “The shower,” she finally said. “You should take him into the shower with you.”
“Go put on your bathing suit,” Cooper suggested. “We can both go into the shower with him.”
Lucy’s eyes lit up, and she scurried for her room. “Ben’s a pancake,” Cooper heard her giggle.
He looked at Ben and grinned. “Way to go,
chico.”
Ben just smiled.
TWELVE
C
OOPER SAT
on the living room floor, trying to see the world from Ben’s perspective.
A little more than twelve months old now, the kid was a pro at crawling, and he was mastering a thing called “cruising”—pulling himself up and walking while holding on to the furniture.
There was nothing safe from his grasp. And brother, what a grasp.
Since the pancake syrup incident, Ben had gotten into—and covered himself with—Josie’s makeup, baby shampoo, dirt from the pots of the house plants, and a vast assortment of foods.
Each time it had happened, Lucy howled with laughter. Cooper suspected she was starting to leave food within Ben’s reach on purpose, hoping the baby would body-paint himself again. Cooper wasn’t about to intervene—not since Ben’s antics made Lucy laugh. He simply picked the baby up and carried him into the shower.
The baby shampoo had been the easiest to wash off. Margarine had been the hardest.
Ben had smeared nearly an entire small-sized tub of the oil-based stuff into his hair. It was not a pretty sight.
But Lucy had shouted, “Ben’s a piece of toast!” dissolving into giggles, and Cooper had had to laugh, too.
Cooper no longer doubted that Lucy would recover emotionally from the impact of her parents’ deaths. She still couldn’t bear for Cooper to be out of her sight for any length of time, but that, too, was bound to change sooner or later.
He was hoping for sooner.
The great nanny hunt had been a total failure, and Cooper had decided to give in and take a temporary leave of absence from his thriving architectural practice. He didn’t mind. He loved the kids and liked spending time with them. And his accountant had seemed to think Cooper’s temporary absence from the architectural world would only serve to increase his value as a designer. According to him, it was a shrewd business move. The only drawback to it all was that Cooper almost never saw Josie.
And trips to museums, toy stores, and pet stores, as exciting as they were, didn’t make up for that.
Josie’s adaptation to life after Brad and Carla’s death was similar to Lucy’s. She didn’t like it, so she was hiding.
She didn’t like coming home to a messy, noisy apartment, so she came home later and later. It was only a matter of time, Cooper thought glumly, before she didn’t come home at all.
What hurt worst of all was that Josie didn’t seem to realize what was happening. The time she spent with Cooper had almost entirely vanished from her life, yet she didn’t even notice. And that made Cooper feel just terrific.
When he reminded her that she had promised to cut back on her hours, she had guiltily come home at seven instead of nine. But she had brought work with her, then had been annoyed with him when Lucy and Ben’s noise made it impossible for her to concentrate.
Of course, that had started a fight.
We don’t talk anymore, Cooper realized. We fight. We fight over stupid things. Shit, last night they’d gotten into an argument over Ben’s socks.
Socks,
for Christ’s sake!
Cooper saw the pattern, he watched it happening, but he was powerless to stop himself. I love you, pay a little attention to me, he wanted to say to Josie. But instead, he found himself saying other, angry words. He found himself defensively explaining why the kitchen or the living room looked the way it did. What did she expect, with two kids living in a tiny city apartment in the middle of the winter? There was no place nearby to run around, so they ran around inside.
Josie
was the one who wanted to live in New York City, so if she didn’t like the mess, that was her tough luck.
Cooper sighed. They couldn’t go on this way much longer. Something was going to break soon. He just hoped it wasn’t going to be his heart.
On Sunday afternoon Josie was alone in her office.
She’d come in early this morning, giving Cooper the excuse that the harder she worked now, the sooner the Fenderson project would be finished. He hadn’t said a word. He’d just turned away.
Sometimes that was worse than when they argued.
The real reason Josie had fled the apartment was because she was no longer comfortable there. In the process of baby-proofing, the place had been almost entirely rearranged. Josie no longer knew which drawer in the kitchen held the knives, scissors and other sharp objects. She couldn’t find the scouring powder that they’d always kept underneath the bathroom sink. Even her personal toilet articles had been moved up to a top shelf, where Ben couldn’t reach them. Of course, she couldn’t reach them either.
The entire place had become one enormous toy chest. Cooper no longer bothered to even try to control the mess. He simply kicked the toys into a nearby corner every now and then, keeping the paths of travel somewhat clear.
But worst of all, Josie didn’t fit in with Cooper’s daily routine. She was an outsider looking in on his warm relationship with Ben and Lucy. She felt like a spectator, an observer, and she hated that.
But she didn’t know what she could do to change it. She couldn’t force Cooper to smile at her the way he smiled at Ben and Lucy. She couldn’t make him open his arms wider to include her in the hugs he gave the children. All she could do was walk away, pretend she didn’t care.
At ten past two, her personal line rang, and she picked it up with trepidation, knowing that it had to be Cooper.
It was.
“How’s it going?” he asked coolly.
“Fine,” Josie lied. “I’m getting quite a bit done. This is the first call I’ve had all day.”
“That’s good,” he said unenthusiastically. “Listen, Joze, we’re in Connecticut.”
“You are?” Josie was shocked. Connecticut? They went to Connecticut, and Cooper didn’t even ask her if she wanted to come along?
“Yeah,” Cooper said. “We decided to drive up for the day, only it’s starting to snow—”
“It is?” Josie crossed to the window. The winter sky was overcast and leaden, but there was no sign of any snow yet here in the city.
“Yeah. The roads are already pretty slippery, and the Mustang’s tires aren’t in real good shape, so I figured we should probably stay overnight,” he said. His voice got fainter for a moment, as he pulled his mouth away from the phone.
“What?” Josie heard him say. “Oh, God!
Gosh.
I mean, oh gosh.” Laughing, he spoke into the phone again. “Ben found a jar of petroleum jelly in the bathroom and he’s wearing it. I’ve got to go catch him before he slimes up the carpeting. See you later—”
“Cooper—”
Something in the tone of her voice stopped him. “Yes?” he said. “I’m still here.”
I’m still here.
But was he? Was he really? Lord, he had on his polite voice, the voice he used when he wasn’t very interested in something. He sounded detached. God, he sounded
apathetic.
Had it finally come to that?
Was it really true that he simply didn’t care anymore?
Josie blinked to keep the blurriness in her eyes from ruining her view of the city. “I wish you’d told me before you left,” she said. “You know, that you were going to Connecticut?”
He was silent. “You said you had to work,” he finally said. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”
There was still a noticeable lack of emotion in his voice. Josie was starting to panic.
“What do the kids think of the house?” she asked, grabbing onto the first thing she could think of to keep him on the phone, to keep him there with her. “They must love it. I remember when I saw it for the first time.”
“Um . . . this isn’t the first time they’ve been here,” Cooper said.
“It’s not?” Josie was surprised.
“We’ve driven up just about once a week since we’ve been back from Tennessee,” Cooper said. Now there was caution in his voice. He sounded guarded, wary.
She felt a flash of indignation. Once a
week
? Cooper had been taking the children to Connecticut once every week? She purposely kept her voice calm, controlled. “You never told me about that.”
“You never asked,” Cooper said equally emotionlessly. He was quiet for a moment. “I guess I thought you knew.” Another silence. “Or that you didn’t care.”
Josie felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. His soft, matter of fact words hit her far harder than anything he’d said with his voice raised in anger over the past few months. He thought she didn’t care. That didn’t give him much incentive to keep caring himself—
“Look, I better catch Ben before he does anymore damage,” Cooper said. “I’ll call you tomorrow, unless the phone lines go down. It’s blowing pretty hard out there—”
“I
do
care,” Josie said suddenly. “Cooper, Lord, I
do
care.”
He was silent for so long, she thought maybe the line had gone dead.
“Cooper?”
“Yeah. I’m here. But his voice was still so expressionless.
“What’s happened to us?” Josie asked softly. “We don’t talk anymore. Lord, we haven’t made love in
weeks
—
“
“Seven weeks, two days, and fifteen hours,” Cooper said.
Josie laughed in surprise through her tears. “I wasn’t sure you’d even noticed,” she said.
Cooper snorted. “Joze. Come on.
I
never noticed?
You’re
the one who’s never home.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” Cooper said shortly. “Me, too.”
But he didn’t sound sorry. He didn’t sound . . . anything. He sounded empty, burned out, used up. And Lord, that scared her. It scared her to death.
“I love you,” she said. She didn’t care if he could hear the desperation and fear in her voice.
But he didn’t seem to notice. “That’s nice,” he said, as if all she’d told him was that she’d had a good day at work.
“Nice?” she said. “That’s all? Just
nice
?”
“Words are . . . only words,” he said, and she could almost see him shrugging. He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You wanna know the truth, babe? I’m more than ready for the show part of show and tell. You tell me you love me. Okay. Great. But I need to see you walk your talk.” He laughed again. “But in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not holding my breath.”
“Cooper—”
This time he didn’t answer. This time the line
was
dead. He’d hung up without even saying good-bye.
As Josie slowly hung up the phone, she stared out the window. Something bad was happening here. Something foul had contaminated her life.
It was fear.
All of her fears about the business failing, about missing deadlines, about going broke were taking over the rest of her life.
The rest of her life? What life?
She worked. That was it. These days, that was her entire life.
As she’d worked, she’d watched Cooper slipping farther and farther away from her. As she stayed longer and longer in the office, she’d watched him grow more distant, more horribly reserved and polite.
She was watching her life fading away to emptiness, and if she was going to do something about it, if she was going to try to save it, she had to act now.
It shouldn’t really be that difficult. Millions of women all over the world managed to have both a career and a family. It wasn’t impossible. It could be done.
But Josie couldn’t figure out for the life of her
how.
It was Wednesday before the roads had cleared enough to drive back into New York City.
At four-thirty, when Cooper unlocked and opened the door to the apartment, the unmistakable smell of roasting chicken hit him. The lights were on, and the heat was up, and—
“Hey, you guys!” Josie scooped Ben up into her arms and gave him a kiss on the nose. “ ’Bout time you got here.”
Josie was home.
Josie was home?
Cooper surreptitiously glanced at his watch. Nope, it was definitely only four-thirty.
Josie put Ben down, gave Lucy a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, and then it was Cooper’s turn. Smiling, Josie slipped her arms underneath his jacket, enveloping him with her softness and the sweet smell of her hair. He was immobilized. She lifted her face up for a kiss, still smiling at him, and suddenly Cooper found that he could move.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in even tighter to him, and he kissed her.
He knew Lucy was watching, but he didn’t care. It had been way too long since he’d kissed Josie, way too long since he’d had a chance to show her what he somehow couldn’t find the words to say anymore.
He kissed her hungrily, voraciously, until he nearly throbbed with need. Then he had to stop, because, damn it, they weren’t alone . . .
Josie was shaking and she pressed her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt. “Wow,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” Cooper said, catching his breath. “Lucy, do me a favor, hon, and see what Ben’s up to.”
Reluctantly, Lucy slid out of the room.
“I guess you missed me, too,” Josie said.
Cooper kissed her again, and she laughed.
“I
know
you missed me,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes as she rubbed against him.
He grinned, realizing that she couldn’t help but notice his state of arousal. “Seven weeks, five days, and seventeen hours,” he said. “You bet I’ve missed you, babe.”
“I realize you’re trying for the world record,” Josie said, “but I was kind of hoping that sometime between now and tomorrow morning we can reset the date counter back to zero.”
Cooper laughed. “Let’s see. Which would I rather do? Break the world record in celibacy, or make love to you? Give me about a nanosecond to think
that
one over.”
He kissed her again, making it quite clear which way he would go.
“I can’t believe that you’re back,” Cooper said.
“Me?” Josie said. “You’re the one who was gone.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Cooper said. “Pardon my disbelief, but what the
hell
are you doing home this early?”
The sound of Lucy’s laughter echoed in the kitchen.
“Wait,” Cooper continued. “Before you answer that, we better check on Ben.”
He pulled Josie by the hand toward the kitchen.
Ben was sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, playing with a bag of flour. He was, of course, covered with it. A white cloud billowed up around him as he grinned happily at his sister.