William
When Rosie starts crying at 10:00 a.m., I couldn’t be more relieved. The atmosphere in my office has been tense since India and I relocated there today. She’s not said much since our earlier conversation, and I don’t blame her. After the debacle on Friday night, she has every right to be wary of me. But I’m determined to prove to her that she’s not making a mistake by giving me one last chance.
I have to get this right. That’s the one thought that keeps running through my head. I’m keenly aware of it each time I look at her. To me, she seems out of my league. She’s too good for me in every single way, and I have to make tonight count. I have to step up and prove that I’m the man she wants me to be.
The problem is how can I prove to her that I like her? I’m not really a romantic. I’m not known for my sense of humor or for being a great conversationalist. In fact, she just knows me as her nightmare boss. I want her to see me as I am—reserved but caring. A little misunderstood, perhaps, but willing to change. I want her to see that I’m not always going to be some guy who lets her down. There’s a lot of pressure, though, and only one more opportunity to get this right. So much rides on this, and I don’t have a clue how to approach the scenario.
It takes me almost an hour to get Rosie settled, and when I return to the office, India pays very little attention to my presence. I sit down at my desk, clearing my throat to see if she’ll respond. When she doesn’t, I sigh and try to focus on my work, but thoughts of the evening we will share fill my mind. I still haven’t come up with anything for us to do.
I watch her from the corner of my eye. She’s typing furiously on her laptop, engrossed in her writing. Like me, she’s constantly immersed in her work. So maybe I need to do something to help her relax. Something to get out of the work mind-set. Give her an escape.
And suddenly I have a perfect idea.
I stand up slowly, trying not to distract India from her work. If she asks where I’m going, I’ll probably stumble over my words. I’m a terrible liar. But she doesn’t even glance my way, so I leave the room unnoticed. I sneak down the corridor, take out my cell and call Henry. He picks up right away.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Yes, you can, actually. But I have a bit of a strange request.”
Henry is quiet on the other end of the line. I guess his mind is running through a thousand possibilities. I think my request is likely to set his thoughts racing even more. I check that India hasn’t followed me, before lowering my voice even further.
“I need you to get me a women’s swimsuit.”
* * *
The end of the workday approaches, and I’m anxiously waiting for Henry to return from his mission. I can’t imagine what he thinks. I’m sure he’s figured out that something is happening with India. Hopefully he’s brought me something she’ll like.
He texts me just as four o’clock approaches. India glances at me as I stand up, hoping to sneak off and get her swimsuit.
“What’s with you being all shifty? You’ve been fidgeting all day.”
So, she did notice. Maybe I’m not as subtle as I thought. I struggle for an excuse. “I’m just going to check on Rosie,” I lie, impressed with my own ability to cover my tracks. India shrugs.
“Okay. I’ll pack up.”
I slip from the room and hurry downstairs. I don’t want India figuring out I lied to her. That’s the last thing I need right now, even if I did it for the sake of our evening. I want it to be special. I quietly open the front door and there Henry is, waiting for me on the front step. I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Well? Did you get something?”
Henry’s face is bright red. “I did... The shop assistant recommended it to me. I described India and she thought this would be perfect.”
I nod enthusiastically. At least I know Henry has some sense. “Can I see it?”
Henry blushes a darker shade. “I’m... Okay. I hope it’s okay.”
He hands me a fancy-looking bag and I open it to see what’s inside. Then I slowly remove the swimsuit, staring at it in horror. It looks a little like a spider’s web—the black material is woven from thin, spindly pieces of fabric that look like they won’t cover much at all. I look at the price tag. It’s described as a thong swimsuit.
I drop it back into the bag. “Are you crazy? Buying my assistant this? She’s going to think I want her dressed like a porn star or something!”
Henry frowns. “Well, I’m sorry, but you didn’t give me much information to work with. And I thought the point was for it to be sexy? I assumed...”
I shake my head. This is a disaster. She’s going to be so mad when she sees this stupid swimsuit. I rub my face, suddenly completely exhausted. “All right, Henry. Thank you for trying.”
“Are you keeping it?”
“Keeping what?”
Henry and I both jump and turn. India is standing on the stairs, peering to see what’s in the bag. I sigh, holding out the bag to her in resignation.
“I... I thought we could try out the hot tub tonight. Watch the sunset.”
She ignores me, descending the stairs to take the bag. She peers inside and I hold my breath, preparing for her to walk straight out the door. But I watch her expression turn from confusion to an amused smirk. She rolls her eyes to herself, tutting. Then she glances up to meet my gaze with a wicked smile.
“I’ll meet you up there,” she says. Then she turns on her heel and heads for the bathroom.
That woman never ceases to surprise me.
Henry breathes a sigh of relief, patting me on the back.
“You dodged a bullet there, boss. Good luck with the rest of the evening...”
Henry makes a quick escape, and I don’t blame him. This whole evening feels like it could burst into flames at any moment.
But I guess that’s part of the fun.
* * *
It’s getting dark quickly. On fall nights in Chicago, the sunsets can be particularly beautiful, and I’m looking forward to tonight’s. I sit in the hot tub with a bottle of prosecco on ice beside me, hoping that India will hurry up. I don’t want her to miss this.
But when she steps outside, I forget the sunset for a moment. She’s wearing the swimsuit with confidence. Her curls cascade down her back, but the skin there is bare otherwise. The swimsuit dips at the front, revealing her full breasts. Her hips are bare too, and I discover that she has a small tattoo of a heart on her hip. She sashays toward the hot tub, locking eyes with me as she does. I know it’s a game she’s playing with me—she wants to know if I’ll continue looking at her body. Of course I want to, but I want to stay in her good books more. I keep my eyes on hers, smiling gently.
“Hop in. It’s nice and warm.”
“Well, they don’t call it a hot tub for nothing,” she says, but without a hint of sass. She’s just teasing. I immediately move to pour her a glass of prosecco, but she shakes her head.
“Not on a work night,” she says. “That didn’t work out so well for me last time, if you remember.”
I assume she’s referring to the night before she quit. That seems like such a long time ago now, though it’s been less than two weeks. Yet so much has changed. If someone told me I’d be in a hot tub with my assistant a week back, I would’ve called them crazy. Now she’s delicately stepping into the bubbling water, dressed in a revealing swimsuit, with a smile on her face. It’s almost like a dream, but when I pinch myself slyly under the water, I know it’s real.
She sighs as she settles into the water. She tips her head back and closes her eyes. I watch the stray strands of her hair floating in the water.
“I needed this,” she says.
I clear my throat. “That’s why I thought...yeah, I thought you’d enjoy it. I’m... I’m sorry about the swimsuit. I wasn’t expecting Henry to come back with...well, that.”
She smiles to herself, her eyes still closed. “You worry a lot, don’t you?”
I frown at that. I’m glad she hasn’t opened her eyes. I don’t want her to know how easily she can get to me. “I guess so. I’m working on that though.”
India nods, finally opening her eyes again. “Me too. I guess going with the flow isn’t so bad, right? Not everything has to be planned down to a tee.”
I nod, though I think we both disagree with that statement on some level. We thrive on perfectly laid-out plans. But at this moment, in a hot tub with my assistant, I guess that philosophy has gone straight out the window.
“It’s like writing a novel,” India continues. “I always thought that if I could get an outline down on paper, then everything would go smoothly from there. I mean how far wrong can you go when you’ve basically got step-by-step instructions in front of you? But I guess it doesn’t ever happen that way. Life gets in the way. New ideas. Things change and all that.”
I nod. She could say anything right now and I would probably agree. I lap up her words easily. She seems to make so much sense, even though I’m hardly listening to the actual words she’s saying.
The sunset is beginning. The sky is the color of autumn leaves. India watches quietly, thoughtfully. I wonder what’s on her mind. Is she thinking about me, the way I’m thinking about her?
She cocks her head to the side, glancing in my direction. “Funnily enough, I’ve never watched the sunset that closely. I’ve described it a thousand times. As writers do so often. But I’ve never watched one.” She smiles, and it relaxes me a little. She doesn’t look angry at me, for once. It makes a nice change, for sure. “Thanks for this. This was a good idea.”
“So...are we okay?”
“Maybe don’t push it,” she says, but there’s a twinkle in her eyes that tells me she’s only kidding. I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m back in her good books, at least temporarily. Now all I need to do is get through the rest of the evening without messing up. I clear my throat. This is my chance to delve a little deeper and get to know her better.
“So, your writing...do you write about real life?”
She lets out a contented sigh, shifting in the water. “Most of the time. I’m not really a fantasy type of girl. I get the appeal—an escape from the real world, I guess. But for me, I’d rather write about something real. Something everyone can relate to and experience.”
“So, romance?”
She shrugs. “Not necessarily. But sometimes, yes. I like to write about life as people live it. Real people, real lives. Simple lives.”
I know what she’s getting at. She’s saying she wouldn’t write about people like me. The types of people who are so high in the clouds that they’ve forgotten what it’s like to have their feet on solid ground. Is it a dig at me, I wonder, or does she really just like to keep things simple?
She seems to realize how I might take her words and bites her lip. “I’m not judging you at all. I just don’t think many people would understand the kind of life you live. I mean, come on. Sunsets and champagne on the roof. That’s the kind of thing most of us might experience once on an expensive holiday. Not on a random Monday night after work.”
I frown. “So you’re saying I’m spoiled?”
She laughs. It’s a nice laugh—loud, but not abrasive or forced. “No, not at all...though if the shoe fits.”
I smile, splashing her a little. She laughs again, sending a tidal wave of water my way in return. I splutter as the water hits my face and I hold my hands up in surrender.
“All right, all right,” I say, chuckling. She raises a triumphant eyebrow, looking smug.
“Thought so,” she replies, sinking back into the bubbles with her eyes closed. “Anyway, it’s not that I’m opposed to this kind of thing. I think there’s a certain romance in it, for sure. But I think sometimes simplicity is key. I don’t lead a complicated life or have anything special about me. And I think most people would say the same of themselves. They want to find that reflected in their fiction.”
“But like you said before—some people want to escape. Be taken somewhere new.”
She opens one eye to look at me. “Not me,” she says gently. My heart is beating so hard against my ribs that I’m surprised it’s not sending ripples through the water. What is she telling me? That I’m too much for her? That she’s unimpressed by me and my lifestyle? Surely after the fuss she kicked up, she can’t be telling me that she’s not interested?
We watch the rest of the sunset in silence. I keep an eye on the baby monitor, but Rosie is keeping quiet for the time being, at least. Part of me is hoping she’ll rescue me from this scenario, but every other part of me just wants to stay here all night with India, talking about nothing. It always feels a little like this with her, I guess. Is that normal—to be so scared of a person, but so drawn to them at the same time?
Before I know what’s happening, we’re blanketed in darkness and India is getting out of the tub. I frown.
“Where are you going?”
India smiles, holding her hands out in front of her and examining them. “I was starting to wrinkle,” she says. “And it’s a work night, remember? It’s going to be a long day tomorrow. Lots of conference calls lined up...”
“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”
She shrugs. “Is there something else I should be thinking about?”
Work is the last thing on my mind when she’s wearing a swimsuit like that, but I don’t say that aloud. I just shake my head. I might be imagining it, but she seems a little disappointed. She grabs one of the towels that I brought outside and wraps it around her body.
“This was sweet,” she says, tossing her damp curls over her shoulder. “But I don’t need romance to be impressed. I just need to know that you’re interested. I’m not as high maintenance as you might think.”
I frown. “I don’t think that.”
India flashes me a knowing smile. “If you knew that, we’d be sitting inside right now, eating takeout. But in this case I’m glad you didn’t know. Because the sunset was beautiful.”
She heads back inside, her feet leaving behind soggy footprints on the patio. I sit back in the tub, wondering whether this evening was a success or not. She didn’t start any arguments or get angry at me, but on the other hand she didn’t seem particularly impressed by what I’d planned. After all of that I still don’t know where I stand with her.
She said she just wants to know I’m interested. Have I not conveyed that already? Or do I need to do something else? Something bigger?
Perhaps I just need to take it back to basics.