which these images hang together, and carved a coherent argument out of a mass of material. But the sense of triumph this gave me was short-lived. Now I am tired. And frustrated. And so lonely.
What is wrong with me?
Since I cannot run away, and since I do not trust myself alone in my hotel room tonight, there is nothing for it but to team up with Kathleen and a couple of delegates I know from other conferences. Project the successful young tenure-track professor. Wear the high-heeled boots.
“Anna!” Giles is hurrying down the hallway with long strides, Barbour still open, scarf hanging around his neck. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Out.” I hitch my purse up on my shoulder and pull the door shut.
“But you’re my date!”
“Well, that’s what I thought until you blithely agreed to have dinner with Paul French!”
“Smokescreen, darling. I was sure you’d get that.”
“No, I didn’t get that,” I mutter defensively.
“Do you have Kathleen’s number? Tell her that you have a headache. Ask for the name of the place they’re going to and say you’ll follow on later. If you’re feeling better.”
“What did you tell Paul?”
“Headache.” He grins.
On our way downstairs and across the lobby, I am still so overwhelmed by confusion, relief, joy, suspicion, and resentment that I am dumb, but outside on the sidewalk I snap.
“I don’t know that lying was such a bright idea, Giles! If anyone sees us now, we’re toast!”
“We’re not going to be seen. They’ve all gone to South Bend, and we’re going to Mishawaka.” He hails a cab from the stand down the street. “Unless you’d rather stay in and order room service…”
He says it like something he didn’t think he would have the guts to say, and then it slipped out at the first opportunity. The taxi draws up, and Giles and I are still gazing at each other, teetering on the brink.
“Get ’n the car.”
I make my voice sound extra gruff, and the quick nod of my head would have done any mobster proud. He holds the door for me and exchanges a few words with the driver while I sort out my coat, then he climbs in after me. We drive along the southern edge of the campus and turn right.
“I’m—I’m sorry.” He has to clear his throat before he can speak. “I can’t believe I said that. It was crass and—God, I can’t believe I’m such a…klutz!”
“Giles.” I reach over and slip my hand into his; he claps it firmly, without hesitation. “You’re not a klutz for spelling out what we both know is in the cards. I’m glad you did.”
It’s too dark to see his face properly, but he doesn’t let go of my hand.
“You’re much better at plain-speaking than I am.”
“Well, I am still a New Yorker while you are a freakin’ Englishman.”
This clears the air a little, and I give in to the innocent—I hope—pleasure of linking my fingers with his and leaning a little closer when he lays our hands on his thigh. I am sinking back into my fantasy of being with Giles—of being allowed to be with Giles—like I would sink into a hot, foamy, scented bath. It is a drive of some fifteen minutes, during which we hold hands but do not speak. We pull up in front of a country club-style building, brightly lit, in what appear to be quiet, park-like surroundings. While he is paying, another taxi draws up, and I hold my breath for fear it might be conference delegates, but it’s an elderly couple with what I take to be their college-aged granddaughter. They are chatting quietly and walk in before us. Giles is about to follow them when I grab his arm.
“Giles!”
“Hmm?” Immediately he swings round, stands very close to me and reaches for my hands. I love that he likes holding hands. I love everything about him.
“Giles, I’m…very tired and…and emotional, and I don’t want to end up having sex with you tonight merely because it is something I can do horizontally.”
He smiles and lets me go. Three nimble steps and he is up the front porch of the restaurant—light-footed, happy.
This is so dangerous.
The restaurant is generously laid out but feels cozy because the space has been compartmentalized by big potted plants and painted paravents. Giles hangs up my coat and takes off his Barbour, and although I am ashamed to admit it, the warm glow in my belly is fanned by the pride of possession. I managed to suppress this feeling all