Third Life - Noelle Adams Page 0,58

of work to do). Not while I’m going about my daily routine. And not when I go to bed or wake up in the morning.

I’m thinking about Richard—my body buzzing with excitement and pleasure and a lot of warm, soft thoughts—most of the time, at least with a small part of my mind. Even when the rest of it is occupied with something entirely different, I occasionally get quick little flashes of pure giddiness out of the blue when I remember that Richard and I are together.

Maybe this is normal. Maybe it’s something everyone goes through when they find someone new.

Or maybe it’s because this is the first time for me.

For whatever reason, the weeks are good, even when Richard and I aren’t together. He sends little texts throughout the day, after he realizes that it makes me happy to hear from him (something he didn’t automatically know). And he calls every night before I go to sleep. No matter where in the world he is, he works the timing to suit my schedule. The first weekend, he comes back to Boston, and we don’t leave my apartment the entire time. The second weekend, I go down to New York and stay at his place—a sleek one-bedroom in Manhattan with minimal furniture and a fantastic view. We do get out and about that weekend, eating at a couple of his favorite restaurants.

People clearly know him in his building. They nod and smile, and some of them greet him with what looks like real friendliness. A couple of them give me looks of obvious scrutiny, like they’re trying to figure out who I am to Richard. He doesn’t introduce me to anyone, however. I don’t think it’s because he’s trying to keep me a secret.

I think it’s because he’s not close enough to anyone to want to introduce me to them.

He’s spent most of his life holding other people at arm’s length. Maybe he’s attempting to turn over a new leaf with me. Try something new. Open himself up to possibilities he never allowed before. But it doesn’t happen overnight. And, for right now, as far as I can tell, he doesn’t really trust anyone but me.

It’s something to work on. Maybe when he realizes that he can make a real relationship work, he’ll want other kinds of relationships too. Friends. Not just professional contacts and miscellaneous acquaintances who owe him favors. (He has a lot of those.) What he doesn’t have is a real community.

He needs it. Everyone does.

On the third weekend, I’m finishing up a job in Seattle, and I don’t get back in town until late on Sunday afternoon. Richard has been working too, and he leaves for a new job Monday morning, so we resign ourselves to not getting together for this one weekend.

It’s disappointing but not the end of the world.

We’re both mature, reasonable adults. We can go two weeks without seeing each other without completely falling apart.

I’m feeling his absence, however, when I get back to my quiet apartment on Sunday. I’m tired from a difficult job. There was a lot of pressure because the company wanted the work done very quickly, and stress like that wears on me emotionally, which is one of the reasons I prefer working for myself.

I head for the shower first thing and stand under the hot spray for a while, trying to relax and shake off the lingering threads of anxiety. That little voice that still occasionally creeps in to tell me I’m not good enough and that eventually people will find out. I cry a little bit in the shower and feel better afterward. I pour myself a glass of the cabernet Richard had shipped to me from California when he was there last week. Then I get to unpacking my stuff since otherwise the still-packed suitcase will haunt me like a ghost.

I’ve managed to get my suitcase onto the bench at the foot of my bed and unzip it when my phone rings. I left it on my nightstand before I took a shower, so I lunge for it with so much vigor that I nearly knock the nightstand off-balance.

Fortunately, no one’s around to see that embarrassing move. And it’s all for nothing because it’s not Richard on the other end of the call.

It’s Ashley, checking to see if I’m back in town.

We chat for a few minutes. I tell her about my business trip, and she tells me about a hilariously egotistical client she just got.