“I’m not balancing work too well lately. You have good spirit yourself. You’re enthusiastic, positive. People like you. But you’ve heard all that before.”
“Not so much that I mind hearing it again.” She raised her glass of wine. “Here’s to positive spirit, and spirits. And here’s to prison for life plus life for our friend the Masterprick.”
“To prison for life plus life for the Masterprick,” I said, and raised my beer.
“So here we are in greater Hartford,” she said, staring out at the blurred scrim of city lights. I watched her for a moment, and I was pretty sure that she wanted me to watch her.
“What?” I said.
She started to laugh again and it was infectious. She had a great smile, which featured her dark, sparkling eyes. “What do you mean, what?”
“What? Just a simple what,” I teased. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
She was still laughing. “I have to ask you this question, Alex. I have no choice in the matter. I have no free will. Here it comes. This could be embarrassing, but I don’t care. Okay. Now, do you want to go back to my room? I’d like you to. No strings attached. Trust me. I won’t ever cling.”
I didn’t know what to say to Betsey, but I didn’t say no.
Chapter 80
WE WERE BOTH QUIET as we walked out of the hotel bar. I was feeling a little uncomfortable, maybe a lot uncomfortable.
“I kind of like strings,” I finally said to her. “Sometimes I even like a little clinging.”
“I know you do. Just go with the flow this one time. It’ll be good for both of us. This will be nice. It’s been building and it has a very fine edge.”
A very fine edge.
Once we were inside the hotel elevator, Betsey and I kissed for the first time, and it was gentle and sweet. It was memorable, like first kisses ought to be. She had to stretch way up on her tiptoes to reach my mouth. I knew I wouldn’t forget that.
She started to laugh as soon as we pulled apart — her usual burst of humor. “I’m not that small. I’m five-three and a lot, almost five-four. Was it any good? Our kiss?”
“I liked kissing you,” I told her. “But you are that small.”
The taste of her mouth was sweet peppermint, and it lingered with me. I wondered when she had slipped a mint into her mouth. She was sneaky fast. Her skin was soft and smooth to the touch. Her dark hair glistened and bounced lightly on her shoulders. I couldn’t deny that I was attracted.
But what to do about it. I had the feeling that this was too much too soon for me. Way too much, way too soon.
The elevator door opened on her floor with a thud. I felt a rush of anticipation, and maybe a rush of fear. I had no idea what to make of it, but I knew I liked Betsey Cavalierre. I wanted to hold her close, wanted to know who she was, what she was like to be with, how her mind worked, what she dreamed about, what she might say next.
Betsey said, “Walsh.”
We quickly stepped back into the elevator car. My heart clutched. Shit.
She turned to me and started to laugh. “Gotcha. There’s nobody out there. Don’t be so nervous! I am, though.”
By this time we were both laughing. She was definitely fun to be with. Maybe that was enough for now. I liked being around her, laughing the way we were.
We hugged as soon as we were inside her room. She felt so warm. I let my fingers trail gently down her back, and she sighed softly. I moved my thumb in the tiniest circles all over her back. I gently kneaded her skin and could feel her breathing pick up tempo. My heart was racing, too.
“Betsey,” I whispered, “I can’t do this. Not yet I can’t.”
“I know,” she whispered back. “Just hold me, though. Holding is nice. Tell me about her, Alex. You can talk to me.”
I thought that she was probably right. I could talk to her, and I even wanted to. “It’s like I said, I like ties. I’m big on intimacy, but I feel it has to be earned. I was in love with a woman named Christine Johnson. It seemed so right for both of us. There never was a time I didn’t want to be with her.”
I broke down. I didn’t want to, but the sob came out of nowhere. Then I was crying a lot and I couldn’t make myself stop. My body was heaving, but I could feel Betsey holding on to me, holding me tight, refusing to let go.