Truthfully, a lot of his discomfort was wrapped up in his pride. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get used to the fact that Robin had so much more than he did. He liked to think of himself as an enlightened guy, definitely a player in the new millennium, but the cold hard truth was when it came to men and women, he was pretty traditional in his beliefs. Men protected and provided. Women . . . well, women did whatever women did. Nurture. Raise kids. Bake and decorate. Actually, it didn’t matter to him what they did, as long as he was the one doing the providing.
He wasn’t even close to providing on her scale, wasn’t even in the same galaxy. That quiet frustration led to more than one argument between them. Like the day she had the idea that they would “pop up to New York” for dinner. The suggestion was so ludicrous to him that he didn’t think much of it, until he overheard Robin calling in for the Lear jet.
“You’re kidding,” he said flatly. “You are not thinking of ordering that jet up just so you can eat sushi in some New York bar.”
It was very obvious she was not kidding, and furthermore, did not like the way he asked that question. “Why not?” she demanded. “It’s my jet.”
“It’s not your jet, it belongs to LTI, and you have a responsibility to that company to be fiscally prudent. Can’t you see the unnecessary expense to your father’s company of jetting around the country on your personal whims?”
“News flash, Handy Andy—it’s none of your business what I do.”
He hated when she said that, like he was some second-class citizen, unaffected by her decisions. But at the same time, it was none of his business. “Well then God help LTI the day you’re at the helm.”
That remark had infuriated her.
They didn’t go to New York that weekend. Robin was mad for a full day, but did at last own up to being spoiled. And in return, Jake owned up to butting in where he didn’t belong. But he would have been less than honest if he didn’t admit that her endless resources were a source of distress to him, pointing out to him in many different ways that he was playing way out of his league.
And it sure didn’t help matters that Mr. Ever-present Evan seemed to have the same disregard for money as she did. It seemed he was forever showing up to take Robin to dinner at some swank restaurant Jake could only afford to read about. It was all done under the guise of business, of course, and Robin was naive enough to believe it. Yeah, well, Jake saw Evan for what he was: a master at the game of wooing women, and in this case, Jake didn’t have the resources to compete.
But he had to hand it to Robin—his lack of resources never seemed to bother her. Other than an occasional exasperation when she tried to pay for something and he wouldn’t allow it, she never seemed to want more from him than he could offer. She seemed perfectly at ease at Paulie’s or at the junior high ball fields, and never seemed to lament the fact that she wasn’t at some fancy restaurant. Nevertheless, he was conscious of the differences between them, and perhaps even more acutely aware of the differences between him and Evan.
Jake might have considered throwing in the towel had it not been for the connection between him and Robin that transcended the money. When they were together, the lovemaking between them was ethereal. Robin had a healthy appetite and was an eager participant, willing to try almost anything a man could imagine. Every time she found her fulfillment with him, it was so open and unabashed that it sent a shiver down Jake’s spine. He was more than fulfilled; he was infused with a primal hunger for her.
There was so much to like about Robin, so much to enjoy, so much to admire, that Jake realized he was, inexplicably, and against his conscious will, falling in love with her.
Which was why, therefore, it was with some trepidation that he took her to meet what was left of his family when Easter Sunday finally came around. If anyone would send her running, it was the Mannings, and Norma Manning in particular.
In New York, Aaron sat in the Naugahyde lounge chair, his baseball cap on backward, hooked up to IVs in both arms that were pumping a shitload of cancer-fighting crap into him. He could see through the little square pane of glass in the door that Bonnie was just outside, leaning up against the wall, her head bowed. He could imagine the rest of her—one leg crossed over the other, her arms folded tightly against her middle as if she, too, might get sick. It was a pose he had seen more times than he wanted to count.
He owed her his life if he could manage to keep it. How funny that time could erase all the things he had once known about her, all the things he had once adored. But it had all come back to him these last grueling weeks, every little thing about Bonnie Lou Stanton that he had once loved so dearly. And he still loved her, he realized, maybe even more now. But it had taken an ugly cancer for him to remember.
He supposed this was God’s way of shaking some sense into a man who thought he was stronger than Him. That afternoon, he felt the sickness slowly moving through him, and he vowed on his very own life that if God granted him another chance at life, he would make it up to her. He would honor and cherish her like a queen.
He did not allow himself to think that he might have already squandered all the chances God was willing to give him.
Chapter Twenty-two