Perfect Timing by Laura Spinella

Author:Laura Spinella [Spinella, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-11-04T18:30:00+00:00

SHE DIDN’T KNOW IF HOURS OR DAYS HAD PASSED. Time was that elusive. Isabel woke to a strange bed wearing a T-shirt she didn’t recognize, the air heavy with the scent of lavender. It soothed her for a second before sitting up. She smelled different too, like shampoo, fragrant shampoo. Any sharing of skin, any remnant of Aidan was gone. Isabel hugged her knees to her chest, eyes closed, soothed by a clear vision of him. The last thing she did recall was a hot shower, reality reforming in her head. After her breakdown in the foyer, they moved into the living room, where Isabel conveyed the rest. As the facts came clear, she thought her father was going to bolt from the brownstone, hijack a plane to Catswallow, and finish Stanton off. At one point, Patrick had to physically restrain him. He was the voice of reason, even using humor to assuage the anger. “Eric, I appreciate your feelings, but consider what you’re suggesting. You, an openly gay man, want to storm ultraconservative Catswallow, Alabama. Go there and accuse a favorite son of attempted rape and false swearing to a DA. A former star of the Crimson Tide no less. A man who, from what Carrie has said, will be paralyzed.” Her father returned to the sofa as Patrick sat in a chair where his stature pulled tight, his bearded face doubtful. “Did you not hear the part where the town’s most popular heterosexual boy, its very own Conrad Birdie, is being railroaded for the crime? Yes, Eric, that would end just splendidly. Let me know what tree to find you swinging from.” And with that, humor evaporated.

Isabel reiterated the gun portion of the story, that she had no idea how Rick Stanton ended up with a bullet in him. A fervent pace slowed as she told them about Aidan. She came clean with everything—everything less the particulars of her Academy Award–worthy farewell scene. Isabel explained how she and Aidan went from best friends to a chapel on the Vegas Strip, describing their impromptu marriage, “On the surface, you’d say it was completely unexpected. Underneath, it felt exactly as it should be.” Isabel paused, waiting for the rolling of eyes and shaking of heads. She assumed their disbelief, remarking that she didn’t guess they’d understand how something like that could even make sense. From the leather wing chair that Isabel presumed to be Patrick’s spot, he listened. On a side table were reading glasses that she could not see her father wearing and a novel by Proust that she could not envision him reading. For the second time since she’d arrived Patrick Bourne caught her off guard. He insisted that theirs was a no-judgments home—at least as far as consenting relationships were concerned. Taking in the comfort of the room, plush furnishings, woven throws, and even-tempered voices, Isabel saw that this, their brownstone, was just that—home.

Looking as though it hadn’t registered the first time, Eric said, “You’re married?” The last time they were in a room together she was thirteen and not really thinking about marriage.

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