smash the 49ers. She slept, cuddled against his chest, his arms around her.
He left that night, not wanting to push her in any way. To his delight, she kissed him at the door. Not a passionate, soul-deep kiss, but a kiss nonetheless. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re very kind.” He walked home whistling. Kindness was just fine for a while.
They became a couple after her bout with stomach flu. It scared Lindsay when she thought about it, but she was so happy she refused to heed any inner warnings that he was still a man and he would want her and he was strong enough to do whatever he wanted to with her. They spent time with Enoch and Sheila. They even spent some evenings out with Demos and Glen and Demos and other women, all gorgeous, all beside him so that his reputation for being a ruthless playboy would be continued. Demos loved the “ruthless” part. A columnist had dubbed him that and he kept the clipping, now yellowing, on his desk, under glass.
Lindsay mailed Melissa’s Christmas present on December 4. Not ten minutes after she got back to her apartment, Dr. Gruska called. She had no idea how he had found out her unlisted number. She was sweating and clammy after she’d hung up on him. She called the phone company immediately and secured another unlisted number.
She said nothing to Taylor about the call, but she discovered she was watchful and felt low-grade fear whenever she came out of her apartment building. Evidently Dr. Gruska hadn’t discovered her address, thank God. She could handle him if he did come, she was certain she could, but she simply didn’t want to. She didn’t want to have to run again.
Christmas approached in a snowstorm that turned quickly into a blizzard and grounded Lindsay’s plane to San Francisco. She wasn’t going anywhere and she was delighted. She called up and gave her apologies. For the first time in her adult life she spent a quiet Christmas with a man. It was incredible, the feelings that poured through her. She gave him the newest smallest cell phone. It fit neatly into his shirt pocket. He programmed in her number the first thing. He gave her an Epilady razor, telling her that her razors were now his alone.
When Taylor handed her a box that announced Tiffany’s, Lindsay hesitated. Her hands began to tremble.
“Open it.”
She did, careful not to shred the paper, so careful, so exacting. So frightened. She slowly pulled back the lid to discover another, smaller box nestled inside. It was a ring box. Inside, settled firmly in lush black velvet, was a marquise diamond ring. She gasped aloud, she couldn’t help it. It was the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen in her life. And it was more than a ring. Much more. Oh, God. She looked over at him, frozen, scared, excited.
“Marry me, Eden. Marry me.”
She stared at him. She wanted to yell that she wasn’t Eden. He’d asked a woman who wasn’t real to marry him, a woman who was a lie, a fraud, a sham. She was afraid to touch the ring, afraid of what she’d say, afraid she’d fall apart and weep all over herself, all over him. She drew deep upon herself and said slowly, “I can’t marry you, Taylor, because I’m not what you think I am, or who you think I am.”
He smiled at that, and said, “It doesn’t matter that your name isn’t Eden and that it’s Lynn. Lynn is a nice name, a solid name, a name with substance. I can tolerate Lynn.”
“When you were sick last month, Gayle slipped and called you Lynn, then broke it off and switched real fast to Eden. If you prefer Eden, I don’t care. Don’t you understand, I don’t give a damn.”
“I hate Eden. As for Lynn—”
“Well, then—”
“It’s more, much more, and I don’t know how to—You’re the one who doesn’t understand.”
He said nothing, forcing himself to wait, forcing himself to patience, endless patience. She remained silent, staring down at the ring. He rose to stir the burning logs in the fireplace. The room was warm and smelled of holly and pine tree and hot chocolate. He looked over at the small Christmas tree, sparkling with multicolor lights. Together they’d threaded strings of popcorn and argued how best to place the bulbs. He insisted that half the decorations be his—a motley assortment of bulbs his sister had given him a good ten years before, and ancient tinsel, tangled and faded, looking as if a cat had mangled it. A Santa Claus bulb without a beard hung next to a very expensive antique Victorian Santa. He grinned every time he looked at the two of them side by side. It was the most beautiful tree he’d ever seen. He remained silent. The firelight made her candlelit living room glow and shimmer. He’d never been more scared in his life. Or more certain. He slipped the poker back in its rack, pulled the mesh back across the fireplace opening, then returned to join her on the floor. He sat opposite her, not next to her. He had all evening to get what he wanted.
“The ring is beautiful, Taylor.”
“Yes. I wanted the ring to be beautiful since I want it on your finger for the rest of our lives.”
“I’m very surprised. I wasn’t expecting—”
“A man to propose to you? A man who hasn’t yet even told you he loves you? You’re right. I didn’t do it right. I love you Lynn/Eden. Marry me.”
She was silent, not looking at him now.
“I could get on my knees and ask you again, but you’re already sitting on the floor so I don’t think it would have much romantic impact.”
“Oh, no, no.”
“Also, I didn’t have to sell my car to pay for the ring. I do have sufficient funds to keep us both very comfortably. My job is steady and the hours aren’t bad, except from time to time, as you already know.”
She was still silent, seemingly studying the nap of the carpet.
“If you want to keep modeling, that’s fine with me. If you want to sit on your rear end and eat chocolates all day, why, I’ll bring you a box of Fanny Farmer pecan turtles every night. If you want to start a family right away, that’s also fine. I’m easy, sweetheart. Whatever you want. I just want you to be happy. With me.”
His heart pounded. His mouth felt dry as dust. He wondered about the nap on the carpet. It must be fascinating, because now she was running her fingers against the grain. Why didn’t she say something, dammit? But she didn’t. He forged ahead. “If you want to stay here, I’ll move in with you. Or if you prefer my apartment, we can live there. However, I think the two of us together need more room. I think we should find a new apartment. I like the East Side, but the West Side is fine with me. I know a number of great hangouts over there. As I said, I’m easy. Whatever you want.”
Still she looked shell-shocked. She looked incapable of speech.
“Do you love me, Eden?”
She looked up at him then, so still she could have been a statue. She drew a deep breath and said, “I don’t know about love. I do know, though, that you’re miraculous, Taylor.”
He blinked at her. “You’re always surprising me,” he said, and that was true.
“I mean it. I never realized before that a man like you could even exist.”
“Why not?”
Too much too fast, he realized, and wanted to kick himself. Too straightforward, punching too quickly.
She merely shrugged. She still held the ring box. She hadn’t touched the ring inside.
“I guess you could say I haven’t had many good experiences with men.”
“They’re not me, these other men.”
“No,” she said. “They’re not. They weren’t.”
“Because I’m miraculous and I don’t ever want you to forget it. I also love you.”
He saw the fear in her and wished he could have the man or men who’d done this to her. And what had this man or these men done? His hands clenched into fists.
Tears were in her eyes. “I can’t. Not yet. I’m sorry, Taylor—”
He raised his hand and said easily, “I’ve got an idea. Tell me true now. Have you enjoyed having me around for the past month and a half?”
“Yes.”
“Have I ever frightened you?”
“Yes.”
“Let me rephrase that. Do you trust me now more than you did two weeks ago?”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust me not to hold you down and rape you?”
Hesitation; then, “Yes.”
