Page 31 of Engineering a Love Story

“What?”

“The museum. Not my favorite place.”

I glance back to see Seth absorbed by the window of a typewriter repair shop. I murmur appreciatively. A gorgeous day like this, Ash would be on his bike and would never have gone to a museum with me.

Still, I’m glad Ash sounds relaxed. “Thanks for picking up your things. Talk this week?”

After hanging up, I take a few breaths before turning to watch Seth approach. I’m attempting to ward off the sense of duplicity settling on me. Ash and I are officially separated, but only just. I want to believe I’m not doing anything wrong. Aside from the other thing I’m doing wrong, and with that, all the good I felt a few minutes ago is gone.

Seth arrives beside me. “Everything alright?”

I nod and we resume our climb.

Out of breath by the time we reach the top of Nob Hill, we pass under the hotel’s awnings, and I realize I feel like I’m stealing. This is more than I’m allowed, and there will be consequences for this perfect day. There are always consequences. I have the notion to keep my head down, out of the view of the security cameras. To take what I want and not get caught.

Eighteen

Our hotel room has been tidied and has the chemical scent of cleaning products. I insist on a shower, though when I close the bathroom door, I remember my plan to soak in the deep tub. I let Seth know I’m going to take a few minutes, then I recline in steamy water, breathing deeply and attempting to recapture the self-indulgent mood I’d had earlier.

Ten minutes later, I hear Seth’s voice through the door. “Fuck, Vita. What am I supposed to tell them? We said Fourth of July. Then last week. Now? What is this?”

I sit up, grabbing the knob to restart the water’s plunge, drowning out Seth’s voice. I wait a few minutes, then climb out and dry off. I wrap my hair in a towel, grab a heavy robe from the back of the door, and switch off the tap.

Seth is still on the phone when I enter the room. His head swings toward me.

“I can’t do this now.” He’s speaking into his phone, but his eyes are on me. “We’ll talk tomorrow?” Seth tosses his cell phone and laptop to the floor, and I watch as he intentionally relaxes the crease in his brow. He pastes on what might start as an artificial smile, but it seems more genuine as he nears me. We meet halfway across the room.

Now it’s my turn to ask: “Everything all right?”

“100 percent.”

Seth pushes the towel from my head, undoes the robe, and moves his hands beneath it. He kisses me to the bed and then the robe is gone, and so are his jeans, the soft sweater, and all our concerns. We stretch out in the shaft of sunlight that plays on the bed, tiny dust moats floating above us. The warm afternoon light makes our time feel infinite, and we luxuriate in it.

A little later, we’re lying still, a light sheet pulled around us. I rest my head on my palm and give in to the curious itch that’s been niggling at me.

“So, give it to me straight. Do you do this kind of thing often? Why no condoms in your wallet? Is there no girlfriend?”

Seth groans and readjusts his legs beneath the sheet. “No. I work all the time, and I am not going to date anyone at Aurelian. I’m not claiming celibacy, but nothing like what you’re maybe imagining.”

I lie back against the pillows, trying to decide if I believe him.

“I did date a flautist for a while last year,” he says. “She was in the San Francisco Symphony. A friend of Manish’s.”

I breathe a quick laugh. “Well. At least that’s not intimidating.”

“It was kind of cool. To see her play. I liked the idea of the whole thing.” Seth puts an arm behind his head, looking at the ceiling. “But she got mad I worked so much, didn’t understand why I had to be on the road all the time. It was a hassle.” His eyes slide to me. “And then I missed her birthday. We were in the middle of this deal, end of the quarter, and … I just forgot. I didn’t show up at her house. Didn’t call. She dumped me. And rightly so.” He shrugs. “I couldn’t work up the energy to care. After that, I decided I don’t have time for relationships. Not right now.”

I have no reason to feel stung, hearing him state this so baldly, but I still do. I pull the sheet more closely around me.

“What about you?” Seth’s fingers tap against his chest, and his gaze points upwards. “How long were you married? Did you tell us at dinner?”

“I think Manish covered all the questions.”

“True enough. Tell me again. How old were you?”

“We married a few months before my twenty-third birthday.”

“And why the rush?”