Danielle Steel - The Apartment

“I don’t know if I agree with that,” Alex said seriously in response to her comment. “My parents still seem like they’re in love with each other, though God knows how, with my brother and me driving them crazy when we were growing up. But they seem to have survived it, and get along pretty well. I’d like to have a relationship like theirs one day. I suspect you have to work at it.” She nodded, and was fairly sure her parents hadn’t, and had slowly grown apart, until their marriage imploded. Her father had admitted to her that he’d been miserable and wanted more than he’d had with his ex-wife. He’d been starving for affection, which made sense, knowing her mother. “So do we have a plan here? Sex on date nineteen? Does lunch in the cafeteria count if the intention to date is there? If so, that makes this date two, which means we only have seventeen to go. Are you free for the next two and a half weeks? I could clear my calendar if you want me to.” She was laughing at what he said.

“Maybe we could stretch it out to three weeks,” she countered only half in jest. It was just talk, and easy banter between them. She liked his sense of humor, and his stories about his brother and parents. They sounded like the kind of family she wished she’d had, instead of her constantly angry mother and absentee father.

“Actually, the last date I had, I fell asleep on the couch watching a movie. When I woke up, my date had gone to bed without me, locked her bedroom door, and left me a note telling me to let myself out. It was the third time I had done that to her. She said ‘Call me after you get some sleep.’ I never did, I figured three strikes you’re out, and she was really boring. Maybe if we’d ever talked to each other, I could have stayed awake. The notion of sex as a sport you can play with a stranger, or a form of gymnastics, has never appealed to me. I’m a hopeless romantic and have this ridiculous idea that you’re supposed to care about each other. Maybe that sounds stupid to most people, and the last person I said that to, an ER nurse in the trauma unit, asked me if I was gay after I said it. She was sleeping with guys she met online, on the first date, and she thought I was a weirdo when we didn’t wind up in bed the day I met her. That’s fun at eighteen. After that, it’s nice if you care about, or at least know, the other person. Sleeping with strangers is too much work.” She liked what he was saying and agreed with him. His values were similar to hers, unlike Valentina, who openly admitted to sleeping with men on the first date. And she had been just as sexually adventuresome in high school. Love wasn’t necessary for her in order to have sex. Sasha was more old-fashioned, and so was Alex.

“I agree with you,” Sasha said quietly. “I think we’re kind of a throwback to another time. A lot of people don’t think like we do. The guys I’ve gone out with think sex is what you give them in exchange for a hamburger or a steak.” Alex smiled and was familiar with the theory too. He hadn’t felt that way since college.

“By the way, it’s okay if sex isn’t on the schedule until date thirty-six, or never. I like you, and I like the idea of getting to be friends first. Maybe we could get together and fall asleep in front of the TV sometime, or at a movie. Put me in the dark, after three nights on call, and you can count on me snoring in five minutes. I wake up for the credits, though. I like to know who made the movie I missed.” She laughed and admitted to doing the same thing.

“That happened to me at the symphony last year. Someone gave me tickets, and with the lights off and the music, I slept through the whole thing. I figure I’ll wait till I finish my residency before I try it again. It’s kind of wasted on me.”

“That’s why sports are so great. You can’t fall asleep playing touch football. Although I did fall asleep at the U.S. Open with my brother last year. He nearly killed me and said he wouldn’t waste a seat on me again. I’m actually pretty impressed we both stayed awake through dinner tonight, aren’t you?” He was beaming at her, he loved talking to her, and she was so beautiful it took his breath away, and he would have loved to sleep with her, but he didn’t want her to feel pressured, and preferred to move slowly. It made her feel comfortable and safe with him, and he could sense that. She was not a woman who was going to leap into anything.

The hospital hadn’t called her all through dinner, and she decided to go home when they left the restaurant, but she invited him to dinner at the loft the next day. She was off duty and so was he. Max was cooking, everyone was coming, and it would be a nice opportunity for Alex to meet them in a low-key way. She hadn’t had time to mention him to them, but for the moment they were just friends, and he said he’d like to meet her roommates. He put her in a cab after dinner, and promised to be at the loft the next day.

“Thank you for dinner. It was terrific,” she said, smiling at him. And the conversation had been even better than the food.

“See you tomorrow,” he said, and waved as the cab drove away. She had given him the address in Hell’s Kitchen, and he was looking forward to the evening and seeing her again. And her roommates and extended family sounded like a fun group to him.

—

On Sunday, Morgan went to the park with Max, before he came over to cook dinner. Claire went uptown to go shopping, and she wanted to check out the shoe department at Bergdorf’s to see if there were any brands she’d missed to send her résumé to. Abby was supposed to spend the day with Ivan, but he had called that morning to say he had the flu, so she hung around the apartment, working on a new play for him. And Sasha slept until early afternoon and caught up on sleep. It was a sunny September day and the weather was starting to turn cool.

Sasha set the table for dinner before the others came home, and by six o’clock, everyone was back, Max had arrived with the groceries, and Oliver and Greg turned up shortly after. And they were all milling around the loft laughing and talking, as Max and Morgan poured the wine, when Alex appeared. Sasha had told them he was coming, and said that he was a friend from work. No one thought much of it, and anyone was welcome at their Sunday-night gatherings.

“Where’s Ivan?” Oliver asked Abby.

“He’s sick.” And then everyone’s attention turned to Alex as Sasha introduced him, and he looked a little overwhelmed at first. Sasha explained who her roommates were, and that Oliver was Morgan’s brother, Greg was his partner, and Max was Morgan’s boyfriend, and she said he owned a terrific restaurant nearby.

“The only one missing is my sister. She’s still in St. Bart’s, and she’ll be home tomorrow.” But other than her and Ivan, everyone was there. Alex talked to all of them, and after the first few minutes, he was totally relaxed discussing hockey with Oliver and Greg, and said he’d been to several Rangers games the previous season and saw Greg make the winning save in the play-offs and said it had been sheer genius.

And in a quiet moment, when he wasn’t paying attention, Claire glanced at Sasha and raised an eyebrow in the direction of Alex and whispered to her.

“What about him? He’s cute.”

Sasha seemed embarrassed and tried to appear nonchalant about it. “We worked on a delivery together this week.”

“Never mind that—he’s great-looking, and he seems nice.” Sasha nodded and didn’t tell her about dinner the night before, or lunch in the cafeteria earlier in the week. She didn’t know where it was going, if anywhere, and she liked his idea of becoming friends first. But she was happy he’d come to dinner so everyone could meet him and he could see where she lived, and with whom.

As usual, dinner was delicious. Max had made a French-style leg of lamb, with lots of garlic, mashed potatoes, and string beans. And he had brought tiramisu from the restaurant for dessert. Whenever Max cooked, it was their best meal of the week, and the red wine he had brought was exceptionally good. He loved cooking for their family-style dinners, and thought Alex was a great new addition. They talked about French wines, and Alex said he liked to cook too. And after dinner, Morgan, Max, Oliver, and Alex played a few hands of poker, while the others cleaned up.

After Max and Morgan went to her room at midnight, Alex and Sasha were finally alone. The others had all gone home or to bed by then.

“What a terrific evening,” Alex said warmly. “I love your roommates, and Max is a great guy. I’d like to try his restaurant sometime. He’s a wonderful cook.” He felt like he’d spent the evening with a family, not just a group of friends, which is how they always felt about it too. And they always had a good time. Alex said he liked the apartment too, and Sasha told him that Claire’s mother had helped to make it look and feel like home.

They talked for a long time, and then regretfully he got up, hating to leave, and she walked him to the door. He felt lucky to have met her, and that she had invited him to dinner with her friends.

“Thank you for including me, Sasha. I haven’t had that much fun in years. What’s your schedule like this week?”

“I’m on duty and on call for the next five days, but I have a day off next weekend.”

“Let’s figure out something to do.”

“I’d like that,” she said quietly, and then he gently pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It was the perfect end to a lovely evening, and she looked up at him with wide eyes after they kissed.

“I’m not sure if that’s the right protocol for date three,” he whispered, and she giggled. “But it seemed pretty great to me. What do you think?”

She nodded and he kissed her again, and they lingered at the door for a few minutes, kissing, and then hating to leave her, he disappeared down the stairs. Date number three had gone extremely well, and Alex could hardly wait for the rest.

Valentina came back from St. Bart’s the next day, and called Sasha to tell her about all the fun she’d had. She was crazy about Jean-Pierre and said he had treated her like a queen. They had flown back on his private plane, which was nothing unusual for her, but she said that Jean-Pierre was different from any man she had ever known, and he seemed to know everyone in the world.

Sasha had heard all of it before, but she was pleased that her sister was happy, as long as he was a decent guy. Sasha was never sure with her.

“When am I going to see you?” Sasha asked her.

“I’m leaving for a shoot in Tokyo tomorrow, with Japanese Vogue. That’s why we came back.” The Japanese loved her, and were crazy about her blond green-eyed looks. She no longer did the ingenue shoots, where they used fourteen-year-old models, but there was still plenty of work for her, and her agency booked her for great shoots all the time, even for American Vogue. She told Sasha that they were pissed at her for staying in St. Bart’s for so long, but she’d had a ball.

“Do you want to come over after work tonight?” Sasha offered.

“I can’t. I’m going to a gallery opening with Jean-Pierre, and a dinner with the owner after.” She mentioned one of the most prestigious galleries in town.

“I’m working today.” Her twin had reached her at the hospital. “Do you want to meet me in the cafeteria for lunch? At least I’ll get to see you before you leave.”

Valentina didn’t sound enthused about it, but she agreed. She wanted to see Sasha too.

“See you at noon,” Sasha suggested, and Valentina said she’d be there.

Valentina was twenty minutes late, as Sasha sat eating a yogurt and a banana at a table, when her sister appeared. She was wearing a one-piece black stretch jumpsuit, a vintage Dior real leopard coat from the fifties that she’d found in a secondhand shop in Paris, and dizzying high heels. She created a sensation the minute she walked in, and headed for Sasha’s table, carrying the coat. She looked rail thin in the jumpsuit, and like the star she was.

“Someone is going to kill you for wearing that coat,” Sasha said in a low voice.

“Fuck them. It’s Dior couture. I paid a fortune for it.”

“Can’t you get arrested for that?” Sasha looked nervous, and Valentina laughed. Their faces were identical, and their bodies, and they both had long straight blond hair, but everything else was as different as it always was. And Sasha was wearing scrubs and clogs.

“They should arrest you for wearing those shoes. Can’t you wear decent shoes to work?” she asked, disgusted by her sister’s choice of footwear.