Chapter Eleven

Tommy's POV

What could I have done wrong? I went through our most recent times together in my mind, searching for anything that I might have said, for something that I might have done that would have made her mad enough to dump me. She hadn't actually said that she was dumping me, because she hadn't communicated with me at all for the past two days, but what other excuse could there be for the way that she was acting?

I'd reluctantly given her the space that I assumed she needed for two entire days, well, that is, I'd just stuck with calling her throughout the day, but not anymore. I liked to think that I was a reasonable man, I was calm and rational and levelheaded, but damn it, if she was going to give me the brushoff, then she was going to tell me to my face. That wasn't asking for too much, was it?

I knocked on her front door, careful to keep the contact of my fist as gentle and respectful as possible, when what I really wanted to do was to pound upon it and demand that she let me in. Moments passed with no answer, which only served to make me even angrier than I already was. I knew that she was home; I knew that she hadn't left her apartment for two days, so why in hell wasn't she answering my knock on the door? Had she sneaked over to the window and peeked outside? Was she standing there, just waiting for me to leave, or had she run to hide in her bedroom instead?

Aw, hell…I was starting to sound like a crazy person, wasn't I? This was all so new for me, I wasn't used to having these sorts of feelings for another person, and I'd been an idiot and allowed them to take complete control of me. That was why I pounded my fist on the door like a deranged man, even though I knew better. That was why I called for her through the door, in a tone that was much louder than what it ought to have been, and it was something that I paid for when the door on the other side of Lily's opened up, and old Mrs. Foster tottered out onto the landing.

Dahlia Foster had to have been a hundred years old, at the very least, and she was a tiny, shriveled woman, with bright eyes that said that her mind was still sharp, no matter how worn-down her body seemed to be. She was one of those sorts that called you honey and sugar pie, one of those who insisted on pinching your cheeks whenever she got close enough to touch you, and one who was always paying attention to the business of all of those around her, and I ought to have known to stay quiet, to keep my distress to myself, but it was too late now, wasn't it?

"Land sakes, Thomas Conlon, you're making enough racket to raise the dead from the grave!" she said, as loudly as she could manage, in that creaky voice of hers. "Why on earth are you pounding on Lily's door? Is this some modern courting technique that I'm unaware of, because if it is, I must say that I don't like it at all. Why, in my day, young men would serenade their sweethearts with a little Bing Crosby or Frankie Laine, but now they're hammering their fists against a young woman's door and bellowing at her to open up. Are you playacting as Marlon Brando, honey, because you're no Stanley, and she's no Stella and….."

"Grandma, are you flirting with Tommy again?"

I was happy to see Dahlia's granddaughter, Judy, so much so that I might have kissed her, that is, I might have, if I hadn't known that doing so would only encourage Mrs. Foster to believe that I had romantic designs on her granddaughter. Dahlia was a matchmaker through and through, it must have been a side effect of her overall nosiness, and it probably wouldn't matter to her that Judy was nearly my father's age. She would be shuffling us off together before you could say Bing Crosby and then I'd be in one hell of a mess, wouldn't I?

"Now, Judy, we both know that Mr. Conlon is a handsome young man, but I'm not inclined to flirt with him, or any other man, and you know it, don't you? I'm simply attempting to educate him, so that he might know how to go about charming Miss Lewis back into his embrace, nothing more, and nothing less, and I have to say that I am both alarmed and insulted by your insinuation that I had ulterior motives, Judith Marie….."

She was on a roll by that point, ranting and raving and raising holy hell, but I found my attention diverted away from her and what she was saying by a sound that came from the other side of Lily's door. It was a giggle that I heard, I was sure of it, and that meant that she was listening to what was unfolding, she was standing by the door, just as I'd suspected she was, and now she was having a good laugh at my expense.

Had I been given a choice, I would have started banging my fists against the door again, I would have let her know that I could hear her, but my doing so would only encourage Mrs. Foster to react in a manner that might end with my arrest, so I was forced to keep my hands at my sides and curse beneath my breath instead, while I waited for Grandma Moses to finish her tirade.

Thankfully, I didn't have to wait long, because Judy took her Grandma in hand, literally, and after whispering to me that she was sorry, she led her back into the apartment, leaving me alone on the landing, to deal with Lily however I might see fit. I walked up to her door and leaned my body against it, slowly and softly thumping my fists on it, smiling when I imagined her jumping back away from the sound.

"Lily, baby, I know that you're in there, I know that you're looking and listening, I even know that you're laughing at me, and I think that you need to open this door, so that you can have a chance to laugh at me, face-to-face, doesn't that sound like fun?"

There was no answer from her, not even a squeak of alarm, and I felt another burst of temper course through me, one that encouraged me to hammer my fists against the door, like a crazy person, even though it embarrassed me to be acting the way that I was. This was why it was best for a man to stay alone, so that he wouldn't find himself enmeshed in circumstances that would have him behaving like an enraged ape, but, now that I thought about it, being alone sucked hairy, sweaty nuts, now that I knew what it felt like, to be the other half of a couple.

"Let me in, baby, please," I said, forcing my tone into one that was calm and collected, when what I wanted, more than anything, was to yell at the top of my lungs, to channel Stanley Kowalski, just as Mrs. Foster had suggested I was. "I need to see you, Lily, I need to know that you're okay."

I thought that I heard something that might have been a sniffle, though it would be impossible for me to hear something like that, wouldn't it? "I can't come to the door right now, Baboo," she called from within, making an effort, for some damned reason, to sound like she was standing at the back of the apartment, even though I knew that she was standing right beside the door. "Please go home and I'll call you, so we can talk, okay?"

Hell no, that was not okay. It was bullshit, plain and simple, and I was not going to go away that easily. On the upside, she had called me Baboo, and she wouldn't have done that if she was breaking up with me, would she? Granted, I wasn't very experienced with relationships, I definitely wouldn't call myself an expert, but it seemed to me that terms of endearment didn't come into the picture, not when love had turned to hate. Not that Lily loved me, I wasn't saying that she did, but I knew that she did like me, or, at least, she had.

"Why can't you come to the door?" I asked, stubbornly refusing to be budged, not without her giving me a damned good explanation first. "What happened to you? Was it something that I did, Lily?"

I heard something that might have been a sigh, and then a whisper, which were, once more, two things that I shouldn't have been able to hear, but I would have sworn that I could hear them clearly. "No, Tommy, it wasn't you, Baboo. I just can't come to the door, okay?"

Hell, no it wasn't okay. "That's not going to work, baby," I told her, curling my fingertips against the door, wishing that it was her that I was touching, that I could hold her and look into her eyes, and see something, anything that would tell me that everything was going to be just fine between us. "I need more than that, I need to know why. Can't you do that for me, Lily? Can't you tell me why?"

"I can't come to the door because, hmm, well, that is, I, err, I sprained my ankle…yeah, that's right! I sprained my ankle and every step that I take is agony, so I can't make it to the door, Tommy. Please don't worry about me, please just go home, and I'll call you….."

She was a terrible actress and I might have laughed at her, had I not been as pissed as I was at that moment. "You're going to have to do better than that, Lily, because I'm not buying it. Why don't you tell me another one, hmm?"

I must have made her panic, because she didn't bother to get all huffy over my accusation that she was lying to me. I could hear her moving around, I could hear her muttering nervously beneath her breath, and then I heard her say ah-hah. It was a whisper, at best, but I knew what I'd heard, and it didn't do anything to help my temperament, that's for damned sure.

"I'm sorry, Tommy, but I'm coming down with the flu, so I can't let you in, because if I do, you'll get my cooties, and then you'll be the one who feels like you're about to die."

Her latest line of bull was accompanied by a hacking cough that did make it sound like she was on the threshold of death, and I could only imagine how much damage she was doing to herself, just so she could lie to me. "If that's the case, then you'd better open the door, so that I can take you to the doctor. The flu's nothing to play around with, you know?"

I heard her sigh again, and then she said something that sounded like dammit and then she switched gears all over again. "Ooh…I don't feel so good, Baboo," she moaned pathetically, sounding, once more, like she was dying, though now it sounded like her demise would take place in seconds, rather than hours. "I've got…hmm…really bad diarrhea, and I'm stuck in the bathroom. That's where I've been for hours and chances are good that I'll be here all day…and all night…and all day tomorrow….."

"How is it that you're in the bathroom, held prisoner by the trots, when I know, and you damn well know, that you're standing right by the door?" I interrupted, contemplating that I ought to break down the door, even though I knew that old bat Mrs. Foster would be sure to call the authorities if I did so. "Enough is enough, baby. If you don't want to see me anymore, go ahead and tell me. If you want me out of your life, just let me know. But please have the guts to tell me to my face, if that's what you really want. Don't I deserve that much, at least?"

She said something and fell back against the door, a something that sounded suspiciously like, Way to go, you stupid dolt, and I wondered if she was talking to me, or to herself. "I'm so sorry, Tommy," she said quietly, and I could hear the tears that were in her voice. "I just can't let you in, I can't, I can't, I can't….."

"What happened, Lily?" I interrupted, before another tearful I can't could make its way to my ears. "Why can't you let me in?"

I heard her sigh again, then she launched herself from an occasional sniffle to an all-out crying jag as the door swung open and I was treated to the sight of her puffy face, coated all over with pink ointment, the same ointment that was all over her arms and her hands and every part of her chest that I could see. The tears were flowing by that time, making tracks through the calamine lotion that she'd slathered on her face, and she personified the term hot mess.

"Because I'm so ugly," she wailed, looking and sounding downright pathetic, and I was forced to suppress a smile, and then a chuckle, so that I could step forward and gather her in my arms, holding her close, and kissing her forehead, the one spot on her face that wasn't all goopy, while she cried against my chest. "I'm ugly, and gross, and covered in poison ivy itchies and now you won't like me anymore-ore-ore….."

Aw, my poor baby girl. I hid my face against her hair so that I could smile, then decided to take a risk by bending my head so that I could kiss her on her lips, carefully avoiding the calamine, and the snot that was starting to make a trek out of her nose. I was so relieved that a run-in with poison ivy was what had caused her to alienate me, as opposed to a loss of affection, and I felt like I was floating on air. I had to make her smile again, a laugh would have been even better, but baby steps were best, don't you think?

"Oh, Smoochie, you could never look ugly to me," I assured her, trying out the nickname that I'd come up with for her, the one that I thought matched perfectly with Baboo. "It's just not possible for you to be ugly, or gross, even if a patch of poison ivy made its mark on you. I've liked you since I first met you, and I like you more and more with each day that goes by, and there's nothing that's going to change that, so I don't want to hear one more word on the subject, okay?"

I wouldn't have been surprised if she had chosen to argue with me as a response, but she didn't. She looked at me with her pretty eyes and whispered, "Who's Smoochie?" instead, and I smiled at her, then kissed her again, a slow, warm kiss that didn't get too up close and personal, but which let her know that I had every intention of doing just that later on, once her tears were dry and she was calm again.

"That's you, of course," I said, placing my hands on her face, completely ignoring the sticky calamine lotion that rubbed off on my palms. "You're my Smoochie, and there's nothing that you can do about that now, it's too late for you to change my mind, because I'm here to stay, no matter how hard you might try to get rid of me."

There it was, there was that smile, and her eyes were shining, hell, they were dancing, and I had a pretty good idea that she was never going to try to keep me out again, which was a good thing, because like I had said, I was there to stay.

Lily's POV

My body was itchy all over, no, no, that was wrong. My face was itchy, and my arms were itchy, and the top of my chest was itchy, but it may as well have been my entire body, because I was squirming all over the couch like I had a serious case of ants in my pants, to go along with the nasty rash that had called for calamine lotion and a half-assed attempt to hide myself from the world, or, more specifically, from Tommy.

A little brat named Jamie Brenner was to blame for my predicament, because he thought that it was good fun, a rollicking riot, as a matter of fact, to smack the Reading Lady in the face with poison ivy while we enjoyed our hiking filed trip. I've never been one to advocate beating children in any way, but I knew that I could be persuaded to switch sides where that little monster was concerned. My only consolation came from the fact that he'd grabbed the poisonous plant with his bare hands, and his card at the library said that he was allergic to poison ivy, and the thought of his hands, covered in itchiness and calamine, was enough to bring a big smile to my face and warm the deep recesses of my heart.

Poor Tommy…I don't know why I'd insisted on acting so silly, which had made it necessary that he come into contact with Mrs. Foster, the busybody next door, but he was a forgiving man, thank God, and had settled me in to rest on the couch before he made his way into the kitchen, putting the contents of my cupboards, along with my pots and pans, to good use and had made supper for both of us, homemade spaghetti and meatballs that smelled positively divine. I realized that he'd been holding out on me all this time, pretending to be yet another helpless bachelor who couldn't manage to cook a decent dish, not even if his life depended on it, who was regularly and painfully poisoning himself, when it was obvious, deliciously so, that he was a culinary connoisseur at heart.

I might have been tempted to be angry with him, I might have even elected to pout a little, but he had already been through so much, and he was so cute, and I'd been mean to him, and he was gorgeous, and I'd made him suffer, and he was so beautiful, so I decided to give him a break, out of the goodness of my heart…well, that and the fact that his offering of spaghetti and meatballs smelled absolutely heavenly…and he was so very, very pretty.

He brought a chair over to sit beside the couch and started to wrap some of the noodles around a fork, to feed me, which I absolutely loved, but then he stopped and looked at me, and I saw that there was hurt in his eyes, and I felt like the lowest of the low, because there was no doubt in my mind that I was the one who had put the pain in his eyes.

"Don't ever do that to me again, Lily," he said, well, growled, then brought the fork to my mouth, raising an eyebrow, and almost, but not quite smiling, when I took it in with a lip-smacking slurp. "I thought that I had done something awful, I thought that you didn't want me anymore, I thought that you….."

I took a moment to revel in the tomato and basil and garlic, along with the oregano and the parsley, stifling a moan of genuine pleasure, and then I interrupted him. "Oh, Baboo, I'm so sorry," I said, grateful for the fact that I'd remembered to chew and swallow before I spoke to him, because there was really no need for me to add disgust to his already hurt feelings, was there? "It was all me, I felt so revolting and I was afraid that you wouldn't like me anymore, that you wouldn't want me, that….."

"Do you really think that I'm that shallow?" he asked, and I saw that I'd hurt him even more, and I cursed myself, not for the first time that day, for being a fool. "What have I ever said, or done, that would make you think that?"

"Of course I don't think that, Tommy," I said, hastening to explain myself, before any more damage could be done. "Like I said, it was all my fault, not yours, and I'm so sorry, Baboo, and I will never, ever do that again, I promise…now…can I have some more sketti, pretty please?"

He started to wind some more of the pasta around the fork, then it must have dawned on him that he wasn't quite through with letting me know how wrong I was, because he stopped, and looked at me, with a frown on his face that said that my little, albeit, heartfelt apology, hadn't worked to smooth his ruffled feathers, not completely, at least.

"And that's it, you said 'pretty please' and I'm supposed to just give in to you, because you're so cute, is that it, Lily?"

Hmm…time to turn on the charm. "Well, that, and because your sketti is delicious and you're so sweet, plus, the baby, that's me, is so very sorry, and so very sad, and so very hungry. Your Smoochie is hungry and wants some sketti, and she wants her Baboo to feed to her, pretty, pretty please, with sugar on top, and turtle brownies, and snickerdoodles and….."

"And 'the baby', that being 'Smoochie' that being you is going down the right path for a smack on her sweet little butt," he interrupted, offering me the next bite, which I accepted with a smile…until it dawned on me what he'd said, and then I really started to smile.

"Ooh, Baboo…do you promise?" I asked, moving toward the edge of the couch, almost shaking with the anticipation that was rocketing through me. "Will you really spank me, pretty please? I think that I need a spanking, I've been such a naughty girl, it's really for my own good, isn't it? Especially if you bend me over your knee and….."

He was quiet all of the time, that was nothing new, but for the life of me, I just couldn't remember another time when he had looked so shocked. Oh well, maybe it was best not to push him too far, too fast. After all, baby steps were best in these circumstances, weren't they?