Trev, II

"You what?" Bonnie felt a burst of vibration against her chest and clapped a quick hand over her heart.

"Bonnie?" Trev's voice was sharp with alarm. "What is it?"

"Your device," she said, as it continued to buzz. She made to retrieve it from his jacket but he stopped her.

"It's probably some robocall. If it's important, they'll call back. Or leave a message." And, in short order, the buzzing broke off and a sweet, high chime pierced the air.

The interruption had given Bonnie a welcome chance to compose herself. "You fell in love?" she said, more evenly. "With who? When?"

He shook his head. "Sometime over the spring? I don't know. I can tell you it wasn't love at first sight. Attraction, yes. I might've implied, before, that I was drawn to other women — plural — but, to be honest, there was only ever the one. I'd see her, off and on, at campaign headquarters, always so pretty, cheerful, energetic. It was gray and gloomy, I remember, inside and out, but wherever she was, it seemed the sun was shining. I know it's an awful cliché, but she really did light up the room."

With her bright personality and thousand-watt smile. "Vanna, then?"

He spared her a grateful look. "I enjoyed her company. Everyone did. She's so lively and unaffected. I didn't think anything of it until the day I went to a fundraiser, expecting to see her, and was disappointed as hell when she wasn't there. That was a rude wake-up call, and, if I hadn't already been anxious about us, I'd've probably just stepped back, taken stock of my feelings, and realized I'd fallen only a little under her spell. No big deal."

"But, just then, you were anxious…"

"And I reacted, for all the world, as if I'd caught myself on the very brink of being unfaithful to you and only barely in time to keep myself from going over."

Bonnie rounded on him, wide-eyed. "That was extreme!"

"Completely irrational," he agreed, "but that's how it felt, and next thing I knew, I was turning tail and running away from what seemed to me an overpowering temptation. I mean, it would've been a good idea, in any case, to keep my distance from Vanna for a while, but I went immediately all-out, and tried to stay clean out of her way, which meant, of course, steering clear of headquarters and skipping out on as many campaign events as I could. Even so, I couldn't avoid her completely, and when I was around her, I kept myself on such high alert, I was miserably uncomfortable. My biggest fear was that — not meaning to — I'd given her the impression I was interested and available, so, out of desperation, I mentioned you — my wonderful, perfect girlfriend — at every possible opportunity."

"Ah! Well, that explains how she came to know so much about me. I have to admit, I was surprised to hear you talked about me all the time. That's not your style."

"No." He flashed her a shamefaced look and continued, "I couldn't seem to help myself. I felt I had to make it crystal clear there was no point at all in her setting her sights on me. God!" he spat out in distaste. "How conceited is that?"

It was a rhetorical question, Bonnie knew, but she considered it all the same. She recalled the fundraiser at which she and Vanna had been introduced: Vanna, perched on the edge of Bonnie's seat at the table, demonstrably not shy about seeking Trev out. She remembered, too, the conversation at the carnival where Vanna had angled for confirmation that she and Trev were truly, as rumor had it, "practically engaged." On the same occasion, Vanna had told her about recently meeting a prospective Mr. Right, but that gentleman had been downgraded from a "definite possibility" in early May to Mr. Might-be-the-One by the end of the month, and finally, in June, he'd been dismissed altogether as "stuck on" another woman and not worth her time. It was not inconceivable, given the coincidences, that she'd been referring to Trev. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if she did need some gentle discouraging — believe it or not, Trev, you're a real catch — but the way you went about it was definitely over the top. Vanna's a smart cookie. You had to know she'd gotten the message."

"But that's just it! I didn't know. Not with the certainty I needed, anyway. She never made any kind of play for me, I grant you, but she didn't give me any obvious sign, either, that she recognized I'd drawn a line."

Bonnie shook her head, mystified. "And how would she've done that, exactly?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Been less glad to see me when I came around. Acted a bit more standoffish. Instead, she was as friendly and open as ever, as if nothing'd changed. And her interest got more and more personal as time went on. Especially in you."

"Well, it stands to reason, the way you brought me up all the time. She was probably just being polite."

"Probably, but, again, you have to understand: I was so anxious, I was always expecting the worst possible outcome. Take, for example, the times she said she was dying to meet you. Do you know what I heard? 'That girlfriend of yours sounds too-good-to-be true. I'm going to have to check her out for myself.'"

"Good lord! You really were deranged!" At his smile, so reassuringly full of wry self-mockery, Bonnie relaxed. "But you recovered, obviously. And," she surmised, "before I ever got to seeing you and Vanna together. I'd've noticed if there'd been anything odd in the way you behaved around her, and there wasn't. Something happened."

"You're right. I reached my breaking point, and decided anything — even your turning me down flat — was better than dealing with the awful uncertainty, and so, like I said before, I went out on a limb, and asked you to marry me. Fortunately, the gamble paid off, but not as big as it could've: your 'maybe' took the edge off my anxiety about us, but didn't help me out at all where Vanna was concerned. I'd been banking on getting engaged as the ultimate sign that I was spoken for and off limits."

"And anything less that a 'yes,' there, wasn't any good."

He nodded. "It might've all been academic — she'd never've had to know about the proposal — except for that video Wicks-Sweets posted, and everybody and his cousin, it seems, getting a look at it. I had to assume she'd seen it, too, and I dreaded facing her, to the point where I put off swinging by headquarters for several days, by which time word of what'd really happened had made the rounds, and I didn't have to explain, for the umpteenth time, that congratulations weren't actually in order. I went in that day fully expecting to have to defend myself against a flood of fake sympathy and attempts to 'console' me for my disappointment, but she blew me away, instead, by telling me, upfront and simply, that she was sorry things hadn't gone my way, and that, least said being soonest mended, she wouldn't pry, but that if there ever came a time when I thought it might help to talk, she had a sympathetic ear she'd be happy to lend me."

"That," Bonnie said, admiringly, "is a pretty classy reaction."

"Yeah," Trev said, ruefully. "She gave me exactly what I needed, and had been expecting to have to fight for: space, room for me to breathe and feel secure in, knowing there was a line between us she respected and wouldn't cross. And, ironically, because she left it up to me, and because I could tell that she honestly felt bad for me, I opened up, and assured her that, contrary to what she might think, I really wasn't devastated, that you'd hadn't said 'no' so much as 'not right now,' that you'd practically made me promise to ask you again, and that I was very far from giving up hope."

"The truth, in short."

"Every word, and she did brighten up a lot, but, you know, I got the strongest impression she was forcing it a bit, I'm guessing because she saw me as manfully putting up a brave front to hide my real disappointment, and wanted to be kind. I think, too — though I may be wrong — that she had some unflattering suspicions about you, but, of course, those only lasted for as long as it took her to get to know you a little. I don't recall her exact words, but she said something along the lines of being able to appreciate why I was so crazy about you. And this was early on, too. I don't think the two of you could've met more than a couple of times."

And on each of those occasions, Bonnie reflected, looking back with fresh eyes, Vanna had, almost certainly, been carefully taking her measure, and not out of any casual curiosity, either, but out of a very real concern for Trev's welfare. In her usual great-hearted fashion, Vanna had taken it upon herself to make sure Trev's chosen one was, indeed, a good and worthy person, someone unlikely to toy with his affections, or callously string him along. Bonnie didn't much like being the object of this surreptitious appraisal, but she could appreciate, and honor, Vanna's generous impulse to look out for a possibly misguided friend.

"So, that was that," Trev was saying. "Crisis over. Naturally, I came out the other side feeling like a first-class idiot, but so relieved I'd freaked out over nothing, I really didn't care."

"That's what your attraction to Vanna was reduced to? Nothing?"

"It'd always been nothing — the proverbial molehill my fear for our relationship had turned into a mountain. Once I was rational again, I could see what I felt for her was a perfectly ordinary, innocent response to her charm. It was never something I'd've acted on."

"And so… what? Things went back to normal between you and Vanna?"

"If, by 'normal,' you mean free and easy, then, yes, I was back to enjoying working with her with a clear conscience. There had been one significant change, though: there was something more between us than the mutual liking we'd always shared, an added sympathy for me on her part, and gratitude to her on mine…"

"She was," Bonnie felt obliged to interject, "very sympathetic."

"More than I deserved, you mean?" He confirmed this with a nod. "She had an exaggerated notion of how dejected I felt, but I wasn't so confident, either, that I didn't truly value her support. Having her in my corner, cheering me on, so positive about my chances… well, it was a real boost to my spirits."

Bonnie was reminded of her own dark hour of the soul, and the inestimable comfort Adele's understanding and encouragement had been to her. "I'm sure it meant a lot to you."

"It really did, and, like I started to say, it created this kind of bond between us that made being with her, for me, even more of a pleasure than before. She'd always been a kick to be around, but knowing she was a caring, compassionate person on top of that drew me to her more than ever. It wasn't long before I'd done a complete one-eighty, and, instead of avoiding headquarters and campaign events like the plague, I was dropping in on the volunteers several times a week — sometimes on the flimsiest excuse — and showing up early to fundraisers and rallies to help set up, or, if that wasn't possible, staying late afterward to lend a hand clearing away."

"All because you wanted to spend time with Vanna?"

He inclined his head soberly. "I told myself I was making up for doing less than my fair share over the previous weeks, but, yeah, that was the real motivation. We weren't on the kind of terms, at first, where we were seeing each other away from the campaign, but even in that limited context, I got to know her better, and appreciate her more. All the time and effort she put into reworking that old Beatles' song for Dad's birthday, for example: I saw, first-hand, how her only thought was for him, and what she could do to make the celebration extra-special."

"She's a very giving person," Bonnie acknowledged. "I think that's why people take to her so easily."

"Well, I was certainly liking her better and trusting her more by the day, so much so that, what with both of us being clear that anything romantic was out of the question, I didn't see any harm in asking her to fill in for you the night you couldn't make it to Kilpatrick's retirement dinner — remember that? She accepted only when I'd assured her you couldn't make it, and she wouldn't hear of me picking her up or taking her home. The next night, when we went to the opera, was the same deal: Steve had bowed out at the last minute, leaving her in the lurch, so I returned the favor by stepping in and taking his place. It was just a matter of two pals helping each other out, nothing remotely date-like about any of it."

"And you enjoyed both evenings very much, as I remember. Vanna was a big hit with your colleagues, and you learned opera had a thing or two to recommend it, after all."

"Right, and we were both of us so careful and conscientious about keeping things casual, I really felt no qualms at all about inviting her to the Death Knellies' concert, until…" He shot her a quick, apologetic look. "There was that awkward moment up at Great Falls when I mentioned getting the tickets, and you took it for granted I was counting you in."

Bonnie bobbed her head, remembering. "That was on me. I shouldn't've jumped to conclusions."

"Maybe not," he allowed, "but the fact remains, I felt I owed you an explanation, and what came out of my mouth, Bonnie, was a lie: I didn't ask Vanna first because I assumed you wouldn't be interested. I asked her for her own sake, because I wanted to see her again. She wasn't just a stand-in for you; she was my choice. I didn't realize it myself, not fully, until I offered to get you a ticket, and found myself fervently hoping you'd pass." He cut her a look eloquent of grief and contrition. "I knew, then, that I actually didn't want you to come, that having you along would ruin the evening for me."

Bonnie absorbed this tranquilly. "I'd've been the unwelcome third wheel."

"In essence, and seeing you in that light, even for a second…" He shook his head, as if to dislodge the memory. "It was a shock on a par with my first realizing I was attracted to Vanna, only this time, since I really was being untrue to you, it hit me really hard. I know you thought I didn't ask you back to my place that day because I was trying to shake your confidence, but the truth of it is, I was barely keeping a lid on a whole jumble of emotions, and all I wanted was to get home, lock the door behind me, and curl up in a ball."

A.N. - Sorry for the long delay, sorry for not finishing Trev's story, yet...