Madison Avenue

Chapter 13

Rachel ambled back into the bedroom, this time without Emma, looking visibly concerned about the phone call. She crossed her hands over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, the darkness in the bedroom contrasting with the light from the living room, casting a shadowy silhouette over her figure. She looked at Ross laying with his back against the bed, his arms stretched out to his sides, lost in deep thought. She wasn't even sure he knew she was there.
"Ross?" she asked expectantly, swallowing and licking her lips.

"Huh?" he mumbled. He didn't even turn his head to look at her.

"Who was that on the phone?" She was now thoroughly shaken by this incident, somehow certain that the news was big and potentially life-altering. She hadn't seen Ross this upset or distant in years. Finally, he turned his head slightly. He couldn't make eye contact, because all he saw was the pitch black outline of her shapely curves against the door's luminous canvas. He hesitated, debating whether or not to tell her before the wedding.

He had to. The decision had to be made by Monday, and the wedding was Saturday. One day wouldn't be enough time. Even at the risk of upsetting her before their big day, a part of him believed that upsetting her the day after might be even worse. He didn't want to start their first day as husband and wife off on the wrong foot.

Sitting up on the bed, he licked his dry lips and patted the mattress beside him, motioning for her to sit down. She walked slowly across the room and did so, accompanying him with a cautious tenseness. When he finally got a good look into her eyes, he saw something almost like fear, and he hated that.

"Ross, what is it? You're scaring me." Immediately, her words reminded him of that day over a year ago at the airport, when he'd raced against time and reason for hours at dizzying speeds to stand before her and profess his love. She'd told him he was scaring her. He'd been scared, too, just as he was in this moment.

"Rach, I, uh...I kind of have some big news..." he began, taking her hand in his and stroking the back of it with this thumb.

"Is something wrong with the wedding?" He couldn't help but smile. Of course that would be her first question, as it was undoubtedly her biggest fear right now. He shook his head profusely, assuring her nothing was wrong.

"No, no, it's not that. It's just that, um..."

"Who was on the phone, Ross?"

He paused for a moment, staring intensely at her. He wanted to avert his eyes, afraid of diving headlong into what he was sure would be a very long, involved conversation-it deserved to be. This was weighty stuff-huge, potentially lifestyle-altering stuff. He just didn't know what he was getting into-with her or with his career.

"It was someone from the University," he started, looking down at where their hands were intertwined on her thigh.

"Is something wrong at work?" she guessed, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow. She studied the way he looked so nervous. She wanted to be a part of whatever this was that was obviously eating away at him. Had he been fired?

"Rachel, they want me to move," he finally blurted out, looking up at her and meeting her eyes with his. His gaze matched the intensity of the situation, and he didn't dare break the contact, afraid any sign of weakness-a falter or a flinch-might render him incapable of finishing this.

"What?" she whispered, her face contorting to one of her patented looks of disbelief. She dropped his hands. She was physically taken aback.

"I've been nominated as the recipient of a grant that requires me to live abroad for at least a year, either teaching or performing research," he finished explaining, these words coming out just as bluntly as his first. He had to be as professional as possible in all of this-couldn't allow himself to get either too excited or dismayed. First, he had to know how she felt. Right now, it was nothing more than words. "So...they want me to move."