My Greatest Mistake

by T Gephart

  My clutch was still on the floor, the clasp having been knocked open when I dropped it and spilling the contents onto the carpet. Loose change surrounded his business card like a sunburst, adding insult to injury as I picked up the card and tossed it in the trash.

  There wasn’t a chance I was calling him, and I didn’t need the temptation of having his number if I somehow lost my mind. I’d never been one of those girls who drunk-dialed ex-boyfriends, but I also knew how amazing that kiss had felt and didn’t trust myself with lowered inhibitions.

  With the living room back in order, my dirty clothes in the hamper, and my gavel in the prime location on top of my dresser, I decided to go out for a run. Well, not a run really, because I was far from an athlete. More a fast-paced walk/jog that elevated my heartrate. It was as close to exercise as I got with no time for the gym, and meant I could still eat what I wanted and be fit enough to outrun a zombie apocalypse should it happen.

  The sun was warm on my muscles as sweat glistened on my skin. It felt good to clear my head and get lost in my own world, my headphones drowning out the noise of the city and traffic.

  And while the time outside hadn’t really solved anything, it did give me a new sense of perspective. Other than feeling foolish, no real harm had been done and as for bad decisions, I was well under my quota for someone my age.

  I couldn’t help but smile as I flung open my apartment door, Britney Spears singing in my ears—I’m a fan, and that girl had definitely been screwed over—and I was looking forward to a warm shower and about three thousand calories in the form of loaded fries. I figured Belle would need to carb load after her long eventful night, and french fries smothered in cheese and other wondrous things was the best kind of cure all.

  “Never would’ve taken you for a Britney fan.”

  That voice.

  Lincoln Archer.

  Goddamn it.

  That was all it took to undo the work of all those marvelous endorphins, my upbeat and positive mood taking a nosedive as I came face-to-face with the very guy I’d vowed to forget.

  “Well, I never would’ve taken you for desperate and pathetic yet here you are in my apartment. The temptation was too great, huh? Guess I should be thankful you waited until today and didn’t come begging on my doorstep the minute your driver reported back to you.”

  I didn’t even care I looked like a hot mess, too preoccupied with making sure Lincoln knew how displeased I was. Other women might have thought the stalker routine was cute, but I wasn’t one of them. It was bad enough I’d entertained feelings for the guy even after knowing he’d been a creep; going gaga over his boundary issues was not happening.

  “Ha!” He laughed, not the least bit offended. “But I don’t beg on doorsteps. Though if you want to give me a sexy rendition of Oops . . . I did it again, I might just sit like a good boy.”

  “Wow! Sooooo glad I dodged that bullet last night,” I huffed out, wondering what I had even seen in him in the first place. “And you still haven’t told me what you are doing here.” I tapped my foot impatiently, counting down the seconds until I could toss him out. It was coming, as soon as I got an explanation, he was gone. And I wasn’t going to feel bad about it either.

  “I called him.” Belle emerged from the kitchen carrying two cups of coffee. “I found his card in the trash can.”

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  Of all the stuff Belle had pulled over the years, that was easily in the top five.

  So on top of seeing a guy I didn’t want to see, I was also going to have to plan my sister’s funeral.

  It was going to be a busier afternoon than I expected.

  Lincoln

  I’ll admit when I got the call from Belle, I was curious.

  I’d assumed I’d eventually hear from Zara, but I’d been prepared to bide my time. And honestly, the part about not begging women was absolutely the truth.

  I didn’t beg.

  Ever.

  And if for some reason it turned out that I’d imagined the chemistry between us and we never saw each other again, I’d make my peace with it. Not to say I’d be ecstatic that possibly the hottest, most intriguing woman I’d ever met had disappeared from my life. But I wasn’t going to shackle her in my basement and Stockholm her until she agreed to date me.

  But like Zara had mentioned, Belle wasn’t any easy woman to say no to. And no matter how I tried to maneuver the conversation, she kept steering it back to me, coming to their apartment, and apologizing to her sister.

  I’d assumed that I’d not only done that last night, but any further efforts wouldn’t be welcomed. But Belle wouldn’t be swayed, threatening to call me every hour, on the hour, until I got my fake-Bostonian ass to their Greenwich apartment. Oh, and if I could pick up some vanilla creamer on the way because they were out.

  I wasn’t even sure what the hell I was doing until I buzzed at their apartment building, the goddamn vanilla creamer housed in my palm.

  “You did what?” Zara leveled her sister with a stare, her hands on her lycra’d hips as she sucked in slow measured breaths.

  It had been clear she’d been running.

  If her long tight running pants and crop top weren’t a tip off, the sheen of sweat and the Britney playlist were. And while her face was flushed and her hair was a mess, I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly beautiful she was in the daylight.

  “I called him. You said he was a jerk, and he needs to say sorry. So I made him come here to apologize,” Belle answered matter-of-factly.

  “And you guys were out of creamer,” I added, accepting the cup of coffee from Belle thankfully without that hideously sweet stuff she hypnotized me into buying.

  Zara’s brows knitted, apparently our shared version of events not making any sense. Not that I blamed her, I was on the other side of the conversation with Belle and still wasn’t sure what I was doing there.

  Belle laughed, lifting her cup to her lips and blowing across the surface. “And yeah, we were out of vanilla creamer.”

  “I would have picked some up if you’d texted me.” Zara shook her phone at her sister, the screen displaying no missed calls or messages. “And you,” she directed her attention to me, “we said everything we needed to say to each other last night.”

  I shrugged, not willing to get involved in their sibling tussle. “Well, I guess you gave Belle a different version, because apparently there’s still things that need to be said.”

  I wasn’t apologizing again.

  I’d already done that.

  And since I hadn’t been entirely sorry—the deceit part wasn’t my finest moment but everything else had been completely above board—I didn’t want to offer fake platitudes.

  But if there was a further need for an exchange of words, then I wasn’t running away from it either. And if taking the chance to see Zara again made me an opportunist, then I was good with that distinction too.

  “Belle, can you give us a minute?” She turned to her sister, her expression so unreadable I wasn’t sure if I should be turned on or worried.

  Belle sighed dramatically. “You know our apartment isn’t that big and I’m going to hear anyway. Why can’t I just stay and watch?”

  “Because I don’t want to make you an accessory.” Zara sucked in a breath. “Also, anything you hear and not see is unreliable and wouldn’t be admissible in court. Trust me, it’s better for everyone if you don’t need to take the stand.”

  I laughed, unable to help myself as she delivered all of that with a straight face. I didn’t doubt she’d be fierce on a cross-examination. And while I hoped I got to see it someday, I’d prefer if it wasn’t on an attempted murder trial. Namely, my own.

  “Sorry.” I cleared my throat, shaking off the glare Zara was shooting me. “But she is right, Belle.”

  “Fine!” Belle sipped her coffee, rolling her eyes as she ambled out of the room. “But at least talk loudly so I can hear you. I called this meeting, the fact I�
�ve been excluded is really very rude.”

  “She do that a lot?” I asked, tipping my head in the direction her sister had disappeared to.

  Zara nodded, taking another calming breath. “Be overly dramatic or get involved in business that doesn’t involve her? The answer would be yes to both.”

  “I’ll remember that next time she calls and gives me her shopping list.” I chuckled, not at all upset at where I’d found myself on a Saturday afternoon.

  I’d spent most of the night thinking about Zara after she’d left. Replaying those kisses as I lied awake, still feeling the weight of her against me and the smoothness of her skin. The scent of her shampoo had haunted me while I tossed and turned for hours.

  Her lids slid closed, pausing a beat before her beautiful eyes opened and rested on me. “Why are you here, Lincoln? Because we both know it’s not to say sorry.”

  “No, it’s not.” I swallowed, unable to lie. “But pretending last night didn’t happen isn’t going to work either.”

  I wanted to touch her.

  Wanted to take her in my arms and kiss her exactly like I had last night.

  But mostly, I wanted to get to know her and have her know me.

  And I was used to taking big risks for a potential big pay-off.

  “Why?” she asked, like she was genuinely surprised I hadn’t already moved on.

  I moved closer, not so much that I was crowding her personal space but enough so she could reach out and touch me if she wanted. “Because you weren’t kissing anyone but me last night, Zara, and I won’t believe any different.”

  Her eyes flared wide, and I wasn’t sure if it was lust or something else she was feeling. “Are you done?” she asked, her voice betraying nothing.

  “That depends.” I grinned, wanting nothing more than to kiss her exactly like I had last night. “Have you given any more thought to my proposal?”

  “What proposal?” called out Belle from around the corner, letting us know while she might not be in the room, she was listening. “And you kissed him? Why wasn’t I told?”

  Zara rolled her eyes, wiping off the beads of sweat that still dotted her forehead. “Belle, not that kind of proposal. And can’t you eavesdrop without interjecting like a regular person?”

  Belle peered from around the corner. “No. Not when you leave out all the good parts. Sooooo you kissed, huh?” She looked at me with suspicion. “What else did you do?”

  “Belle!” Zara huffed before turning to me. “Do not answer that.”

  I didn’t kiss and tell.

  Locker room talk bored me. Assholes embellished their exploits because really, they weren’t getting shit in the sack, and I had no time or interest in it. But the temptation to tease Zara was proving too great.

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “What?” she choked out.

  I tipped my head to the side, suppressing my grin. “You want my silence, what’s in it for me?”

  She laughed, probably amused at my audacity. And while I had no intention of telling her sister anything, it was way too much fun to stop.

  “Wow, extortion. Let’s just add that to the list of things I don’t like about you.”

  My smile edged wider. “This list sounds intriguing. Sounds different to the list you had last night.”

  “Are you guys going to rip each other’s clothes off right now?” Belle chuckled. “Because if that’s where this is heading, I’ll leave for real.”

  “No. We’re not ripping each other’s clothes off, we are not talking about last night, and we are not going to try and find the real Edwin Carlisle.” Zara lifted her hands, putting any debate to rest.

  Except.

  “Wait! You can find the real Edwin and you’re not?” Belle’s voice rose an octave. “Again, something that should’ve been mentioned. Annnnnnnd something I think we should definitely do.”

  Zara silently swore, her lips moving as the ghost of the words she didn’t say teased me. And as much as she would’ve loved to blame someone else, she couldn’t.

  “Of course we should,” I agreed, doubling down on yesterday’s commitment. “I even offered my unwavering dedication to the cause.”

  I’d still yet to find out why it was so important, but I already didn’t like the guy.

  “You know what, fine.” Zara shook her head, calmer than I’d expected. “You both want to find him so badly, have at it. I’ll leave you to it. In the meantime, I’m going to go get a shower.”

  And with more attitude than should be legal for a pair of hips, she swayed her way out of the living room.

  To go shower, presumably.

  Great.

  Because seeing her sweaty and beautiful wasn’t enough, now I had to imagine her naked and wet.

  And if she looked half as good as she’d felt last night—

  “So?” Belle asked, interrupting the indecent thoughts I was having about her sister. “How are you going to find him?”

  I cleared my throat, trying to ignore my cock who was suddenly very interested with the sound of running water. She wasn’t kidding about that shower. “I have my sources, and it shouldn’t be too hard.”

  At the very least, talk of the moron—whoever he was—would help the situation in my jeans.

  “Good. And you’ll keep me updated, right? You’ll call me if you find him.”

  Wait.

  Getting friendly with Belle hadn’t been the plan.

  And while I had zero interest in her other than she was Zara’s sister, I didn’t need there to be any miscommunications or misunderstandings.

  “Yeah, that’s not how I work. I’ll find him, but if you want to know anything, you’re going to have to get it from Zara.”

  Her brow rose, folding her slender arms against her tiny frame. “Oh, really? Tell me again why you pretended to be someone else and ruined my sister’s evening.”

  “Hey, I didn’t pretend. I just didn’t correct her assumption. Different things.”

  She scoffed, the family resemblance to her sister making itself known even though they looked nothing alike. “Pfffft, this isn’t a murder trial, douchebag. Save your posturing for a jury.”

  “You called me, remember?”

  We were stopped from further deliberation by the sound of the water shutting off.

  It had been a quick shower.

  Or she’d never really taken one in the first place.

  My train of thought completely derailed, wondering if she was going to walk out in a towel.

  “Lincoln.” Belle snapped her fingers in front of my face, my head having unconsciously turned to the doorway anticipating Zara’s entrance. “Stop being a pervert and listen to me. Find this guy, bring him to Zara, don’t be a jerk.”

  It was bewildering to me how someone so small could make such big demands. And as much as she was trying to monopolize my attention, she was—like her height—coming up short.

  “Oh, I’ll find him alright. But not because you want me to.”

  I’d been perfectly fine until the asshole and I had become accidentally intertwined. And I wasn’t sure exactly whether or not to thank him, or hope he got audited by the IRS. In any case, I was going to solve the riddle, and hopefully in the process find out a little more about Zara.

  Even knowing seeing her half-naked was a possibility, I was unprepared for the reality. Zara emerged with a huge white bath towel wrapped around her body, her skin flushed pink. She had a smaller one around her head like a turban, striding out with confidence and knowing how hot she looked.

  “You’re still here?” she deadpanned. “Belle, I thought I told you to put away your playthings.”

  “I was already leaving.” I swallowed, pretending to be unaffected while rocking a hard-on. “But I have no doubt we’ll see each other again. And this time, Zara, it won’t be Belle who calls me, it will be you.”

  And leaving her to ponder that little nugget, I turned around and left.

  She wanted to play, we could play.
<
br />   And baby, I played better than anyone I knew.

  Zara

  Being angry at Belle never lasted long.

  I tried to hold out, laying on the silent treatment and trying to guilt her into feeling bad, but she always wore me down.

  She was my only weakness.

  The only human alive who could literally do the worst possible thing and I’d probably still forgive her. A sister’s love is both a blessing and a curse, which was why it only took me a day before forgiving her for calling Lincoln and trying to involve herself in what had been one giant mistake.

  Because that was what Lincoln Archer was, a mistake.

  “What do you think he’s going to do when he finds him?” Belle asked, putting the finishing touches on a gift basket she’d made for Hayley. “Surely, he’ll let us know, right?”

  “I don’t care what he does,” I lied, taking the huge organza bow and tying it on for her. “It’s a free country, he can do what he wants. Now, you sure you’ve got enough pink stuff in here?”

  True to nature, Belle had gone overboard, and Hayley’s new daughter was going to be wearing every shade of pink from blush to fuchsia from now until she turned three.

  “Oh, hush! It’s never enough pink. Why don’t you come to the hospital with me and see Hayley’s ugly baby?” She looked at me with hope, batting her eyelashes like she was fifteen and needed me to give her a ride to a friend’s house even though it was after curfew.

  “I already told you I was coming, Belle.” I shook my head. “My schedule is so crazy it’s either go see the little goober now or it will be her first birthday before we meet.”

  Being made a senior associate came with responsibilities, and working overtime was not only assumed but expected. It would eventually all pay off, but for the moment, I was resigned to the fact I’d have zero social life and most of my free time would be cozying up to legal briefs.

  And while Hayley was Belle’s best friend, I had to admire the way she stepped up and owned it. She was raising her baby by herself, worked right up until she delivered, and was already negotiating with directors for her return to the stage. She refused to accept motherhood meant her life was over. And I respected a woman who could do that so fearlessly, even if they weren’t the same choices I’d make for myself. Also showed me that I could possibly have a family of my own someday while still chasing my dreams. Assuming I found someone I loved and I wanted to make babies with. Not Lincoln, of course, someone other than him.