My Greatest Mistake

by T Gephart

  I hated them.

  And hated how irrationally jealous I was of these fictional women when I’d obviously been the one to turn him down.

  Still, logic wasn’t an argument I was looking to make with myself, desperate to know the answer one way or another.

  “Zara.” He breathed out my name and I had no idea what he was going to say next. “Isn’t the first thing they teach you in law school not to assume you know anything about anyone? Even with mounting evidence, it’s important to make your own findings before making judgments.”

  Oh, that was fucking rich.

  Pinning it on me like I was the one to blame.

  “You are such a—”

  “Really?” Nate interrupted. “We haven’t even ordered yet and you two are already going at it. Let’s eat first, you can tear each other apart after dessert like regular people.”

  Lincoln bit his lip, not looking at all offended by Nate’s reprimand. “I’ll play nice. Zara?”

  And as much as it pained me to agree, I wasn’t going to be the one who looked unreasonable. “Of course.” I laughed, waving my hand casually like I didn’t want to wrap my fingers around his neck and choke him.

  Or rip his shirt off.

  Or kiss him.

  The conflict was very real.

  “Now what’s good here?” I picked up the menu, losing myself in the words I had no interest in reading while I pretended not to give a shit about the man sitting across from me.

  Nate coughed, clearing his throat like he didn’t buy it. “Everything is delicious. Even more so since Lincoln is paying.”

  “Wait, no.” I held up my hand, wanting to make sure there weren’t any misconceptions. I’d agreed to dinner, and in truth, probably looked forward to seeing him. But I didn’t want to owe Lincoln anything, or worse, have him think it was a date. “I’m more than capable of paying for my own dinner, but thanks.”

  “I’m positive you are more than capable, Zara.” Lincoln’s brow rose in suggestion. “Matteo’s is a little pretentious and they don’t split the check. But if you feel that strongly about it, you can repay me later.”

  There was no discussion as to what that repayment might entail, and I had a hunch he didn’t mean Venmo.

  “Fine,” I agreed, because if he thought buying me one lousy dinner got him anything other than a thank you, he was sorely mistaken. “Suit yourself.”

  While he was doing his best to exude the cool and collected exterior he was so fond of, I could tell he was a little rattled.

  “Then let’s order.” He smirked, picking up his own menu and perusing the offerings.

  I wasn’t sure if he’d been here before, or he’d already decided what he was having, but his attention wasn’t on the specials.

  Oh, his eyes glanced down, giving the illusion of him reading, but unless he had special optical processing skills there was no way he’d seen what was listed on those two pages.

  Of course, neither had I, and I was staring down at my hardbacked binder like it had the secret to younger looking skin and a smaller ass. Guess we were both distracted, pretending like we weren’t checking each other out and refusing to admit it.

  There was a heavy silence, no one speaking as we continued the ruse. All the while I mentally tried to formulate rebuttals for yet to be formulated arguments.

  A waiter approached, pulling from his pocket a small notepad and pencil. “Is the table ready to order?” He directed his question to Nate and Lincoln, because clearly such an important decision couldn’t be handled by a lowly woman.

  “Yes, we are.” I closed my menu dramatically, refusing to sit quietly and buy into whatever stereotype the guy had in his head. Maybe it was social convention to ask men, or maybe he just figured they looked less decisive? Or maybe he was just a sexist prick and he drew the short straw tonight because I wasn’t going to be polite and spare him his feelings. And while I had no intention of being deliberately rude, I wasn’t going to allow him to ignore me either.

  “Oh, hey.” The waiter blinked, looking at the two men for some kind of sign before returning his focus back to me. “Ummm, would you like to start?”

  “Yes, thank you.” See, not being rude. “I’d like to have a Mojito and the pan-roasted halibut.”

  It was honestly the first thing that I’d seen, and I couldn’t recheck the menu after I’d just told the guy I was ready. Surely, they couldn’t screw up a basic flat fish.

  “And for you gentlemen?” He turned, hesitating.

  “New York Strip. Medium rare.” Lincoln eased back into his seat before winking at me. “He’ll have the same. And a serving each of the baked potato and the lobster mac and cheese.”

  “And two beers. Imported. Whatever you have from Germany or Italy is fine.” Nate grinned.

  The waiter’s brow rose at our strange table dynamic, but didn’t linger, taking our menus and leaving as quickly as he could.

  “Probably why people think we’re a couple when we’re together.” Nate shrugged, “It doesn’t totally suck though as there are worse people I could be in a fake relationship with.”

  “Don’t lie, Nate, you love it.” Lincoln grinned. “Besides, fake relationships seem to be where I excel.”

  “Hmmm, why do you think that is?” I asked, both curious and liking that we were focusing on his deficiencies and not that I’d been a total idiot.

  Because honestly, I had been an idiot.

  And not that I’d ever admit it to him—because there would be a cold day in hell before I did—but it hadn’t been totally his fault.

  Mostly.

  But not entirely.

  Lincoln didn’t miss a beat. “Because I excel at everything. And a fake relationship is no exception.”

  Smug.

  Ass.

  Bastard.

  “You know, I’m really glad you aren’t Edwin Carlisle. Saved myself from making the biggest mistake of my life.”

  It was more honest than I’d intended but I wasn’t taking it back.

  Lincoln opened his mouth, and I had no idea what he was going to say because before he did, Nate interjected.

  “Ah, yes, the infamous Edwin Carlisle.” Nate chuckled before turning to Lincoln. “So are you going to tell her or am I?”

  Lincoln swallowed hard, cursing under his breath before running his hand through his hair. That would explain why his hair had been a mess.

  “Tell me what?” I asked, both excited and terrified by what seemed to be a big reveal.

  Lincoln locked eyes with me, taking a breath before slowly exhaling. “I’ve found him.”

  “Him?”

  “Edwin Carlisle. The one who’d been at the hospital that night.”

  Zara

  Of all the things I’d expected to come out of Lincoln’s mouth, the name of the guy he’d pretended to be wasn’t one of them.

  Hell, I’d prefer if we forgot all about Edwin Carlisle, my stupid lapse in judgment, and refocused on more important things.

  Like why I apparently couldn’t just leave well enough alone.

  Well enough code for Lincoln in the current instance.

  “Oh?” I tried not to gag as I tamped down my surprise. “And didn’t I tell you that if I wanted to find him, I’d have done so myself.”

  I mean, I’d had years to dumpster dive the internet and find my mystery man if I’d wanted to. And clearly I hadn’t.

  Wanted to or searched.

  “Yeah, you told me, but I didn’t listen.” He responded with zero apology. “I’ve found him. So if you want to continue to hate me you’ll have to find some other reason.”

  I laughed, amused that he believed I felt anything toward him.

  Fine, he was right, but I wasn’t admitting it.

  And it wasn’t hate, it was more like . . . a strong dislike.

  Okay, okay, I didn’t dislike him it all. I thought he was hot, and wanted to do stupid things like sit on his beautiful smug face.

  But—which incidentally was pr
etty freaking great too—it had been a really, really long time since I’d allowed a man to get the better of me. And that was a dangerous game I wasn’t sure I wanted to play.

  I’d fought all the way through college, and the initial years at the firm, proving I not only had what it took but could do it better, smarter, and with less emotion than everyone else. Because, despite our grandmas carrying placards fighting for our rights to be somewhere, there were still enough misogynistic good-ole-boys who believed we shouldn’t. And most of them worked in law firms.

  But Lincoln just proved how careless I’d been. Not only was he not who he’d implied to be, but he was a lawyer too. And rival firm or not, there was no room to be distracted or show weakness, not if I wanted a seat at the big table.

  “I don’t hate you, Lincoln,” I admitted. “Hate would imply I have feelings for you. Which I don’t. But if it makes you sleep better at night to earn my forgiveness, then I’ll suffer through whatever it is you need to do.”

  So many lies, and I wasn’t sure which was the biggest.

  Firstly, there’d be no suffering. I wanted to see what his next move was going to be and I was positive I wasn’t going to hate it. Mostly because I was crazy attracted to him.

  There were a lot of smart men in New York.

  There were a lot of good-looking men in New York.

  Hell, there was even a decent amount of smart and good-looking men in New York.

  But all the ones I’d met usually had a chip on their shoulder or couldn’t handle a woman like me. They wanted smart and beautiful, but just not too ambitious. And not too smart or too beautiful either because that would just feed their insecurities. And don’t let Vogue tell you that women are the only ones who have them, men are just as insecure. They just learned really early on that the easiest way to make themselves feel better is to overcompensate and fake the hell out of it.

  Which meant when it came to women like me . . . yeah, I wasn’t a good fit. Except with Lincoln, who seemed like he could handle me just fucking fine and not break a sweat. And that was sexxxxxy.

  His smirk widened, not at all affected by my apparent lack of feelings. “So charitable. I hadn’t pegged you for such a philanthropist, but I guess we didn’t have much time to talk.”

  There was a deep rumble in his voice, alluding that he was thinking about that night and what we’d done when we weren’t talking. I hated how much I liked it, how excited it made me to be sparring with Lincoln as well as flirting.

  “I’m full of surprises, Lincoln. Pity you aren’t sticking around to see them.” It was as much of a reminder for me as it was for him.

  Even if I did lose my ever-loving mind and slept with him—because smart girls could want dirty hot sex too—he wasn’t in town to stay.

  A week? Slightly more? I probably had milk in my refrigerator that had a longer expiration date. And we definitely knew too much about each other for it to be a meaningless fling, not to mention we’d gone way past the boundaries for a one-night stand.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Zara.” He leaned back into his chair. “I might be around longer than you think. The firm has me on a very long leash, and short of pledging my allegiance to Wall Street, I can pretty much do what I want.”

  I tried not to imagine what he’d look like with a leash, or how ridiculously excited the idea made me. Funny how I’d never been into bondage, but I bet I’d make one hell of a dominatrix.

  “But you are leaving,” I pointed out. “So why don’t you just tell me what you’re apparently dying to tell me about the real Edwin Carlisle and hurry back to Boston.”

  “Uh-hmm.” Nate cleared his throat. “No wonder you guys were fake engaged; you already act like most married people I know.” He leaned forward, a grin edging across his lips as he whispered, “They’re not having sex either.”

  Lincoln laughed, and while I tried to resist, I couldn’t help laughing too. It was oddly strange how comfortable I felt with both these men and how willing I was to stay. Most guys who wasted my time wouldn’t have gotten a second chance, and I sure as hell wouldn’t sit through a dinner just to be polite.

  And yessssss, I’d had a point to prove, wanting to have the last word or illustrate I wasn’t some air-head moron who just fell into bed with men. But not even I’d believe that would be my sole reason to stay.

  No, I was intrigued and attracted to Lincoln, and it had been a really long time since I’d felt that. Add in he was smart, just-the-right-amount of cocky, and his best friend was incredibly endearing, and I’d probably agree to more than just one dinner.

  “Fine, so tell me about this guy.” I waved my hand dramatically, agreeing that I’d been more than a little curious. “Was he at the hospital for his hip replacement? Or a heart attack?”

  I was fairly sure that anyone named Edwin also held a membership card for the AARP. Judgey, a little, sure, but thinking he’d be a hot guy my age with a great sense of humor had been a little too optimistic.

  Nate laughed, and it wasn’t from his previous “married couple” joke. “Hmmm, not exactly.”

  So obviously he knew, which meant I definitely had to know. It was me who apparently had the connection with Edwin Carlisle, I should’ve known before either of them.

  “I haven’t narrowed down the reason for his hospital visit, but I don’t think it was health related.” Lincoln’s words were even and unemotive. “He’s an investment banker, lives in Manhattan. Comes from old money.” It felt like he was giving a deposition, keeping to the facts and not editorializing.

  Which meant there was more he wasn’t telling me. Because I might have blindly been fooled once by Lincoln, but I was a quick learner. And he wouldn’t get a second chance.

  “And?” I nodded, urging him to continue.

  Our waiter arrived, interrupting the conversation with plates covered with food. The moment I’d seen the New York Strip I immediately regretted my choice with the halibut. Still, I had more important things to worry about other than dinner. Like who Edwin was, and why Lincoln was being so cagey about him.

  “I thought you said if you’d wanted to, you’d have found him yourself.” Lincoln answered drily after the waiter had left. “What more is there to know?”

  As for details, Lincoln had given me the bare minimum.

  We both knew it.

  And as far as revealing more, neither of us seemed to bend.

  “He’s obviously successful,” I guessed, assuming that had been the reason. “How many millions does he have in his bank account?” I grinned.

  “I already said he was ‘old money’, Zara. That’s not a surprise.” He rolled his eyes, either annoyed or bored I’d picked the most obvious lead to follow.

  So, he was rich, not like that didn’t describe a ton of guys in the city. Was he married? An eccentric billionaire who owned an island off the coast of Fiji? A mafia hitman who had a real diverse portfolio? Rich and successful wouldn’t be enough to even get a response from Lincoln. And he was very much invested.

  “Ooooooo whatever it is you’re not telling me, must be pretty interesting.” I leaned in closer, hoping it would reveal more about Lincoln than it would about Edwin. “So spill, Lincoln, or I’ll get it out of Nate.” I grinned at his best friend who was looking enviably at his plate but hadn’t started eating.

  “Knows me for five minutes and already knows I’m the weakest link.” Nate laughed. “Okay, Your Honor, I’ll admit I’m the worst at keeping a secret.” He finished with a wink.

  God, I really hoped when it was over—whatever it was we were doing—I’d still be friends with Nate. I didn’t trust easily, or quickly, and somehow, he just made me want to do both.

  Granted, I’d started that trend with Lincoln, but I could see how they were such good friends even though they lived in different cities. It was something I wasn’t sure I’d be able to achieve.

  “So, Edwin?” I asked, not willing to let it go or give Lincoln the chance to change the subject. He’d been a master at
distraction when we first met, and he wasn’t getting the better of me a second time.

  “He lives in Manhattan and won’t be retiring anytime soon,” Lincoln answered.

  Won’t be retiring soon?

  Oh?

  Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh.

  He wasn’t an old man like I’d assumed. And judging by how cagey Lincoln was being, I assumed he was probably close to my age.

  “Well, that is interesting.” I took a sip from my water glass. “Hmmmm, maybe I should find him. We should meet. You know, just out of curiosity.”

  I’ll admit I wasn’t so much as curious about Edwin, as to why Lincoln hadn’t handed me the dossier he’d probably compiled. And no, he hadn’t told me one existed but of course it did. It’s what I would’ve done, and I assumed any attorney worth his or her salt would’ve done exactly the same.

  So, I had no doubt Lincoln not only knew he lived in Manhattan but had an exact address, any parking infringements he might’ve accumulated in the last few years, and a list of all his previous employers and girlfriends. And I said girlfriends because if Edwin had been married, it would’ve been one of the first things Lincoln would’ve mentioned. Or at least I assumed.

  Could Lincoln be jealous?

  Of a guy I hadn’t even met.

  Or was Edwin so shady that he felt honor bound to protect me?

  Well, I didn’t need protecting from anyone and if he was jealous, then I wanted to explore that. And yes, I knew what that sounded like. Maybe I wasn’t ready to let go of whatever ridiculous connection we had either. Hello, I was sitting at dinner with two men I barely knew, clearly I was craving adventure or had lost my ever-loving mind.

  “So now you want to meet him?” Lincoln’s face was devoid of emotion, his voice so schooled in its intonation I wasn’t sure if he was surprised or glad. I bet he was amazing in a court room, keeping opposing counsel guessing and playing to the jury like he was about to win a Tony.

  I nodded, doing my best to give him as little reaction as he’d given me. I wasn’t going to be polishing a gold statuette anytime soon, but I could hold my own. “Yes, I think we should meet. You went to all this trouble. It feels like it would be the right thing to do.”