by T Gephart
“See you Friday, Zara.”
The call ended, the phone held up against my ear even though the line was dead. The magazine crinkled underneath my arm, reminding me I still had some explaining to do. Even if I assumed my mom hadn’t seen the photo, it was only a matter of time before someone else did. And it was better if my parents heard the whole sorry tale from me, rather than gossip fodder and speculation, and that included telling them about the real man I’d been dating that night.
I cursed softly under my breath, wishing things were different. For someone who apparently had her life so together, it had sure turned into a big mess.
Lincoln
It seemed that once I’d made my mind up, things went fairly quickly. Amazing what can be done if you’re willing to spend a little cash. My entire apartment was packed, shoved into a moving truck and transported to a storage unit in Rochester. Since I wasn’t sure what I wanted to keep or even where I was going to live, I figured I’d leave it stashed near my parents and deal with it later.
Locke and Collins did their best to convince me to stay, throwing unbelievable amounts of money at me. Me, turning it down, had me wondering about my own sanity. But as valiant as the effort was, there wasn’t anything that was going to sway me. But since I’d already made the choice to bail, we came to an amical solution for my termination. I’d operate as an independent contractor, doing some freelance work for them in New York. Meant they didn’t have to send anyone from the Boston office and lose an extra person and they could still conduct business in NYC. We negotiated six-months with an option to continue. It gave me the freedom to leave without sticking around with a terminal end date, and them time to retain someone else. It also meant I wasn’t completely unemployed, and I could head to New York sooner than later. And if I got to New York and Zara had decided that we were really going to be just friends, then . . . well I wasn’t sure what exactly I was going to do, but it wouldn’t change that I no longer wanted to be in Boston.
My parents—as expected—had been thrilled their middle, wayward child was moving to Manhattan. While only slightly closer than Boston, I think they saw my lifestyle in New England as questionable. Not that they’d ever said anything, supporting my choices even if they didn’t always agree with them. And since I promised to be around more—birthdays, holidays—they were planning on holding me to it.
Zara, well, I hadn’t exactly told her.
Not the smartest idea.
But since our last exchange hadn’t been the greatest, I wasn’t sure exactly what I was going to say. I reasoned that doing it face-to-face was better, which was probably why I’d been avoiding her texts. She’d sent two, giving me updates on her mom, but neither were anything more than what you’d expect from a group message. I wasn’t even sure it wasn’t part of a group message, the info dump feeling completely impersonal. And yeah, that probably made me a dick, but part of me was still mad she’d iced me out to start with.
So while I was—possibly irrationally—holding a grudge, I wanted to grab that beautiful body of hers and shake it. Then kiss her, take her to bed, and hold her all night. Because as much as she drove me insane, I was positive I wasn’t able to be without her. And she had to know it too, regardless of how we came to be.
“All that money you have, you think you’d be able to afford a hotel.” Nate laughed, helping me carry in my stuff. I’d packed the essentials, clothes, shoes, home office—basically all the things I couldn’t live without.
I rolled my eyes knowing he wasn’t even close to being annoyed we were becoming roommates again. “Why would I spend cash on a hotel when I can get daily heckling from you? You think the concierge is gonna tell me I have my head up my ass? Someone’s got to keep my ego in check.”
Nate nodded, pretending to agree with my assessment. “I bet for the right price, you could get anything. But you’re right, no one is going to heckle you better than me. And it might be nice to have someone to come home to. Was thinking of getting myself a dog, at least you already come house trained.”
“Woof,” I mock barked.
Nate’s spare room wasn’t much bigger than a closet. It was barely big enough to fit a bed, with most of my belongings needing to stay in the living room. But even though it was going to be a tight squeeze until I found my own place, there was nowhere else I’d rather be. Well, with the exception of Zara’s of course, but while I was hopeful, I wasn’t completely delusional either.
“Have you called her?” Nate asked, reading my mind as to who I was thinking about as we got the last of my shit inside his apartment. “Because if we’re taking a vote, mine is on calling her, telling her you’re back, and having a serious conversation.”
I shook my head, still unsure what to actually say to her. It wasn’t like we broke up, or had a fight, or even agreed we weren’t together anymore. If anything, our conclusion had been rather anticlimactic. It was just done, I guess. Or it would be done had I’d stayed in Boston.
Maybe if she hadn’t needed to rush off to be with her mom, we might have had that conversation. The one where we admitted that loving each other wasn’t just where it ended. Those feelings were ones that weren’t easy to come by for me, and I had a hunch it was the same for her. And I’d bet, if we’d given each other a chance, seeing a future together would’ve been a forgone conclusion. But we’d both handled it badly. Her, shutting me out, and me, not fighting harder. Because really, when have I ever let go of something I wanted so easily? Apart for Zara, fucking never.
But it was a lot to gamble on, and it wasn’t until I was miles away in my shitty apartment in Boston that I realized, I didn’t want the alternative. I didn’t want to be relegated to her past, to be some guy she messaged from time-to-time. To be the idiot who let her walk away.
“I’m going to go see her.” I collapsed on Nate’s couch, accepting the beer he handed to me. “I can’t do this over the phone, Nate. I want to see her face, have her looking at me and know this isn’t just a flash in the pan. That I love her, that I’m here, that I want to go as fast or as slow as she needs as long as she’s going there with me. I can’t walk away, Nate. It feels like it would be the biggest mistake of my life if I do.”
Nate sighed, taking a seat beside me as he took a swig of his beer. “Awesome, because nothing says I love you like showing up on a doorstep unannounced when you haven’t even spoken the last few days. Could you at least send a text? Ask her how her mom is? Or how she’s enjoying the weather? Because if you went radio silent on me and then showed up with declarations of undying love a week later, I’d probably call the cops.”
I laughed, figuring I was definitely walking the line between incredibly romantic and just plain stupid. “I have to get familiar with the NYPD sooner or later, might as well be now. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll text her and ask her something.”
“Anyone else and I’d be comforted by your compliance, you not so much.” Nate pointed his bottle at me accusingly as he barked out a laugh.
It was only after we ate dinner and I was in bed that I pulled out my phone. I needed to be alone when I sent it, flicking to my contacts and just staring at her name for a minute or two before I opened up our last message thread. She’d sent two messages I hadn’t responded to, rationalizing neither had really warranted a response. The last one cut me deeper than it should, re-reading it and almost having second thoughts.
Thanks for all your concern for Mom, she is recovering nicely. We’re hoping she’ll be home soon, and life will return to normal for all of us. Talk soon.
What did that even mean? Normal as in, without me? Normal was relative and such a terrible word, so why she’d used it was beyond me. And talk soon? It had pissed me off so much that I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk at all. So started our standoff, which was probably childish and unproductive.
It had been two days since she’d sent it, and my fingers hovered over the keys on my phone. What did I even say? And when did I start agonizing over sending a fucki
ng message? Cursing myself to grow a fucking pair and just write anything, I typed out a quick message and sent it before I could change my mind.
Glad she’s doing better. I stalled, wondering what to say next. How’s the weather?
What the fuck, Linc! Of all the most ridiculous things to ask, the weather was at the top of the list. Firstly, because if I wanted to know, I could look out a goddamn window, and second, because I didn’t give a fuck. I didn’t care about the weather, or anything else other than how she was doing. Was she really okay? Did she need me? Did she want to see me? And of all the possibilities, I went with weather.
Well done, asshole, nice work.
The three jumping dots appeared almost a second after I’d sent it, my heart beating way faster than it should.
After a high of 77 it has cooled to a moderate 63. Tomorrow we’re looking for a warm 81 with a 50% chance of afternoon showers.
I laughed, because I’d half-expected her to tell me to fuck off. Which would’ve been valid considering she’d probably assumed I didn’t care. But instead, she’d given me the weather, no extra subtext because she’d always liked to keep me guessing. It was more promising than I could’ve hoped, reinforcing that we were far from over. It was tempting to just tell her how much I missed her, and her smart, sarcastic mouth. But I wasn’t going to break the bubble.
50% chance is hedging their bets. It’s not even a real forecast. I’ve zero respect for Meteorologists.
Wow, strong opinions. Sounds like you were traumatized by unscheduled rainfall. I hear there’s therapy for that.
Thanks, I’ll take it under advisement.
I was so close to just calling her, wanting to hear the snark firsthand. But it had gone well, so I wasn’t going to push my luck. I waited to see if she sent something else, but those three dots didn’t move. So instead I put my phone down and tried to get some sleep. I’d see her tomorrow because there wasn’t a chance I could wait longer than that.
Assuming she was working, I waited until six before I made my way to her Greenwich apartment. Not willing to deal with parking in the city, I left my car at Nate’s and hailed a cab. Of course I probably could’ve walked from Nate’s pad on the Lower East Side faster than it took to get through traffic. With it seeming like every person in Manhattan was on the road and no one was in any hurry.
“Can’t you go around them?” I gestured to the windshield, feeling my impatience growing.
The driver just grunted something about me being a tourist, turning up the tunes on his stereo and ignoring me completely. Man, I should’ve insisted that my retainer for consulting work with Locke and Collins include Terry.
“Just drop me off here.” I grabbed some cash out of my pocket, checking the meter for the fare. “I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
I didn’t bother waiting for the change, giving him a bigger tip than he probably deserved as my feet hit the sidewalk. It was only a block to Zara’s apartment, and I had to physically stop myself from running. Just as well considering my dress shoes wouldn’t have made it easy, and I didn’t want to look like I’d slept in my suit when I finally got to her doorstep.
My pulse was racing by the time I hit the buzzer, a crazy mix of nervous and excitement pumping through my veins while I waited for her to answer.
“Hello?” Belle’s sweet voice came barreling through the speaker.
“Belle, it’s Lincoln. Can I—”
She’d pressed the door release before I’d even finished the question. I didn’t waste a second, taking the stairs two at a time until I got to the open door, Belle standing there in a pair of yoga pants and a tank, blinking in surprise.
“What took you so long?” She grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. “I hope you’re here to profess your love, marry her and have lots of babies or I’m going to be very disappointed.”
“Whoa, Belle.” I held up my hands, looking around to see if her sister was around. “Slow down, and I think I should be talking to Zara before I answer any of that.”
I hadn’t really given much thought to marriage and babies. But now that Belle had mentioned it, I guess it wasn’t such an out there idea. Yeah, yeah I wanted those things. I wanted a future with Zara and everything that came with it, including rings, and forevers, and babies if that’s what she wanted.
“Well, you can’t talk to Zara because she’s on a date.”
“A date?” I barked out, my pulse rate rising by the second.
It hadn’t been that long, surely she hadn’t moved on. And even though I knew she had every right to see someone else, I wanted to find the asshole and beat him to death with his own arms. “Belle,” I warned, hoping she was kidding.
“I’m not telling you anything else until you tell me your intentions.” She folded her arms across her chest, narrowing her eyes in an attempt to be intimidating. It might’ve worked too, except she was five-two and maybe a hundred pounds, but she was getting an A for effort.
“What date, Belle?” I did my best to stay levelheaded even though the idea of Zara being with some other guy was making me crazy.
“Intentions!” Belle demanded, proving to be a worthy adversary in not backing down. “Unlike my sister, I’ve got no plans this evening. I can stay here eyeballing you all night, hot shot!”
I had no doubt she could especially since she shared DNA with one of the biggest hard-asses I knew. “I’m in love with her, Belle. I can’t live without her,” I confessed, knowing there was no point denying it. I wanted to be saying those words to Zara, but since I couldn’t, I’d tell whoever would listen. “Please tell me where she is.”
Belle’s lips spread into a smile, curling her hands to her chest. “I knew it. And you’re going to stick around, right?” She looked hopeful.
“I’m going to stick around.”
“Fine.” Belle grabbed my arm again. “But if I tell you, you need to promise not to freak out.”
“Freak out? Why the hell would I freak out?”
Sure, the woman I loved was currently on a date with some other guy I wanted to dismember with my bare hands, but how serious could it be? I’d been gone a week? It wasn’t like Zara was going to magically fall for some asshole she’d just met.
Fine, bad example.
She wasn’t going to just fall for some asshole she’d just met, again. That was our thing.
“Just tell me, Belle.” I shook off the uneasy feeling, needing to know. “Where is she and who is she with?”
Belle’s smile thinned into a grimace. “Just remember you promised.”
I hadn’t but I wasn’t going to admit that, instead nodding my head.
“She’s with Edwin Carlisle and they’re at his penthouse. You know, since you clearly didn’t want to be with her.”
What.
The.
Fuck.
Heat traveled up my spine as I tried to rationalize it meant nothing. She’d had her chance with him, and she’d gone home with me, chosen me. It didn’t matter that the prick could buy her an island off the coast of Bermuda and apparently was her soulmate. Not to mention that technically we weren’t even dating so she was free to see, date, fuck, or anything else she wanted to do with anyone else.
“You promised.” Belle’s finger pointed accusingly at me. “So put your scary face away.”
“It’s not scary,” I argued back, not needing a mirror to know I looked far from pleased. “This is the face I always have when I’m thinking, you just haven’t seen it.”
“Ha! Because I belieeeeeeve that,” she scoffed, jabbing me in the arm. “Now tell me what you are going to do before I call Zara and tip her off.”
Her other hand was already on her phone, the threat not an idle one.
I didn’t even need to think, the words coming out of my mouth automatically.
“I’m going to go get her back.”
Zara
“This wasn’t a date.” I was welcomed by Edwin at the elevator to his penthouse, my dress so conservative there wasn
’t any mistake it was a business meeting.
“Of course not.” Edwin grinned, leading me into his loft residence, the interior so immaculate it was obvious the cleaners had just left. The aroma of lemon floor cleaner was still wafting in the air, competing with the freshly cut peonies in the large glass vase on the entrance room table.
“Zara.” Delia walked toward me with a warm smile and clearly no clue. “Such a lovely pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry we didn’t get the chance the other night at the gala.” Her eyes roamed to Edwin in a telling glance. “But it seemed we were both occupied.”
“Yes, clearly.” I shook her hand, wondering what the hell her brother-in-law had said about me. “But actually, we’ve already met.”
It was tempting to go have dinner—I could see the polished wooden dining table set up with starched white linens from the hall—and having the conversation like civilized people. But I wasn’t sure I could sit through dinner, and possibly give Edwin the wrong idea.
I had zero interest in dating him or anything that would classify as close to dating. And it had nothing to do with Lincoln and how much I still loved him.
Yes, loved him, because I was stupid and was in love with a man who came with all kinds of complications. Namely, one who was in another state and I wasn’t even sure I’d see again. Unless he needed a weather update on the greater city of New York, and then apparently, I was his girl!
“Oh?” Delia laughed, completely bewildered like she hadn’t made bullshit promises about me, my love life and her then future brother-in-law all those years ago. “I’m sorry. I’m usually really good with names and faces. Where did we meet? The Met Gala? Oh, was it the Hanson Society benefit? I have to admit, I did have slightly more champagne than usual that night.” The giggle that followed almost as fake as her stupid ass predictions.
