by Olivia Hayle
“Well,” I say, reaching for one of the slices of bread. “Maybe you’re right about that.”
“I know I am.”
30
Faye
I see him before he sees me.
Henry is leaning by the corner of a deli, looking supremely out of place, shirtsleeves folded neatly up to his elbows. His hair is a bit longer than the last time I saw him, pushed back from a face that’s gotten tanner. He must have been out sailing again at some point. His eyes scan passerby, coiled energy clear in his tall frame.
I smile as soon as I see him. He hasn’t done anything particularly smile-worthy, but it’s still etched on my face by its own accord. He catches sight of me as I cross the street. My heart clenches as a smile spreads across his own lips, transforming his stern features.
“Hey,” he says.
I rock back on my heels and look up at him. “Hey.”
“I’m glad you came.”
“So am I.” I glance at the busy street around us. “Sorry for the dramatic set-up. ‘Meet me at the corner of Prince and Fifth’ sounds like something out of a movie.”
His smile turns crooked. “We’ve had our share of drama, so I suppose it’s fitting.”
“I was never the dramatic one in school.”
Henry snorts. “I definitely wasn’t.”
“Head in the books?”
He nods. “Or on the sailing boat.”
“Right,” I say softly. “The winner of the junior sailing regatta.”
“You remembered?”
“Of course. It’s your highest achievement.”
He gives me a crooked smile, and I return it, warmth spreading through my chest. “Where do you want to walk?”
“There’s a park down here. Is that okay?”
“Lead the way.”
It’s a beautiful summer afternoon, and children are playing in the sun, the park filled with people. Henry kicks an errant soccer ball back to where a group of boys are playing, and they shout their thanks. The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s heavy with things left to be said. I can almost see them floating between us.
“Thank you for the letter,” I begin.
He nods. “I’m glad you read it.”
“It was… oh, I’m sorry, Henry.”
“What for?”
“For pulling away. For needing time.”
“No, don’t apologize for that.” His hand lands on the small of my back—lightly, like he’s afraid I’ll object—and he heads toward an empty bench. We sit close, but not touching. “Faye, you have nothing to apologize for.”
I meet his strong gaze. “Neither do you.”
His mouth turns down in a faint frown, eyes unreadable. “What happened with Kyle was unforgivable. My lawyers are working on a slander suit as we speak, and if I have any say in the matter, he won’t work again. Not in New York, at least.”
The fierceness in his voice makes me want to smile. “He acted out of envy and rashness.”
“It was petty.”
“Yes, but he doesn’t deserve to have his career destroyed completely.”
Henry’s gaze drops to my hands, resting in my lap. He’s quiet for a long beat before he speaks. “You’re a better person than me, to be capable of believing that.”
“No, I’ve just thought about this a lot.”
He nods, but it’s miserable. “Then you know as well as I do that Kyle isn’t the real culprit. I am, and I’m sorrier for that than you can imagine.”
“Henry?”
“I hired you, knowing what I knew about why you left your last job. I knew how important this job was for you. Regardless of whatever pull I felt, I shouldn’t have asked you to be my date to the wedding. It was unprofessional at best, seedy at worst.”
I reach for his hand and thread my fingers through his. He lets me, even as he continues to stare out across the park with his jaw clenched. “Did you ever see me as an easy lay? An assistant you just wanted to fuck?”
His eyes flick to mine, and there’s both hurt and anger there, despite his efforts to mask it. “Jesus, Faye. No. Never.”
I grip his hand tighter. “And did you ask me to the wedding with the aim of sleeping with me?”
“No.” His voice grows fainter. “I wanted time with you.”
“Then your actions weren’t seedy. Henry, I said yes. Every step of the way, I was right there with you.” I fight through my embarrassment and say the next part, too. “I was even urging you on, at some points. We both acted unprofessionally. But it wasn’t seedy.”
His fingers curl around mine, my hand nearly swallowed whole in his steady grip. “You have regrets. It’s the one thing I couldn’t bear, and I caused it anyway.”
“No.”
His look tells me that he doesn’t believe me, and I scoot closer, our thighs touching. “I don’t. Did I, at the moment, with Kyle? Yes. The price seemed high. But Henry, do I regret anything that happened between us? Absolutely not.”
“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says. “Not the way Elliot Ferris did. I never wanted you to feel like I only wanted you for your body, or that I didn’t value your ambition. You’re the most talented woman I’ve ever met. I wanted to support your career, not ruin it.” He runs his hand through his hair, and the agitation in him breaks and spills over, his carefully controlled features dissolving into anger. “I didn’t handle it right. Us.”
His words, the longest speech I’ve ever heard him make, warms something in me. “You didn’t play your cards right? Henry, I thought you always won.”
“You were never a game.”
I lean in closer, until his eyes widen in surprise, and neither of us is breathing. “You weren’t a game to me either,” I say. “But… if we were playing, I’d say we could still come out of this as winners.”
“Both of us?”
“Yes.”
His hands find my waist, pulling me closer. “Tell me.”
“As far as I see it, there’s nothing stopping us from being whatever we want to be, now.”
Henry’s thumb smooths over my waist. He’s giving me a smile, so genuine that it squeezes something inside me. “You’re giving me another chance, Faye.”
“No. We’re giving us another chance, because we’re both responsible for this. If that’s what you want?”
His smile turns teasing, reminding me of the many nights we’d spent sparring in his office. “If? I need to work on my writing skills, if you’re still unsure of what I want after that letter.”
I press my lips to his. He responds softly, sweetly, and warmth spreads through my body. This. This is what I’ve wanted since the beginning. Him beside me, holding me. Someone I respect and like in equal measure.
“Maybe we could do things right this time. In the right order.” We’d never even been on a proper date together, and still, I’d met his family. We’d done things out of order.
He pushes my hair back. “You want to be taken out to dinner?”
“Maybe.”
“Wined and dined, huh.” He puts a hand on my knee, a warm weight against my skin. “Breakfast in bed. Sunday brunches.”
I grin at him. It all sounds so… coupley, so unlike anything I’ve had with a man before, and the teasing in his voice is lovely. “Morning showers,” I add.
The hard cut of his jaw clenches once as he swallows. “Yes. To save water,” he says. “Very sustainable of you.”
“I was top of the class in Intro to Sustainable Building. Haven’t I told you?”
Henry’s smile widens. “No, I don’t believe you have, but it doesn’t surprise me.”
“Material efficiency,” I whisper. “Ecological conservation.”
He leans in and kisses me again, with more pressure this time. All thoughts of teasing him evaporate as the warm heat of his tongue slides against mine. Nobody has ever kissed me the way he has; like he wants to own my body and crown me as queen at the same time. Strong fingers tip my head back slightly, giving me
better access. I’m breathless when he pulls away.
“Sorry,” he says, “but talking about sustainable architecture gets me pretty riled up.”
I laugh. “Really? How do you get through a day at work?”
“Barely.” He reaches for my hand and pulls me into standing. “Now come on, Alvarez. Show me your neighborhood.”
We walk through the park and out onto the main street. My part of Brooklyn is quiet and calm, and I tell him that, but he only shakes his head.
“No part of New York is ever truly calm.”
I study his profile. The city might not be calm, but he looks it, the restlessness gone from when I’d seen him waiting by the deli. “Not like Paradise Shores?”
His eyes slide to mine, and I wonder if he’s remembering it all the way I am. The two of us on the boat or walking along the shore at midnight. Alone together in the cottage.
“No,” he says softly. “Not like Paradise Shores.”
“Would you ever move back?”
He frowns, but it’s his thoughtful look, not his displeased one. I’m not sure if most people realize there’s a difference. “Maybe,” he says finally. “But it would have to be the right time. I can’t see myself leaving all of… well, this.” He sweeps his arm across the busy street, the water beyond, the pounding beat of the city we both live and work in. I can’t imagine leaving it either—not yet, anyway.
Our slow, meandering walk eventually comes to a stop outside my building. I’ve been leading us here, to the red brick building that’s been home since I moved to the city nearly six years ago.
“This is me,” I say.
Henry looks past me to the lobby. “I remember.”
“Right, the letter. Thanks for that, by the way. Truly.”
He rubs his neck. “I should have thought of it sooner. We could’ve had this discussion weeks ago.”
“It came at exactly the right time,” I say, and I mean it, too. These weeks have been long, but I’d needed the time to sort through my own emotions—to separate Henry and me from the professional role we’d met in.
Henry takes a step closer, until we’re nearly touching. He runs his fingers along my cheek, my jaw, tipping my head back again.
“I like our height difference,” I say, stupidly.
His mouth quirks up. “I’m glad. That’s not something I could’ve changed, had you not.”
I smile at him, and he smiles back crookedly, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “Can I come up?”
I think of him in my apartment, his giant size in that small space, the shabby carpet, my dying palm tree. I think of my framed architecture posters on the wall and his visionary mind. Of his arm around my waist as we sleep.
“Yes,” I say. “I’d like that.”
Something in him relaxes, as if he’d been unsure of my response. He slides a hand down my arm, taking my hand. “Lead the way, then.”
When we reach my front door—Apartment 13C emblazoned in gold letters—my heart is beating with a mixture of excitement and nerves. Henry, here in my space. Good thing Jess left for work at the same time I did.
I unlock the door and he steps past me, opening it for me.
“Thanks.”
“You wanted us to do this properly,” he says with a sideways grin. Once, I’d thought that smile was rare, and treasured each one. He’s been liberal with them today, just like he was during the weekend in Paradise Shores.
Henry stops in my living room and looks around, his gaze taking it all in—my crocheted throw on the sofa, made by my mother. My overflowing bookshelf filled with biographies and architecture books.
He takes a step forward and looks at the posters on my wall. With his hands in his pockets, his shirt stretched out over his broad shoulders and thick hair kissing his neck, he feels too good for this space. Too much. I wait with bated breath for his commentary.
“These are magnificent,” he says finally, looking at the architectural crosscut of the Colosseum. “Where did you find these?”
There’s a faint lump in my throat, all of a sudden. Jess was my best friend in the whole world, and she had never paid them any mind. Aiden had though they were needlessly expensive and yet another display of my inconvenient ambition.
“Online,” I say. “An artist makes them, drawing on real historical records. Some parts of them are speculative.”
Henry nods, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Have you ever been?”
“To Rome?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
He trails a hand down my arm, his fingers leaving goose bumps. “Good to know. Are you hungry?”
“Um, yes. A bit. Do you want us to cook something? I think I have chicken in the freezer.”
He pulls me toward my couch, and we sink down on it effortlessly, his arms still around me. “Absolutely not,” he says. “I’ll order something, and we’ll eat right here on your couch.”
“We’re having our first proper date right away?”
“Yes.”
I smile. “Not wasting any time, are we?”
“I’ve wasted too much already,” he says. The sunlight illuminates a faint five-o’clock shadow along his jaw and circles under his eyes. How had I missed that earlier?
“Sounds good.” I put a hand on his cheek and smooth my thumb over his cheekbone, his eyes closing in pleasure. “You look a bit tired. Have things been stressful at work? Splitting up Marchand & Rykers?”
“Yes,” he sighs. “Dividing up the projects turned out to be harder than we thought. Rykers and I have had a few disagreements about personnel, too.”
I slide my hand into his hair and run my fingers along his scalp. “She might be the only one at work who’s not afraid to go toe to toe with you.”
He snorts. “At the moment, yes. But only because you left.”
“Flatterer.”
“It’s the truth.” Henry sighs again, leaning into my touch, eyes closed in pleasure. It makes me smile. “Plus, I’ve been terribly distracted at work. Forgetting to reply to emails. Losing my train of thought. Forgetting the details of projects.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
“No, it doesn’t.” A smile hovers on his lips, even as his eyes remain closed. “I had this smart, talented, beautiful woman in my life, and then I screwed up and lost her. And it turns out I couldn’t really think of anything else after that.”
I slide my fingers down to the nape of his neck, gently massaging the thick muscles. “You really are a flatterer tonight,” I murmur, “but I’m enjoying it immensely.”
His smile quirks up. “Another point to me.”
“You want to play the compliment game?” I kiss the edge of his jaw, the stubble tickling my skin. “You’re going to have to get used to being called handsome, then.”
“Mmm,” he says softly. “If it’s by you, I think I’ll manage, somehow.”
Epilogue
One month later
Faye rolls away from me in bed. “We need to get going.”
She’s fast, but I’m faster. I tug her back against my chest, smiling as she laughs in protest. “We’re going to be late!”
“So?”
She struggles against me, but there’s no escape, and I tell her that. She rolls her eyes at me. “You used to be so punctual. What’s happened?”
“You’re a bad influence.” I push back her silken hair and rest my face in her neck. She smells as wonderful she always does—warm skin, soap, and something unmistakably hers.
Faye turns in my arms. We’re back in Paradise Shores for the weekend, borrowing my sister’s seaside cottage, and the sunlight streaming in through the window paints her skin a thousand different shades of beautiful.
“A bad influence, huh?”
“Absolutely terrible.” I run a hand down her waist, her hip, finally gripping her butt. “I took a two-hour lunch break twice this week, and I blame you entirely.”
Faye’s laughter is the best sound in
the world. She wiggles closer in the bed, running her nails over my back in the way she knows I love. “You weren’t exactly innocent either, mister. Do I have to remind you that I’m still trying to make a good impression on my boss?”
Her naked body against mine is making it hard to think—she feels too good—but I make a heroic effort. “Rykers is obsessed with you.”
“No,” she corrects, “you are. She’s still undecided.”
I snort. “Don’t undersell yourself.”
“I’m not, I’m just not biased. Now come on. We’re going to be late, and I really want your family to like me.”
“They already do. Probably more than they like me.”
She laughs, and I revel in the sound again. With her, I feel amusing in a way I’ve never felt before. “Patently untrue. You’re fishing for compliments and I won’t give you any. Now come on, you vain man. I need a shower, and—”
“So do I.”
“—you can’t join me, or we’ll never get out of here. Put on the coffee machine in the meantime?”
I lean back and watch her slide out of bed. Rising from the sheets, all of her beautiful curves on display, she’s gorgeous. Tan skin and black hair that kisses her low back. Best of all, her body fits against mine perfectly, like they’re companion pieces.
“Do I ever tell you that you’re beautiful?”
Faye walks toward the bathroom, a small smile on her face. For all of her confidence and ambition, I know she still likes to hear this, and I love giving it to her.
“Sometimes,” she says.
“Only sometimes? I’ll have to remedy that.”
She pauses by the door to the bathroom, facing me, still completely naked. I let my eyes roam lasciviously over her figure. “Well, while you shower, I’ll be writing an ode to your beauty.”
She grins. “An ode?”
“Yes. I can go Shakespearean, but knowing how you react to me talking dirty, I might go that route instead.”
Faye rolls her eyes—she hasn’t stopped doing that—but color rises in her cheeks. Somehow, she’s still affected by my words. It’s beyond fun to tease her about… and I exploit it regularly in bed. One dirty word about the act itself and her cheeks go scarlet.
