by R. R. Banks
I let out a frustrated breath and finally just spit it out.
“Listen, before we go any farther with this, there's one thing you should really give some consideration to,” I say. “Something that may be a deal breaker, that might make you want to go in another direction.”
And hopefully, if he does decide to go in another direction, we can actually explore whatever this thing is between us. Part of me hopes, really, really hopes, he'll choose door number two.
“What's that?” he asks.
“To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure I'll fit in with your family, you know? I'm not really the high-class, upper-echelon type,” I say. “I don't have the fancy clothes or know which fork should be used with which course – honestly, I may just end up embarrassing you more than anything.”
“I'm not worried about that.”
“You're not?” I ask, feeling my heart deflate that much more.
“No. I already figured we'd need to work on a few things,” he says. “Why don't I stop by your place tomorrow morning, and we can go out for a bit?”
“For what?” I ask.
He waves off my question. “Just logistics,” he says. “Nothing major.”
“Not a date?” I ask.
“No, of course not,” he says, chuckling to himself. “Just ironing out some kinks and helping prepare you for meeting my family. That's all. It's all business, Bailey, I swear. I'm going to be above board with all of this.”
“Of course,” I say. “Sounds good.”
Even though I agree it's for the best, there's a small part of me that's bitterly disappointed. That's absolutely crushed and heartsick. I shouldn't want to date this man. I know that we are on opposite ends of the spectrum – yet, despite that, I still feel like a silly girl with a crush.
“I'll pick you up around ten tomorrow morning,” he says, slipping out of the booth. “See you then, Bailey.”
He casually throws down enough cash to pay for our drinks before leaving. He doesn't wait for my response or for me to tell him ten works for me. I guess now that I'm his employee, I'm officially at his beck and call.
Bastard.
Colin
I don't want to worry about driving, so I have a car come pick me up in the morning. We stop by a Starbucks so I can get my PSL fix – and I grab one for Bailey as well – and we head over to her place. On the ride over, I lean back in the seat, and let my mind wander, turning everything over in my head.
At the diner yesterday, she seemed so cold and distant. I'm not sure why. I mean, I would have thought she'd be excited. Not only is she going to get some financial stability, but more importantly, I'm going to make sure she gets her own show at one of the large, prestigious galleries in town. She's going to get her art seen by many, many people, and that kind of exposure could catapult her to heights she never dreamed of.
I'm excited for her, because I think her work is important. I think it should be seen by as wide of an audience as it can. While I haven't come around entirely to her way of thinking, I will admit, that she’s given me a lot of food for thought lately. Surprisingly enough, I'm starting to see things a bit differently.
At the end of the day, though, I have a job to do, and I would be letting all of my employees down if I didn't take my responsibilities seriously, or put my best foot forward on any given project. My clients come first, and I have to do my job.
But, Bailey has opened my eyes to the realization that there are people being impacted by each and every job I'm trying to do, as well as the possibility, that in some cases, there may be a better, more humane way to do the job.
I don't think that's what was on her mind yesterday, though. She seemed bothered by something else. I mean, I know she feels weird about this whole arrangement. And if I had any other options, I would take them. I know it's not ideal, and the last thing I want to do is make Bailey feel like I’ve bought her. Like she’s some call girl. I know she's got morals and values she cherishes. And I'll never put her in a position where she'd have to violate them.
Bailey is special. Unique. One of a kind. I've never met anyone even remotely like her. I wasn't kidding when I told her that she came into my life and turned my world upside down. She has. The girl is a force of nature, and she's pushed me well outside my comfort zone. She's challenged me in a thousand different ways and has opened my eyes to a new way of seeing and doing things.
She's opened my eyes to a new way of being.
I don't know that I'll ever be the free, unfettered spirit she is – in fact, I can almost guarantee I won't be – but, she's made me loosen my need for control and relax in so many different ways. And if I'm being honest, I like it. I can't recall the last time I've felt this free and loose. The last time I felt this genuinely happy.
I'm well aware that people around the office call me “Stone Face,” behind my back. It's childish, and not very creative – I’d like to think I hire people who can do better than that, honestly. But, the point is very much taken, all the same. I'm about as emotional and expressive as a rock. I get it. Message received.
But Bailey has made me smile, and actually feel something for the first time in a very, very long time. And it feels really good.
I'm hoping that once we get past Christmas with my family that Bailey and I can pick up where we left off and explore the growing thing between us. I want more of her. I want to get to know her better. I want to know everything about her, actually. And I'm looking forward to doing just that.
Once Christmas is done and over with.
The car pulls to a stop in front of an apartment building that looks like it's been around a while. It's worn, but it's clean, at least. Bailey is standing at the curb, and when the driver runs around and opens the door for her, she slides into the backseat beside me. She gives me a smile as I hand her the cup of coffee.
“Pumpkin spice?” she asks.
“What else?”
“You're such a basic bitch,” she says and flashes me a small grin.
The car drives away from the curb, merges out into traffic, and we're on our way.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“You'll see when we get there.”
She smiles, but I can see that it doesn't quite reach her eyes. I so badly want to reach out and touch her. Pull her to me and hold her. But, I get the sense that it wouldn't be welcome right now. There's definitely a barrier up between us after meeting at the diner. A wall of ice. I can tell Bailey is treating this as business, and I know that's how I need to think of it too.
If I let my emotions get involved, things will get messy and complicated. And God forbid, I act on the carnal impulses that are firing through my mind and body from just sitting next to her. Talk about making her feel like a prostitute.
No, the best course of action I can take right now, is to regard this as a business relationship. Once Christmas is over, we can go back to trying to figure out our decidedly non-business relationship. We can go back to exploring each other and the chemistry building between us.
Yeah. We can. And I'm very excited for that. Excited to explore everything with her.
She may not be what I expected, or even wanted – hell, I know she's not what I wanted, because I wasn't even looking – but maybe, just maybe, she's just what I need.
* * *
“You realize, if this was some stupid rom-com movie, and not real life, this would be the part where they have a music montage,” she says.
“Yeah, that sounds about right,” I reply with a laugh.
Bailey is holding a nice, vintage-style dress up to herself, and spins around in the mirror, giggling the whole time. She stops and looks at it critically for a moment before disappearing into a dressing room.
When she found out I was taking her shopping, she was hesitant at first. She obviously inherited her grandmother's sense about charity and taking handouts. At first, she refused to come into the shops with me, and I had to tell her that I'm considering it a business expense – that
this is part of the gig she signed on for. I told her that it was now her job to come in and pick out some clothes for the weekend that will make her presentable.
It took a lot of badgering and cajoling – and I received more than a few empty threats from her that she'd rather quit this job than take a handout – but I was finally able to persuade her, and she relented.
I'm seated in a chair in the dressing room area, waiting for Bailey to come out and show me what she's picked out for herself. Truthfully, it doesn't matter to me. She can wear a burlap sack for all I care. I think she's perfect the way she is. But, I know wearing nicer clothes will make her feel better and less out of place, so it seems like the least I can do.
“What song?” I call through the dressing room door.
“What's that?” she yells back.
“What song would be playing in your music montage?”
She's silent for a moment, and I can just picture her as she concentrates. She usually cocks her head to the side, and kind of screws up her face as she thinks. I think it’s adorable.
“Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, I think,” she answers with a giggle.
“Cyndi Lauper?” I ask. “Really?”
“Yeah, I think it's kind of fitting.”
I can’t help but laugh to myself. Bailey is always surprising me.
“What do you think it would be?” she asks.
“Oh, I don't know,” I say. “I was never big on movie montages.”
“But you know music,” she says. “Everybody knows music.”
“Maybe something by Vivaldi?” I call. “Chopin?”
“Classical? Really, Colin?” she asks, her voice deadpan. “Come on. You can do better than that.”
I laugh. “How about something by Taylor Swift?”
“Wow, you really suck at this game.”
She pulls the curtain back and as she steps out into the viewing area, I feel my breath catch in my throat as I look at her. She's in a deep, rich blue vintage-style dress that seems to perfectly accent her cool, pale skin, and darker than night hair. It falls to just above the knee and has a sweetheart neckline. And she looks absolutely stunning in it. Beyond stunning. She looks almost ethereal.
“Well? What do you think?” she asks, as she turns in a circle to show me.
I can't really say what I think, because it would be highly inappropriate on several levels. When I open my mouth to say something, however, I find that my throat is dry, and I can't seem to form the right words. I just nod and give her a smile.
She laughs. “Okay, what’s that supposed to mean?”
I quickly work up enough saliva that allows me to function like a normal human being and open my mouth again.
“Stunning,” I say. “You look absolutely stunning, Bailey.”
She flushes and waves me off, but I can tell she appreciates the compliment. She might even like it deep down somewhere.
“I don't know about that,” she says.
“I do,” I say.
Her smile is small, and she looks away to keep me from seeing the embarrassed look on her face. I’ve noticed that she's not great with compliments. She always finds a way to discount, if not outright reject, them. She can’t seem to just accept a compliment at face value.
“So, this one's a yes?” she asks.
“I'd say so,” I reply. “You look breathtaking in it.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs softly before turning around and scampering back into the dressing room.
She comes out a few minutes later, back in her regular clothes – a green floral dress with white leggings on underneath, and a baggy cardigan. She's holding the dress up, admiring it, and it makes me smile.
“It really is a beautiful dress,” she says.
“And it looks great on you,” I say. “Let’s get it.”
She fumbles around with it for a minute, and finally sees the price tag. Her eyes widen in disbelief, and she shakes her head.
“I can't –”
“You're not,” I say.
I stand and walk over, plucking the dress from her hands. One of the shop attendants stops by to check on us, and I hand it to her.
“We'll take this one,” I say, and look around the shop. “And do you have anything else with a similar style?”
The attendant smiles. “We do,” she says. “We have a lot of great pieces similar to this.”
“Great,” I say. “Have them brought over so Bailey can try them on.”
Bailey looks at me and shakes her head. “Colin, I –”
I turn to the attendant. “Any color you think would look good on her.”
She looks between Bailey and me, and then gives me a nod and a smile. “Right away.”
As the attendant steps away, Bailey turns to me, her face a mask of concern. “I can't ask you to pay for this, Colin,” she says. “Business expense or not, it's too much. Did you see how much that dress cost?”
“Doesn't matter,” I say. “I don't care. I thought it looked great on you, so we're getting it.”
She looks at me for a long moment, and I can see the conflict in her eyes. I see her grandmother’s influence – so strong and proud – starting to slip through the cracks, and know I need to snuff that out before it takes over.
“This is how it's going to be, Bailey,” I say. “It's not up for debate.”
She bites her bottom lip with a sheepish, goofy smile on her face. “It is a very pretty dress, I guess.”
“It's gorgeous,” I say. “And it looks even better on you.”
The attendant returns with a pile of dresses, all in a vintage-style that seems to flatter Bailey's figure, in a wide variety of colors. She gasps in wonder at all of the dresses, and we spend the next couple of hours in the shop as she tries them all on, squealing with delight every time she puts a new one on.
There wasn't a single one that looked bad on her, and by the time we left the shop, we ended up purchasing a dozen different dresses. We find a valet stand just outside the shop and load the bags onto one of the carts. I contact my driver and tell him to expect some packages to be delivered, and to pull the car around. The valet runs the cart out while we continue to shop.
By the time we're finished, we've gone through at least ten different shops, and it feels like we’ve picked up enough clothes that she can wear something different every day for a year. At least. Though Bailey was mortified the entire time, and worried about how much money we were spending, I brushed off her concerns. I told her over and over again that it simply wasn't up for discussion.
Yeah, we might have overdid it for the one weekend my family is going to be here. We probably could have stopped a long time before we did. Truth be told, it warmed my heart to see Bailey getting so excited about the clothes. She was literally like a kid in a candy store, and I wanted nothing more than to encourage that. I love seeing her smile and hearing her laugh.
More than anything, I love being around her.
With all of our packages being hustled out to the car, Bailey and I sit at a small cafe in the mall and snack on some coffee and a pastry. I think we earned the treat after a long day. Usually, I hate shopping, and avoid it like the plague. I've got a personal shopper who normally handles all of this for me. But, I wanted to be here with, and for, Bailey.
Mostly, I just wanted to be with her. There's something about being with Bailey that makes me feel good. Makes me happy to be alive. She gives off an energy that's intoxicating and infectious. She just makes me – happy.
I guess I never really give a lot of thought to whether I'm happy or not. I've always assumed that I'm as happy as the next guy. It wasn't until Maureen mentioned it to me, and I really took stock of how I feel when I'm with Bailey, that I realized there's a void in my heart and my life without her. A void I never even realized existed. And now that I know it's there, it becomes even more obvious when she's not around.
“Thank you, Colin,” she says.
“No need to thank me.”
She s
hakes her head. “No, there is,” she says. “I never dreamed I'd have a closet full of clothing this nice before. Growing up, I was grateful to find a nice pair of jeans on sale down at the thrift store without too many stains or holes in them. Honestly, I still shop at the same thrift store. One thing my life has taught me is how to be frugal.”
“But, aren't you the one who's always telling me to enjoy life? And to enjoy everything about it?”
She nods. “Easier to say when you're sitting on more money than Scrooge McDuck,” she laughs.
I shrug. “Maybe,” I say. “But, what's giving me a lot of enjoyment in life right now, is seeing you smile. Seeing you happy.”
Her expression softens, and I can see her eyes shimmering with tears. I can't honestly say I know or understand what she's feeling in the moment. I never grew up wanting for anything. Yeah, my father wasn't the kind of man who indulged our lavish, impractical desires. But, I never went without. And I never had to wear hand-me-down rags.
I know Bailey had it a lot rougher, and that she often had to go without. Often had to make do with what was on hand. And it breaks my heart. So, no, I can't understand or relate to what she's feeling right now. Not really. All I know is that shopping today made her feel good for a little while. It made her happy. And that's worth every last dime I spent. I know I'm not going to be able to take it with me, so why not spend some of it now, to do some good, and spread some happiness to somebody I like?
Damn – Bailey is having more of an impact on me than I originally thought.
Her phone rings, so she slips it out of her bag and connects the call. She presses the phone to her ear and gives me a little smile.
“Hello?”
All at once, her face falls, and I can see grief become etched upon her features as she listens to whoever’s on the other end of the line.
“Oh my God,” she says softly. “Yeah, I'll be right there. Okay. Thanks.”
She looks up at me, and I can see the pain radiating in her eyes. “I need to go,” she says.
