by Lexie Ray
“Because I’m afraid he’s not going to make you happy for very long,” Nick said. “You barely know each other. How can you tell he’s being honest with you about who he is and why he’s in Miami?”
I narrowed my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Nick wrung his hands. “It means that I just want you to be safe,” he said. “Don’t give away your heart until you know it’s in good hands.”
It was way too late to be getting this kind of advice. Like it or not, Greg had taken my heart the moment I’d run into him in this very hallway. I couldn’t have stopped it even if I’d wanted to. Our attraction had been immediate and inescapable.
“Don’t worry about me or my heart,” I said. “I can’t believe you’d say any of this to me without even meeting Greg. You have no idea who he is.”
“I have a better idea than you do,” Nick snapped, then visibly calmed himself. “What I’m trying to say is that he’s a virtual stranger, Jennet. I care for you deeply. You know that. What does Faith say about all of this? What does Sol?”
“My friends support me,” I said. “All of them do, except you. They think Greg’s a prince.”
“Prince Charming.” Nick barked out a bitter laugh. “You think you’ve found him in that man?”
“Are you more upset that it wasn’t you?” I demanded. “Is that what all this is about? You wish it was your name I was screaming instead of his?”
It was a low blow, and it embarrassed both of us. I wish I hadn’t said it, but there it was, hanging in the air between us.
“I wish that you would rethink your commitment to Greg,” Nick said. “He might seem like a good guy, but you have no idea who he really is. If you honestly think there’s something there, then take it slow. Feel it out. Don’t get sucked into something you don’t understand only to have it blow up in your face.”
“I don’t understand where any of this is coming from,” I said. “What right do you have to tell me about my relationship with Greg?”
Suddenly seized with some sort of fit, Nick lunged forward and grabbed my hand. I was too shocked to yank it away.
“Jennet, just leave him,” Nick begged. “Don’t spend any more time with Greg than you already have. It’s a waste. Just give me a chance. Please. You…you won’t regret it. I swear to you. If you cared for me at all as your friend, do this. Trust me.”
Horror started to creep into my anger, and I suddenly didn’t feel good about being in a hallway alone with Nick. I thought I’d known him, but this behavior was so out of character that it scared me.
“What is wrong with you?” I whispered. “I thought we were past this. I really, really like Greg. How could you spring this on me right now? You’re being the opposite of a good friend, Nick, you really are.”
He flinched as if I’d landed a physical blow and let my hand go. I jammed it in my pocket as if that would save it from further assault.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t know why I said that to you. I just…I know you don’t think we’d be good together. I just have to go on disagreeing. I think we’d be great together. I know you better than Greg ever could.”
“This just isn’t the right time for you to bring this up,” I said. “I thought we’d moved past this. Why in the hell would you bring this up again now that I’m seeing someone?”
Nick looked extremely uncomfortable, stubbing the toe of his sneaker against the baseboard. “I just want you to know that I’ll always have feelings for you, no matter what might happen.”
I blinked. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around all of this. I couldn’t understand why he was telling me all this completely out of the blue in the middle of the hallway. He swung from aggressive to pleading in a matter of seconds. I just didn’t know what to think about what I was beginning to suspect was Nick’s final try at getting me to be his girlfriend.
“And I guess I’ll always care about you — as a friend — even if you bewilder me and piss me off,” I said. “I don’t know what you’re doing, Nick.”
“That makes two of us,” he said, laughing sheepishly. “Will you just remember that, though? That I’ll always care for you, no matter what?”
“Sure,” I said slowly, uncertain. “Is something happening? Are you going somewhere?”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Nick said, giving me a small smile. “Sorry about all this. Sorry I took up your time. You were in a hurry, remember?”
“I remember.” I wanted nothing more than to just bury my face in Greg’s chest and let all of this drain from my mind like an infection. What the hell was Nick’s problem? Why would he barge into my life and try to get me to break up with Greg for him? It didn’t make sense. I’d known Nick for long enough to know what he was capable of doing when he was upset, and this didn’t fall anywhere on the spectrum.
“Have a wonderful evening, Jennet,” Nick said.
“Okay.” I turned back toward the exit uncertainly, started walking away from the odd behavior that bothered me so thoroughly, then shook my head.
“Wait.” I turned back around to see that Nick hadn’t moved a muscle from where I’d left him.
“Yeah?” He perked up a little.
“I just don’t feel good about leaving it like this,” I said. “I still don’t understand why you brought all of this up right now, and I won’t feel good until we’ve resolved this, talked it out some more.”
“Fine,” Nick said. “We can talk about it some more, if you really want to.”
“That would be good, I think,” I said. “Just so we can make sure the air is cleared between us.”
“Go, Jennet,” he urged, smiling suddenly. “I know you have someplace you’d rather be.”
“We’ll talk some other time,” I promised. “Sometime very soon.”
“We will,” he said, nodding. It almost seemed like he’d come to some decision, but I had no idea what it might be. I didn’t have any idea of what Nick was capable of anymore.
My uneasiness didn’t fade until I was in the car, driving toward the hotel Greg had told me he was staying at, and then I was just incredulous. What in the world could Nick have against Greg? They didn’t even know each other. I’d taken great care to keep them apart, going as far as not inviting Nick to the barbecue Faith had hosted. I didn’t want a repeat of the awkwardness between them, and yet here I was, awkward and between them. I didn’t like this feeling, didn’t like the idea that Nick thought I was making a mistake with Greg. Nothing about Greg felt like a mistake.
I wheeled into the hotel parking lot and whistled. I’d driven by the place a couple of times, but I had no idea just how big and fancy it was. The flow of the entrance directed me to valet parking, and I winced, trying to exit to the parking lot. There wasn’t a way to do so. I didn’t want to spring the cash for valet. I could park my own car, thank you very much.
I rolled down my window to explain myself, but the valet simply opened my door and held out his hand. Well. What else was I supposed to do? Feeling like an absolute princess, I accepted his help out of my ridiculous compact car. Was this how the other half lived? Had parking transformed into a luxury?
“Take this ticket,” the valet said, holding it out to me. “Bring it back to us whenever you’re ready to go.”
“Thank you,” I said, wondering if I should tip him. He didn’t indicate that I should, so I simply walked toward the entrance.
I imagined what it would like be to afford this kind of comfort on a regular basis as I entered the lobby. There was a sweating carafe of berry-infused water ready for the thirsty traveler to take a sip from on a convenient countertop. Miami’s elite passed through, perched on the edges of fine chairs and couches, going through whatever their days consisted of. Probably trying to decide what to throw money at next.
I took the elevator up to the floor Greg had told me to, surprised that it was the highest number available on the panel. I bet the view was the best in the entire
place.
When the doors opened, I was surprised to find not a hallway full of doors but rather a landing of just a couple of entranceways. This was penthouse territory. I remembered Faith telling me about the first time she’d escorted, about some rich man named Marcus (or something with an M) and how he’d had a gorgeous penthouse suite in a fine downtown hotel.
Was I about to construct my own penthouse story?
I knocked tentatively on the door with the right number and was rewarded by Greg opening it. Before he could say anything, I threw myself into his arms and hugged him tightly.
“I’d ask what’s wrong, but I kind of like your method of saying hello,” he admitted, rubbing my back.
“It was my friend Nick,” I said, and the hands on my back stilled. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with him. He said a bunch of weird things that really upset me. It wasn’t like him at all.”
“What kind of weird things?” Greg asked, leading me inside the room and shutting the door.
I peeked around his arm and gasped. The room was so big — much bigger than any hotel room I’d ever spent a night in — and was decorated like someone actually cared about the people who stayed in it. It lacked the usual fast food art of undecipherable pastel blobs in a tacky gold frame, favoring instead minimalistic but daringly modern furniture. The highlight of the room was the entire wall of glass, giving us a stellar view of the city. I gaped as I approached it, pressing my palms against the glass and looking across the city and its beautiful interaction with the sea. God, Miami was beautiful from up here.
“Jennet?” I turned and laughed. I’d almost forgotten about Greg. That’s how good the view was.
“I feel like I could stare all day out that window,” I admitted. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to ignore you.” I kissed him on the nose and he put his arms around me again.
“You were saying something about your friend Nick,” he reminded me.
“Ugh, let’s forget about that,” I said. “He was just weird. I’m glad to be here with you, now. You and this amazing room!”
I squirmed out of Greg’s arms and took a flying leap at the bed, expecting to bounce like a trampoline. Instead, I practically sank down into the feather soft mattress, sighing in delight and surprise.
“This is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever laid on,” I said, my voice muffled by the plush comforter. “I’m not even that upset that I can’t jump on it.”
“Jumping on beds? We can’t have that,” Greg admonished, tweaking my rear.
“Sorry,” I said again, rolling over and staring at the smooth ceiling. “I’m not moving from this spot for the rest of the night. I’m too comfortable.”
“That’s a shame,” he said, tracing my hairline. “You haven’t even seen the bathroom. There’s a TV in the mirror and an enormous bubbly bath.”
“Bubbly bath?” I repeated, then started to howl with laughter. “I love that.”
I loved it even more when I was deliciously naked and in it with Greg, the bubbles towering over the edges of the tub, both of us relaxed and laughing. I’d never felt so confident with anyone about my body. I felt completely at ease without a scrap of clothing on in front of this man, and before, I’d always made sure to suck in or turn sideways or any other of about a dozen tricks I knew to make myself appear more slender. Greg didn’t seem to care about any of that, and took me as I was — pooched or splayed or stubbly or whatever. I loved that.
I loved him.
We showed each other great affection in that tub, washing each other, massaging each other, kissing each other, making love to each other. We became sort of like one slippery being, not knowing where one person’s limbs began and the other’s ended. It was absolutely erotic.
Later, we were in bed together, warm and clean, and I was sleepy and comfortable and pretty sure that life couldn’t get any better than this.
“Let’s hide away from the world in here,” I said, nuzzling the juncture of Greg’s neck and shoulder. “Let’s just never leave this room, this bed, this position.”
“But what about all the amazing things life has to offer?” he asked, smoothing my hair away from my face. “What about travel, restaurants, friendships?”
“We can watch TV to see a window on the outside world,” I offered. “Restaurants can be endless room service. We won’t starve. And we have cell phones. Friends are just a call and a text away.”
“Why would you want to stay in a hotel for the rest of your life?” he laughed.
“It wouldn’t be just me,” I said, feeling silly for even saying anything in the first place. “You’d be here, of course. I couldn’t imagine anything better. You. Me. Zero distractions.”
“Allow me to distract you from this ridiculous notion,” he proposed, snaking his hand beneath the sheets, down my body, between my legs, as if we were magnets irresistibly attracted to each other, unable to do anything else outside of our nature. Why wouldn’t I want to exist just like this, away from all other things, for the rest of my life? I could do that, I thought. I could simply lie in bed with this man for the rest of what time I might have on this planet and let him give me perfect pleasure.
As promised, however, Greg chased away all those thoughts, all of that longing, and replaced it with a single-minded focus, a spreading circle of warmth, a tensing of every muscle, ligament, and joint, a heart-breaking shatter, sudden lightning bolts of ecstasy, and finally a sweet, dark surrender.
Chapter 8
Life was, for the first time in a long time, perfect. I tried not to dwell on it, tried to take it all in stride, but between my jobs, my friends, and the man who loved me, it was hard not to feel like the luckiest woman in the world.
Even so, I hated the time spent away from Greg. If I could only quit both of my jobs and cling on to Greg’s back, being with him every second of every day, everywhere he went…I had to stop myself and shake my head, laughing. That was way too much. I didn’t want to make him sick of me. But every day that passed was a reminder that he could leave at any moment, tapped to return to New York and report to his company about his findings in Miami.
Would he tell them that he’d found the woman of his dreams? That they’d found a number of wonderful apartments to make love in across the fair city of Miami? That he was going to either stay in Miami to be with that woman forever or he was going to send for her to join him in the Big Apple?
I liked to think about our future together, even if the uncertainty of it all frightened me. The one thing that was certain was our love for each other. I was just going to have to put all of my trust in that and hope for the best.
The only thing that bothered me even a little bit about him was his weird interest in Nick. Maybe it wasn’t weird. Nick had been the one who was weird in the first place, and I was still trying to shake that night in the hallway when my friend had asked me to break ties with the man I loved. It was bizarre and it didn’t make an ounce of sense.
So maybe Greg was right to be asking a lot of questions about the nature of my relationship with Nick, but I thought all the personal questions about Nick were kind of much.
I had to field everything from “what does he do for a living?” to “what kind of car does he drive?” I didn’t know what that had to do with the relationship I was busy trying to have with Greg, but every time I brought it up, he downplayed his interest, saying he was just in the business of gathering information and it came a little too naturally to him in situations outside of his regular job.
“I’m just trying to understand why he made you so upset, darling,” Greg would say, the way he said “darling” in that adorable accent of his making me melt a little.
“I think it’s just a matter of unrequited love, honestly,” I said one day, finally ready to put the issue of Nick to bed once and for all with Greg.
“Unrequited love?” We were practically naked and ensconced in one of the fluffy comforters of Greg’s hotel room, having a picnic on the carpeting of champagne and strawberr
ies. It was little moments like these that made me love this man even more. Who would think to have a picnic inside a room, wearing nothing, and eating nothing but romantic food? The man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, that’s who.
“A while back — a long while back, mind you, so no need to get jealous — Nick asked to take our friendship to the next level, to be in a romantic relationship with me.” I washed those words down with a quick sip of champagne. I didn’t want to be one of those girls who burdened their current boyfriends with tales of boyfriends past. Nothing good came out of retellings of previous relationships.
“I knew it,” Greg said, and guffawed. “Aw, poor guy.”
“What do you mean, ‘poor guy?’” I demanded, shoving at his shoulder a little bit. “What about poor Jennet? Nick’s my friend. I just didn’t want to date him.”
“He’s been pining after you all along, darling,” Greg said. “I said it from the beginning, didn’t I? I just didn’t know that he’d actually asked you out beforehand. It all makes perfect sense, now.” He laughed again, a laugh I hadn’t heard him use before, and I frowned.
“I don’t know what’s so funny about it,” I said. “In fact, I really don’t want to talk about Nick anymore. Let’s just not. Okay? Not a subject we need to dwell on anymore.”
“Fair enough, fair enough,” Greg said, still chortling and wiping his eyes. Really, what was so hilarious about Nick asking me out and me refusing him? That hadn’t been humorous for anyone involved.
I found that I wasn’t in the mood for our little picnic anymore. The champagne was curdling in my stomach. I made a move to stand up, but Greg stopped me.
“What’s this?” he asked. “Oh, you’re upset. Don’t be upset with me, darling. I’m sorry for laughing. It’s just…I feel lucky, really.”
“Oh, you feel lucky?” I said, still not over the stinging feeling that laughter had given me. “How’s that?”
