by Meghan Quinn
“Come on, like you didn’t tell me all those stories on purpose?” he said as he walked after me. I was retreating to my bedroom, because I didn’t want to deal with his drunk ass. He was clearly intoxicated and not just from the two beers I witnessed him drinking.
“On purpose? I’m sorry, but I thought I was sharing with a friend. You asked me about them. Was I just supposed to tell you nothing? You would never let that happen.”
“Believe me, if I didn’t have to listen to your sad excuse of a dating life, I would be more than happy.”
My heart split in two from the venom coming out of his mouth. I didn’t quite understand why he was being so mean, why he was being so cruel to me, but I didn’t like it, and I wouldn’t put up with it.
“Then just leave me alone. I didn’t ask for you to be all up in my ass, so leave me the fuck alone,” I said, letting anger take over.
“Fine.” He threw his hands in the air. “Easy, keep your bad luck to yourself.”
“Leave,” I yelled, pushing on Henry’s chest so he would step away, but he grabbed my wrists and pulled me into his chest.
Alcohol riddled his breath as he breathed heavily and looked down at me. His eyes were glazed over and the real Henry was slowly starting to peek through as he matched my stare with his. His features softened as he brushed my face with the pad of his thumb. It was so confusing how quickly his demeanor changed when I was in his arms.
Pain ran through his voice as he said, “Rosie, you’re beautiful, you know that?”
“Get out of here, Henry,” I said weakly, trying to push him away. “You’re drunk, and you’re being an ass. I don’t want you near me.”
Sighing, he turned his head away from me and mumbled, “Yeah, I know. You never want me. Story of my life.” He pushed me away and walked out my door. What the fuck was that? You never want me? He’d never know how wrong that statement was. And that was the story of my life.
Chapter Thirteen
The Gargling of Molasses
It was only eleven and I wanted to claw my eyes out, or at least let Sir Licks-a-Lot do so. After I pushed Henry out of my room last night, I didn’t get one ounce of sleep as I tried to figure out everything he said and why he was so rude to me. I didn’t think I did anything wrong, but clearly he did.
I was able to get ready earlier than normal this morning, and slip out of the apartment without interacting with him, which was for the best. I had no clue what I was going to say if we did run into each other.
Thanks for being an ass last night?
I got no sleep because of you?
You’re a confusing ass who had my emotions in knots last night.
No, avoidance was the best and only option.
Delaney text me earlier, asking if I was all right since she’d heard Henry and me arguing, even over her hyena screaming. I told her I was fine, that Henry was drunk last night, and had said things he probably hadn’t meant, especially the comment about me being beautiful. That was a drunken slip for sure. I’d seen the girls he’d taken out over the years, and they were far above my level of pretty. I was good-looking, but I was curvier than others and had my own style that didn’t come close to rivaling the models Henry took out.
I hated being sad, especially at work, because most of the time, work was awful with Gladys breathing down my neck, making sure I represented cats in the best way possible. Then there was trying to stay as far away from the pussycat posse as possible, which was quite difficult given the space in our building. I didn’t need more sadness in this dreadful and depressing environment.
The only thing that made me smile today was the picture Jenny sent me of a cat flying in outer space with a Pop-Tart body and a rainbow coming out of its ass. It was by far, the weirdest thing I had ever seen, but it made me laugh. I even printed the picture out and put it on my bulletin board. I was waiting for Gladys to see Pop-Tart cat and tell me what a bad depiction it was of our feline friends. Until then, Pop-Tart cat was staying.
“Hey.”
That voice, I would know it anywhere.
Henry stood in my door, propped up against my doorframe with his hands in his pockets. Henry knew how to wear a suit. The way the navy-blue suit brought out the color of his eyes was always a little mesmerizing. It was most definitely my favorite. Even dressed down with the two top buttons of his white button-up shirt undone, he was drool-worthily gorgeous. It was hard not to stare, even though I still felt hurt from the night before.
Frankly, I was surprised to see him standing in my office doorframe, not only due to our spat last night, but because he never came to visit me at work. He hated cats, especially Sir Licks-a-Lot, who seemed to have a big crush on Henry and wouldn’t leave him alone whenever he was around.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, looking away from my computer.
“Can we talk?”
“Don’t you have work?”
“Took a long lunch. Please, Rosie?”
I sat back in my chair and crossed my hands over my chest as I said, “Fine. Shut the door if you don’t want Sir Licks-a-Lot to find you.”
Henry quickly shut the door and took a seat in the chair across from me. He unbuttoned his suit jacket so he could sit and positioned himself a little forward in his seat.
“Rosie, I want to apologize for last night. I was way out of line, drunk, and a complete ass to you. I’m really sorry.”
I had to hand it to the man, he knew when he was wrong and when to say sorry.
“Yes, you were, Henry. You said some pretty mean things to me.”
He shook his head in shame and looked at his hands. “I know and I’m sorry. I was in a pissy mood and decided to blame everything on you when none of it was your fault.”
“So you don’t blame me for not being able to get it up?”
“No.” He shook my head. “Not at all. That was my problem. Things have been different for me lately.”
“What do you mean? How have things been different?”
Clearing his throat, he shifted in his seat as he adjusted his pant legs. I don’t think I’ve seen this side of Henry before . . . nervous almost. “I’d been doing a lot of thinking recently, Rosie and—”
Jenny knocked on my door and held up a vase with a box over the top. I waved her in with a questioning look.
“What’s that?” I asked as she set it on my desk.
“It’s a little delivery that came in for you. Maybe it’s from Atticus. Henry.” Jenny gave Henry a curt nod.
“Jenny,” Henry returned pleasantries. “The guy she kicked in the balls?” Henry asked, sounding skeptical.
“Yes, he said he liked her.”
“It’s not from Atticus, Jenny. Believe me, he’s not going to call me again.”
“Then who is it from?” she asked, practically jumping up and down.
I shrugged and opened the package. Inside was a bouquet of lint rollers. The sight of the set of five lint rollers made me laugh out loud. Nestled inside was a card that I read out loud.
“’Just in case you aren’t able to escape the cats so easily next time. Phillip.’”
“Oh, he sounds dreamy.”
“Who the hell is Phillip?” Henry asked. His demeanor had completely changed. Again.
“He’s a guy I met in the elevator the other night before my date with Alejandro. He watched me dodge the cats and avoid cat hair central, which I was grateful for since I didn’t have a lint roller with me.”
“So he sent you lint rollers. How adorable,” Jenny cooed while she sat on my desk and started touching the “bouquet.”
“Seems kind of lame,” Henry said, leaning back in his chair with a grumpy look on his face.
“It’s not lame at all. You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it,” Jenny countered.
Henry and Jenny had never really got along. They’d hung out a couple times at the most and each time had been a disaster. For some reason, they clashed, so I tried to keep them separated as much as possible.
Since Henry never came to my office, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Until now.
“Who the hell would I send lint rollers to?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the girl you’ve been crushing on for years now.”
“What are you talking about?” Henry asked, and for the second time in twenty-four hours, I saw deep anger. Heard venom in his words.
“Don’t play dumb with me, everyone knows you want Rosie.”
“What?” I asked, almost falling out of my seat. “Jenny, Henry and I are just friends.”
A blank look crossed Henry’s face as he looked between me and Jenny. Once again, he cleared his throat and adjusted his jacket. “Yeah, just friends, Jenny, so drop it.”
Both Henry and Jenny exchanged heated glares before Jenny rolled her eyes, got off the desk, and headed for the doorway.
“Whatever, live in denial. Rosie, Gladys wanted me to let you know she’ll be sending you her edits on your cat secret article. She wants more passion for cats in it.”
I shook my head in confusion. “What does that even mean? Does she want me to lick the back of my hands and rub my hair as I write the article? Would that be showing more passion?”
“Possibly. Try it.” She smiled back and left, shutting the door behind her.
Once she was gone, Henry glared at me and said, “I don’t like her, at all.”
“I gathered that from the way you snarled at her the minute she walked in my office.”
“She just thinks she knows everything when she doesn’t.”
“Taking the mature road today I see.” I moved the bouquet to the bookshelf behind me. It was a perfect gift but a little large for my desk. I liked to keep things neat and orderly so Sir Licks-a-Lot couldn’t destroy things. Many times I’d walked into my office the next day to find the papers I’d organized in files strewn along the floor because the cats thought it would be fun to knock everything off my desk.
I’d caught them doing it too. They’d sit on my desk, acting all innocent, but casually paw something until it fell, just to be jerks. Damn cats.
“Whatever, I’m going to get going.”
“Wait, you were going to say something before Jenny came in.”
“Forget it,” Henry said while getting up and brushing off his jacket.
“Why are you being so weird? I don’t get you, Henry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Are we good?” he asked, a little concerned and less annoyed.
“I guess so. Please don’t treat me like that again. You’re my best friend, Henry, I don’t want you mad at me or mean.”
Blowing out a frustrated breath and running his fingers through his styled hair, he walked over to the side of my desk and sat on it, grabbing one of my hands.
“I’m sorry, Rosie. Truly, I am. I’m just going through some things right now, so I apologize if I took it out on you. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”
“What are you going through? You can talk to me, you know?”
“I know, but it’s nothing you need to worry about.” He was wrong. Henry was my person, and if he wasn't being his normal floosy-chasing, mischievous man-boy self, I felt a little unbalanced. Before I could comment, he added, "Want to watch Indiana Jones tonight? Maybe get some Chinese food? Unless, do you have other plans?”
I shook my head, no. “Not that I know of.”
“Then it’s a date.” Henry pulled my hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Sorry again, Rosie. I never want to hurt you, ever.” And I never want to feel so bruised again either.
“Thank you, Henry. I appreciate it.”
“See you tonight?”
I was about to say yes, when there was a knock on my door. I looked up to see Phillip standing at the door with a smile on his face. I waved him in, feeling a little excited that he came down to visit me.
“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” Phillip asked, looking at both Henry and me.
“No, not at all. Phillip, this is Henry, my friend. Henry, this is Phillip.”
Henry nodded and shook Phillip’s hand. “Ah, the lint roller guy.”
“Yes.” He smiled while sticking his chin up. “I see that you got them. I’m glad.”
Both Henry and Phillip stared each other down in silence, as if sizing each other up. Why, I had no clue. They were the same height and build, it would be an even match for sure, but my money was on Henry. He might look pretty, but he was a man’s man and could hold his own, no doubt about it.
“Ahem.” I cleared my throat. “Henry, weren’t you just leaving?”
With one last stare, Henry turned toward me and said, “See you tonight, love?”
“Yes.” I nodded, hating that he was acting all charming and sweet now in front of Phillip, as if he was trying to mark his territory.
“Let me know if you need anything. I’ll get the Chinese. Have a good day, love.” With that, he pulled me in for a quick hug and then left, leaving me alone with Phillip.
He turned to me with a confused look on his face and then said, “You sure you’re just friends? It seems like there may be more between you two.”
“No, believe me, we’re just friends. I’m not his type.”
“Good thing, because I would have to fight him for a date with you if you were his type.”
“You want to go on a date with me?”
He nodded and flashed that gorgeous smile of his. The man standing in front of me was unlike any other man I’d ever met before. He was cocky, arrogant, and pretty confident in himself. It was actually attractive, and I could see why all the heroines in the books I’d been reading fell for the dominant man. They were up front, knew what they wanted, and took it.
That was Phillip. He had this air about him that sucked me in. Maybe it was his bright white teeth, or how his suits seemed tailored for his body. Whatever it was, I wanted to get to know him better and even more surprisingly, I wanted to get to know him in the bedroom.
God, I needed to put down the Kindle, because my mind was getting dirtier by the second.
“Come to lunch with me.” It was a demand not a question.
“Where would we go?” I tried not to show how I was ready to jump on his back and giddy up down the hallway with him.
“There is a little café a block away. I promise we won’t be too long. Don’t want boss cat lady to be mad with you.”
“No, we can’t have that. Let me send this quick email then I can go.”
“Okay, mind if I wait in your office?”
“Of course not. Have a seat if you like.”
I shook my mouse to wake up my computer and pulled open a new email. I started typing a message to myself, reminding myself to take my vitamins when I got home. For some reason, I wanted to look important to Phillip, so in my head, sending out an email before lunch made it seem like I was at the same business level as him, rather than me working at a cat magazine where cats literally dictated my job.
Happy with my email, I sent it then stood up.
“You ready?”
“Of course.”
With his hand on my back, he led me to the elevator and out of our building, the whole time staying silent, which was a little problematic since I didn’t like awkward silences at all.
Once we were outside, Phillip turned to me and nodded in the direction he wanted to go. “This way.”
Hand still on my lower back, he led me through the busy New York City streets. Cars honked constantly, people on the streets tried to peddle fake handbags, and the smell of rotting something floated in and out of the air. I loved it. I loved my city.
We turned the corner and the sign for a little café, which I’d walked by during my daily routine, came into view.
“I see this place almost every single day but have never been here.”
“Really? Well, you’re in for a surprise. They have the best cheddar broccoli soup you’ll ever have.”
“Better than Panera?” I asked.
He gave me a funny look and nodded his he
ad. “Did you really ask me that?”
“If I said no, would you believe me?”
Laughing, he shook his head and opened the door for me.
The café was quite small, like every other place in New York, since realty was hard to come by and expensive. It was a typical small café with floors checkered black and white and the walls a burnt orange. A case of pastries lined one wall, and a case of deli meats on the other.
The one thing that did seem out of place was Philip. He seemed like a man who dined at the Loeb Boathouse in Central Park every day, not someone who looked forward to a cheddar broccoli soup from a local café.
“So, do you think you’re going to go with the soup?” Phillip asked, close to my ear.
“Since you think it’s the best, I have to try it.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” He smiled.
I watched as he ordered for both of us, adding in some waters and a cookie to share, all the while maintaining the strong, confidence that screamed high society. He was a stark contrast to look at, to be around—it was rather fascinating—and it only made me more curious to know what he was like in bed. Not that I was ready to jump into bed with him, but I was intrigued.
He guided me to a table in the corner of the café and set our tray down while handing out our food. It was sweet to see him take care of everything.
Once we were settled and eating our soup, Phillip lifted his eyes to mine and asked, “Tell me, Rosie, where did you go to school?”
Swallowing some soup, which actually was quite delicious, I said, “NYU with my two best friends who I live with now.”
“You have roommates?” he asked a bit surprised.
“Yes, unfortunately. As you know, it’s expensive here and living off wages from Friendly Felines isn’t going to be putting me in a penthouse in Manhattan.”
Laughing, he responded, “I can understand that. Do you have aspirations to work somewhere else?” God. Yes.
“I do. I’m actually working on a book right now. I would love to be able to write my own things and not have to listen to a person dictate to me about what cat article I have to write for the day. Or, how I need more meow in my stories.”
