Inside was candy. But not just any candy. It was the candy Nick and I had eaten as kids, bought for each other, traded, smuggled into movies, left for each other even as young adults. My favorites: Mike and Ike, Hot Tamales, and Boston Baked Beans were all artfully arranged around a few bags of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. The kicker? A rainbow assortment of Now and Laters, already unwrapped in a Ziploc bag and tied with a bow.
“You don’t eat candy.” Leigh’s brow furrowed.
“I haven’t in a while.” My dentist made me choose between sugar and my tooth enamel over ten years ago. I’d chosen to hang onto my sensitive enamel.
“But when you did, these were your favorites. When you were with him?”
“Yep.”
“Are those Starburst? Why are they already unwrapped?”
I couldn’t help the smile that pulled at my lips. “They’re Now and Laters. Those were Nick’s favorites. I liked them well enough, but I always struggled to get the pack open and unwrap them.”
“Huh. We used to call them ‘teeth crackers’ back home. I don’t know how anybody liked those things.”
“I used to say the same thing, but I’d still eat them once Nick got them free of the paper.”
I picked up the plastic bag and gently squeezed a pink taffy square. It was soft. He’d gotten the soft kind.
“Hey, Z?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let him mind-fuck you with Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.”
I groaned. “I’m not.”
“Just be prepared. Remember, as a swoony millionaire, he’s four steps ahead. Has he offered to solve any problems for you yet?”
I considered this. “No. Well, not for me, no.”
Loud pounding sounded from her side. “Details! What are you not telling me!”
“Well, you know my research assistant, Carly?”
“Short, dark-haired? Some relation to Attila the Hun?”
“Be nice. She’s . . . stressed a lot. Well, she’s been anxious about her son’s upcoming senior trip. She really wants him to go but I heard from someone else on the staff that the kid’s dad didn’t come up with the half he promised. We were debating taking up a collection to help but—”
“That could backfire.” Leigh winced. “It’s a nice gesture, but she seems super private—”
“Right. So, we were a little unsure of what to do.”
“So what happened?”
I walked back to the balcony railing. “This morning, before I left, she showed up in my office. Euphoric. Seems some anonymous benefactor took care of the trip. But not just for her son. For the entire senior class.”
Silence.
“Anonymous, huh?” Leigh drew out the word anonymous.
“Yep.”
“Does she suspect it’s him?”
“I don’t think so. She doesn’t even know who he is. She mentioned the trip in passing to him, I don’t know how he knew the details, but—”
“You’re in trouble.”
“Stop saying that!” I waved my free hand in the air. “Aren’t you supposed to be reassuring me right now?”
“What he’s doing, that random act of kindness thing, that’s catnip for you.” Leigh clicked her nails against some surface on her side. “If this were me, there would be no question of what I should do. In fact, you would’ve already clubbed me in the head if you sensed I was weakening. I’ve known you forever. You’re not a dummy or a pushover, but I can sense you weakening and you are not the weakening sort.”
“I’m not weakening.”
“You are.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Help me. It’s almost like Nick has some invisible force field around him that makes you not yourself. We’d practiced what you would say when you saw him for your meeting yesterday, remember? But you admitted afterward that you went all the way off-script.”
I closed my eyes, savoring the slight breeze, wanting to forget about my last conversation with Nick. “I tried. I really did. Something just came over me.”
“I’ll say. You were supposed to project, ‘I’m living my best life and haven’t thought about you in years, bitch. I’m so damn happy without you, I never gave a thought to where you were.’ And then verbally cap it off with prayer hand emojis. But no. You went all scorched earth. Showed him just how much angst you still have about it all. Which shows how much you still care. Which gives him all the power.”
“It’s because I do care,” I whispered, feeling ashamed. “Still. It’s hard to love someone that much and then just . . . feel nothing.” I shook my head at myself and the absurdity of what I’d said. “And there’s a lot you don’t know about him. And our past.”
“Okay. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“All right. When we were kids, his mother got in a car accident. A really bad one. I think she almost died. Nick was terrified. Traumatized. His mom was all he had at the time. His dad had split, and his mother had to stay in the hospital for a while. Nick stayed with us, in Walker’s room, until she was discharged and could get around. I still remember my mother sitting him down and explaining he’d need to be patient and treat her very gently when he went home.”
“That’s his trauma? That excuses him for cheating on you?”
“Just listen. I thought everything was fine, that his mom got better and it was over. But apparently, that wasn’t the case. She got hooked on the opiates she was taking for pain. It happened over time. We were teenagers when it really became clear to Nick. Then she started getting the pain meds other places when her doctors wouldn’t prescribe them anymore. Illegally. By the time I realized what was going on, it was out of control. You know how people in town gossip.”
“Lord, yes,” Leigh said. She’d created quite a stir when she’d arrived in Green Valley with her colorful language and endless animal prints.
“Well, one day Nick and I went to the grocery store after school to get snacks. And we heard Karen Smith holding court, telling everyone within sight that Nick’s mother was an addict, that they were both trash, and that my parents were probably horrified by our connection—that we were involved. She claimed to have caught Nick’s mom in some compromising position.” My throat tightened as I was transported back to the market. Watching all the emotions flit across Nick’s face. Horror, anger, fear, humiliation. “She was crowing about it, going into awful details, saying how I deserved better than someone like him.”
On the screen, Leigh closed her eyes. “That’s just . . . awful. The two of you heard all that?”
“Yes.”
We were both silent for several beats, the only sound coming from the cacophony of traffic below.
“I still want to shank him for your sake,” Leigh said, scrubbing a hand across her eyes. “But that had to be shitty. No kid should have to hear that about their parent or live through it.”
I spoke around the knot in my throat. “It was terrible.”
“So what happened then?”
Thinking of what came next made me smile. “He got revenge.”
Her face filled the screen. “How?”
“He spent over a month perfecting candied apples to leave on her doorstep for Halloween. Only he did it with whole onions, then used packaging from the Donner Bakery after swapping out the real thing.”
Leigh gaped at me. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. He went through a whole bushel of onions and a million of those sticks when he was perfecting his technique.”
“A mouthful of onion for a notorious gossip,” she murmured. “It’s fitting. Hell, that story even makes me like him a little. Not enough to make up for watching you break down and cry after the coffee shop incident, but a little.”
I let out a sigh and rubbed my eyes, suddenly feeling fatigue from the flight catching up with me. “Yeah, it’s not simple. There’s no easy answer. This all would be a lot easier if he’d just go away.”
“All you can do is your best as a professional. Share your expertise an
d fulfill your promise to Dr. Gould so you can be free of Nick as soon as possible.” Her eyes widened to emphasize her words.
“Right. I’m going to go to dinner with his team tonight, be pleasant, get through the training tomorrow and then move on from this. There’ll be other people, other buffers, from now on. If I’m not alone with him, it’ll be easy.”
“Fine. Yes. Exactly. Play your part. Without burning down the restaurant. Easy. Smile. But just remember—he’ll always be four steps ahead.”
Chapter Ten
Zora
John’s on 12th Street was located in the heart of the East Village, situated on an unassuming corner. The cozy interior immediately reminded me of the charming, authentic Italian restaurants I’d seen in old movies and my repeated viewings of Lady and the Tramp as a child.
“We’ve been around for over one hundred and ten years,” the waiter informed me as he led me to the back of the restaurant. “Everything’s original. All the woodwork’s unchanged.”
“It’s wonderful,” I said, thoroughly charmed by the old-world ambience. I sent a wary eye over the other diners’ attire, suddenly glad I’d taken a moment to freshen my curls and mask my travel weariness with light touches of makeup. The lightweight, floral dress I wore would’ve been fine on its own, but I’d added a cardigan in deference to my professorial, consultant role. At the last minute, I’d swapped my borrowed espadrilles for Birkenstocks. They were better to run in or kick ass with if this went poorly.
I was so distracted by the waiter’s explanations of the original artwork that I didn’t notice when he came to a stop outside a private room.
“Your other diner is here.”
I followed the waiter in, only to stop short at the sight of one person—and only one person—seated at the single occupied table in the room.
Nick.
I turned to the waiter, unsure of what to say, when I heard Nick’s voice. “Zora. Hi.”
I bit my lip, working to pace myself, to dial back my temper. “Nick.”
The waiter looked between us, his eyes comically wide. He pulled out my chair while his eyes darted to Nick, then to me, then back again.
I stared at the chair, unwilling to sit, to be managed. Yet again.
Hadn’t Leigh said it? He’ll always be four steps ahead.
“Please.”
I looked up at the word. Nick stood, eyes hot on mine.
The waiter stood at my elbow, eyes huge.
Fuck it, I decided. The sooner I slayed this dragon and confronted the past, the sooner I’d be back home.
Right. To all the fun and grant-related failure that awaited me there.
I lowered myself into the seat, obliging the waiter’s attempt to push in my chair with awkward forward shuffling. Nick and the waiter released an audible sigh together. The waiter fled to safety while Nick folded his impressive height back into his seat.
Glancing at him, I noted that he looked tired. More dark stubble covered his square jaw. Flickering candlelight caught the dark shadows under his bright eyes. I averted my attention from the tuft of dark hair peeking from the open collar of his white dress shirt. One of his long legs straddled the outside of the table. I didn’t miss the way his trousers strained with the definition of his quads.
Grandma Leffersbee had always told my siblings and I that we had to be good for our parents. That we should always do the right thing. “Be wary of the devil,” she’d warned us. “He’s tricky.”
Watching Nick in the flickering candlelight, fighting an ancient instinct to slide my hands through the unruly strands of his dark hair, I realized Grandma had left out rather important details about the dark lord. I wished I could update her, or add a codicil to her timeworn speech.
You left out an important detail, Grandma. The devil is tricky, but he is also one sexy bastard.
Nick’s gaze moved over my face and settled on my mouth.
“So,” I said, mostly to distract myself from his unsettling gaze as it drifted from my mouth and dipped lower.
What is he thinking?
“Your team is missing,” I said conversationally. “And you’re here. I feel ambushed.”
He sat back in his chair, eyes narrowed as he considered me. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“This is the second time you’ve brought up your intentions, as if they somehow make up for the fucked-up reality you create. I don’t give brownie points for intentions. Not when I was obviously lied to. There’s no team here.”
His eyes briefly widened. I suspected he was reassessing me, mentally recalibrating his approach.
Good. I was done being dragged around, even if it was in lovely New York.
“I wouldn’t have imagined you’d be the one with the potty mouth all these years later. Wasn’t it you that tried to shame me out of my cussing phase? What were we, twelve, when your mother washed my mouth out with soap?” He grinned, the expression briefly chasing the fatigue from his face.
Despite myself, I smiled at the memory. “Yep. She overheard you saying ‘shit’ in the backyard.” I shook my head. “I told you she could hear through that back kitchen window. But you didn’t listen.” I paused, considering him. “But you’ve never really known when to stop, have you? Still enjoy testing the limits?”
His expression sobered. “I wouldn’t be where I am now if I was worried about testing the limits.”
I took in the aura of power in his posture, the simple yet expensive clothing that whispered of his wealth, the predatory light in his eyes. “That may be true. Your bullying tactics may be effective, but that it doesn’t make them right, and it doesn’t mean I’m going to accept them lying down.”
He sat forward suddenly, hands clenched on the table. “I’m not a bully. My team is having dinner tonight, with Adesola, at another restaurant. Where they are fine-tuning all the details for tomorrow’s train-the-trainer sessions. If you misunderstood—”
“If? If I misunderstood? So, that’s your line, huh? You didn’t technically lie.”
“I didn’t technically lie, correct.”
“Technicalities.”
“Sometimes, technicalities make all the difference.”
I leaned forward. My voice was hushed and angry when I ground out, “Are you saying you didn’t try to mislead me? To get me here?”
“Hell yes, I misled you.”
My mouth snapped shut and I leaned back, surprised by his admission.
But he wasn’t finished. “You are correct. I set out to deliberately mislead you about dinner tonight. Technically, I told a lie of omission so you’d come. I fully admit that.”
For some reason, his confession cut my anger in half, and that made no sense. I crossed my arms. “And you’re not a bully?”
He gritted his teeth in a way that resembled a smile as much as it did a baring of teeth. “If you want to leave, leave.” Nick lifted his chin toward the private room’s entrance, his eyes flashing with challenge. “I’ll understand, and you have my promise that I’ll continue with the project. I promise that if you leave, it won’t jeopardize my company’s collaboration with the university. The collaboration will move forward, regardless. But I want to be clear.” He leaned forward. “I’m not bullying you. I’m not forcing your participation in the project. That’s not me. That’s between you and the university, and whatever hold they must have on you given you’re actually in New York and sitting at this table.”
Glaring at him, I said nothing.
“Now, I know my past behavior has been shitty and you may feel you have cause to believe just about anything of me. But tonight, I believed it would be better if we met separately from the team, to clear the air. If we could, just for tonight, make a distinction between my actual, recent sins and the sins of others, I’d appreciate it. I’m just—I’m just trying to—” He ran a rough hand over his whiskers. “I don’t know what I’m trying to do.”
I lowered my gaze to the tablecloth and considered his words. He hadn’t coerced me to par
ticipate in this project; he was right about that. The strong-arm tactics were all Peter, and the school, and the predicament I was hung up in with my lack of grant funding.
Though I didn’t feel any guilt for busting Nick’s ass over the past, it wasn’t fair to lay the blame for all of my current frustrations at his feet.
I risked a glance at him and found him watching me with a grim solemnity. More than a fair amount of salt had invaded the darkened, peppered stubble along his neck. Deep grooves bracketed his lips and his eyes were faintly bloodshot.
“You look terrible,” I blurted rather than ask if he’d been sleeping.
He reared back, brows drawing low. We stared at each for the space of several beats before his lips curved in a small smile.
“Still telling it like it is?”
“I don’t know any other way.”
“I’m glad. Does that mean you’ll stay?”
I hesitated before announcing, “I’m hungry.”
And then, Jesus help me, were actually smiling at each other. I averted my eyes from that roguish grin and worked to gather more righteous indignation before I found my panties around my ankles.
“There’s a lot of history between us.” His gaze dropped to his napkin as he traced its edge. “My goal here, tonight, is to tell you that I’m sorry, but my apologies don’t seem to be going over too well. So maybe I won’t lead with that.”
I grunted.
“But if you’ll allow me to slide a few more in, I do want to say I’m sorry for cornering you in your office earlier this week. And not letting on that we knew each other.”
I tilted my head, studying him. “Why did you do that? It only added to the pressure, you pretending we were strangers.”
He winced. “The moment came and I dropped the ball. I didn’t deliberately set out to be deceptive, I didn’t know how to handle the moment—” He lifted both palms with a short, humorless laugh. “I don’t know how to handle this moment right here.”
Been There Done That Page 12
