When she walked through the door, Brie looked up from a textbook she was lining in yellow highlighter. “Tough day?”
Seeing the girl crushed Leila’s spirits. There was very little work for her to do. She spent the bulk of her time prepping for class, which Leila encouraged. Increasingly, she believed the only reason she was keeping Brie on the payroll was to avoid feeling completely isolated and alone.
Leila slumped onto a red leather armchair. She’d put so much care in picking stylish office furniture, imagining an endless stream of clients. What an idiot she’d been. Her disappointment was a noose around her neck. She was losing hope that Miller would ever settle on a house. With no other deals in the works, she’d have to charge another month’s expenses on a card.
“Did you get my text?” Brie asked.
“Nope. What’s up? Is it free margarita night at the bar?”
“You’ve been invited to the opening of Ten Twenty Biscayne.”
Leila sat up. Ten Twenty was Raul Reyes’s new building. For months, construction cranes had crowded lower Biscayne as a modern high-rise materialized opposite the bay. It was the first sign that Reyes, having completely transformed the Design District from a run-down neighborhood to an all-around, high-end luxury destination, had turned his attention to the downtown area.
“They just called. It’s tonight at six.”
It was half past three. “Talk about short notice!”
“I said you’d be there. Free margaritas can wait.”
She thanked Brie and sent her home. She had to shower, choose an outfit, straighten her hair and head downtown ahead of rush hour traffic. Before she did anything, though, she called Sofia.
As she excitedly shared the news, she was suddenly cut down at the knees. “I can’t go!”
“Wait... What?” Sofia said, confused.
“Nick is behind this.”
Two weeks had passed without any word from him, and she’d assumed he’d gone back to New York. But this last minute invite had his fingerprints all over it.
“Why is that a problem?” Sofia asked. “You handled it last time.”
“I didn’t handle it well.”
“How did you leave things?”
“Messy.” Real messy.
“Get it together,” Sofia ordered. “This is no time for a meltdown. If we hid from every man we had a little history with, where would that leave us?”
Unfortunately, Leila was in full meltdown mode, on the edge of her bed with her head between her knees. This was how it was going to be from here on out. Nick was back and avoiding him would require acrobatic skills. As the realization settled like rocks in the pit of her stomach, she closed her eyes and tuned out Sofia, who was poking fun.
Somehow Leila had tricked herself into thinking their last encounter was a dream, haunting but ultimately inconsequential. The circumstances were certainly dreamy—an extravagant party at a romantic site, an enchanted garden, a hidden cave—these were not the elements of real life. And how often had she dreamed about Nick, only to wake up alone and have to get on with life? But Sofia was right. She had to handle it, find a way to deal with him. Denial was not a strategy.
Nick’s strategy was simple: lure Leila out of hiding.
* * *
Everything had fallen into place for him and he was starting to believe the myth of his own luck. Reyes had made the offer. He’d accepted on the spot, joining his team as an associate of Kane & Madison. Connie, thrilled with such a high profile partnership, agreed to his immediate transfer.
The one thing that hadn’t fallen into place was Leila. He was surprised to learn she hadn’t been invited to the open house, but a phone call had fixed that. He knew she’d come. Nothing would keep her from it. Nothing would keep him from her. He had a hundred questions and tonight, he wanted answers.
Chapter 20
When Leila arrived downtown, the late January sun was still warm. A perky hostess greeted her in the building’s luxurious ground-floor lobby, handing her a glossy brochure. “There’s champagne on the Sky Terrace. The model unit is on the twenty-fifth floor. But also feel free to explore our gym, pool and spa.”
Leila rode up to the Sky Terrace and wasted half an hour searching for Nick. When she was satisfied he wasn’t hiding among the guests or behind the potted palm trees, she took a breath and dove into the elegant cocktail party. Her objective was to meet the right people, distribute her cards like propaganda leaflets and maybe even score an audience with the king himself who, like Nick, was noticeably absent.
Then she bumped into Paige. This time Paige took the time to introduce her to a few people, real heavy hitters. Interacting with them proved difficult. Conversations swirled around their latest sales and the trophy listings they’d scored. Leila gladly offered the one thing they were all privately seeking. Praise.
“That’s impressive!... Wow!... I’m familiar with that property and it’s amazing.”
After a couple of glasses of champagne, she mellowed out and started having fun. It wasn’t until someone asked what she thought of the model unit that it occurred to her she’d missed the point of the party. She was here to check out the goods.
* * *
Sandra Villanueva, a well-known industry veteran, gave Leila a guided tour of the model unit. It wasn’t the grand spread depicted in the brochure. The space was tight and the layout awkward. Leila didn’t know anyone who’d pay half a million dollars for it. But Sandra knew how to play up the positive. She gushed over the sleek design of the kitchen with its lipstick-red cabinets, stainless-steel this and that, and honed-granite countertop. Honed granite! Because polished granite was too common, too expected and just not special enough for Ten Twenty Biscayne.
They stepped out onto the balcony that overlooked six rows of traffic on Biscayne Boulevard and the park that curved along the bay. The air was fine and the altitude buffered the city sounds. Sandra pointed to the horizon and said that when the sun rose over the water it was like nothing Leila could ever imagine. She tried to imagine it, anyway, and saw herself at eye level with the rising sun—a flat, copper disc pinned to a lavender sky. She imagined grabbing it and pocketing it like a penny.
“How would you like to wake up to this view every morning?” Sandra asked.
Leila leaned on the balcony rail and sighed with longing. Considering she’d woken up in a somber room to the sound of a drill cutting through asphalt, she’d absolutely love it.
“I’ll take over from here.”
With that she was pulled back to reality. Nick was standing inside the glass door in his signature midnight-blue suit. Seeing him in the light of day was a shock, drawing him out of the dream realm once and for all.
“Great!” Sandra exclaimed. “I’m heading down before there’s nothing left to eat.”
Leila glanced at Sandra, silently pleading with her not to leave, but the woman tapped her arm. “I’m leaving you in good hands. Nicolas Adrian is our sales director and he’s phenomenal.”
Nick waited for Sandra to collect her things before shutting the balcony door. They were alone and the fastest way out was a quick drop twenty-five flights down.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” he said.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t here.”
“You’re not getting off that easily,” Nick said. “I thought we could talk now, since last time we got distracted.”
“There’s really nothing to talk about.”
“You owe me an explanation.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
The glass door slid open and a familiar face poked through. It was Raquel. Good old Raquel of South of Fifth.
“You crazy kids... Talk about déjà vu all over again.” Her plump lips were twisted in a smirk.
Leila watched as Nick lost his solemn expression and turned
on the charm. A slow smile brought light to his marble-blue eyes. “Hello, stranger.”
“When did you get back?” Raquel asked.
“Not long,” Nick said.
Whatever that meant, Leila noted that he hadn’t bothered to contact her. If they hadn’t run into each other at Reyes’s party, they might not have met at all. And now he was all You owe me an explanation. Really?
“It’s late, I should go,” Leila said. “Good seeing you, Raquel.”
Without a glance toward Nick, she breezed past the other woman. The last thing she heard before slamming the front door shut behind her was Raquel’s abrasive voice. “How about you show me around?”
Leila rode the elevator straight down to the lobby and, after languishing in line at the valet booth, changed her mind and darted across all six lanes of traffic toward the park. Although the sun had set, the park was alive with children playing tag and yoga enthusiasts in spandex toting rolled-up mats. She found an empty bench near the central fountain, which happened to be dead and dry.
How am I supposed to deal with this?
She was a mess, torn between wanting to kiss him and to kick him in the groin. When she spotted him approaching in the distance, she came close to tears. Was there no escaping him?
Nick joined her on the bench. The fountain suddenly came alive, sending a column of water into the night.
“I’m getting tired of chasing you,” he said.
“Then stop.”
“Give me answers and I might.”
Leila turned to him. “Okay. Let’s get this over with. What do you want to know?”
“Why did you run away?”
“Just now?”
“Leila...” Her name was a one-word warning. “Why couldn’t I reach you after I left for New York? Where did you go? Why did you run?”
“I didn’t run away. I went to stay with my aunt in Naples for a few months.”
“How was I supposed to know that? You disconnected your phone.”
“I changed carriers.”
“You never once called me.”
“I was busy getting my broker’s license, starting my business.”
“Stop messing with me.”
“What do you want me to tell you?”
“Tell me you got hit on the head after I left. Nothing you’re saying makes sense.”
“You got promoted and I got fired! Does that make sense?” she yelled, drawing looks from trendy moms pushing state-of-the-art strollers.
“What?”
He looked and sounded genuinely bewildered.
“It’s real simple. I got fired. Didn’t Jo-Ann tell you?”
“No,” Nick said. “But why should I have had to ask Jo-Ann anything? Jo-Ann wasn’t my lover.”
His outburst betrayed his anger and his pain. Leila braced her heart against guilt. She’d earned the right to be selfish. “Sorry if I was less than gracious about it. But I had to take care of myself.”
“She fired you? After she’d said she wouldn’t.”
“And she wasted no time. Your plane hadn’t even landed at JFK.”
“Leila, we could’ve fought this.”
“Oh, Nick! Please.” There was nothing to fight. She was let go when her services were no longer needed. But the look on Jo-Ann’s face had told a very different story. “She knew about us. And, I don’t blame you, but God knows discretion wasn’t your thing.”
“Sounds like blame to me,” Nick said flatly. “Did you stop to think you could’ve joined me? Like I wanted you to?”
“Because I had nothing better to do, right? I was out of a job, so why not follow a man I barely knew to a whole other state?”
“You barely knew me?”
They sat in silence. Nick stood to leave.
She instinctively reached for his arm to stop him. He was right. It was time they had it out. No more running and hiding. “Don’t go. We’re talking like you wanted. It’s not my fault you don’t like what I have to say.”
“None of this is what I wanted.”
“Nick—”
“I’m sorry, Leila, for what you went through. But you broke me. I hope it was worth it.”
He walked away, leaving her among the kids playing tag, the yogis and the trendy moms. These light and frothy people made her feel dark and heavy.
A teenage girl whizzed past on a skateboard and hollered, “Girrrl, he told you!”
Chapter 21
There were days when the forces at play in Leila’s life were more constricting than a pair of Spanx. Her morning started with a call from Cedar Oaks, her aunt’s nursing home. She sat up in bed, her heart pounding. The prior year’s hardships weren’t limited to her love and work life. Her family life had collapsed, as well, with the sudden downturn of her aunt’s health. But since Hurricane Nick had hit her shores, she’d forgotten to check up on Camille.
“Is everything okay?” Leila asked, cutting through the usual endless formalities.
Everything was fine, the nurse assured her, except that her aunt had had a near-syncope episode.
“A near what?”
Now and again, she questioned her choice of Cedar Oaks, a pricey facility way out in the suburb of Weston. It had a stellar reputation, and she’d picked it over more affordable and accessible state-run homes. The property was beautiful and clean. The halls forever smelled of freshly cut flowers. But, man, did they love to blow up her phone, calling to inform her about one mishap after another. It was good to be informed, but why couldn’t they prevent the mishaps from happening in the first place? At the rate they were depleting her aunt’s savings and pension, it was the least they could do.
“She fainted,” the nurse said. “Well, nearly. Her doctor visited and adjusted her blood pressure medication.”
“She’ll be all right?”
“She’ll be fine,” the nurse said. “But there’s one more thing.”
There was always one more thing.
“She injured her arm. When she nearly loss consciousness, she rolled off her wheelchair and fell onto her left arm.”
Leila held her phone away from her ear and let out a silent cry. She wondered what had happened to the woman who could strut across a room in four-inch heels. That woman didn’t fall out of wheelchairs or have near-anything episodes.
“Miss Amis, are you still there?”
Leila apologized and asked whether her aunt had sprained anything or broken any bones.
“No, it’s just a bruise. We assure you...”
She stopped listening. She preferred to gather nursing home intelligence through the army of nurse assistants.
“I’ll stop by and see for myself.”
She was all set to meet with Miller at noon; afterward, she was free. She checked the time. Holy crap! It was half past ten. After a sleepless night, it appeared she’d fallen into a coma. Just then, she heard footsteps in the front room and caught the aroma of coffee drifting into her bedroom. Brie had already clocked in.
Brie was in the kitchen, rinsing out her coffee mug. Leila didn’t like her assistant seeing her this way, barefoot, in a T-shirt, and her hair in a messy ponytail. Usually she was dressed and ready for work by the time the girl showed up. She yearned for privacy, but she desperately needed coffee.
“Wow,” Brie said, eyeing her with a smile. “That party must’ve been all kinds of fun.”
“Good morning, and it wasn’t as much fun as you think.”
“You’re going to have to get it together and quick. Miller emailed to confirm your twelve o’clock. He said to meet him at his office.”
Showing Miller yet another property for him to bulldoze wasn’t a pleasant way to start an already crummy day, but what else did she have to do?
“Is there anything else on the calendar?” she asked hopefully. Maybe she’
d missed something.
Brie shook her head no. “Which brings me to what I’ve wanted to talk to you about. Maybe you should consider not paying me this week. Or next.”
Leila looked at the girl as if she’d grown a second head. Had she heard her right? “That’s not how it works, Brie. Employees ask for raises and bonuses. Not the opposite.”
“You can’t afford it,” Brie said matter-of-factly.
“Of course I can!” Leila cried.
“We both know you can’t.”
Leila launched into a feminist tirade to better hide her humiliation, ending with “You should always be compensated for your work.”
“We both know I don’t really work here. I do homework.”
“That’s not the point.”
“The only reason I’m working here is to keep my folks happy. They’re old school and still think a job builds character.”
“They’re right!”
“They’re wrong. I don’t need a job. I’ve been earning money off my blog since high school.”
“A blog is not a job.”
“It’s better than a job. My car is better than yours.”
Leila snapped. “Oh, please! You drive a Ford Fiesta.”
“It’s brand new with power everything plus Navigation and Bluetooth. Does your car even know what Bluetooth is?”
“Has anyone told you you’re a brat?”
“All the time,” Brie said. “But seriously, don’t worry about me. I can skip a payday or two.”
The doorbell rang and both women, unaccustomed to visitors, jumped.
Brie rested her coffee cup on the counter. “I ordered toner. Probably UPS.”
Leila, eager to table the discussion, shuffled off to the bathroom. “I’m going to shower. Don’t want to be late for my one appointment of the day.”
While brushing her teeth, she checked her attitude. This meeting with Miller was a needed distraction. Instead of dreading it, she’d embrace it. He was annoying enough to force her out of her head. She couldn’t obsess over Nick while dealing with him. This was crucial because last night her emotional landscape had changed its colors. She was no longer sure of her position. Had she done the smart thing or made the mistake of her life? Had she hurt Nick? Did she owe him an apology, if nothing else?
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