Fight or Flight

by Young, Samantha

  She narrowed her eyes on me. “So … you’re not even a little gratified?”

  “About what?”

  “That all this time the bastard has been so hung up on you that he screwed up his whole life.”

  “You know me better than that.”

  “You’re sad for Gemma.” She sighed and nodded. “I get that.”

  “I’m even a little sad for him,” I whispered, hating to admit it. “He screwed up his marriage over something that wasn’t even real. I was only ever an infatuation. He didn’t know me like I thought he knew me, and I definitely didn’t know him. Plus, you don’t cheat on someone you apparently adore, right? I don’t even think it was our relationship he was holding on to either. I think he just … he didn’t want to grow up. He always seemed to be the one in control when we were kids, the protector, the one Gem and I could rely on. After high school he just seemed so lost. I remember how the thought of the future scared the shit out of him. He preferred living in the past.”

  “Right.” She dropped her fork and knife on her empty plate. “But after all this time, with everyone thinking you got the raw deal, that you were the victim, it turns out you were the one who escaped.”

  I nodded, having thought the same myself. “I know. I realized that as he left my office this morning. I finally realized that I was the lucky one. As heartbroken as I am for Gem, I can’t tell you how much peace it gives me knowing my life is better for the fact that he left me.”

  Harper reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “I’m glad.”

  I covered her hand with mine and then took a deep breath to prompt, “Speaking of relationships.” She immediately tried to pull her hand away but I held on. “I’m not judging, Harp. I just … I’m just a little concerned.”

  She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “There’s nothing to be concerned about.”

  “Vince doesn’t seem so happy and supportive anymore about your job. And you just sat there letting that groupie flirt with him right in front of you. Not Harper-like behavior.”

  Harper yanked her hand free, glaring at me. “I was being classy.”

  “Oh, unlike me?”

  Her lips twitched, amusement cutting through the chill in her eyes. “No, it was funny when you shooed her away.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “I promised Vince I wouldn’t react to the girls. He warned me that they get a bit much and he’s had problems with girlfriends before not reacting well to it. I know that it’s just part of the industry he wants to be in and so I have to learn to let it go.”

  “The same way he’s letting the fact that you work long hours go?”

  Harper stared at me, clearly deciding between being pissed at me for asking and being grateful I cared enough to. Thankfully she decided on the latter. “He’d never mentioned it before. Saturday night was the first night he ever said something negative about it. We talked yesterday and he admitted that my hours do bother him, but not for him, for me. He’s worried I’m burning myself out.”

  That I could understand. “And what did you say?”

  She sucked in a breath. “I’m not going to lie, Ava. I worry about it too sometimes. That if I’m going to be working this hard, then surely it should be for myself.”

  “You want to open your own restaurant?”

  “Dessert bar.” She smiled shyly. “Eventually. Not yet, anyway. I convinced him that I’m good and he seemed to accept it.”

  There was something in her tone that was off. She sounded placating, and that wasn’t Harper. She did what she wanted, no matter what anyone else said. “Okay. As long as you’re happy.”

  “Very. Now, what about you?” She sought to change the subject. “And Mr. Scott?”

  The reminder that I didn’t have him for long crashed over me. “It looks like we’ll be finishing things up sooner that I’d thought. The Shrew called. This time on Wednesday I’ll be in goddamn Nantucket.”

  Eighteen

  While Caleb vented about his day at the office, I tried my best not to be distracted by the longing in my chest, that harsh pang of feeling I got anytime I remembered tonight would be the last night we spent together.

  When we met at my favorite Italian restaurant in Back Bay, one of the first things I wanted to ask him was when he was leaving. It seemed even more crucial to know since he’d been unable to meet me the night before. Things at the office had exploded and Caleb was up to his neck in the disaster. He video-called me from the office to show me him standing in the North American division CFO’s office surrounded by piles and piles of files.

  That meant that if he was leaving sooner than expected, tonight was all we had. However, I didn’t want to seem desperate or upset when the guy was clearly stressed out.

  “Long story short,” he said, sipping at the Scotch he’d ordered, “the bastard was not only lazy—he was using company money for private investments. Savvy investments too. If only he’d used that savvy tae do his job right, I wouldn’t be sitting here having not slept for thirty-six hours. Anyway, I presented my findings tae the CEO. He took it tae our bosses in Tokyo. A few hours later we dragged the sleekit wee bastard into a conference call and he was fired.”

  “My God, what an idiot.” I shook my head, thinking about all the people who would kill for a chance at a six-figure salary.

  “Aye, well, they wanted me tae stick around and interview new candidates for the position, but I’m needed back in the Glasgow office.” He stifled a yawn with his fist as my heart began to thump hard in my chest.

  “When do you leave?”

  Caleb’s gaze suddenly intensified as he leaned back in his seat. “Thursday morning. I dinnae think I’ll be much use tae you tonight, but that still gives us Wednesday.”

  I winced. “Actually, it doesn’t.”

  He scowled. “Why?”

  “Do you remember when I mentioned the difficult client I have right now?” At his nod, I continued, “She’s demanding I head back out to the house on Nantucket tomorrow. I won’t be back until Thursday.”

  The frown lines between his brows deepened. “Nantucket isn’t far.”

  “It’s about a four-hour trip from here. I have to be there at ten a.m. tomorrow morning, so I’ll leave around five thirty.”

  “And you’ll not be back tomorrow evening?”

  “If it was anyone other than Roxanne Sutton, I’d say yes, but that woman will trap me there for as long as she legally can.” I let my frustration show. “I’m sorry. I thought we’d at least have one last night together.”

  “And we will.”

  “But you’re tired.”

  “Ava.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m not leaving Boston without another taste of you.” He glanced around, missing my cheeks flush with arousal, and spotted a waiter. Waving the man over, Caleb ordered, “A pot of black coffee.”

  I snickered as the waiter hurried off to do his bidding. “The things a man will do for sex.”

  Caleb grinned. “Not just any sex.”

  Pleasure shifted through me at the compliment.

  “Let’s make this meal a quick one, eh?”

  I nodded my agreement. “That sounds like a plan.”

  “So …” He leaned back in his chair. “You promised me last night you’d tell me how it went with Nick.”

  Unwilling to spend our last few hours together discussing my ex, I gave Caleb a quick summary of events, watching his features harden with anger as the story went on. “But thankfully he’s gone now and I don’t really want to spend any more time talking about the asshole.”

  “What a prick,” Caleb said vehemently, just as his coffee arrived. The waiter’s eyes rounded at the aggression in Caleb’s voice as he placed the coffee on the table, but my companion didn’t even notice. He was too focused on me. I gave the waiter a reassuring smile and he hurried away.

  “It’s done. Let’s talk about something else.”

  His expression said he wanted to call Nick a few more names first, but he poured
himself a coffee and made an effort to look relaxed. “What do you want tae talk about?”

  On a rush of sentimentality I shouldn’t be feeling, I blurted out, “I want you to know I’ve had a lot of fun with you these past few weeks. I’m glad we decided to be friends.”

  “With benefits,” he teased.

  I smiled. “Yes, definitely. It’s been far more pleasurable than the usual friendship.”

  He lowered his gaze to his coffee, shielding his thoughts from me. “You know, I was thinking that at some point I’ll be back in Boston again. Probably near the end of the year.”

  My pulse raced at the thought of seeing him again. “Oh?”

  “If you’re not attached, I’d quite like us tae do this again when I’m in town.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Caleb’s eyes finally found mine. “Aye?”

  “Yes.” I nodded, serious. “I’m going to miss you in my bed, Caleb Scott. And in a hotel bed. And against the wall. And in the shower.”

  He grinned, wicked and full of want. “Don’t miss me just yet. We’ve still got tonight.”

  Nineteen

  SIX WEEKS LATER

  I can’t believe you dragged me to Faneuil Hall on my day off,” Harper grumbled after the third tourist in five minutes bumped into her.

  I hid a smile, heading toward my target. “It’s raining, it’s miserable, and you know what that means.”

  “Clam chowder, yeah, yeah.”

  “Not just any clam chowder. The best clam chowder.”

  “That’s a matter of opinion.”

  “Hey, don’t let the fact that it’s produced in a heavily populated tourist area sway your judgment.” I threw her a mock look of annoyance as we wandered into the Irish pub I’d been heading for since the moment I stepped out of my apartment that morning. “This right here is the best clam chowdah in Boston.”

  “Yeah, apparently everyone else thinks so too.” Harper gestured to the busy pub.

  Damn.

  No seats.

  Disappointment hit me much harder than it should have considering this quest was merely about food. But lately, when anything went marginally wrong, I seemed to take it dramatically badly. “Oh man!”

  “We’re just leaving.” A woman sitting at the bar called to us, her accent drawing my attention.

  “Aye, ye can have oor stools,” the man next to her said as we slowly made our way over.

  Scottish.

  A pang of longing hit me dead center of my chest and then spread out like a burn across the entire area.

  “Hey, thanks,” Harper said as we watched them pull on their jackets and get up off the stools.

  “No problem. The clam chowder is bloody amazing.” The woman gave us a cheery smile.

  “You’re from Scotland?”

  She nodded. “Aye. Glasgow. Just here on a wee anniversary trip.”

  “Oh?” I wanted her to keep talking. “How long have you been married?”

  “Thirty years,” her husband announced proudly, either because it was an impressive amount of time or because he’d actually remembered.

  “Wow.” Harper shared a wide-eyed look with me. “Uh, congrats. That is awesome.”

  “Yeah, congratulations.”

  “Oh, thank ye,” they said in unison.

  “Here ye go.” The woman stepped aside, patting the stool at the bar. “Enjoy.”

  Disappointment flooded me anew to realize they were leaving. “Oh, okay. Have a wonderful trip.”

  “Thank ye,” they said as they left.

  Harper practically had to haul me onto a stool before someone else could take it, because I was busy staring after the Scottish couple, pining.

  It had been six weeks since I’d heard the accent.

  Six weeks since I’d heard his voice.

  Well, I best be off,” Caleb said suddenly.

  We were lying in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, taking time to catch our breaths after enjoying a couple of rounds of our usual epic sex. There had been no soft kisses or sweet touches this time, as if we were both mindful that we had to keep this as it should be or it might feel like a tender good-bye.

  “Yeah,” I answered, even though there was still a part of me that wanted to reach across the bed and ask him to stay. I squashed that part, reminding myself exactly why that was a bad idea. Plus, I didn’t really know Caleb. Not well enough to feel any real kind of attachment.

  Liar.

  The ache in my chest as he got out of bed and began to dress was entirely misplaced and it was making me angry.

  He finally looked at me once he was done lacing his boots. His expression revealed nothing of his emotions. “I’ll call you, then, when I visit again?”

  “Sure. I’d like that.”

  Caleb suddenly frowned, hesitating, seeming almost unsure. Then finally he bent over, putting his hands to the mattress, and he kissed me. It was soft, sweet. Filled with affection.

  And I had to force away the sudden burn of tears in the back of my eyes.

  He brushed his mouth over mine one last time and then pulled back to stare into my eyes. I couldn’t read his searching gaze, enigmatic as always. I did my best to keep my expression neutral.

  “Good-bye, Ava,” he said, his voice low and hoarse.

  Once more I fought those goddamn tears, masking them with a smile I hoped was both cheeky and affectionate. “Bye, my Bastard Scot.”

  He grinned, kissed the tip of my nose, and pushed away from the bed. I made to move, to see him out, but he waved me back down. “Stay. Sleep. You’re up early.”

  Thinking he was probably right, I lowered my back to the bed. “Safe travels.”

  He nodded, reached down to switch off my bedside lamp, and then I watched the shadow of his figure leave my bedroom.

  There was a minute of no noise and then I heard my apartment door shut with a loud click that told me he’d put the lock (or the snib, as he so cutely called it) on.

  I tried to sleep knowing it was too early to get up.

  However, my mind wouldn’t let me. Instead it just kept replaying every moment with Caleb Scott over and over again. Every kiss, every wicked smile, and the fierce tenderness in his gaze when I told him about Nick and Gem.

  Even though I felt betrayed by the tears, like my heart was a traitor to my mind, I couldn’t stop myself from crying. That night my heart won a battle.

  But when my alarm went off and I got up to get ready for my trip to Nantucket, my mind sought control again and was triumphant.

  Caleb Scott was just a fun memory and he’d remain that way. There was no way I would make our dalliance out to be more than it was. Resolved, ignoring the disquiet and unease that sat in the pit of my stomach, I strolled out into my living area to make coffee and was startled at the sight of what had been placed next to the coffee machine.

  There was a velvet box sitting next to it, along with a note. My hands shook as I reached for the note first.

  In Caleb’s big, masculine scrawl were the words:

  You deserve only good memories. Caleb.

  Heart pounding, I dropped the note and picked up the velvet box. Prying it open, I let out a little gasp at the item that sparkled and winked under my kitchen lights. Lying on black velvet was the most beautiful diamond tennis bracelet. The one Nick had given me was demure, the diamonds small in a traditional square-cut claw. Caleb’s platinum tennis bracelet was more modern, with larger round-cut diamonds. Okay, wow.

  I could barely breathe, I was so overwhelmed by the gift. I picked up his note again.

  You deserve only good memories. Caleb.

  I couldn’t believe he remembered the detail about that damn tennis bracelet. It was so thoughtful. So romantic.

  So not what we were.

  It didn’t make sense.

  I turned, slumping back against my counter as I tried to interpret what the gift meant.

  And then something horrible occurred to me.

  What if this was like … payme
nt? What if Caleb was basically saying, Hey, thanks for the great sex—have some diamonds on me? I glowered down at the bracelet. That bastard.

  “Argh.” I huffed. That didn’t seem like Caleb either.

  “… I genuinely like you, and I dinnae mind us having a friendship between us if you dinnae. As long as we both know that is all this is.”

  The memory of his words came flooding back.

  “… when we talked about being friends, we both meant that too. We can handle it. So I made up my mind that you’re my friend, Ava. And I’m worried about my friend.”

  I was Caleb’s friend. He really meant that. I looked down at the bracelet and decided that was what I’d see in this expensive gift. A friend giving me something beautiful to replace a bad memory.

  And just like that, my mind had to battle harder than ever to win the war my heart wanted to wage.

  “Babe. Ava, babe.” Harper shoved me suddenly and I had to grip on to the bar in front of me to keep myself on the stool.

  I shot her a dirty look and she returned it with a worried one of her own. “The guy has been asking you for your order for about five minutes.” She gestured in front of us, where a bartender stood, staring back at me in what I could only guess was impatient amusement. “Well?”

  “You could have ordered for me.” I turned to the bartender. “Clam chowder, please.”

  He disappeared, leaving us to sit in silence, surrounded by the noisy chatter of the crowded bar.

  “It was the accent, wasn’t it?” Harper said. “Made you think of him.”

  I glanced down at the bracelet on my wrist. “It’s bound to, right?” I shrugged, like it was no big deal.

  “Sure, of course. But I don’t think it’s the first time you’ve thought of the guy in the six weeks since he left. I pretty much know you’re thinking about him all the time.”

  My eyebrows drew together. “Not all the time. And when I do, it’s just because I miss the sex.”

  “Why are you lying to yourself?”

  We stared at each other, my best friend’s expression fierce with irritation. I studied her face and saw the one person—other than my uncle—who I could trust. “Because … I don’t want to get hurt again.”