by T. K. Leigh
“You washed my dress,” I breathe. It’s not a question.
“You probably thought the worst of me when you woke up in my bed. I considered sleeping in one of the guest rooms, but the reason I brought you to my place was to keep an eye on you. I couldn’t do that if I slept in a different room. When I woke up and you weren’t there, I panicked. I could only imagine what you must have thought, and I hated the idea of you walking around thinking we slept together. I needed to track you down and explain. That’s why I searched for every name close to Evie on Facebook. I even went to the bar I first saw you at in the hopes I could find you.”
“I haven’t been in the drinking mood after that night. Plus, once my boss told me about the possible promotion, that’s been my focus.”
“I don’t take advantage of women,” he states with determination, his jaw firm. “Particularly drunk women. I just…” He blows out a breath. “I just wanted you to know the truth.”
I stare into the distance, reflecting on this new information. No one in the city cares about each other. It’s always every man for himself. The idea that Julian took it upon himself to make sure I was okay has me rethinking my original assumption.
“You really are a good guy,” I murmur, more to myself than anyone else.
“I’m no saint, but I try to be a decent human being. Okay?”
“Okay.” It’s all I can manage to say as relief fills me. Trevor’s still my number three. There’s no number four. But now the idea of there being a number four doesn’t seem to be the apocalyptic event I once believed it to be. For two weeks, I’d carried on like there was a number four. There were no flooding rains requiring me to build an arc. No swarm of locusts. No great famine, apart from that between my legs. Life went on. And I get the feeling it will continue to go on even if there were to be a number four.
“So, what do you say?” He runs a hand through his hair, drawing my attention back to him. “Want to be my fake girlfriend?”
To anyone else, I’m sure it sounds like a great offer. Pretend to date some ridiculously good-looking, presumably wealthy man who looks incredible in a suit. But it’s not that easy for me. Even though Trevor’s moved on, there’s still a level of guilt.
“I apologize if I appear skeptical, but I just don’t see what you get out of this.”
“Simple. I get a seat at the table.”
I scrunch my brows together. “Excuse me?”
“Listen…” He licks his lips. “I didn’t always have money. Because of that, there are a few prominent people in my circle who are bitter about my windfall. I’m typically relegated to the ‘kid’s table’, so to speak. Old money versus found money kind of thing. A dear friend who’s been around this life for more years than she cares to admit suggested a girlfriend might help. Showing up at many of these events as a bachelor could be working against me. I’m in the middle of a few huge projects for my company, but there’s a lot of bureaucratic red tape I need to cut through to get them off the ground. Some of the nation’s most powerful people summer in the Hamptons.”
“And if they see you’re in a committed relationship and aren’t just some bachelor playboy pissing away his fortune, they’ll take you more seriously.”
He nods. “Like I said, it’ll be a win-win. I can conduct some much-needed business. You can make Trevor so jealous that he’ll come crawling back to you.”
I chew on my bottom lip, considering his offer. Julian certainly makes it sound appealing. But he doesn’t know Trevor like I do. He’s always had an uncanny ability to weed through the bullshit, which is why he’s one hell of an attorney, even for only being thirty. He’ll see through this bullshit, too. When he does, it will only reaffirm his reasons for breaking up with me in the first place — that I don’t take anything in life seriously enough.
“I really do appreciate the offer, but Trevor will see right through our game in a flash. It will never work. I’m sorry. But I’m sure you can find someone else to help you.” I lock eyes with him, feeling a twinge of guilt at the disappointment crossing his brow. “Goodbye, Julian.”
When I turn from him, a part of me hopes he’ll call my name once more. He never does.
Chapter Ten
“I can’t believe you’re actually trying to figure out who August Laurent is,” Nora says Friday afternoon as we unpack all the boxes containing possessions from my former life.
After my run-in with Julian in Central Park yesterday, I went back to the apartment I shared with Trevor instead of heading to the office. All I heard was Julian’s warning that if I kept living with him, I’d only give him the satisfaction of knowing I’ll always be around and waiting. I refuse to do that any longer. He needs to know I’m ready to walk away, too. A part of me hoped Trevor would reach out to talk when he walked into the apartment last night and saw the stacks of boxes containing my things. He never did. So, after our weekly meeting at the magazine earlier today, I convinced Chloe to play hooky. When I told Nora of my plans, she volunteered to help, as well. The only one missing from our circle is Izzy, but treating kids with cancer is more important than helping me move.
“Yeah,” I groan. “And it’s proving to be impossible. The man’s a ghost.”
“Like Keyser Söze.”
“Exactly!” This is why we get along so well. We all think the same thing. It can be a little scary at times, but being able to anticipate what each other is thinking and feeling makes things easier.
“I wonder what he looks like.” She grabs a magazine off the stack of back issues of Blush and flips through it.
I’ve kept a copy of every single issue since I started there. I remember holding the very first one in my hands and seeing my name in print. The feeling was indescribable. I even slept with it on my nightstand that night. Trevor never even asked to read the article.
“Maybe he appears differently for everyone who hires him. You know, like the Mirror of Erised in Harry Potter.” She stops flipping through the pages, turning the magazine around to show us an image of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie when they were still “Brangelina”. “Brad Pitt would be my August Laurent.”
Chloe laughs. “I don’t think it works that way, Nora. I don’t think he changes his appearance based on what the person who hires him wants to see.”
With a frown, Nora returns the magazine to the pile, then places them on a small bookshelf. “Pity. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Sure,” I say with an eye roll.
“How did you figure out he frequents the Steam Room anyway?” she presses.
I avoid her speculative gaze as I remove a few of my favorite coffee mugs from bubble wrap. Trevor always hated my affinity for mugs with snarky sayings on them. He drank out of the same boring black mug, said most adults don’t drink out of mugs with profanity. I guess I’m not like most adults.
“Just a hunch based on a few tips.”
“Hmm…” Her lips form a tight line. “Those tips wouldn’t have come from our very own gossip queen, would they?” She waggles her brows, nodding toward Chloe.
I open my mouth to respond just as my phone rings. I glance at the screen, my breath hitching when I see Trevor’s face smiling back.
“Who is it?” Chloe asks, noticing my reaction.
“Trevor,” I answer hesitantly.
“What do you think he wants?” Nora sneers.
It took my friends no time at all to go from Team Trevor to Team No One, especially after I told them about seeing him yesterday. Of course, I left out any mention of bumping into Julian and his little proposition.
“Maybe to tell me he realized he made a mistake.”
“You’re not going back to him after this, are you?” Chloe presses.
Unsure how to respond to her, I shrug. I should just write him off. If we’d only been together a few months, I’d do just that. But it’s been twelve years. There’s a certain level of patience, understanding, and forgiveness that increases over time.
“Trevor,” I say when I answ
er. It’s strange to greet him this way. Normally, I’d say “Hey, baby” or “Hiya, sweetie”. I hate I can’t do that anymore.
“Oh, Evie. Hey,” he responds, like he’s surprised to hear my voice, even though he was the one who called.
“Is there something you need, or was this a butt dial?” I quip in a sarcastic tone when he doesn’t say anything more.
“Right…” There’s a pause and I hold my breath. Something’s different in the timbre of his voice. Regret? Remorse? Sorrow? “I stopped by the apartment to change suits for tonight.” Hope builds inside me that my plan has already had the intended effect. “There was a delivery for you.”
“A delivery?” I can’t remember the last order I placed. I normally have everything sent to the office, unless it’s a big item.
“Yeah. It’s… Well, someone sent you flowers.”
I roll my eyes, thinking it’s someone else from the magazine who decided to send me flowers in condolence for my breakup. Most likely one of the contributors who doesn’t regularly come into the office.
I’m about to explain what my coworkers do during a breakup, when he cuts me off. “Who’s Julian?”
My jaw falls open, a rush of adrenaline causing my skin to tingle from the name alone. “Julian?” I swallow hard.
In an instant, Chloe and Nora kneel directly in front of my position on the floor, their curious eyes trained on me. Who’s Julian? Nora mouths. I hold up a finger, hushing them. This is as much a mystery to me as it is to them. Why would he send me flowers after I turned him down yesterday?
“I didn’t mean to read the card, but it wasn’t in an envelope. It was kind of hard to miss. Are you already seeing someone else?” His voice is low with a hint of jealousy. I shouldn’t smile at the pain I hear, but it gives me a taste of vindication. Now he knows how it feels. Even if I’m not seeing Julian, he doesn’t need to know that.
“You’ve already moved on. You can’t expect me to sit around and wait for you, can you?”
“Well… No. I guess not.” He blows out a long breath. “I just thought—”
“Actually, you didn’t, Trevor. That’s the problem. You didn’t think. You didn’t think I’d ever get over you. Well, maybe I have.”
“Is that the only reason you’re dating him?” His voice becomes strained, turning into almost a growl. I picture him pacing in front of the entryway table, tugging at his hair, sneering at the flowers Julian sent. “To piss me off? To make me jealous?”
“Do you really think so little of me that I’d stoop to such levels?” I keep my tone calm, refusing to show any hint of emotion. “Maybe I’m with Julian because he makes me laugh, makes me smile, makes me feel like I matter.” I stand, pacing in the little free space between all my boxes. “And you know what? He likes that I’m a bit eccentric. He likes that I don’t fit into the cookie-cutter mold it appears you want. He likes I don’t have a size two body. Not to mention he really likes that I have more than a handful up top.”
Nora snort-laughs, her wide eyes sparkling with amusement. I may have dug the knife a little deeper than necessary, but it feels good. Who knew? Apparently, Julian did.
“So am I doing this to make you jealous? No. I’m doing this to give me the happiness I deserve.” I draw in a deep breath, my own words surprising me. I think they surprise my friends, too. They gape at me for a moment, then they both jump to their feet as they give me a silent standing ovation.
I glare and wave my hands at them, warning them not to make me laugh as I return my attention to my phone. “As you probably already noticed, I’ve packed up my things and brought them over to Chloe’s. You shouldn’t receive any additional deliveries for me over there, but text me if you do and I’ll swing by to pick them up. There are a few more things I need to get out of the apartment this weekend. After that, you’ll finally have me out of your life. I’m sorry it’s taken so long.”
A lump builds in my throat at the double meaning. I want him to beg me not to go, to tell me he doesn’t want to come home to an apartment without tripping over my shoes, or seeing my collection of coffee mugs that haven’t yet made their way into the dishwasher. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything.
“Goodbye, Trevor.”
I stay on the line a moment longer, praying he’ll admit he made a mistake. But he doesn’t. I go to end the call to see he already has. I remain motionless for a moment, simply staring at the phone as I try to process what just happened. Is this officially the end of Trevor and Evie? Trevi? I’d even planned for us to honeymoon in Rome just to go to the fountain bearing the same name as our couple name. Will I ever find someone I’ll have an awesome couple name with again?
“Want to tell us what the hell is going on?” Chloe’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
I glance to see her standing beside me, her arms crossed.
“Who’s Julian?” Nora adds. “Why didn’t you say anything about a new suitor?”
I shake my head, unsure where to even begin with this. I still can’t wrap my head around it myself. “Julian isn’t a suitor,” I begin, then my phone rings once more.
“Is it Trevor telling you there’s another delivery of flowers from yet another gentleman caller?” Nora giggles.
Rolling my eyes, I look at the phone to see my office line number, indicating it’s a call forwarded from there, something I do whenever I’m away from my desk during normal business hours.
“It’s a work call.” I grit a smile. “Just a second.” I bring the phone back up to my ear, squaring my shoulders and plastering on as professional an expression as I can, even though whoever’s calling can’t see me. “Evie Fitzgerald.”
“Hello, Evie,” a deep baritone responds.
The instant that voice comes over the line, my core clenches, my breath quickening as desire builds inside me, low and deep. My cheeks heat, so I look away from Chloe and Nora, hoping they don’t notice the sudden change in my demeanor.
“Good afternoon, Julian.”
Nora squeals and I glare at her. She quickly silences herself, but that doesn’t stop her and Chloe from making obscene gestures, the occasional moan of “Oh, Julian” thrown in for added emphasis.
“Is it?” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice, leading me to believe this was all part of his plan to begin with.
“It is now.” I walk away from my two best friends, who seem to be acting like they’re in middle school instead of professional adults, and head to the bay windows in Chloe’s living room, looking out at the streets of Greenwich Village.
“And why’s that?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I lower myself to the window seat. “Maybe because my ex-boyfriend just called me in a jealous rage because someone happened to send me flowers.”
He chuckles, the sound still having the same effect as it did yesterday. “Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“I told you I can help, did I not?”
“All you did was send flowers,” I retort. The last thing I want is to sound overly eager to agree to his proposition. I’m still not convinced it’s the right way to go about this. “You were lucky Trevor was even home when they were delivered. He’s been practically sleeping at the office these days.”
“You call it luck. I call it due diligence.”
“Due diligence?”
“Precisely. I promised that if you agreed to help me, I’d do everything to help you. Randomly sending you flowers doesn’t cut it. If I simply wanted to send you flowers, I would have sent them to your office. I wanted him to know I sent you flowers. Which is why I paid the delivery person to sit outside your building and wait until he saw Trevor walk in.”
I’m momentarily speechless by the length it appears Julian went in order to make Trevor jealous. I have to hand it to him. It certainly worked.
“Do I want to know how long the delivery man was sitting outside?” I’m unsure if I should consider this a creepy form of stalking or if it is simply a demonstration tha
t he’s a talented manipulator.
“Probably not. So, what do you say, Evie? Did I prove you wrong?”
I brush my hair behind my ear, ignoring the questioning stare of my two friends, who are now squeezed on the opposite side of the window seat, their gazes seemingly glued to my every move.
“What do you mean?”
“You said Trevor was too smart to buy into the idea of us being a real couple.”
“And he is.”
“You still believe that?”
“I do. He asked if I was only dating you to make him jealous, so he’s certainly skeptical.”
“But he did think you were dating me.” His voice is light and playful. “I think my column deserves points for that alone.”
“This isn’t a game, Julian.”
“Of course it is. Life is merely a game. So are relationships. It’s all about strategy.”
“Is that what this is? Your strategy to get me to agree to your proposition?”
“And if it is?”
I pinch my lips together, carefully considering my words. “Then it seems you’re going to awful lengths when I’m sure you have your choice of women who’d gladly agree to be your arm candy at a few parties in the Hamptons.”
Nora shrieks again, but Chloe jabs her in the side, silencing her. Still, they both stare at me like I’m the three-headed dog from Harry Potter.
“But I don’t want any of them. I want a stunning, irresistible woman who can hold her own in a room full of stuffy businessmen and their stuck-up wives.”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree because I—”
“Don’t think you fit that description?” he interrupts, finishing the thought on the tip of my tongue. “Well, you’re wrong. Maybe in your ex-boyfriend’s opinion you don’t, but from what I’ve seen, you’re the perfect person for the job. I’m not looking for someone who can’t form an intelligent thought if her life depended on it, or someone who will only speak when spoken to. I’m looking for someone with edge. Someone who has confidence in spades. That’s you. So let’s do this. I help you. You help me. Tit for tat.”
