I remembered my Friday laziness. “I didn’t have time. But I’ll finish it today.”
“Oh,” she said, sounding surprised and a little disappointed. “I guess that’s okay, as long as I have it soon. By the way … Virginia said something about running into you the other day. She claimed you’d taken a really long lunch.”
I rolled my eyes. I should have known my soft feelings for that woman couldn’t last. “I’m not surprised she reported me.”
“So she wasn’t making it up?”
I shook my head. “It was just once.”
Kitty touched her hair, twirling it around her index finger until the tip turned white. “Well,” she said, “it’s fine … but don’t make it a habit. We don’t want the other employees to get the wrong idea … and you said you didn’t want me to play favorites.”
“Right,” I said, even though being a favorite had its advantages.
She untangled her hair from her finger and dropped her hand to her side. “Anyway … the main reason I stopped by is that Ned and I want to take you to dinner at Café Boulud on Saturday night to celebrate your upcoming publication … and you can bring that handsome boyfriend of yours.”
She was cheery and smiling, but I wasn’t. My stomach turned at the thought of being forced into hours of civil conversation with Ned and possibly another hug.
“What’s wrong?” Kitty asked. “If you don’t like French cuisine, I assure you the menu is quite multicultural.”
“It’s not the food,” I said. “It’s just…”
Her smile dimmed. “I thought everything was fine with you and Ned now.”
The discouragement in her voice killed me, and I had to do something to get rid of it. “It is,” I said. “Everything’s fine. So what time should we be there?”
*
That night, I walked out of the elevator at 15 Central Park West and headed toward my apartment. I rounded a corner and saw Alex down the hall, standing in front of my door with a gym bag at his feet and two paper bags stuffed with groceries from Gristedes in his arms. The mere sight of him lifted my spirits, and a wide grin broke out on my face.
“Hey,” I said, heading toward him as I jangled my keys in my hand. “I was going to call you later. Want to go on a date Saturday night?”
I was in front of him now, and I almost bounced up and down in my shoes. He looked amazing, with his dark hair and his blue eyes and his strong body dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with sleeves rolled to his biceps. His muscles were bulging even more than usual, like he’d spent the afternoon bench-pressing or whatever it is that guys do to make themselves look so delicious.
“Or maybe I shouldn’t call it a date,” I went on, “since Ned Stone will be there. But Kitty will be, too … she invited both of us to dinner at Café Boulud to celebrate my authorhood. Is that even a word?”
He laughed. “I’m not sure. But I’d love to go. And I hope you don’t mind me showing up here again, Savannah. I just came from the gym and I have the night off … and I thought you might like a home-cooked meal after working all day.”
God. He was the whole package: hot and thoughtful and so adorably domestic. I couldn’t have come up with anything better if I’d whipped him up from scratch.
“I’d love it,” I said, “as long as you’ll let me help.”
He agreed. We went inside and I slipped into my bedroom, where I stripped off my suit and changed into shorts and a tank top while he unpacked groceries in the kitchen.
Then I crept into the kitchen in my bare feet. Alex was turned away, standing at the sink and rinsing lettuce under the faucet. I sneaked up behind him, wrapped my arms around his waist, and closed my eyes as I pressed my cheek into his back.
“You smell nice,” I told him.
“I’m not wearing cologne or anything,” he said.
“I know. It’s just you.”
He laughed again. I reluctantly let go and moved to his side, where he handed me the lettuce and a knife. We made dinner together—a delectable Italian feast like the one he’d cooked for me at his apartment—and afterward we sat across from each other at the table, talking over a lit candle until it was dark outside.
“You still haven’t told me,” Alex said, leaning back in his chair, “why Tina isn’t around.”
I let out a sigh before I spilled the whole story, including the verbal butchering Mr. Brandt had unleashed on me. The bruises were still fresh and sore.
“Because of where I come from,” I said, “some people see me as nothing but trash.”
I shook my head and stared at my empty plate until I felt Alex’s fingers beneath my chin. He lifted my face to meet his eyes.
“I don’t,” he said.
That made me believe nothing else mattered. I reached for his hand and squeezed it gently in mine. “Do you have a toothbrush in there?” I asked, nodding toward his gym bag that sat in a corner across the kitchen.
“Yeah,” he said. “Why?”
“Because,” I began, “I don’t want you to go all the way back to Staten Island in the dark. Because I have an extra bedroom with nobody in it. Because I really want you to stay.”
*
Moonlight filled my room as my back pressed against my mattress. The bed was soft and the air-conditioning was set at an ideal temperature, but I still couldn’t sleep. I just kept staring through the window, at the ceiling, into the darkened hall.
I stayed there until after midnight, when I started fiddling with a loose button on the front of my pink nightie with its spaghetti straps and eyelet trim. I felt thirsty, so I got out of bed and went to the kitchen, where I gingerly opened the fridge and pulled out a Snapple, doing my best to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake Alex.
He was asleep in Tina’s room, which I passed on my way back down the hall. The door was open a crack and I lingered by it for a moment, just listening to him breathe.
I carefully pushed the door open halfway and saw him lying facedown on the bed. His torso was bare, the rest of him was covered with a sheet, and his arms were spread across the mattress with his fingers dangling off the sides.
His skin looked so smooth and flawless that I wanted to put my hands all over it. I wanted to cuddle up next to him and fall asleep with our legs intertwined. But instead I just pulled the door back to its original position, and cringed when it creaked. Alex didn’t move, though—so I tiptoed to my room, got into bed, and closed my eyes.
I fell asleep. But then something woke me—something that sounded like a squeaky floorboard. I opened my eyes, squinted at the clock on my night table, and saw that I hadn’t been out for long and Alex was standing beside my bed. He was wearing cotton shorts but was still shirtless, and I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.
“You were outside my room, weren’t you?” he asked, his voice soft but serious.
He must’ve heard the door. He had to know I’d been ogling him while he slept, but now I didn’t even care. “Yeah,” I said.
“Why didn’t you come in?” he asked.
He waited for an answer, but I didn’t have one.
Alex leaned down, resting his right hand beside my head to steady himself as he carefully shifted his body onto the bed, where he straddled me and looked into my face.
“Tell me to leave,” he said in a velvet whisper.
I stared at him. My blood was racing through my veins.
“Say you want me to leave, Savannah … and I will.”
I shook my head. “I’ve already told you that I want you to stay.”
One corner of his mouth lifted into a seductive smile that made my whole body smolder. He put his lips on mine, kissing me gently at first, and then deeper, sliding his hands over the pink fabric that covered my naked chest. His fingers moved to the buttons, undoing each one, and then my nightie was open and off and lying beside me on the bed.
His lips went everywhere—my breasts, my stomach, the insides of my thighs. I bent my legs around his hips and tugged at the waist of
his shorts. I tossed them away, and then we were covered only by the glow of the full moon outside my window.
“Alex,” I said as I slid my bare heel down the crease in his back. I could hardly get his name out, because he was kissing my neck, sending me into a trance.
“What’s wrong?” he asked breathily, glancing down at his muscular body against my thin frame. He lifted himself onto his elbows and suddenly looked worried. “Am I hurting you?”
I almost laughed at that question. I hadn’t felt so good in a long, long time. I hadn’t cared this much for anyone other than Jamie. “No,” I answered, not even sure what I’d meant to say before. “And there’s absolutely nothing wrong.”
He gave me a drowsy grin and slowly ran the tip of his index finger from my throat to my navel as he stared alternately at my face and my body like he was hungry for all of it.
But he couldn’t have been hungrier than I was. I draped my arms over his shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss that felt like the coldest drink on the hottest day.
His hands went lower, slipping gently down my thighs and ending up between them, making me squeeze my eyes shut and gnaw on my lower lip. His fingers moved to my underwear, gently pulling until it was at my ankles and finally on the floor.
Then there was nothing separating us and he was moving slowly and skillfully against me, back and forth, his pecs skimming my chest. Our noses touched as we kept our eyes locked, and I thought he was so much more than worth the wait.
*
It was Saturday night, and Tony was picking me up soon to drive me to the Surrey hotel, where Café Boulud was located. I could have taken a cab, but he’d jumped at the chance for overtime when I mentioned I was having dinner with Alex. Tony was going be in Manhattan chauffeuring other clients anyway, he’d said.
I was in a new dress and ready to go as I stood in my guest room. Alex had made the bed before he left on Tuesday morning, and I could still smell his scent, mixed with the fading trace of Tina’s mango perfume.
I opened the closet, which I thought was filled with empty hangers until I saw something pink and sparkly all the way in the back—the dress I’d borrowed for Tina’s debutante ball. I took it out and admired the lipstick-rose satin and the chiffon, wondering if she’d purposely left it as a cherished gift or if she’d discarded it like a bad memory.
She still hadn’t called or texted or e-mailed, and I hadn’t, either. I hadn’t even told Mom the full story about Tina fleeing from Manhattan—I’d just given her a sanitized version and cut the conversation short. I didn’t want to repeat what Sawyer Brandt had said, and I was sure if Mom heard it she’d do something crazy enough to get her locked up in the county pen. She’d probably rush to his house and bang on his door and give him a big dose of attitude along with a swift kick to his most treasured area.
I exhaled a long sigh and put the dress away, shooing Tina out of my mind. I was about to celebrate the achievement of an important goal, and I wouldn’t let anybody tarnish it. And I also wouldn’t let myself dwell on the fact that Ned was going to be at Café Boulud tonight. Alex would be there, too, and with him beside me, I was sure I could handle anything.
A few minutes later, I sat next to Tony as he drove toward the Upper East Side and I scrolled through text messages that Alex had sent during the week—Sweet dreams and I miss you and Got the night again off so let’s have dinner. There were also pictures on my phone that we’d taken of ourselves in Central Park. Some of them were blurry and most were too close-up, but looking at them made me smile.
The phone vibrated in my hand, and it was Alex, and just seeing his name on the screen turned me giddy. “Hey,” I said in a bubbly voice, thinking of how dashing he was going to look in the Armani dress shirt I’d bought at Barneys and had delivered to his apartment this afternoon. “Ready for tonight?”
“Savannah,” he said, and his tone scared me. It sounded like bad news was on the way. “I’m really sorry, but something came up … and I can’t make it for dinner.”
Something came up. It was such a standard bail-out line, and very unlike Alex. “Are you okay?” I asked as worrisome possibilities swirled through my head. “Did you get into a car accident? Are you sick? Is everything okay with your family?”
“They’re fine,” he said, “and so am I. It’s nothing like that.”
I waited for more as Tony drove past old buildings with ornate carvings above their windows, but Alex didn’t say a thing. “Then what is it?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said. “It’s just that I have to go to Queens tonight.”
That made no sense. He’d known about this dinner for days. He knew how important it was to me. “You have to go to Queens?” I asked, and Tony glanced at me. “Why?”
“I have to see someone,” he said, as if that were enough.
“Can’t you see this person tomorrow?” I pressed. “I can go with you. I wouldn’t mind seeing Queens again … I’ve only been there once, when I flew in from Charleston.”
“No,” he said. “It has to be tonight.”
What was he talking about? “Who exactly do you have to see?” I asked.
“Just a friend,” he said.
I was getting suspicious, imagining another girlfriend or an ex-wife he’d conveniently forgotten to mention. “What kind of friend?” I said while sweat seeped into my armpits and I feared I’d been completely wrong about him.
He seemed to catch my accusation. “Savannah,” he said. “Come on … it’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like?” I asked as Tony stopped at a red light. “You’ve been nothing but vague, so please give me an answer I can understand.”
Tony hit the gas when the light turned green, and Alex paused before he spoke again. “I’ve told you everything I can. I promised I’d be there. Please don’t ask questions.”
My beaded choker was pressing into my clammy flesh; I stuck my finger between the beads and my skin, but I was too rough and the necklace snapped, sending beads tumbling down my dress and onto my feet. “I have every right to ask questions,” I said, my temper flaring. “You promised me, too … and that promise was made first.”
“I know,” he said. “Don’t get mad. I never meant to upset you.”
How could I not get mad? It was unforgivable for a guy to let a girl get all fixed up for a night out and then call at the last minute without a reasonable excuse for not showing up, especially after they’d made love for the first time just five days ago and four times since—once in my shower, twice in my bed, Thursday night on his futon because we couldn’t keep our hands off each other long enough to make it to his room. This was the sort of ungentlemanly behavior I refused to tolerate, but I’d never expected it from him and that made it so much worse.
“I wouldn’t be upset,” I said, “if you’d just be straight with me. What’s going on?”
Alex exhaled another sigh, and it was long and weary. “Can’t you trust me and cut me some slack this one time?”
“Tell me the truth or there won’t be another time.”
“Jesus Christ,” Alex said. “I thought you weren’t like all the other spoiled, rich brats who throw a fit when they don’t get their way. You told me you weren’t one of those girls.”
“And you told me you’d always be honest,” I shot back. “Is that another broken promise? You’ve humiliated me, you know. Can you imagine what Ned’s going to think when he finds out that you’ve stood me up? He’ll laugh his pompous ass off.”
“Since when do you care what Ned thinks? You said you can’t stand him.”
I also couldn’t stand that I’d just yelled at Alex for being dishonest when I hadn’t been all that truthful myself. I’d never told him why I detested Ned in private and hugged him in public. Still, I’d told him everything else, so it wasn’t fair that he was holding back.
“Don’t throw my words in my face. I hate that.”
“You know what I hate?” Alex asked. “I hate when wom
en with too much money want to dress me up as if I’m their own personal Ken doll. I have a closet full of shirts, Savannah … you don’t need to send one over like I can’t afford my own or I don’t have the brains to wear something appropriate for a dinner with your family.”
I’d never said he didn’t have brains or couldn’t afford his own shirt. I’d thought he was smart and talented enough for me to brush Tina aside and let him replace her as my editor. I’d even spent an hour at Barneys, searching for the perfect shade of blue.
“You’re taking it the wrong way,” I said. “You’ve got a chip on your shoulder. You’re an evolved guy, Alex … but right now you’re being rigid and old-fashioned and chauvinistic, and you’re obviously intimidated because I have money. But there’s no reason to be.”
He scoffed. “Intimidated? Don’t flatter yourself.”
That stung, but I let it go. “I don’t know why you’re so angry about a stupid shirt. Didn’t you agree to accept a gift once in a while?”
“Yeah,” he said. “But not something that probably cost three hundred bucks. Like I told you before … I’m not a fucking gigolo.”
Did he really say that? Had what happened between us over the past few days made him think I was trying to turn him into my own private hooker? That was absurd and insulting, and I didn’t care for his biting tone. He didn’t apologize for it, or for anything he’d said, and that was what bothered me most of all.
“Maybe it’s the other way around,” I said. “Maybe you got what you wanted and now you’ve lost interest.”
There was silence. “That isn’t true,” he said finally. “How can you even think that?”
I didn’t know what to think. And I could barely talk, because my throat was closing up.
“Well,” I forced myself to say as Tony neared The Surrey—a small but elegant hotel in a quiet, residential area. “I’m almost at the restaurant, and I need to end this conversation because it’d be rude to keep Kitty and Ned waiting. I actually care how other people feel.”
“Me too,” he said in a tight voice.
“It sure doesn’t seem that way. So I guess we’re done.”
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