by Sharlay
“Get out of this penthouse before I’m tried for murder.”
I laugh and then we leave. Getting to know Ned has been more fun than I could have ever imagined.
“Ah, Miss Waters, how are you tonight?” Jameson asks as we step into the lobby.
“I’m great, thank you. Yourself?”
“Much better having seen you.” He winks. “Mr. Cole, it is nice to see you again.”
“You too, Jameson.” Even though you let Jackson into the penthouse. I notice that Jameson looks at Ned as if he is looking at his own daughter. It’s nice.
“So, where are you young people off to tonight?”
“I’m taking Cole to my favorite restaurant.”
“You are?” I ask.
“I am.”
“Sounds splendid, well don’t let me keep you. Enjoy your evening,” Jameson says.
“Thank you.” Ned smiles before dragging me toward the front door.
“Night,” I call over my shoulder. I hear Jameson chuckling behind me. “What’s this favorite restaurant of yours then?” I ask curiously.
“Paradiso, the food is beautiful.”
“Italian?” She nods. “Sounds good to me.”
“Trust me, it is.”
“I’m not sure that I should really trust a woman who doesn’t protect her butt cheeks.” She swats my arm and I laugh, loud.
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Great,” she says rolling her eyes.
“So how far is this place?”
“About a ten-minute walk, we can drive if you want but I always like to walk.”
“Then we’ll walk.” I wink. She smiles and something inside my stomach jumps. “So, when do I meet the family?” I joke.
She laughs. “Soon, but I’ve got to make sure that you’re prepared.”
“I promise not to embarrass you by telling everyone that you wear floss for panties. It’ll be our little secret.”
I see her hand lift in the air but I’m faster this time. I grab onto her wrist with my hand and lift my eyebrows.
“Ned, I’m concerned that you may have some anger issues, do we need to go to counseling so early in our fakelationship?”
“No amount of counseling can help me to deal with you, Cole, I assure you.” I chuckle and then slowly bring her hand down before slipping my fingers through hers.
“This will ensure that you can’t hit me again, since it’s becoming a habit,” I say looking down at our entwined fingers.
“Really?” Her voice is laced with sarcasm.
“Indeed, and besides real couples hold hands. We should start practicing.”
“Such a committed employee, aren’t you?”
I smile. We walk hand in hand down the street in a comfortable silence. I look ahead and see that the sky has already started to darken. The lights on the buildings all around us are starting to stand out, and the night air is cool and calm.
“So what about you?” Ned asks.
“What about me?” I look at her.
“Well, I don’t know much about you or your family.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Where did you grow up?”
“In California but I moved here, to New York five years ago. I stayed with my sister, Layla, for a year before getting my own place.”
“That explains the tan then.”
“Yup.” I chuckle.
“So your sister moved here first?”
“Yeah, her husband, Jamie, got a promotion at a huge law firm ten years ago and so they packed up and left. She loves it. She’s kind of the reason I moved out here; we’re pretty close.”
“That’s nice. How long have they been together?”
“They met in high school. They’ve been together since they were seventeen. So, fifteen years now.”
“That’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, I guess it’s pretty cool,” I agree.
“Yeah. So, what about your father, does he still live in California?” My jaw twitches at the mention of him.
“He does,” I say in a way that lets her know that I’m not willing to say any more about this.
“When did your mom die?” she asks softly. I don’t talk about my mom with anyone. It was one of the hardest times in my life and I have no intention of re-living it. But I don’t feel that way with Ned. Maybe it’s because of her situation, I know she’ll understand in a way that most people won’t.
“Six years ago. My mom was very adventurous.” I smile at the memory of her. “She always wanted to do things that other people were terrified to do — I admired her for that. She’s the bravest woman that I’ve ever known.”
“She sounds amazing.” Ned breathes, squeezing my hand a little tighter.
“She was. My dad hated that; he was always concerned that something would happen to her, and I guess he was right in the end. She went on a skiing trip with a group of her friends. They accidentally went off course and got lost. Apparently they were trying to get back to the base and my mom thought that she knew the way so the group split up. Some went with my mom and some went the other way. My mom went the right way but she fell along the way and injured her leg. She couldn’t walk. She told them that it would be quicker if they got to the base and brought back help. I knew my mom, she could be very persuasive when she wanted to and so they agreed. But by the time they got back to her she had lost too much blood. She was already dead. She was holding a letter in the palm of her hand.” I take a deep breath because I hate this part of the story. “The letter explained that she knew she was going to die. She knew that her femoral artery was severed, and she didn’t want her friends to wait for her and lose their chance of survival. She told them not to blame themselves and that she did a good job of convincing them she’d be ok. She also left messages in there for my dad, Layla, and myself. She told my dad that he wasn’t to be angry, that she died happy, doing the thing that she wanted to do. She told Layla that it was her job to be strong and hold the family together — to look out for me. And she told me to never give up on my dreams, no matter how impossible, no matter how many people tell me to give up, to just keep going … to make her proud.”
“Wow, I wish I had known her.” I turn to Ned and smile because for the first time she made telling that story so worth it. She never gave me the usual sympathy that people offer. And she never gave me the lecture my dad does about how irresponsible and selfish my mom was or how her dreams killed her. She made my mom seem like a hero and she has no idea how much that means to me. “And why did she have a pen and paper on a skiing trip?” she asks puzzled.
I look down at her and laugh. How does she do that? Make me feel better about something that once ripped my life apart.
“She loved documenting her adventures. She said she didn’t want to forget a single moment.”
“She sounds like a cool lady.” She beams.
I smile down at her. “She was. She would have liked you, you know,” I say honestly. I see a huge smile fill her face before she nods her head.
“I think I would have liked her too,” she says. We walk silently for a few moments before she speaks again. “We made it.”
I look up and see the sign for Paradiso above a very classy looking restaurant. “Yeah, we did,” I say.
“The walk wasn’t so bad, right?”
“No, it wasn’t … it wasn’t at all,” I answer, knowing the double meaning of my sentence.
We’ve been at the restaurant for a couple of minutes; I am trying to decide what to order. The entire menu is in Italian and Ned seems to find it hilarious that I have no idea what any of it means.
“I’m glad this amuses you.”
“I’m sorry, but the look on your face is priceless. You look so vulnerable.” She laughs.
“What are you having?” I ask.
“For starters I’m having bruschetta and for my main I am going to have the cannelloni.”
“Now ca
n you please tell me what you’re having in English?” I grunt. A playful smile fills her face and while she looks as sexy as ever, I’m more concerned with figuring out what on earth I’m going to eat.
“You’re cute when you’re confused. Well, the bruschetta is a grilled bread seasoned with garlic and served with tomatoes, olive oil, salt and pepper, and the cannelloni is a manicotti-shaped pasta that is stuffed with spinach and ricotta, and served with tomato and besciamella sauce.”
“You lost me at brush better,” I admit.
She laughs. “Bruschetta,” she corrects me.
“Yup, I’m still no less confused than when I read it in Italian. I’m just going to have what you’re having,” I grunt causing her to laugh.
“Good choice.”
“I hope so.” Just as the words leave my mouth, the server walks over. He’s a scrawny boy with messy, brown hair. He’s wearing a white shirt, black pants, and an apron that has the word “Paradiso” printed in fancy, red writing.
“Hello and welcome to Paradiso, my name is Antonio and I’ll be your server for the night. Can I get you anything to drink?” he asks politely.
“We’re ready to order actually,” Ned says. She smiles at him pleasantly.
“That’s great, what can I get for you?” he asks pulling a pen and small notepad out of his apron.
“We’ll have two portions of bruschetta and two cannelloni’s, please. Can we also get a glass of your house white wine and one water, please?” He scribbles down the order and then looks up at us.
“That’s not a problem ma’am. Would you like me to bring a serving of olives to the table while you are waiting for your starters?”
Ned looks at me for confirmation. I, at least, know what an olive is so I nod my head and she turns back to Antonio. “Please,” she says with a smile. He takes our menus and disappears with promises to be back shortly with our drinks and olives.
“Well, that was hard work,” I state as Ned stares at me with a smile on her face.
“Thanks,” she says.
“For what?”
“Telling me about your mother.”
“Yeah.” I breathe, amazed that she knows how big a deal that was.
“So, have you heard from Tracey?” She smirks.
“Who?”
“The twin! You seriously can’t remember her name?” she asks in shock.
“I’ve been involved with a lot of women, Ned, getting their name right was never on my high priority list. Besides, I’m on a date with my girlfriend whose name I do know. It would be rude to discuss my one-night stands with her,” I tease.
“Indeed, it would.”
Just then Antonio returns with a tray in his hand. He picks up the glass of wine and Ned nods in my direction. I’m confused; I thought I was on an alcohol ban. I give Ned a strange look but she dismisses it so I decide not to say anything about it. He places the glass of wine next to me and gives the water to Ned before he places the pot of olives in the middle of us. We both say a quick thank you before he disappears again. I take a sip of my wine; the dry, crisp flavor glides down my throat and I close my eyes in appreciation for a moment.
“You like?” Ned asks.
“I do. So, how many lovers have you brought here?” I tease.
“All of them,” she states before taking a sip of her water and then placing it back down on the table. Not the answer I was hoping for.
“Jackson?”
“Multiple times.” She holds my gaze. She slips an olive into her mouth and it is the most sensual thing I have ever seen. She’s playing my game.
“Good to know this date was original then,” I say sarcastically.
“I didn’t know this was a date.” She grins.
“Couples go on dates, babe. It’s part of the ‘getting to know each other’ phase.”
“I guess it is.” She’s smiling.
“Since you bring all your dates here, we need to come up with something just for us.” I’m flirting. Why am I flirting? This is a fake date, Brennan.
The smile on her face lets me know that my line impresses her. “True. But just for the record, none of my exes have ever tasted my pancakes,” she whispers sending a shiver down my spine.
“Jackson mentioned them earlier,” I correct her.
“Yes, he mentioned them but that doesn’t mean he’s tasted them.” I mentally fist pump the air. That douche hasn’t tasted her pancakes! I think that just made my night.
“That’s good news. I guess it would be a good time to let you know that you’re the first woman I’ve ever had breakfast with and your g-string is the first one I’ve ever held.” She nearly spits out the water she just took a sip of and a sense of satisfaction fills me from within. “If you keep taking all of my firsts there’ll be none left for anyone else.” I tease.
“Is that so?” She giggles. Ah, there is the flirting laugh. “Maybe that’s my plan.”
“Two bruschettas,” Antonio interrupts, placing them down in front of us.
“Thanks,” I state as I stare at Ned who seems to be trying to pull herself together, but if her rosy red cheeks are anything to go by … it’s not working.
Ned was right, the bruschetta was good. And the cannelloni is even better. I take a mouthful and hum in pleasure.
“So you like it?” She beams.
“Oh yes, this is good stuff. You know your food, Ned, I give you that even if you need a foreign translator just to order it.” She laughs. I’m getting used to the pleasure that sound gives me.
“So, tell me about your work, I’m curious.”
“I design rings and sell them in volume to different companies. I love it,” she says before taking in another forkful of her meal.
“I never see you wearing any.”
“They’re expensive; I very rarely wear my own designs.”
“What made you get into it?” I ask with genuine interest.
“I don’t know, I guess I’ve just always loved rings since I was a kid. I used to collect the ones I got in my girly magazines and then as I got older I started to convince my mom and dad to buy me better ones. It was a hobby at first; I was building a collection but I could never find exactly what I wanted. Then one day it dawned on me that the only way I could get exactly what I desired was if I made it myself. The rest is history.” I can see the sparkle in her eyes as she speaks.
“I’m guessing you’ve done pretty damn well based on the size of your penthouse?”
She laughs.
“I’ve been blessed with a very good career, but it’s just money. I can’t take it where I’m going, can I?” She chuckles. I hate hearing those words. I don’t want to go there so I don’t.
“Do any celebrities wear your pieces?”
“Yes, quite a few; that’s how I get a lot of my rings sold. They are like walking billboards for me. People see their favorite celebrity wearing one of my pieces and suddenly my rings are flying off the shelves.”
“Sounds awesome, so do you have some sort of factory where they’re made?”
“I have five: two in the US, one in the UK, one in Switzerland, and another in India.”
“You’ve done pretty well for yourself, Ned. I’m proud.”
“I have a great team.”
“And I’m pretty sure they have a great boss. I know I do.” I laugh.
“Smooth, are you looking for a pay rise?”
“Maybe, is it working?”
“Nope.”
“Damn.”
She laughs.
“What about you? How did you get into acting?” I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman ask me this or look so genuinely interested in my answer. This woman.
“Honestly, it was the only thing I was good at in high school. I pretty much flunked everything else. My teacher, Mr. Eagles, believed in me for some reason. He kept pushing me until I started to take it seriously.”
“What do you love about it?”
“It’s like looking at life from a different p
erspective. I think as a world we’re pretty judgmental of people we don’t understand. Playing a role allows me to immerse myself in a character’s world and life. That experience always teaches me something new about people and the world around me. It gives me a new type of appreciation.”
“And affects other people’s views as well,” she says gently.
Gosh, she gets me. “Exactly.”
“It sounds pretty amazing.” I look up to find her smiling at me. Why is my heart beating so fast?
“It is,” I whisper. “So what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” I ask in need of a subject change.
“Tomorrow is your day off.” I suddenly hate days off. “I have back-to-back meetings all morning. I’m very close to signing a contract with a huge jewelry retailer, and I need to tie up a few loose ends tomorrow.”
“That’s fantastic.”
“Yeah, if it all goes as planned then I will get the go ahead to visit Paris and make an offer on a building that I will eventually turn into another factory.”
“That’s awesome. So, what do you have planned for the evening?”
“Nothing as of yet.” She smiles. “Why?”
“Well—”
The sound of her phone ringing interrupts me.
“Sorry,” she says before sliding it out of her purse. I give her a little nod that tells her it’s ok and then continue to finish my cannelloni, which I’m sad to see coming to an end.
“Hey, Misty,” she says. “Oh, you’re with Jackson? Yeah, it was an awesome surprise.” She laughs. I’m suddenly very interested in this conversation. “No, I really had no idea he was coming until I saw him this morning. Yeah, of course. Hey, Jackson. Yes, I’m good. I’m just eating dinner.” With Cole … you forgot that bit, Ned. “Tomorrow evening …” She looks up at me and I smile like I’m not interested in her or her conversation. She looks away. “Yeah, I’m free, what did you have in mind? La Vita, that new restaurant? Yes, I think I know it. Yeah, six is a good time for me. Great, I’ll see you there then. No, tell her I’ll catch up with her soon. Ok, you too, bye.” She hangs up and I pretend not to notice.
“Sorry about that,” she says quietly.
“It’s cool,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders. I finish my last bit of food and down my wine in one go.
