She smiled. “I hear the shrimp tacos here are really good.”
Cassidy and Brandon followed the waiter through the brightly colored restaurant, which hummed with chatter and laughter from groups of friends and couples huddled at tables tucked close together. They settled into a two-top in a cozy back corner, and over yummy shrimp tacos and another round of margaritas shared stories of where life had taken them since their high-school days. Cassidy was surprised by how easily the conversation flowed. She knew that, as an attorney, Brandon must be intelligent, and that he took his work seriously, but she was pleased to discover that he had a playful side to him as well.
She dabbed her eyes with a napkin. “You didn’t have a towel or anything?”
“I had nothing. And it was so hot that I was sweating buckets the whole bus ride, so when we finally got there, it looked like I’d literally peed all over the seat. You should have seen the look on the face of the woman who was sitting next to me when I stood up. I don’t speak a word of Chinese and couldn’t think of how to mime that it was only sweat, so I just gave her a sheepish look and got the hell out of there.”
“That’s hilarious. Gross—but hilarious.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Tell that to that poor woman in the Chinese countryside.”
She set down her napkin. “Hey, speaking of languages, what did you take at Paly?”
“Apparently I should have taken Chinese, but I took German. What about you?”
“I took Español with Señorita Azevedo. She was the best. Who was your favorite teacher?”
“Probably Mrs. Hori for biology. Did you have her?”
“Yep. She was one of my favorites too. Did you have Mr. Bakken for physics?”
He nodded. “Who didn’t?”
“I still think about that man every time I hear the words concave or convex,” Cassidy said.
He cleared his throat. “Nerd.”
“I prefer the term straight-A student. I can’t believe we never had a class together in four years.”
He took a sip of water. “Six years, if you count junior high school. And you were in all the smart people classes, if I recall correctly. But to be honest, it’s probably for the best that you didn’t know me then. As you may or may not remember, I sported a serious bowl cut until the end of ninth grade.”
She laughed as the waiter set a plate of flan between them. “You’re pretty funny. Maybe you’re the one who should be writing books.”
“I’ll leave that to you. I’d make a terrible writer.”
“I don’t know about that…you’ve got some pretty entertaining material to work with. I especially like that story about how you jumped off the roof of your fraternity using a parachute made out of bedsheets. What an idiot move.”
He laughed. “I don’t dispute that I was indeed an idiot, but that was a long time ago. Now that I’ve got the boys and the firm, there’s a whole lot less time for getting into trouble. I’m sure these days your life is much more exciting than mine.”
“I doubt that’s true. And I think you have a mistaken impression of my not-so-glamorous life. I take a nap nearly every afternoon. People who need a nap every afternoon can’t be all that exciting.” Oh dear. Had she really just admitted that to him?
He gave her a look. “You take a nap every afternoon?”
“I can’t believe I just told you that. I don’t tell anyone that, except for Patti, of course. It’s my guiltiest secret.”
“Your secret is safe with me. In fact…I like that you told me. I can’t remember the last time I took a nap. Between work and the twins, I never seem to get enough sleep.”
She sensed a shift in energy—that they were on the verge of something more intimate than funny stories and general small talk. Even though tonight was only the second time they’d spoken to each other, she felt like she’d known him for much longer than that. Maybe that was due to their shared childhood experiences—but maybe it was something else.
As she watched him cut a piece of flan with his spoon, she wondered how many women were lining up to date him.
Women who didn’t live three thousand miles away.
Before she realized what she was saying, Cassidy heard herself ask, “So what happened with you and your ex?” She balled her hands into fists, immediately regretting having posed such a probing question. Intimate was one thing, nosy was another. She quickly held up a hand. “I’m sorry, Brandon. You don’t have to answer that.” After they’d been getting along so well, she hoped she hadn’t thrown cold water all over the evening.
He shrugged. “It’s OK, I don’t mind. It’s not scandalous or anything. It just didn’t work out, unfortunately.”
She remained silent, not sure how to react. Though it was true she didn’t have her own frame of reference, she wondered how he could be so detached about something so…significant.
“I wanted it to, but in hindsight I think I always knew we weren’t right for each other,” he added.
She paused before responding. “Then why did you get married?” It wasn’t like her to be so direct with a person she barely knew, but something in his demeanor told her it was OK to ask.
He looked her straight in the eye. “Honest answer?”
“Of course.”
He picked up his water glass. “Because we were both around thirty and we both wanted kids, and that’s what couples do when they’re around thirty and want to have kids. They get married.”
His frankness startled her, but it also impressed her. It couldn’t be easy to accept that he’d gone down that path with the wrong person, but he had clearly come to terms with it.
He’s so grown-up.
She hated to admit it to herself, but she suddenly realized she’d never really dated a full-fledged adult before. Single men in New York—no matter what their age—tended to have a Peter Pan complex. All her friends said that, especially Danielle. Although Danielle sort of had a Peter Pan complex of her own.
She caught herself in midthought. I’ve never dated a grown-up before?
Is this a date?
This really feels like a date.
Or is that wishful thinking?
She blinked and forced her brain to return to the conversation. “Are you and she…friends?”
Brandon took a sip of water. “I wouldn’t call us friends, but we get along OK. She’s not a bitch or anything.”
“My brother’s wife is sort of a bitch.” Cassidy’s hand flew up and covered her mouth as soon as she’d uttered the words. “I can’t believe I just said that. Can we pretend I didn’t say that?”
He smiled. “It’s OK. I like your honesty.”
She cleared her throat and tried to get the conversation back on track. “Anyhow, it’s good that you and she get along. I guess for the boys’ sake you have to at least try, right?”
He nodded. “Exactly. We have our differences, but that’s one thing we’re completely in agreement about, putting the kids first.”
“Do you split custody?”
“Yep, right down the middle.”
“Have either of you been…dating?” She clenched her jaw. It was like her brain and mouth had lost contact. But once the question was out there, her mind started to race again.
Is this a date?
Are we on a date right now?
He didn’t seem to mind her straightforwardness. “I think she’s been seeing someone, but I couldn’t say for sure. I’ve been on a few dates, nothing serious. It’s hard to make the time. I have a pretty busy schedule, so dating hasn’t been a priority. What about you? You seeing anyone?”
Oh.
That answered the question.
She felt slightly deflated but forced a slight smile. “Me? No, not really.”
He cut another piece of flan with his spoon. “I find that hard to believe.”
> She smiled again and wondered if he was flirting with her or just making an observation—she hated that she couldn’t differentiate between the two. She feigned confidence and replied, “It’s true. I, um…I haven’t been that lucky in love.”
“Broken a few hearts, have you?”
“I wouldn’t say I’ve broken any hearts, maybe bruised a few. And I’ve been burned myself a few times, but let’s just leave it at that.” She cursed herself for sharing too much—again. What was it about him that made her feel she could open up like this? Where was her aura of mystery? Everyone knew men loved an aura of mystery. Even her characters knew that.
“Have you ever been close to getting married?” he asked.
Cassidy felt a tiny pang at the memory of Dean. “I dated this one guy for about two and a half years, and I thought it was heading that way, but apparently he saw things differently.” That was about the best way she could think of to sugarcoat the experience of having been unceremoniously dumped.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks.” She offered a weak smile and looked down, suddenly feeling undesirable. Thinking about Dean always made her feel that way. Ugh. She took a sip of water and wondered how this conversation had gotten so off track. An hour ago she’d been floating. And flirting.
Now she was flailing.
And failing.
She wished there were a school somewhere that could teach her how to talk to men she found attractive. Maybe that was how all the happy women out there found doting boyfriends and husbands. Had they all taken some secret class?
“When I saw you at the reunion, I was surprised to find out you weren’t married.”
She looked up at him. “Why?”
He laughed. “Please. You’re beautiful and smart and funny. Who wouldn’t want to marry you?”
She caught her breath and felt her stomach do a little flip-flop. The questions started bouncing around inside her head again, as if they were inside a pinball machine.
Are we on a date?
Is this a date?
She was beginning to feel as if she were engaged in two conversations at once.
Before she could respond to his compliment, the waiter appeared.
“Can I get you anything else?”
Brandon shook his head. “Just the check, please, thank you.”
Cassidy reached for her purse and stood up. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to run to the ladies’ room.”
As best she could, she walked calmly across the room and pushed open the door to the restroom, trying to process what Brandon had just said to her.
You’re beautiful and smart and funny. Who wouldn’t want to marry you?
She washed her hands and saw the confused look on her own face in the mirror.
Is he interested in me?
He must be interested in me to say those things, right?
Or was he just saying them to be nice?
She pressed a palm against her forehead.
How can I be thirty-eight years old and still have absolutely no idea how to read men?
“Thanks so much for dinner, Brandon. I had a really nice time.”
“It was my pleasure. Thanks for taking the time out of your busy schedule to see me.”
Cassidy rolled her eyes. “I left my apartment for the first time at three o’clock today. My schedule is hardly busy.”
He held the door open for her. “Did you skip your nap?”
She laughed. “I guess I did.”
“Well then, let me rephrase it. I appreciate your skipping your nap to see me.”
“No problem. Apparently I’ll do anything for an old high-school friend, even one who never spoke to me.”
He held up his palms. “Hey now, I think we established that you’re the one who never spoke to me.”
As they made their way toward the subway entrance a block away, she wished the sidewalk ahead of them would magically elongate to prolong their time together. She stole a glance up at him as they walked, imagining once again what it would feel like to touch the stubble on his face. At the reunion she’d found him physically attractive, but tonight she’d been surprised by his intelligence and sense of humor. More than anything, the playful banter that had sprung up between them had caught her off guard. There was something undeniably magnetic about being able to joke around with a man she also wanted to kiss, and she wanted more of whatever it was stirring up inside of her. She wanted to suggest they go for a stroll around the West Village, or stop for coffee, or grab another drink, anything to keep this night from ending.
But she couldn’t bring herself to speak up and make it happen.
Then again, he wasn’t making it happen either.
Maybe that was her answer. If she’d learned anything about men over the years, it was that when they were interested in a woman, they usually made it known.
But not always.
Which left her at square one.
Much to her chagrin, they reached the stairwell leading down to the subway. She stepped to one side so as not to block pedestrian traffic, then looked up at him to say good-bye.
They might as well have been standing in front of her high-school locker, given how nervous she was.
“Well, I guess this is where we part ways,” she said with a shaky smile. “When do you fly out?”
“Tomorrow morning. I have to meet a client back in Palo Alto in the afternoon.”
“Got it.” New York will miss you, she thought.
She stood there for a moment, wishing he would do something, anything, to indicate that he was interested in her. She couldn’t be the only one feeling all this chemistry, could she? Was that possible? She didn’t believe in one-sided chemistry.
He put his hands in his pockets. “It was really good to catch up. Get home safely, OK? Watch out for those armpits on the subway.”
She smiled and stood on her tiptoes to give him a brief hug. “I’ll do my best. Have a good trip back to California.”
“Thanks. I’ll be in touch.”
She waved a bit awkwardly, then turned and quickly descended into the subway without looking back.
She swiped her MetroCard at the turnstile and walked toward a bench flush along the wall facing the track. She plopped herself down with a sigh, and as she waited for the next uptown train to arrive, all she could think was one thing.
I’ll be in touch?
What in God’s name does that mean?
Twenty minutes later Cassidy exited the subway at Seventy-Second Street and walked slowly toward her building. The entire ride uptown she’d been replaying the night’s events in her head, reliving the conversation, trying to figure out what it all meant, if anything.
Date or no date, after spending two hours with Brandon she was certain of one thing: she liked him.
Liked him liked him, high-school style.
She balled her hands into fists. Damn it.
This is not convenient.
She was half a block from her building when she heard a man’s voice. “Hey, Cassidy.”
She looked up and saw her neighbor walking toward her. “Hi, Harper. Where are you off to?”
“Headed to the Ale House for a beer. Don’t you look nice tonight. Are you coming from a hot date?”
She laughed weakly. “I’m not sure.”
“Say what?”
“We went to high school together. He was in town for work and asked me out for a drink, so I think maybe it was a date, but to be honest, I don’t really know.” She frowned. “I’m so stupid about men.”
Harper held out his arms. “Does Cassidy need a hug?”
She put her hands on her waist. “Don’t tempt me. You know how much I love your hugs.”
He put his arms around her and squeezed her tight. “Want to come
have a brew with me? It’s still early.”
She thought about it for a moment, then looked up at him and nodded. “Sure, why not? It’s not all that often I’m wearing a dress, much less on a Wednesday night, right?”
“That’s the spirit.”
They turned back on Seventy-Third toward the Amsterdam Ale House, the closest thing Cassidy had to a regular watering hole, which for her meant dropping by once or twice a month. Harper was in there all the time, but he was only twenty-nine. She still enjoyed going out for drinks on occasion, but most days she’d gladly take a coffeehouse over an alehouse.
They sat down at the bar, and Harper ordered them each a hefeweizen. He lifted his glass to hers for a toast. “I have some news.”
She clinked her glass against his and took a sip. “Good news, I hope?”
“I think so. I’ve decided to apply to business school.”
“No way. For next fall?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you applying? You realize that’s actually bad news if it means you’re leaving town, right?” Despite their age difference, she and Harper had been close friends since the day they’d met in the elevator nearly three years ago. She loved having a male friend, especially one who was still in his twenties. It secretly made her feel cool that he wanted to hang out with her so much, although she’d never admit that to him.
“Well, NYU and Columbia are two of the schools I’m applying to, so if I get in to one of them, I may stick around. Will you help with my essays? I could use a professional opinion.”
“Of course, although I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen a school essay of any kind.”
He gave her a look. “Cassidy, you write books for a living. I stare at spreadsheets. Believe me, I need some assistance.”
She laughed. “OK, I’ll help. Why do you want to go back to school anyway? Don’t you already make like a zillion dollars a year?” He also had an enormous trust fund.
He shrugged. “I guess I’m a little bored.”
“You’re bored by making a zillion dollars a year?”
“When you put it that way…but seriously, I need a change, and going back to school seems like a good way to make that happen.”
Cassidy Lane Page 7
