trans·fer·ence: a novel

by Ava Harrison

  “I’m making pasta. Want some wine?”

  “Sure. What’s the occasion?”

  “Well, for one, I hear you landed the Posh Life deal.”

  “And two?”

  “Well, it’s obvious you didn’t come back to work for a reason, and from the look of your clothes . . .” She looks me up and down and I notice that in my haste to get dressed, I forgot to button two of the buttons on my blouse. “I’m thinking you have some explaining to do.” I swallow and open the fridge to grab a bottle.

  “But first a glass of wine,” I say and she lifts her eyebrow.

  “Wow, that bad? Or by the looks of things that good?”

  “The best, but yeah. I’m royally fucked. Figuratively and literally.” I pop open the bottle, grab two glasses, and pour. I drink my glass so fast I barely taste it.

  “Wait, what?” Sydney places her hands on her hips as she taps her foot. When I don’t answer right away and then pour myself another glass, she gestures with her hands for me to hurry it along and talk. I can’t meet her eyes and confess what I’m about to, so instead I look down and pick a piece of lint from my skirt.

  “I slept with Preston,” I admit on a sigh and she slaps a hand over her mouth. “I would say I didn’t mean for it to happen, but that would be a lie.”

  “What happened?” I purse my lips at her and raise an eyebrow. “You know what I mean. How did it . . . Oh, just tell me everything.” Reaching over, I hand her a filled glass and take a seat at the island in the small kitchen.

  “So, right after the meeting, I went over there to get my referral list and file from the receptionist. Well, my meeting ran long and by the time I got there, the girl I was supposed to meet went for a late lunch. I went looking for someone to help me, and, well, I bumped into Preston. One thing lend to another . . . ”

  “And you fell on his penis. Got It.” Sarcasm drips off her words.

  “Sydney! God. Really?”

  “What? You know that’s how you made it sound.”

  “Fine. It was a little bit more elaborate than that. The moral of the story, we had sex . . . on his desk.” And with that she jumps up and down, sauce from the spoon she’s holding spraying across the room. “Shit,” she says, eyes wide at the mess.

  “Don’t worry about it. You cook, I’ll clean. It’s my fault, anyway.” Standing, I set my wine down, grab a rag from the counter, and get rid of the sauce splattered on the cabinets. When I’m done, I turn to find Sydney staring at me.

  “What?” I ask and she frowns.

  “Now what? He’s your doctor. It’s not like you can date him.”

  “Was my doctor,” I clarify, and then let out a deep breath. “But yeah, you’re right. We can’t be together.”

  When my phone pings a few days later, I almost fall off my chair. Preston? I didn’t expect to hear from him so soon, or ever again. What does he want? Does he miss me?

  Preston: You left your referral list

  I shatter at his words, or lack thereof. I want him to miss me. I want him to beg to want to see me. For him to feel what I feel, but instead, it’s as though my soul is broken into thousands of glass shards, so small you can never piece them back together. My shoulders tip forward and I continue to walk. Normally this walk is too far for me to trek in this weather, but after Preston’s text I need the air. I need to be able to breathe. The air tastes bitter on my lips, or maybe that’s just my pain manifesting in all aspects of me.

  In. Out.

  In. Out.

  My gait is unusually short today. Each step a feat. But no matter how hard I try to abandon my funk, to look up at the world around me, to take in the beauty of the day, it doesn’t matter as my body continues to trudge along the pavement until I reach my mom’s apartment.

  “Mom, are you up?” She doesn’t answer as per usual, but I find her soon enough. The last rays of sunlight stream through the window illuminating her. She looks like an angel. Beautiful and fair, sitting up in her bed. There is a glow about her and for the first time in forever she seems lucid. Together.

  “Hi.” I step closer, assessing her before I get too excited that I finally have the chance to talk to her about some things. “You look good. How are you feeling?”

  “I have a headache.” She shifts in her bed, slouching her back. It’s as if a light switch was flipped. She’s a different person now. Is she always so lucid when I’m not around? Does she only do this to get my attention? Ignoring her comment, I take a seat alongside the bed and glance at her. What is it about my presence that makes her act this way?

  “Mom, a few weeks ago I asked you about Richard’s company. Why did you invest your money in The Stone Agency?”

  “Do we have to do this now?”

  “I’d like to. I just don’t understand anything. You never talk about Dad. You won’t tell me about his accident. You don’t tell me why you invested. You’re my mom and I know nothing about you at all.”

  “It’s the past. Can’t you leave it in the past?” She closes her eyes and leans back onto the pillow behind her, essentially shutting me out again.

  “It’s not my past, Mom.”

  She opens her eyes. They’re no wider than a squint.

  “After your father passed, I wasn’t well enough to work. Richard gave me the opportunity to invest some of the insurance money in his startup company. It was a gamble but it paid off in the end.”

  “Why did you risk it?”

  “I owe everything to Richard. Everything. If it weren’t for him, I don’t know where we’d be.” She reclines again and I know she’s done with me.

  But at least I have one more piece of the puzzle, whatever the puzzle might be. Richard saved us. How I’m not sure, but I need to find out. Next time she seems better I’ll find out more.

  Once my mom’s breathing becomes shallow with sleep, I head back toward my apartment. When I’m only a block away, my phone rings.

  “Hey.” Preston’s voice is low and raspy. Just hearing it makes me forget all the sadness I felt on the walk to my mom’s. Instead, it makes my whole body warm.

  “Hi,” I breathe.

  “You left the referral list again.”

  “I know.”

  “Why didn’t you respond?”

  “There was nothing to say.” Neither of us speaks for a few minutes until I hear him swallow.

  “I can swing by tomorrow,” I say. He’s quiet for a second before responding.

  “That might not be the best idea after what happened last time.” I let out a chuckle and he follows suit.

  “Yeah, you might be right. Maybe we should meet somewhere else. Somewhere a bit more public?” I close my eyes and take a breath, then silently pray he doesn’t offer the courier service again. I want to see him. If only for a moment.

  “I have a patient tomorrow night. But I can stop by your building and leave it with the doorman.”

  “Call me when you get there and I’ll grab it.” There’s a pause on the other end of the line and I wonder if the call disconnected. “I want to briefly go over the list with you.”

  “Yes, that makes sense. Okay, my next patient is here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Hanging up the phone, I swear I feel every muscle in my body loosen and then tighten again. I’m not ready to let him go. I’m not ready to move on.

  One Day Later . . .

  I should still be at work. I should be finishing up the last of the details for the Posh Life launch. I definitely shouldn’t be home pacing my apartment. But here I am, in front of the mirror, reapplying my lip-gloss for the umpteenth time. Truth is, it’s already five p.m., but with the new project, this will be my first chance to prove myself as more than Richard’s family. Landing the project isn’t enough. Nailing the pitch isn’t enough. I need to knock it out of the park, but instead, my head is too distracted with what I’ll wear to see Preston. Black skirt and a silk blouse, black pumps. That way it appears as if I’m coming home from work.

  Finally, after w
hat seems like forever, my phone pings with a new text.

  Preston: Downstairs in lobby.

  Me: Come up.

  I type before I can second-guess myself. I wonder what he will say. My heart leaps in my chest as I wait.

  In. Out.

  In. Out.

  The intercom buzzes.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Miss. Hamilton. I have a Preston Montgomery here to see you.”

  “Send him up.”

  When I swing the door open, my chest tightens. It’s only been a few days since his lips touched mine, but I’m hungry for him all over again. As my gaze reaches his, I know I’m not the only one affected by this pull. He still feels it. His breathing is shallow as he surveys me. It makes my pulse race. With one step, we are practically touching. So close that if I reach out, my hand would be on his. Desire pools in my belly. Lifting my hand, my fingertips connect with his jaw. A sharp inhale of breath echoes through the room.

  “No matter what’s wrong or right, or even if I can lose my license, I don’t fucking care.” He pulls his lower lip between his teeth and I’m afraid he might draw blood. Finally letting go, he speaks. “Go away with me.” There is finality in his voice. As though this is my one chance to be with him.

  “What?”

  “I need time with you. I need to see you again before I let you go. I’m not ready for this to end.” I can hear him take a deep breath and in my head I hear the word he didn’t say . . . yet. “I know my job is on the line but maybe we can figure out a way to make it work.” I wonder if he hears his own lie or if he, like me, so desperately wants to believe that he’s still clinging to the hope of a chance.

  “But how? What if someone sees us?”

  “We’ll go somewhere. Just you and me.” He motions his hand between us. “I know it’s so wrong for me to ask but I’m aski—”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes?” His face contorts. Awe, fear, and then resignation cross over his face. This might be our only shot to be together again.

  “Yeah, one trip. One perfect trip and then . . .” I take a breath but don’t have the strength to say the rest of words I know will one day break my heart. “And then I’ll let you go.”

  This isn’t a good idea. We shouldn’t be going away. If the APA finds out, I can lose my license. Do I trust her enough to know she won’t tell?

  We’re asking for trouble. Or at least, I am. But like an addict, I need my next hit. What the hell am I doing? What the hell are we doing?

  Maybe it can work out . . . who am I kidding?

  Shit. I need to think straight but around her I can’t.

  She’s beautiful. Gorgeous. She’s everything I want and don’t deserve. I’m being selfish but I don’t care. I need to have her, even if only for a brief moment. I know the ramifications of my actions. But fuck. How can I not have her?

  Just once.

  Maybe twice.

  One taste.

  God, it’s wrong. I guess I’m a bigger asshole than I thought, but she’s pure temptation.

  Consequences be damned.

  I hurry back to my apartment. I have to pack. Tomorrow we will be going somewhere after work. I’m not sure where, as Preston finalized the details.

  I don’t think one weekend will be enough, though I lied and agreed to it because the thought of not having this time with him makes me sick. The thought of not feeling his hands again is too much to bear. So I agreed and made a promise I know I can’t keep.

  “So, what are you going to do?” Sydney’s asks after I tell her Preston invited me away for the weekend.

  “Fuck him out of my system.” I laugh and she giggles, too. She thinks I’m joking. When I stop laughing and give her a serious look, she stops as well.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Since we can’t be together here, we’re going away. We’re going to get each other out of our systems.” She crosses her hands in front of her chest.

  “You think that’s a good idea?”

  “Nope.”

  “So why are you doing it?”

  “Because I can’t not.” She nods in understanding.

  “When do you leave?” I take a gulp of my wine before answering her question.

  “After work tomorrow.”

  “Where you going?”

  “No clue.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.” Me, too.

  I’m a basket of pent up energy at work. Not only did I not sleep well, but I’m also super nervous about leaving with Preston today. Luckily for me, at least my anxiety at work is almost under control. I have become well versed in self-soothing techniques. That, and I’m popping homeopathic remedies like they’re candy. If only they made a drop for calming my subconscious mind when asleep.

  To make matters worse, the lawyers are here again. Who knew settling someone’s affairs would take so long? That Richard left his shares of the company to my mother leads me to believe maybe he needed psychiatric help as well. I’ll never understand why he did it or why my mom had anything to do with anything, but as long as Michael has control of the show, I feel secure we’ll all continue to have jobs.

  After answering emails and basically fidgeting at my desk, I see Michael step out into the hallway and wave me into the conference room. With long strides, I make my way in and take a seat.

  “Thanks for joining us. I’ll be stepping out shortly, but I wanted to ask if your mom was okay?” His comment makes me narrow my eyes.

  “Yeah, sure. I mean, no different than always. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, Mr. Swartz has been trying to contact her to sign some papers in regard to the will and she hasn’t responded to his request. We wanted to make sure she was okay.”

  “From what she’s said on the phone and when I’ve seen her, yeah, but I can follow up with her next week if you want?” Normally I would go straight to my mom with this news and make sure she’s okay, but I’m tired of not living my own life and I need to stop enabling her. She needs to learn to be more self-sufficient. Finding out why she hasn’t answered the lawyers will have to wait.

  “That would be great. Thank you so much.” He stands and straightens his suit jacket. “I’ll leave you two.” I smile up at him, then turn my attention to the attorney.

  “Thank you, Ms. Hamilton, for taking your time to meet with me again. I wanted to discuss how you would like to proceed with the apartment. At the last meeting you said you didn’t wish to keep the property. I wanted to see if you had changed your mind, and if not, whether you’d like help selling it?”

  “I have thought about it and yes, I have no wish to keep it. As much as I love it, it’s too close to my mother.” I try to laugh. The idea of living so close to her again makes my whole body crawl. I love my mom, but she sucks the life out of me.

  “Okay, I can help you find a listing agent, and when the time comes, I can handle the closing with you.”

  “Thank you so much, Mr. Schwartz. If that was it, I do have to get back to work.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. I only have a few more papers to go over and then I’ll see myself out.” He’s already looking down and scribbling in his notepad.

  Once back at my desk, I type Manhattan realtors into my computer search engine. I’ve been putting this off for too long. It’s time to settle it.

  It’s official. By the time my desk clock says five, I’m bouncing off the walls. Sydney and I bolt out the door and head home. He should be there soon. My stomach is a ball of knots, as are my shoulders and the muscles in my back. Just as Sydney opens the door, my phone vibrates in my pocket and I jump to retrieve it. Sydney pads down the hallway and I head to my room and check my message.

  Preston: I’m outside your building in the illegally parked Range Rover.

  Me: There in one minute.

  I grab the tiny carry-on bag I packed last night and make my way to leave. When I start walking to the door, I hear Sydney call my name.

  “Escaping without saying good-bye?
”

  “He’s downstairs.” She nods.

  “Be safe, okay? And if you need me, no matter when, call.”

  “Okay.”

  She pulls me into a hug and then lets me go. I turn my back and head for the door. Biting my lip, I enter the elevator, and swallow hard as I make my descent.

  My heart rams in my chest with each step that brings me closer to the outside world, and by the time I see his parked car, I fear it might explode. Am I making the wrong decision?

  But then my world stops and my question is answered. No. I’m not.

  The late afternoon sun reflects in his eyes, twinkling crystals and sapphire specks dance across the distance. God, those eyes. He pulls me toward him. His mouth brushes over mine and my lips part on a gasp. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he deepens the kiss. His tongue fights mine in a frenzy of passion and desperation. Of hunger and need. As our mouths collide, it’s as if he’s fighting for ownership of me. To possess me.

  But what he doesn’t know is there’s no need. The moment I saw him, I was his.

  “I shouldn’t have done that in public, but when I look at you I lose all reason,” he mutters as he pulls away from me. “Here, get in the car before someone sees us.” He opens the door for me before slipping around to the driver side and getting in.

  “So, where to?” I ask as I fasten my seatbelt and he pulls away from the curb.

  “Ever been to Rhode Island?” A grin tugs at his lips.

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “Good.” He smirks.

  “That’s it. That’s all you’re telling me?”

  “Yeah, it’s more fun this way.” I playfully swat at his arm and he gently encases my hand in his, then places our entwined hands on his lap. It’s an intimate gesture that makes me fall a bit more than I want.

  As we drive out of the city, my shoulders uncoil. The idea of spending a few days with Preston is exhilarating. Soft music plays throughout the interior of the car and I get lost in the skyline vanishing into the horizon the further we get. We sit in comfortable silence. Preston’s fingers trace circles on my own as we continue to our destination.