“Monica, stop. Josh is an asshole. He took something Bo may have said out of context and used it as an excuse for some insecure bullshit he was feeling.”
“Ember, you didn’t see the look on Josh’s face. He was changed by that conversation with Bo. He couldn’t have ever made something like that up. Bo Cavanaugh clearly has it as bad for you as you do for him, and you need to drink that in. He loves you, November.” While her tone was somber, it was stern.
“Wow, this is some heavy shit. OK, neither one of us can cry any more today. We’ve got that meeting at noon. Let’s go walk for a few minutes to get some fresh air and get our acts together,” I resolved as I stood up and ushered us both outside.
We walked to our coffee place and came back to our building. We sat on the front steps
and killing time until about a half hour before our meeting. Our boss would be so proud.
“Monica?” I said as we headed inside, failing to break my stare into the distance.
“Yea?”
“That ‘thousand lifetimes’ thing…Do you think that’s kind of…”
“The absolute most gut-wrenchingly romantic thing I’ve ever heard? Yea, I do.” She had a half smile, maybe to encourage me.
“I was going to say intense.” I half-laughed.
“Intense, yes. Romantic, hell yes.” Monica opened the door while shaking her head.
As we walked inside she continued, “I’m really sorry I spilled that to you. I just couldn’t make up another reason Josh wanted to break up with me. But, you should have heard that first from Bo.”
“No, honestly, I’m glad I heard it from you.”
“Why? So you had permission to sit there with that blank look on your face?” Monica elbowed me as we headed to the meeting room to set up.
“Yea, actually. I almost cried. I wanted to cry about the fact that someone who knew me for five minutes felt that way, but more I wanted to cry because…” I trailed off as the L-word fought its way through my throat.
“Because you absolutely feel the same way, Ember.” No inquisition was needed as far as Monica was concerned.
“Yea. . .” I whispered.
“Look. What I said and what your mother said still stands. Feel it, think about it, do it. The “it” is up to you.”
The creak of the main door and the sound of two male voices silenced the conversation that would need to take place later.
“Good afternoon gentlemen,” Monica cheerfully greeted.
“Welcome. Mr. Bryson this is Monica Pierce, and I’m November Harris.”
“Oh, please, call me David.” The silver-haired man stuck out his hand while a warm smile reached his soft eyes.
“Spencer, good to see you again.” Damn he looks good today.
“Oh,” David interrupted, “I guess these young ladies don’t yet know that you’re the famous Bo Cavanaugh; rock star extraordinaire?” He elbowed Bo as he spoke. Bo’s eyebrows nearly hit his hair line.
I looked wide-eyed between Monica, Bo, David, and the floor before stifling a laugh.
“Well, um, we know, but we also know that he uses ‘Spencer’ for business.” Monica swept in like an angel of grace.
Bo finally spoke, “David, I hypnotized these fine women with my music nearly a week ago- see how anxious they are?” He grinned like a cat with a mouse in its mouth and raised an eyebrow in my direction.
The four of us broke in to a relieved laughter; more relieved than David could even know that this little itty bitty cat was out of the bag. We just had to keep the lion at bay a while longer.
During the hour-long meeting, we acquainted ourselves with David, and he with us. He promised to get in contact with our boss to arrange a trip to DROP headquarters in New Hampshire. I glanced quickly at Bo, for the first time during the whole meeting, and caught him looking back at me, smiling at the mention of going to New Hampshire. I was acting a little more distant than I’d planned, but I couldn’t look at him directly in the eyes; not with the weight of a thousand lifetimes resting on my bones.
David’s soft voice broke my stare, “Bo’s father, Spencer, was a good friend of mine. I’m thrilled to help his boy carry out his vision. I’m looking forward to the meeting next week.”
“We’re looking forward to it, as well,” Monica entered. “I do have to ask, though, there are thousands of non-profits up and down the New England coast; how did you stumble upon ours?” I shot Monica an interested look.
I had assumed that they researched articles on various organizations and saw that ours was often featured for Monica’s outstanding efforts at outreach and education, and my ability to seek out and secure funds from various sources for large amounts of money. Maybe she knew this, too, but wanted to hear it.
“Good question,” David answered, “We had our legal team do some research on successful non-profits, and yours was among them. While we have visited several in the area over the last week, yours came highly recommended by a member of the team. Adrian Turner.”
Monica’s gasp filled my ears, and competed with the sound of my pounding heart. I prayed the look on my face didn’t match Monica’s; she was as white as the paper she was holding. Maybe you’ve cracked under Bo’s hot gaze and gone crazy - and Monica has too.
“Um,” I cleared my throat with what little grace I could muster, “did you say Adrian Turner? Princeton University undergrad, and Harvard Law School?” I tried to will the still-unidentified feeling from my face. Fear, anger, general nausea?
“Yea, that’s him. You know him?” Bo’s tone told me he read my face just right.
Monica composed herself quicker than I could. “Yea, we both know him. He had a lot of public relations classes with us at Princeton; we were in the same study groups and whatnot. He’s an incredible asset, you’re lucky to have him. We’ll have to thank him for the connection!”
She’s good.
“OK,” I continued, immediately needing this meeting to end so I could go scream into a pillow, “Thank you so much for squeezing us into your busy week. David, I’ll have Carrie get in touch with you on Monday to arrange an overnight in New Hampshire.”
“Sounds great. Thank you Ms. Harris, Ms. Pierce.” David shook our hands and headed toward the door.
“I’ll catch up with you later, David.” Bo told him, slowing down while gathering materials.
Shit, does he want to talk to me about last night, this weekend, my reaction to Adrian, or all of it?
By the time the sound of David’s car faded to the distance, the three of us hadn’t moved from our seats.
“Bo, could you hang out here for a couple of minutes, I have to talk to Ember in my office.” Monica attempted the most graceful exit possible under the circumstances.
“Sure.” He shifted uncomfortably.
The searing neon blinking “Adrian” sign overtook my brain and I wanted to run and scream. We left the door to the meeting room open, but shut the door to Monica’s office.
“Holy shit! What the hell?” Monica said in the loudest whisper known to man.
“Did you have any idea?” I was breathless, my eyes darted around the room.
I knew Monica was friends with Adrian on Facebook, but she never spoke of him. I also knew she’d tell me if he mentioned he was working with someone and referring us to them, but I was grasping for any explanation.
“Get a grip, Em. You know I’d say something to you if I knew.” Monica rolled her eyes, annoyed.
“I guess it’s totally possible he was just doing the fellow-graduate good deed thing by showing us preference in the search process.” That really was the most likely explanation, had we not cried during break-up sex.
“Yea, let’s go with that for now. At least until we have a chance to talk with him.”
“Agreed, I guess we will have to talk to him. I suppose I should be the one to call him; he’d know I was avoiding him if you called.” Uneasiness regained its footing in my gut.
“Smart. OK, I’ll get his contact i
nfo, email Carrie about our meeting, and then stay here until you’ve finished talking with Bo,” Monica said, motioning to the door.
“Oh shit!” I had completely forgotten he was waiting for me.
In the meeting room, Bo was leaning against the window with his hands in his pockets. The light sought out and illuminated his deep blue eyes as he turned to me.
“Hey, sorry about that. Today has been ridiculous.” I shut the door behind me.
“It’s OK.” He smiled so sincerely I instantly felt my throat tighten. “How’s Monica?”
“Ugh,” I sat down in the closest chair and rested my elbows on the table while my hands held my head, “my heart is actually breaking for her, Bo.”
I wanted him to tell me that I would never feel what Monica felt. I certainly didn’t intend to make him ever feel that way. He, however, didn’t know how I felt about him. I was at an unfair advantage with the information Monica had given me.
He left the window and sat in the chair next to me. “What happened?”
Leave out the thousand lifetime’s thing, whatever you do. My eyes met his as I rested my chin on closed fists.
“He just…he told her that if there was a soul-shifting, core-quaking love for everyone…” my breath caught for a split second, “he wasn’t sure she was his.”
I broke his gaze and glanced out the window.
“He didn’t even look her in the eyes when he told her, Bo. He couldn’t even give her the respect of a little eye contact as he shredded her soul.” My cheeks burned, fighting the tears working their way to the surface of my eyes.
“Damn,” he said, closing his eyes briefly. I wondered if he was relieved that I didn’t seem to know his part in that conversation. I wondered if he felt bad at all, even though it wasn’t his fault.
“Do you believe him? Josh, I mean, about the soul-core thing?” he asked. I nodded and rubbed my forehead.
“I really do.” I opened my eyes and found him studying my face.
“Does Adrian Turner have anything to do with that look on your face?” It was barely a question.
Well, that didn’t take long.
“Yes, but not in the way you might think,” I said softly.
This wasn’t the place I wanted to talk about Adrian. I didn’t really want to talk about Adrian at all, but my hand was forced in more ways than one.
“I saw the look in your eyes, Ember, when David said his name. It was like you saw a ghost.” His concerned eyes teetered on hurt. Yea, the Ghost of Sexcapades Past.
“I haven’t talked to Adrian in like three years. When he was at Harvard Law he Facebooked me a few times, but I was tired of seeing the pictures he posted with girls who were nothing like me. I know that sounds bad, and I don’t mean it to. We haven’t meant anything to each other in five years, Bo. And, even then - look, I want to talk to you about this, but not here and not now. Monica’s coming over tonight so we can emotionally process what happened with Josh. Can we get together tomorrow night?” I wanted to tell Bo about Adrian, about my feelings for him, everything, but I couldn’t do it at work.
“I have to head back to New Hampshire today for a quick meeting, but I should be back by tomorrow late afternoon. I’ll call you when I get back to town, OK?” The distance in his voice sent tension searing through me.
“Bo,” I reached out and gripped the top of his hand, not wanting him to slip away. Thankfully, he turned it over and interlaced his fingers with mine, “what happened with Adrian is ancient history.”
“November, you don’t owe me an explanation.” He kissed my hand, “But, it can’t be that ancient to Adrian if he used work to get in contact with you, without giving you some sort of heads up or ‘how’s it going’ first…”
Gut punch.
He was right about Adrian, but he was oh-so-wrong about me owing him an explanation. You owe one to Bo because you love him; he just doesn’t know that yet.
Chapter Ten
“Do you think Bo was right, about Adrian not being over you?” Monica asked as she plunked on my couch with an over-full glass of wine.
Before Bo headed back to New Hampshire, he kissed me with complete disregard for the workplace, and told me he’d text me later. The second Bo left our office, I told her about our conversation.
“He didn’t say Adrian wasn’t over me, Monica. He doesn’t even know what happened with him; I told him I wanted to tell him about Adrian, but that everything was ancient history. Bo said it couldn’t be that ancient since-”
“Since Adrian pulled the weasel-move of orchestrating a venture between our agency and one whose legal team he’s on? I’d say ten points for Bo.” It’d been a long day for everyone.
“What the hell am I supposed to tell Bo about him?” I really had no idea, so this was the perfect Josh-distraction technique.
“Start with the truth; you two were Princeton’s most beautiful couple with the best sex life.” She gave an impish smile.
“Oh, well, that seems easy enough,” I laughed.
Monica’s phone rang and she ignored it as soon she saw who it was.
“Josh again?” I asked sympathetically.
“Yea. Not sure what he could possibly have to say to me. He covered it pretty well last night.” Her face blanched at the thought.
My phone began to ring. It was Josh.
“Mon, he’s calling me. Let me answer so he doesn’t track us down.” I scurried to the bedroom and answered.
“Josh what do you want?”
“Ember, Jesus, thanks for answering. Is Monica with you?” He sounded calm, with just enough angst to keep me from hanging up.
“She is. She came here after work.” I wasn’t going to offer any of what Monica already filled me in on.
“Is she OK?”
Yea douchebag, she’s perfect.
I caved a little. “Not really, Josh, what the hell?” I kept a firm edge to my voice.
“November, you have to understand. Just, like, when you know you feel something, you know when you don’t . . .”
“You didn’t know you didn’t feel whatever it is you think you’re supposed to feel until you chatted up Bo, Joshua.” I hoped he could sense my arched eyebrow.
“Shit, I should have known she’d tell you about that.” Yes, you should have. “Don’t tell Bo, OK? I don’t want him to think I’m a lame blabbermouth.”
You are lame.
“Whatever Josh, look, she’s here, she’s with me and she’s fine, no thanks to you. You need to leave her alone for a while. If she wants to talk to you again she’ll call, and you better answer your damn phone.” I’d given Josh all I could afford with my brokenhearted best friend in the next room.
Josh let out an exasperated sigh, “OK, Ember. Listen . . .”
“Josh, not tonight, I’ll come by and see you at Finnegan’s tomorrow after work, OK?” Why the hell did I just offer that?
“Really? Thanks, Ember.”
“Yea, really. I meant what I said about answering any and all of Monica’s future calls. And, if she gathers enough of herself together to see you face-to-face, don’t be a douche - look her in the eyes this time.” I hung up, feeling rather triumphant on behalf of Monica.
As I walked into the living room, tears in Monica’s eyes were escorted away by curiosity.
“He was just checking that you were OK . . .” I shrugged.
“What’d you tell him?” A hint of a grin graced her face.
“Oh, you know that we finished the VooDoo doll in his likeness and were dancing around a fire on the beach drumming a death chant.
“Awe, thanks!”
“I told him to leave us alone, and you’d call him if you wanted to.” She smiled. “But I told him I would meet him tomorrow at Finnegan’s after I got out of work.”
Monica’s brow furrowed as I continued.
“He knows that I know what Bo said and, Monica, if I’m going to be spending any more time with him I need some more information on their discussion.” I
t wasn’t fair. Not to Josh, Monica, or Bo - especially Bo - that I was stalking out his feelings for me, and via Josh, no less.
“Why can’t you just bring it up with Bo?”
“I will talk to him about it, when he’s ready to talk to me about it. I’m sure he never intended for Josh to tell anything.”
Before she could answer, my phone dinged with a text message.
Bo: Wish I could see you now
“Who’s that?” Monica questioned
“Bo wishes he could see me.” I tried to shrug off the Irish jig trampling my insides.
“Em, you don’t need me here taking up your possibly limited time with Hottie Mc Guitar!” I flinched a little at ‘limited’, but quite enjoyed her nickname for him.
“Ha, thanks for your concern. But he’s in New Hampshire tonight - we’re going to get together tomorrow.” I picked up my phone and texted him back.
Me: I miss you too. Wish you were in town.
Bo: Me too.
Me: I’ve got to talk to Josh tomorrow after work, at Finnegan’s . . . stuff about Monica and whatever - want to meet me there around 7 and we can decide what to do from there?
Bo: I’ve got a better idea. I’ll text you in a little bit.
I didn’t text back; I just smiled at my phone.
“Ember,” Monica said dreamily, “it’s so nice to see you happy.”
“I’m always happy, you know that. My happiness and men are mutually exclusive. Though, it is nice when they intersect,” I winked.
“You know what I mean.”
We sat for a couple of hours, and I was supportive as Monica yelled, cried, laughed, and cried some more about her breakup with Josh. When there were no more tears left I drove her home – she wasn’t in any condition to drive on a number of levels. After she was safely in her apartment, I returned to mine. I ambled up the stairs, reached for my phone, and texted Bo.
Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue) Page 9
