by Amber Lacie
“Fine. I blame the railing.”
“I was wary of it the first time I came over. It was as if it was watching me, ready to attack at any moment. I’m sorry you had to take the brunt of the attack, but better you than me.”
You’re funny. I think it, but I don’t say it. I don’t know this person, nor do I want to. “Do you normally go around letting railings attack women?”
“Not normally, no. You seemed like you could handle it, though. It looked like you were already mad at it for previous offenses. I’m not one to get in the way of revenge.”
Tilting my head to the side, I try to figure out the man standing in front of me. I laugh, when he walks down the steps and leans against the opposite railing, completely mirroring my stance.
“And she laughs.”
“She does. Occasionally. Don’t get used to it.”
“I could never get used to that sound.”
He is sweet. It has ruined whatever fleeting moment we had. I don’t want compliments, nor do I want attention of someone else. Holden flashes in my mind, along with a bitter taste of guilt. I am already taken. There is no point to letting him believe that there could be a possibility. “Look, you seem nice and all, but I don’t date.”
“Wow. Shot down before you even know my name. You’re brutal.” He smiles. The one corner of his mouth curls up and reveals a dimple in his left cheek. Cute, and he has dimples. The universe is cruel.
“Are you going to stay for dinner, even though I shot you down?”
“Are you kidding me? I came here for the food. You were just a bonus.”
“Just a bonus?”
“It could have been more, but you turned me down. Now, I’m not even sure I want you to know my name.” He is baiting me. I know it. ‘Let go’. My dad’s advice echoes in my ears. Taking a deep breath, I give in and let go.
“Alright, you have me intrigued. What’s your name?”
“I don’t know if you can be trusted now.”
I squint my eyes at his response.
Laughing, he holds his hands up in front of him. “Okay. Okay. There’s no need to kick me like you did the railing. I’ll give in. My name is Owen Knox.”
“Well, Owen Knox, it was nice to meet you. I’m going back inside now, where it’s warm. You can follow me if you want.” I don’t wait for his reaction. Instead, I walk back inside and buzz Rebecca’s apartment. I feel like a complete idiot for running outside without taking my purse, or at least my key with me. The door buzzes and I let myself in, trying my best to ignore the smirking man behind me.
I take a seat at the dining room table. Since Rebecca felt the need to play matcher, she can at least feed me. I will think of a better punishment for her later.
Owen sits across from me. He gives me a smile, as Rebecca and Mark walk in, carrying the rest of our meal. Rebecca whispers in my ear, as she leans over and sets the butter down in front of me. “Well, what do you think?”
“I think, I hate you.”
“That’s fair.” Her response irritates me. It is as though she is not taking me seriously. She finally sits down and we pass the food around, making sure that everyone gets enough. Mark mumbles about how delicious the food is, as he shovels more into his mouth. Dinner moves along smoothly without any more surprises.
I am leaning against the kitchen counter, drying a plate, when Owen walks into the kitchen. He nonchalantly clears his throat. Rebecca looks up at him with her hands still in the soapy water.
“Rebecca, please go relax. I’ll finish those for you.”
She looks over at me with a smile. “That would be wonderful. Thank you, Owen.”
“Becca. I swear to God. You better not leave me alone in here.” My harsh whispers fall on deaf ears, as she gives me a wink and tosses the washcloth back into the sink. I glare at her back, as she walks out of the room.
Taking off his blazer, Owen lays it on the counter and dips his hands into the warm water. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
“Why?”
Rinsing off a dish, he hands it to me. “Because the daggers you just shot at Rebecca seem lethal.”
“Luckily for her, they aren’t.”
We finish the dishes in complete silence. The only sound is the opening and closing of cabinets as we put them away. Handing him the last plate, I move to step out of the kitchen. His arm reaches out quickly towards my head and I instantly flinch, using my hand to cover my face. It’s a knee-jerk reaction. Anyone would have done the same if they were in my position, or at least I think they would, but by the expression on his face, I think there is a chance that I could be wrong.
“It was a bowl…I knocked it out of the cabinet. I didn’t want it to hit you.” Staring at me with wide eyes, Owen holds up a yellow plastic bowl. “It was just a bowl.”
I realize that I am still standing with my hand covering my face. Lowering my arm, I take a small step back. I am not sure what to say and he keeps staring at me as if I am a freak. Needing to break the silence, I say the only words I can think of. “Thank you.”
“That’s it then? That’s the reason you don’t date.”
“No, and I think this is way too heavy of a conversation for us to be having. You don’t even know me.”
“You’re right. I don’t, but I want to.” He leans back against the counter and tilts his head at me, as if he is trying to figure me out like a puzzle.
“Owen, I want you to give me one good reason why I should let you get to know me.”
“Fine, but then you have to agree to go out with me tomorrow night. No take backs, either. Do we have a deal?”
I stare at him quizzically. Do I take the chance? If anything goes wrong, I can back out. I could change my mind tomorrow morning and call this whole thing off. The thought of having a way out creates a small safety net. I balance carefully on the thin wire. “Deal.” So far, I haven’t fallen, but knowing the net is there is helping me stay balanced.
“I like the way you say my name. I also think you deserve a night free of whatever is holding you back. You don’t want to date. Fine, we won’t date. Tomorrow, I’m going to pick you up at seven for a night out as friends.”
“Friends?” I try the taste of the word in my mouth, letting my mind roll over the idea of the word. Even though, I have his memories, I am so very much alone in my apartment. Perhaps, a friend in the real world would help me to let go. “Okay, but just as friends. Nothing more.”
Grabbing a sheet of paper from the magnetic pad on Rebecca’s fridge, I jot down my address and phone number for him. Folding it up twice, I hand it to him carefully, as not to let our fingers touch. He smiles at me, as I turn around and head into the living room to find Rebecca, sitting comfortably on the couch with her feet in Mark’s lap.
“Becca. Dinner was delicious as always. Am I crashing in the bedroom downstairs tonight?”
“No. I put you in the extra bedroom by us. Owen is sleeping downstairs tonight.”
“Right. Well, I’m exhausted, so I’m going to bed. Mark, it’s an amazing pleasure as always. Becca, I hate you a little less now.”
“You’ll love me again, eventually.”
“Maybe.” Grabbing my bags, I head towards my room for the night. I can feel his eyes on my back as I walk away. Looking over my shoulder, I say, “Night. Owen.”
I smile, when I hear him say goodnight back. Tomorrow is going to be an interesting day.
Chapter 24
The phone cord is stretched into my bathroom. I am pacing back and forth, while Rebecca is trying to calm me down. I am so nervous that my palms are sweaty. “I could cancel this, right? I shouldn’t be going out.”
“Carsten, stop it. This is the sixth time you’ve called me today. You have to stop this. Sweetie, you said this is just a friend’s night out, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then calm the fuck down. Jesus, you’re giving me anxiety and I’m not even there.”
“What are you afraid of? Is it because you’re n
ervous? Or is it because you feel guilty for going out with a guy you might end up liking?”
“Yes. It’s all of that and so much more. If I move on, does that mean I’m giving up on Holden?”
“Carsten, sit.” Walking out of the bathroom, I perch myself on my kitchen counter with my phone cord in a twisted mess beside me. “Sweetie, Holden loved you. Do you think he would want you to be alone forever? Because I don’t.”
“But he loved me. He loved me, despite my attempts to sabotage our relationship. He loved me when I didn’t love me. He loved me and I love him. I still love him, Becca. Every second, every minute, of every day…I don’t want to stop loving him. He saved me. I was his star. We were a matched pair.”
“Oh, Carsten.” She sniffs and I know that she is crying. It must be an immense reprieve to be able to have that kind of relief. My heart is so damaged that the broken pieces just keep cutting me open again. It is almost as if my body is in shock from the pain. “You two were fated to be. You were his world, babe. He loved you with every inch of his being and so much more. I fully believe it’s the deepest kind of love there is. I don't think everyone gets to experience that, either. I think you are lucky to have felt it and known it...he is still with you for a reason... he's always going to be. People die, but love doesn't. It lives in your heart forever and so will he.”
Sighing, I press my palm against my chest. My lungs feel tight and my heart is slamming against my palm. How long can someone live without breathing? How long can someone survive alone on pure instinct? It is at least a year, but I am not sure how much longer I can hold on to all of this. My eyes flash up to the clock above my couch. “It’s half past six now, I guess I have to get ready to go. It’s too late to cancel.”
“You’ll have fun. Just let go a little. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Becca.”
I hang the phone back up on the wall and head to the bathroom to finish getting ready. I am not sure what the exact plans for tonight are, so I pull my hair back into a bun and softly curl the stray hairs that are not wanting to cooperate. My makeup is lightly done with eyeshadow and blush, keeping my face looking soft. I slip into a pair of dark gray slacks and a sleeveless silk blouse with a cream, long fitted sweater to cover my arms. The lavender color of the blouse makes the blue in my eyes stand out. I glance at myself in the mirror, making sure that my makeup and hair are still holding up. Sitting down on the edge of the futon, I pull on my black boots and zip them up my calves.
I have just finished smoothing my pants over them, when my door buzzes. I quickly spray myself with a couple of spritzes of perfume, before grabbing my jacket and purse. Locking my apartment door behind me, I walk down the front steps to greet the man waiting for me.
Thump. Bang. Thump. My heart beats harder with every step that I take. Owen is leaning against a black town car with a yellow rose in his hand. Stepping towards me, he takes my hand and helps me down the last step. “This is for you.”
Panic starts to set in, as I look at the rose. Do friends give each other roses? “I thought we discussed just being friends.” I look nervously at him, as he opens the door for me.
“A yellow rose is for friendship.”
I gently take the rose from his hand. “Oh.” Blush creeps into my cheeks from embarrassment. I make a mental note to look up what each colored rose means when I am at work on Monday morning. Owen slides in next to me, and the driver pulls out into traffic. After a few minutes, the silence becomes deafening, so I decide to break the tension.
“Owen, we are friends now. Right?”
“Yes, Carsten.”
My skin ripples from the sound of my name, falling from his lips. Rolling my shoulder, I brush it off as a mere coincidence. “Does that mean I have to get someone to drive me around in a black car?”
“What? Why would you have to do that?”
“I just assumed you, Rebecca, and Mark were in some kind of black car club. All three of you get driven around in them. Did you guys ask for matching floor mats, too?”
“Ha-ha. Very funny. I never paid attention to what kind of cars they are. Besides, I own mine. They use a service.”
“So, he works for you?” I point towards the driver with a raised brow.
“Do you have a problem with that? I thought it made me cool.” Owen winks at me and I fight to hold in my laugh. He may have a driver, but it doesn’t make him cool.
“Oh. I see. So, to be a part of the cool kid’s club everyone needs to be like you?”
“Of course. Didn’t you get the memo? I could have sworn I mailed it out.” A slow smile spreads across his face.
“Unfortunately, I only get my mail by carrier pigeon and mine has been rather slow, lately. Perhaps he misplaced it.” Glancing at him, I smile back. I can’t help it. His smile must be contagious. The nerves I had earlier seem to calm, as we continue with our banter. I am so lost in our quick-witted comebacks, I never looked to see where we were going.
*****
Looking out the window, my jaw drops as I see the front of Escapes. You have got to be kidding me. The driver pulls up in front of the valet I hired for the night. My jaw is still hanging open, as Owen steps out of the car and offers me his hand. He misinterprets the look of shock on my face as excitement. He is beaming, as I step out of the car.
“Do you like it? I was hoping you would. Mark said you were into art. One of my clients was raving about this place. She said the new owner is really young, but an absolute cut-throat in the art world.”
I physically close my mouth with my hand. Of all the places in New York, he takes me to my own gallery. My hand is still covering my mouth, as I look anywhere, but at him. He is completely oblivious to my reaction. Gently taking my hand in his, he walks us towards the entrance. My feet stop at the edge of the long, blue rug in front of the door.
“Is this too much? It’s honestly not a date, Carsten. It’s just that Mark said you liked art and I could use a few new pieces for my office, so I thought we’d kill two birds with one stone. It’s really not a date.” Owen chews on his bottom lip with worry, creasing his brow. This poor man is so worried that I am upset because we might be on a date. He is a completely genuine person. Maybe being friends will be easier than I originally thought.
“Just friends?”
“I would never take anything farther than where you would want it to go.” He smiles and I can’t help but smile back. Not wanting to ruin his good intentions, I let him lead me into the gallery. The rooms are brightly lit up with the focus of the lights directed towards the art. Two men in black suit pants with matching black shirts, are walking around carrying hors d’oeuvres, while three women are carrying champagne. The showing is set up perfectly. I look at the oddly painted clock above the door to my office. If everything is running smoothly, then the main gallery will open in fifteen minutes. The Beauty of Solitude will be open for everyone to view.
Heather spots me and starts towards us. Shit. I could ask her to lie, to say we don’t know each other, but if Owen and I become friends, then eventually he would find out the truth. I need to be able to get to her without him noticing. Pulling on Owen’s arm, I nod my head towards the other side of the gallery. “I’m going to go freshen up a bit.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes. It’s nothing a trip to the ladies’ room won’t fix.”
“Are you sure? I could come with.” Owen takes a step towards me, and I immediately step back.
“I’m fine, really. Go look around. It’s why you came here, right? I’ll come find you when I’m finished.” Smiling, I wave him towards the main gallery, as I take another step backwards. A confused look, or maybe suspicion, grace his features for a quick second, before he smiles and heads to the main gallery. Thank God. I was worried he was going to try to follow me, not out of harm, but to make sure that I was okay. I wait for him to blend in with the masses and then I make a beeline for Heather.
“Miss Winters, I’m so surprised to see you
here.” She nervously runs her fingers along her smooth ponytail, before pulling at the hem of her gray blazer.
“It’s Carsten, Heather, and me, too.”
“I’m glad you’re here. We had a problem of sorts and I just kind of…well, I guess I winged it.”
Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. The one time I come to an opening and there is an issue. What is it that fate has against me? Why is it always one thing after another? Don’t I deserve a reprieve? Waving my hand in the air, I ask, “What did you wing?”
“Paul pulled his main piece. He left the others, but he felt it wasn’t ready to be shared with the world, yet. He says his art speaks to him. I guess this one said it wasn’t finished.”
“Of course, he did. I double-checked with him twice this week and he said he was excited with how things looked. If he would have said something I could have figured out a solution. How long ago did he pull it?”
“This morning, around ten o’clock. I’m sorry, Carsten. I didn’t know what to do. I thought you were still away.”
“It’s fine. How did you fix the layout?”
“I just moved a couple of pieces and fixed the lighting to match.” Heather looks down at her watch and nervously shifts her feet.
“I’m sure whatever you decided to go with will be amazing. There’s a reason you were hired, Heather. This would be one of them. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to visit the ladies’ room.” Turning around, I pause mid-step and look over my shoulder back towards her. “Oh, and Heather, you didn’t see me here today. If by chance you see me later, you don’t see me then, either. Do you understand?”
“Loud and clear. You are not here and now I look odd for talking to myself.” Smiling, she smooths her hands over her blazer and matching gray pencil skirt. I knew Heather was fully supported for her position by Dorsey, but I was unaware she possessed any wit. I am starting to like her.
Wetting a towel with cold water, I dab it on my cheeks and the back of my neck. The stress of Holden not being here, balancing a possible friendship with Owen, and now the possible collapse of tonight’s viewing, has me on edge. I am one disaster away from a complete panic attack. I long to hear the three words which always put me back together.
