Cityscape Affair Series: The Complete Box Set

by Hawkins, Jessica

  “So I guess you still have feelings for him,” she said, sighing.

  I opened my mouth. “I-I don’t know. He’s helping out with the Oak Park house.”

  Her eyebrows met in the middle of her forehead. “Isn’t that weird?”

  “Of course it’s weird, but you were there after the wedding. What was I supposed to do when Andrew brought it up? Forbid them from seeing each other? That wouldn’t raise a red flag at all.”

  “Well, look,” she said. “David’s with Dani now anyway, right?”

  “Seems that way,” I said, directing my scowl at the table.

  “So let her have him. If he’s going to break someone’s heart, I’d rather it was hers than yours.”

  I smiled so she wouldn’t notice my dejection.

  “Speaking of the house,” Gretchen continued, “any news?”

  “We should hear back any day now.”

  “Are you ready for all that?”

  “I don’t know. I guess so.” My conversation with David, fresh in my mind, hadn’t given me any answers. But as usual, opening up to him was easy and left me feeling better. It also left me more confused.

  “Well, I hate that you’ll be leaving the city, but I am excited for you,” she said. “This is a big step.”

  I nodded. “You’ll come visit, won’t you?”

  “Of course,” she said, but her smile waned.

  11

  Burgundy leather and dark wood made up Bill’s office at the law firm, and it smelled intentionally rich. Sturdy, essential-looking volumes lined the room like wallpaper. It had been a couple nights since my dinner with Gretchen, and I hadn’t seen much of Bill that week because of a big case. Knowing he was in for another late night, I’d decided to surprise him.

  “This is a treat.” Bill rounded the mahogany desk to embrace me. “Everything okay?”

  “Yep.” I set my purse on a couch on the other side of his office. “I haven’t been here in a while, so I thought I’d make sure you’ve still got my photo up.”

  He plucked a frame from his desk and showed it to me—a picture from the one time I’d agreed to go on the fishing boat. We smiled from behind sunglasses and goofy hats.

  “Great,” I said, mock turning to leave. “So I’ll stop by again next year.”

  “Har-har.” He pulled me back into his arms. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here. I have something to tell you.”

  “Okay,” I prompted.

  “I just heard back from Jeanine about the house. We didn’t get it.”

  The air in the office stilled. Twin slivers of relief and disappointment worked through me. We weren’t moving to the suburbs. Not yet. But we would. And if we had to, I’d wanted it to be that house. “Oh,” I said with an exhalation. “Why not?”

  Bill shook his head as defeat crossed his face. “She didn’t say, but she’s going to find out and get back to us.”

  “Well, that sucks,” I said.

  “Yeah, it does,” he agreed. “I’m sorry.”

  I looked down at his arms around me. “It’s not your fault. You were so sweet to go through the trouble. Thank you.”

  For some reason, the tense way he rubbed his eyes made me feel overwhelmingly guilty. I’d spent late nights trying not to wish that life away, and maybe on some level, I had willed it. Was this my fault?

  “I know we’ll find something else,” he said. “I’m just so tired of this whole process.”

  “Maybe we should take a break for a while,” I suggested.

  “No, I don’t want to do that.” He paused for a deep sigh. “How was your day?”

  “It was all right. I missed you.”

  He smiled. “Me too. Speaking of fishing,” he said, gesturing to the photograph behind him, “Hugh and the guys invited us on the boat next weekend. Interested?”

  “That’s the night Gretchen invited us to the hotel party,” I said. “I mentioned it a couple days ago.”

  “Oh. I don’t remember that. I’ll tell them no.”

  Passing up a weekend doing what he loved for a social event he’d hate? I jumped at the chance to ease my guilt and take his mind off losing the house. “No, it’s okay,” I said. “You should go with Hugh.”

  “Without you?”

  “I won’t be any fun without Lucy, and she’ll still be on her honeymoon.”

  “True,” he said, cocking his head. “What about the party?”

  “Well, maybe I’ll go with Gretchen and Greg. Gosh, that’s so weird to say. I still can’t believe they’re back together.”

  “Which one is Greg?” Bill asked.

  “Honey, seriously? I also told you this the other night. Greg, from college. The one who ditched Gretchen to move to Japan.”

  “Yeah, sorry. I’ve had a lot on my mind with work and the house.” He shrugged. “That’s exciting, I guess.”

  “You guess?”

  “Just don’t get your hopes up.”

  “Why?”

  “You know her,” he said. “She’s a floozy.”

  “A floozy?” I repeated. “Who even uses that word anymore?”

  “Come on, she’s always with a new guy,” he said. “If I knew this Greg, I would warn him,” he said with a chuckle.

  “You would not. This is different for her. They’re like college sweethearts.”

  “Whatever, Livs, I don’t want to talk about Gretchen. Are you sure you don’t mind that I go fishing?”

  “No,” I said, clearing some of his hair from his face. “I don’t mind. Tell them yes.”

  “Great.” He kissed my cheek. “You’re the best.”

  “Do you want to go get dinner?”

  “Shit, I really can’t. If I don’t keep on track, I’ll have to come in this weekend.”

  “Okay.” I picked up my purse. “I’ll see you at home then.”

  “Liv?” he asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m really glad that you’re, uh, doing better. I hope losing the house won’t change that.”

  “Um.” I felt the color leave my face. I could only think of one terrible reason for the improvement to my mood lately, and it hadn’t been the house. “Yeah,” I said. “I mean no. I don’t think it will.”

  “Good.” He kissed me on the cheek again and glanced at the closed door. “Also . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s been a while since we . . . you know.”

  I nodded. “It has been a long while.”

  “Think we could give it another go?’

  The night of Lucy’s wedding flashed across my mind. I hadn’t been fair to Bill lately, even when he’d been trying to help. I had a lot to make up for. “Of course,” I agreed, stepping toward him. “How about right now?”

  He laughed. “No.”

  Something stirred in me. Or it had been since Lucy’s wedding. I’d been cold for months, and as warmth crept back in, so did my need. Maybe that was why I couldn’t stay away from David. Maybe I needed to remember my husband.

  I let my handbag fall to the ground, walked toward Bill, and touched his crotch. His shoulders stiffened. “Why not now?” I asked.

  “Liv, no,” he insisted, trying to push my hand away, but I was already undoing his pants. He glanced behind me. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

  I raised an eyebrow and backed away from him, turning to lock his door. “The office is almost empty,” I pointed out.

  “True . . .”

  I crossed the room and went to sit on his desk when he stopped me. “Jesus, not on the legal briefs,” he said. “Over here. On the couch.”

  He lay on the leather sofa, and I climbed on before settling into a straddle over his hips.

  “Honey,” I said, leaning over so we were face to face. “I want to go slow.”

  “I’d like that, too.” He pecked me on the lips and tucked some of my hair behind my ear. With a sweet smile and another kiss, he bunched my skirt up to my waist. When I moved against him, his smile fell away, his expression
sobering.

  Bill held the nape of my neck and pressed his lips to mine. I felt the passion behind his kiss, but there was something ghostly about it; it was a shadow of a kiss, a kiss that seemed to go right through me. It made me feel suddenly tired and dry, like eyes that had been open for days.

  He ran one hand up my blouse and massaged my breast. My nipple swelled into his palm, and he put it in his mouth. He kissed down my sternum, then sat up to urge me onto my back. His mouth continued over my belly until finding its way under my skirt. I could count on two hands the number of times he’d gone down on me, so I gasped when his mouth closed over my mound.

  “How’s that?” he asked after a moment, glancing up at me.

  “Good,” I said and exhaled. “Actually, you can be less . . . gentle,” I instructed.

  I can do this, I thought. I can make this happen for Bill.

  I reached down to spread myself wider and circled my other hand over my clit.

  I can do this, I recited.

  I remembered Bill as my boyfriend, my fiancé, my husband now. We had history. We had the present and a future. His touch was familiar; it was just for me, and mine was for him. I bowed my back and moved my hand faster, frustrated that my body didn’t respond the way I wanted it to. “Finger me . . . yes,” I breathed when he touched me. “More.”

  “More what?”

  “More fingers.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  It took a moment until I felt the pressure. I was still rubbing myself, and he pulled his mouth away to watch.

  Come on, come on, I pleaded.

  After what felt like ten minutes, but what could have been two, I told him I was ready.

  He was over me in a moment, groaning as he entered me. “Shit. Why don’t we do this more often?” His face distorted with pleasure as he found his rhythm. He kissed his way down my neck, and then up to my jawline. I appealed to the ceiling, praying for more than what I had to give.

  But my body was still broken.

  I wasn’t sure what inside of me had surfaced that night with David, but it wasn’t present now. An orgasm wasn’t even within reach. As Bill worked on top of me, sadness settled over me.

  “Oh, babe,” he said between gritted teeth. “I can’t wait, I’m so sensitive. I’m going to come.”

  Panic gripped me. I was still on birth control, but at just the thought that it could fail, that I’d be the one statistic who got pregnant—

  “Bill,” I uttered, gripping his arms. “Bill, stop. Pull out.”

  “What?” he asked, panting. “Why?”

  “Just pull out,” I said as my throat closed.

  He dropped his head into the crevice of my neck and breathed hotly onto my collarbone. “Oh, God.”

  “Bill, don’t come inside me,” I said more forcefully.

  “Aren’t you on . . . shit,” he cried and sat back. He grabbed himself and rubbed his crown against my stomach, groaning until liquid heat spurted over my skin. He remained that way for a few seconds, breathing heavily. “Damn,” he said. “That was kinda hot.”

  He stood to pull on his pants before swiping a tissue from his desk.

  “You’re on birth control,” he said as he passed it to me. “Why’d you want me to pull out?”

  I focused on wiping away the stickiness to avoid his eyes. “I don’t know. I got nervous.”

  “That was a rush, huh?” He yawned. “Imagine if someone had caught us? I would’ve been toast.”

  I stood as my panic receded. After dressing, I kissed his nose and told him to leave his work for tomorrow and come home with me. He readily agreed.

  * * *

  The next morning, when I received an e-mail from David telling me how much he’d enjoyed our “friendly” walk, I knew exactly how he felt. The simplicity of our time together refreshed me. And when he asked if I wanted to do it again, I was ashamed of how little I hesitated before replying that I did.

  I met him downstairs after work. Even though I’d spent the afternoon convincing myself that I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I still scanned the lobby to make sure there wasn’t anyone I knew.

  As I approached, he greeted me with a wide, contagious grin. “Good evening.”

  “Good evening,” I repeated back to him. When he held open the lobby door, I walked out onto the sidewalk.

  “You’re nervous again,” he said, looking me over.

  “Maybe a little,” I admitted.

  “I don’t make you uncomfortable, do I?”

  “No,” I said. “I just feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

  “We’re just two friends walking,” he reminded me.

  I nodded. “It’s nice, just walking.”

  “Yes, just walking is nice. But I can think of nicer things.”

  I blushed and bit my bottom lip. I could also think of nicer things. When he winked playfully, I pretended to search for something in my purse to hide my embarrassment.

  The city was our soundtrack for the first few blocks. Honking horns mingled with conversation, a street performer’s saxophone, and chirping birds. As the sun set, the evening grew colder, and I buried my hands into the pockets of my jacket.

  “What are your plans this weekend?” he asked eventually.

  “I’m thinking of going to the animal shelter. It’s been a while since I volunteered.”

  He smiled. “Of course. I remember that you like to walk the dogs. Where do you take them?”

  “Usually just down to the water or the park. The shelter isn’t far from my apartment.”

  “Lincoln Park?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be there this weekend. My parents are driving in, and we’re taking my sister’s kid to the zoo.”

  “That sounds really nice.”

  “We’re barbequing in the park afterward.” He went to say something else, but stopped himself.

  Had he been about to invite me? Because I didn’t see how meeting his family would help when “just walking” felt like committing some kind of sin. “Will Dani be there?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “I was wondering when you’d bring her up again.”

  “I’m just curious.” I hazarded a casual shrug. “Like, has she met your parents?” I asked, fingering a lock of my hair.

  “You think we’re more serious than we are.”

  “When was the last time you went out?”

  He cleared his throat. “A few nights ago.”

  “A few nights?”

  “Yes.”

  “After I saw you?” I asked. “But you and I . . . we walked, and . . .”

  “And what?”

  What could I say? I didn’t have a leg to stand on. He could—and should—see who he wanted. But did it have to be Dani? “Nothing,” I said, watching the sidewalk disappear under my feet. After a moment, I said, “I forget how good you are at that.”

  “At what?”

  “Juggling women.”

  “I wasn’t juggling women,” he said. “You and I are just walking, remember?”

  I nodded. “But you do . . . juggle women. Because you’re a player. Aren’t you?”

  “So you keep saying,” he said. “You called me that at the Meet and Greet that night.”

  “But isn’t it true?”

  He frowned. “I don’t have time to pursue women.”

  “You could be pursuing someone right now instead of walking with me.”

  He covered his heart with his hand. “Ouch. But yeah, you have a point.”

  “So if you don’t pursue women, does that mean you and Dani are in a relationship?”

  “Relationships also take time.”

  “So you just have . . . flings.”

  “I generally don’t deny myself a beautiful and interesting woman if she’s offering. If that makes me a player, then I guess that’s what I am.”

  I was surprised when an arrow of jealousy shot right through my heart. Jealousy was the ugly monster that lived
in my mother—up until recently, it was something I’d rarely felt. “Does Dani know that?” I asked.

  “Listen,” David started, “I like her. She’s a sweetheart. But you don’t need to worry. Lucy has been very persistent in trying to set us up. Nothing will come of it, though. I’ve told Dani so, but she’s stubborn. Lucy’s given her this idea that I want to be tamed, and I just don’t know it.”

  My jaw tingled as I clenched it. The thought of them together crept back into my head. I wasn’t sure I believed him—after all, Dani had given us the impression things were more serious. “Are there others?”

  “What?”

  “Are you seeing anyone else?” I asked.

  “Not really . . . but Maria and I still talk.”

  Oh, of course. Maria. Gorgeous, straight-off-the-catwalk Maria.

  Since the first time I’d seen them together, her image had been seared into my memory. Maria, smooth-skinned with ribbons of caramel hair, in her siren red dress. His go-to girl, the one who was ever-present in his life—available for events, work functions, and other things . . .

  “Well, obviously there’s Maria,” I said snidely. “That is a given.”

  “As my friend, you should be happy that I have someone I can call when I’m lonely,” David said.

  “As your friend, that isn’t a reason to sleep with someone random.”

  “Maria and I have been close for years,” he argued. “She’s far from random.”

  I scowled.

  He stopped short on the busy sidewalk, sending pedestrians scattering around us. “What did you expect, Olivia?” he demanded. “You ran away and literally left me empty-handed. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

  The world whirred around us, but we stood like statues, facing each other. “I don’t . . . expect anything. I do want you to be happy, but . . .”

  I tried to read his expression. His eyes remained hard until something flashed in them. “Maria, Dani—they don’t mean anything. You have to know that I’d—” he stopped, his face darkening. “But when I think about . . . about you and, and him—” He shook his head, and his jaw firmed. “I can’t go there.”

  I grasped his forearm and dipped my head toward him, alarmed by the look on his face. “Me and Bill?”