Part-Time Lover
Page 20
“It’s a lost cause, mate,” I mutter.
But it’s not lost to him, because he’s stuck to me, it seems.
He’s persistent.
And as I keep going, and he does too, my brain starts to clear, like clouds are parting. My mind moves aside the terms and the words that demanded all its real estate today. It makes way for new ideas to take root.
Ideas about persistence.
Determination.
Because I can’t shake the thought that I was wrong in my conversation with Mr. Pigeon.
Maybe that’s just hope talking.
Maybe that’s simply a fool’s wish.
Or maybe it’s determination to see this all the way through.
I call Erik and tell him he needs to meet me straightaway. I’ve helped him sort out his mess for the last few months. Time for him to help sort out mine.
In the meantime, I send Elise a message.
36
Elise
On the way to a late lunch with my brother, I reread the texts Christian and I sent this afternoon, trying to find any hidden meaning in them.
* * *
Christian: Hi. How was your flight? Is Manhattan everything you wanted it to be?
No. You’re not here, I wanted to shout.
Elise: It’s fabulous! Always good to be home.
* * *
Nothing is fabulous when you have to fake your emotions.
* * *
Christian: Great! Glad to hear. When do you return? Can I take you out to dinner when you’re back?
* * *
Why? Why? Why? To tell me you want to keep fucking me every Friday night? That you vastly preferred things when we were part-time lovers only, and why not return to those glory days?
* * *
Elise: Sure. Dinner sounds great. I’ll be back on Friday.
* * *
Friday. Why do I have to return on a Friday?
* * *
Christian: Can I see you then?
* * *
Elise: Or Saturday. I might be exhausted when I return.
* * *
And I don’t want to look overeager.
* * *
Christian: Fine, but if you find yourself un-exhausted, let me know. I’d love to see you.
* * *
My pants. You’d love to see my pants.
* * *
I shove my phone to the bottom of my purse as the cabby swerves to The Lucky Spot in Midtown. It’s a popular bar, my brother told me, and it recently began serving lunch.
I pay the driver and head inside, grateful I already dropped my bags at my hotel.
My bespectacled brother, Jay, waits at a table, and as soon as he sees me, he stands and waves. My heart lights up with relief. Family. I need family right now.
I rush over to him and throw my arms around his shoulders, clasping tight. “So good to see you.”
“Well, I didn’t expect this kind of greeting.”
I don’t let go. I hug him tighter, my chin on his shoulder. It’s only when I realize his shirt is wet where my cheek rests that it occurs to me I’m crying.
“Elise,” he says softly. “What’s wrong?”
I separate from him, inhale deeply, and fix on a cheery grin. I wave a hand in front of my face. “Oh, nothing. Long flight. How are you?”
We take our seats, and he narrows his brown eyes. He tilts his head to the side. “You’re crying over a long flight? It’s eight hours, and you only ever fly first class.”
“Not true,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “I flew coach to Copenhagen.”
My tears crawl up my throat once more. But I catch them before they spill and shove them back down.
“What is going on?”
I tell him everything. “And then I fell in love with him,” I say, plastering on a fake grin. “Wasn’t that a fantastic idea?”
He laughs lightly and pats my hand. “It’s not as if falling in love is the worst idea in the world.”
“Ugh. It is. Love is euphoria and misery cooked into a stew. It’s the worst thing ever invented.”
He arches a brow over his glasses. “Is it?”
The waiter arrives and asks if we’ve had a chance to look at the menu. Jay shakes his head, but when I say I’ll have a house salad, he opts for a chicken sandwich.
Once the man leaves, Jay peers at my neck. “You found it.”
I touch the necklace. “I’m so glad to have it back. It’s my little piece of New York.”
“You can take the girl out of New York, but you can’t take New York out of the girl.”
“Do I seem very New York to you?”
“You’re tough as nails, so I’d say yes.”
“Oh, please. I’ve cried more times in the last twelve hours than I have in a year.”
He smirks. “That’s my point. You’re so tough, so strong. You’re working so hard to protect yourself from getting hurt again. But what if this guy wound up in the same boat as you?”
“What do you mean?”
Jay leans forward, a conspiratorial tone to his voice. “I mean that, at face value, everything you said to him and he said to you leads reasonably to the conclusions you’ve drawn. But do people really say what they mean?”
“Are you saying he meant something else?”
“If you didn’t spell out your feelings, why would you assume he had?”
“Because his brother—”
Jay smiles and wiggles his eyebrows. “Bingo. His brother said something. Not Christian.”
“But his brother has to know how he feels!”
“I didn’t know everything till you told me.”
“You live across an ocean. They live together. Erik has been staying with Christian since his wife left him.”
Jay shrugs. “Doesn’t mean Christian told him how he felt.”
I stare at him and speak plainly. “Nor did he tell me, for that matter.”
He laughs. “You’re making my point exactly.”
“And what’s that?”
“You’re so tough, and you’re doing everything to erect skyscrapers around you so you don’t get blindsided again. Newsflash—it doesn’t hurt any less if you have walls. Once someone gets around them, it still hurts if they don’t feel the same as you.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s helpful.”
He smiles and reaches for my hand. “You’re already in deep.” He takes a beat then shrugs happily. “But it also feels pretty damn good when someone you love feels the same.”
“I don’t think he does.”
“Men don’t usually want to talk about us unless they feel something,” he says, sketching air quotes as he tosses Christian’s words back at me.
I’m not talking about paperwork. I’m talking about us.
My stomach roils, and the prospect of waiting till Friday or Saturday to find out what he wants to discuss sounds like an eternity.
Jay lets go of my hand. “Enough about boys. I have something for you.” He reaches into his pocket and removes a blue velvet bag, then slides it over to me. “Picked it up at a little shop.”
I open the bag to find a silver chain with a dangly Eiffel Tower. I laugh and put it on, letting the icon of France sit next to my taxicab. “It’s perfect.”
And it gives me strength. It reminds me that no matter what happens with Christian, I have my brother an ocean away. Back home in France, I have great friends, a wonderful life, and a fabulous business I’ve rebuilt.
That’s why my heels are touching the New York sidewalk later that afternoon. Because I made it through a dark time. I turned my agency around, and it’s thriving again, thanks to new deals with accounts like the Luxe.
Whatever happens with Christian, I’ll be fine, walls or no walls.
I’ve got this.
37
Christian
Erik walks a little taller, a little prouder. The sun is sinking in the sky as he reaches the banks of the river, where I stare into the water.
“I’ve never thought in those terms, but I suspect it probably was.”
“Maybe it’s supposed to be here because people would need to think and contemplate and wonder.”
He stands next to me, setting his elbows on the concrete barricade and gazing at the slate-gray ribbon that cuts across the city. “What’s on your mind?”
I heave a sigh. “A few things. First, I really enjoyed working with you at the firm.”
“You did?”
I nod. “I did. I liked rolling up my sleeves and tackling deals.”
He nudges me. “You angling for a job now?”
I laugh. “No. But it reminded me that I like striking deals and doing market analysis, and not to blow my own trumpet, but I’m also quite good at it.”
“You’re tops at what you do.”
“Thanks.” I scrub a hand across my chin. “I think I’m going to keep doing it.”
He squints in question. “So you do want a job?”
“No. I believe I’ve just made myself a consultant.”
“Ah, so this is what retirement looks like? Working your arse off?”
“I’d hardly say consulting is working my arse off. In fact, I think it’s the perfect balance. I don’t get too consumed by it, but it gives me the chance to keep my feet wet. I’ll do a little translation, and I’ll do a little high-level consulting, especially for companies looking to enter new markets.”
“I think that sounds brilliant.”
“And that brings me to my other point.”
He tenses. “What’s that?”
It’s not his fault that everything with Elise went tits up, but I need him to know the score. “First, I wish you’d have told me before you made your deal with Jandy.”
He frowns. “I’m sorry I didn’t. I thought you might talk me out of it because of how much money I’d lose by paying her off,” he says, a note of guilt in his voice. “And I was determined to go through with it.”
“I get it. I do. I still wish you’d have told me, because I wouldn’t have tried to talk you out of it. I wish you knew that.”
“You wouldn’t have?”
I laugh. “Of course I wouldn’t have. It’s your choice. I understand why you did it. Why you needed to. It’s your heart and your life. And I’m proud of you for finding a way to move on.”
He smiles. “Thanks. It’s been total shite, but this is the best I’ve felt in more than a month.”
We both stare at the river for a bit, then I turn to him again. “There is one little matter, though, that ticks me off a bit.”
“What’s that?”
“I really wish you hadn’t told Elise I didn’t love her.”
His eyes bug out. His jaw falls open. “What?”
“Because that’s actually the complete opposite of the truth. I’m pretty much madly in love with her, and now she thinks I don’t love her, and I have no clue if she might love me back. But seeing as I helped you sort out your love life, it’s time for you to help sort out mine.”
He frowns. “I’m so sorry my big mouth fucked things up.”
“It’s okay. I know you meant well.”
He shakes his head. “I’m a bit of a clueless jackass sometimes. But I can also be a determined bastard when it comes to fixing my mistakes.” Erik smiles. “I like Elise. I like her a lot. Let’s get your girl back.” He rubs his palms together. “What’s the plan?”
Laughing, I say, “I don’t know. That’s why I rang you. To devise one.”
He furrows his brow, but a minute later, he offers a fantastic idea.
38
Elise
“That was great. Thank you so much for making all this time,” Nate says the next day as he walks me to the elevator banks at his offices in Midtown.
“I’m so excited to get started. These meetings were invigorating. We’ll have materials to show you within a week.”
“Can’t wait.”
We say goodbye, and I shoot down to the ground floor, delighted the partnership is starting so well. Even when I leave, I hold my chin up high, determined to enjoy my time in New York. Two days of meetings have been exhausting but energizing.
As I walk up Fifth Avenue, I feel the pull of Central Park, but I’m going to heed another call. That of friends. Last night I fired off emails to some of my favorite women in the city, and I’m meeting them at a bar called Speakeasy.
I reach the establishment, push open the door, and find my redheaded friend Nicole waiting for me. She waves me over. “You’re back!” she shouts as she pulls me in for a hug.
“Not to stay, but for now.”
She punches my arm. “C’mon. New York is way better than Paris. Don’t you want to move here?”
I laugh. “And the campaign to have me relocate begins.”
“New York is awesome. We need you here.”
“Yes, we do.”
I turn in the direction of the new voice. It’s Abby, a tiny little blonde I adore. I hug her too. “My New York girls.”
After we order, I tell them I require chapter and verse on where they’re at with their husbands and children.
“My little angel is finally sleeping through the night. Only took eight months and three weeks to reach that glorious milestone,” Abby says, then bats her eyelids as if she’s falling asleep.
Nicole pats her knee. “Sleep is the new sex, isn’t it?”
Abby laughs. “Yes, but am I greedy to want both sleep and sex?”
I raise a glass. “I see no reason you shouldn’t have it all.”
Nicole weighs in. “My oldest is finally at nursery school, and he’s already an incorrigible flirt.”
“Well, he is adorably handsome,” I say, since her four-year-old son is the cutest creature on earth.
I dip my hand into my purse and grab two pretty pink bags wrapped with ribbon. “If sleep is the new sex, then candy is the new wine.”
I give them their gifts from Paris, a mix of Veronica’s favorite sweets from her shop. “But don’t share with the kiddos. Those are just for the moms.”
Nicole clutches her bag to her chest. “Mine, mine.”
It’s only when I say goodbye, with hugs that could go on for days if I let them, and promises to return again soon, that I feel that pang again. That ache that reminds me that I still want a little more.
Actually, I want a lot more.
I stroll up Fifth Avenue. Good thing I changed into flats after my meeting. When I turn into the park, my phone rings.
Quickly, I grab it, and answer the call from my brother.
“Hey there,” he says.
“Hey to you.”
“Do I get to see you again before you leave?”
“Of course,” I say with a smile. “I fly back tomorrow, but I’m free tonight. I’m heading to Central Park now.”
He laughs. “Let me guess. The Conservatory Garden?”
“However did you know?”
“Perks of being the big brother. You learn all the habits.” He clears his throat. “I need to finish something at work, but I can meet you there in an hour and a half. Does that work?”
“It’ll take me time to walk there, so that’s fine.”
When I reach the gardens, it feels like coming home. I breathe in deeply, inhaling the scents of the Japanese lilacs, the purple cornflowers, and the hydrangeas. I grab a spot on a bench by the fountain and savor the sights.
My heart squeezes tighter in my chest. It beats harder. It wishes for someone.
For one person.
Yes, I am happy without him. But I’d be happier with him.
* * *
Stop and Smell the Days blog
* * *
July 20: Cliff-diving in a field of flowers
* * *
My lovelies . . .
* * *
Here I am in Central Park, inhaling the g
lory of the gardens. Summer is in full bloom, and all my favorite scents envelop me. I devour the royal purples, the gentle pinks, the blazing yellows, and I drink in the smells of the season wafting around me. This is a flower-lover’s paradise, and when I’m here, I’m convinced it is heaven for the senses.
For the sights, especially, and the smells.
And for the heart. I’ve always felt at home here, ever since I was young. When I visited these gardens, I felt as if I belonged to them. I didn’t feel that kind of belonging again until I moved elsewhere, to another city around the world.
And I felt it one other time too.
With a person—one particular person. It’s only with him that I feel as if my wild heart has come home.
Time to jump off the cliff.
* * *
Yours in noses,
A Scentsual Woman
* * *
I hit post, and then, with excitement zipping through me, I call Christian so I can tell him to read it. I’m jumpy and restless, but it’s not from nerves. It’s from possibility. Even if he doesn’t reciprocate, even if he doesn’t want the same things I do, I have to take this chance.
For me.
I wait for the phone to connect. It rings, and it rings, and it rings.
Like it’s getting closer.
Footsteps crunch across the stone path, and I snap my gaze their way and drop the phone.
39
Christian