I lean against the counter, considering his offer. I’ve been so paranoid when it comes to Olive, maybe hearing she’s clean is just what I need to move on. Nonna’s wrong about this one.
“Okay,” I say. “Do it.”
Chapter 32: The New Girl
“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”
Joel is being super secretive about where he’s taking Cassie. He picked her up at Bookland, then said he had this brilliant idea but wouldn’t say what it was. At first, it was sweet and romantic. But ten blocks later, it’s getting old.
He gives her hand a squeeze. “One more block.”
“You said that last block.”
“I was off by a block. But it’s definitely on the next block.”
“This better be good, buster.”
Cassie’s phone rings within her purse. Joel doesn’t say anything while she fumbles around, searching for her phone. Her stomach sinks when she sees the blocked number.
For a while, it seemed like the calls had stopped. For almost two weeks, she didn’t get any. But then they started again with a vengeance.
The silence on the other end of the line was bad enough, but a few days ago, that changed. She picked up the phone and a husky female voice hissed in her ear: Whore.
Cassie knows she should change her number. But that will cost money she doesn’t have. And she’s already spent enough changing the lock on the door to the bookstore.
“Who is it?” Joel asks her.
“Nobody important,” Cassie says as she silences the phone and shoves it back in her purse.
Zoe insists she needs to tell Joel about the phone calls. And about her suspicions about Francesca. He might be able to talk to Francesca and get her to stop. But Zoe didn’t see Joel’s face when they were near Francesca’s restaurant. Zoe doesn’t see the way he reacts every time Francesca’s name comes up.
“All right!” Joel announces. “Here we are!”
And it’s…
A hardware store?
“Why are you taking me to a hardware store?” Cassie asks. She doesn’t understand this at all. Does he want to build something with her? Like… a coffee table? Or a dog house? Why on earth would they be going to a hardware store?
He tugs on her hand. “Come on.”
She follows him inside, thoroughly perplexed at this point. The smell of sawdust hits her and she lets out a sneeze. It doesn’t start to become clear what he’s thinking until they get to a counter in the back with a sign over it that says, “Copy Keys Here.”
Hang on a minute…
“Joel?” Her heart skips in her chest. “Are you…?”
“I want you to have a copy of my key,” he says with a grin. “Because… I love you.”
He just said he loves her. No man has ever said that to her before, and she hadn’t imagined it quite like this—right in the middle of a hardware store with sawdust tickling her sinuses.
Ever since they visited Anna’s baby the other day, she senses Joel has been eager to ramp up their commitment. Even if he denies it, he wants to get married. He wants to have a baby. Maybe not this year or next year, but soon. Very soon. Before he’s forty. And he’s thirty-seven. So.
Is she ready for that? And is Joel the man she wants to do those things with?
She likes Joel a lot. Hell, she loves him. Kind of.
Joel notices the look on her face, and his smile falters. “We don’t have to move in together,” he says quickly. “I mean, if that’s what you wanted, then… but anyway, that’s not what this is. I just want you to have my key because…”
I love you.
He’s not going to say it again without her saying it. But the message is clear: he wants this relationship to move forward. Now she has to figure out if that’s what she wants too.
“I love you too,” Cassie says.
His shoulders sag with relief. He pulls her close to him and kisses her. “I know you’re at my place a lot, but I want you there even more.”
Cassie feels a smile tugging at her lips. “And I suppose you want a copy of my key too.”
“Only if you want me to have it.”
“I do.”
Actually, it’s exciting. She’s given out her key before, but usually just to a friend like Zoe in case she got locked out. Moving in with Joel would have terrified her, but this feels like the right level of commitment. They’re moving forward, but not too fast. She loves him, but that doesn’t mean they’re making babies yet.
Within minutes, Cassie has a copy of Joel’s key. She digs into her purse to get out her keyring, but out of the corner of her eye, she sees a face at the door to the hardware store.
It’s Maureen the Homeless Lady. Dressed in her usual puffy coat with two scarves. Her face nearly pressed against the glass.
Cassie startles, taking a step back. Her heart is beating fast in her chest as she steps behind a display of wood, trying to conceal herself. What is Maureen doing here? They’re really far away from the bookstore—far from Maureen’s home. Doesn’t she need to stay by her stuff, to guard it?
And why is she staring into the hardware store?
“Are you okay?” Joel squints down at her. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
“No, I just…” Cassie peeks out at the door to the hardware store. Maureen has vanished. “Nothing. Never mind.”
As Cassie digs her keys out of her bag, she decides she’s been letting her imagination run wild. There’s no reason why Maureen shouldn’t be allowed to take a walk around the neighborhood. She’s just feeling paranoid after everything that’s happened lately.
Chapter 33: The Ex
I don’t know what I’m doing here.
It’s a mistake. I sense it’s a mistake as I walk through the glass doors to the cardiology practice where Dr. Dean Pourakis is employed. I’ve waited too long—Dean won’t want to see me. At the very least, I should have called. I don’t know what I was thinking, showing up like this.
I didn’t plan it. I was walking by the practice, where I’ve escorted Nonna once before, and I was seized with the urge to see Dean. It isn’t until I get to the front desk, where a blond girl ten years younger than me and far prettier is manning a computer that I entirely lose my nerve.
“I’m sorry,” she says to me. “We’re closing for the day.”
“Oh, I’m not…” I clear my throat. My cheeks feel suddenly warm. “I’m not a patient. I just… but if you’re closed…”
I glance behind me at the vacant waiting area. It’s clearly been the end of a long day, judging by the way every chair in the room is slightly askew and magazines litter the seats. Still, the room gives off a sterile air that I appreciate in a cardiology practice.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Miss Loren.”
I jerk my head up and see Dean standing at the door to the back. He’s wearing a white dress shirt paired with a dark blue tie, and he looks so freaking handsome, my knees feel weak. I cinch my coat tighter around my waist. “Hello, Dr. Pourakis.”
He takes a few steps toward me, his dark eyes trained on my face. He isn’t quite smiling, but he doesn’t seem upset either. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
The attractive secretary is staring at us, waiting to see what I’ll say. The whole room has gotten very quiet all of a sudden.
“My grandmother forgot her glasses,” I blurt out.
He raises an eyebrow.
“I mean, at her appointment yesterday,” I say. Even though Nonna’s glasses are almost certainly perched on her nose as we speak. “We’ve been looking for them and she thinks she left them behind.”
“I see.” Dean looks at the blonde. “Taylor, did you find any glasses yesterday?”
So Taylor lugs out a paper box she’s got under the desk that apparently serves as their Lost and Found. There’s quite a lot in there, including a scarf, an assortment of non-matching gloves, a bracelet, a hearing aide, and five pairs of glasses. After
all this, I’m tempted to claim one of them as Nonna’s, but I would feel bad if someone came here to retrieve their glasses and couldn’t because I took them.
“Do you want to take a look in the examining rooms?” Dean asks me.
Oh God, I don’t want to prolong this charade any further. But if I don’t look, he’ll know this was all a big farce. So I force a smile and nod gratefully, and follow Dean to the back.
He takes me into his first examining room, where he says he spends most of his time. It’s bright and clean, and smells vaguely of his aftershave. I crouch down near the examining table to search for the missing glasses while Dean watches me.
“Did Nonna really lose her glasses?” he says.
I straighten up, glad my skin tone prevents red from showing up on my cheeks. “What? You think I’m making this whole thing up?”
“A little. Yeah.”
How dare he? Even though he’s absolutely right. “So why would I come here and search for glasses that don’t exist?”
“Maybe you’re nuts.” He grins crookedly and that dimple makes an appearance. “Or maybe you couldn’t stop thinking about me and wanted to see me again.”
“Please,” I snort.
“You know,” he says, “I’m free tonight…”
My heart gives a little leap. “You are?”
That warrants a full-on grin. “Oh, so you are interested…”
I shrug. “Well, I don’t have anything to do, so…”
“Actually…” He snaps his fingers. “I do have plans tonight.”
I glare at him. He did that on purpose. I can tell by the way he’s grinning at me. “Well, whatever.”
“Would you like to come with me?”
I narrow my eyes. “To do what?”
“Dancing lessons.”
Say… what?
“My little sister is getting married in a few months,” he explains. “And I’ve been informed my dancing skills leave something to be desired. So Phoebe has been kind enough to purchase a ballroom dancing lesson for me and threaten me with what will happen if I fail to show up.”
I laugh. “You let your baby sister boss you around?”
“Hey, it’s her big day. I don’t want to ruin it with my inferior dancing skills.” He straightens out his tie. “So what you do say? You in?”
“Will they let me join at the last minute?”
“Sure. Why not?”
I hesitate.
“Come on,” he says. “You don’t want all this time you spent pretending to search for Nonna’s glasses to be for nothing, do you?”
He has got a very good point.
_____
An hour later, Dean and I are at a dance studio in midtown. He had to sweet talk them into letting me join in—apparently, they already had a professional partner lined up for Dean. But after he slides a couple of bills across the table to them, they seem happy enough to let me participate.
“You’re very smooth,” I murmur to Dean as we join the other couples on the dance floor. A giant mirror lines the far wall, so we can observe how terribly we’re dancing.
“You may not be saying that after you see me dance.”
Our teacher is a woman named Oksana with an East European accent. She’s wearing a skintight black shirt and short skirt and has a tiny, perfect body. I wouldn’t have blamed Dean for checking her out, but he doesn’t. He keeps his dark eyes focused on me as we stand facing each other, awaiting further instructions.
“Now, ladies!” Oksana barks at us. Wow, she has a loud voice for someone so tiny. “Put your left hand on your partner’s shoulder and hold his hand with your right.”
I step toward Dean. God, he smells nice. And the way he’s smiling at me is making it slightly hard to breathe. I put my left hand on his shoulders, feeling his firm muscles under my palm—he must work out. My right hand slides into his. His hand is large and warm in mine—touching him makes my heart beat faster.
“Men!” Oksana says. “You put your right hand on your partner’s back.”
And now his hand is on my back, warm against the thin fabric of my shirt. We are so close right now. I can see the dark hairs of his five o’clock shadow. Our eyes meet briefly and he winks at me.
God, he’s really sexy.
Oksana strides over to the stereo and flicks on a song. Every night, I hope and pray, a dream lover will take me away…
“Now,” Oksana announces, “we learn to cha cha cha.”
Dean wasn’t joking—he’s not a great dancer. He doesn’t have a natural sense of rhythm, but he’s trying really hard. He’s counting the beats under his breath to keep in time with the music. But at the same time, we’re having a great time. I wouldn’t have thought ballroom dancing lessons could be this fun.
“One… two… three…” he recites to himself.
I giggle. “You are such a nerd.”
“Of course I am,” he says. “I’m a cardiologist. We’re all nerds. But at least I’m a cool nerd.”
“What makes you cool?”
Dean reaches out his arm and spins me. “I like hip hop music. Is that cool?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I have a Twitter account. I’ve forgotten the password, but I’ve got it.”
“Not cool.”
“I’ve got a tattoo.”
I lean my head back so I can look at his face. “Do you really?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Where is it?”
“Ah.” He grins at me. “Now, that’s a secret. You’ll have to go out with me again to find out.”
“Sorry then,” I say. “I’m still not convinced you’re cool.”
“How about this?” He leans forward slightly so that I can smell the mint on his breath. “I am a fantastic kisser.”
“Well, that’s what you say…”
“That is God’s honest truth.” His eyes meet mine. “I’d be happy to prove it to you if you’d like.”
“Maybe,” I say enigmatically. And he winks at me.
For the entire rest of the class, all I can think about is kissing him. The way he’s looking at me, I suspect he feels the same way. We manage to fumble through the last twenty minutes, then he asks me if I want to go grab a bite to eat.
“That would be great,” I tell him. “I’m starving.”
“Anything in particular you like?”
“Anything is fine.”
Except when I get outside, I realize I wore the wrong shoes for a two-hour dance class. Blisters have formed on my toes and every step has become painful. I don’t want to seem like a wuss though, so I don’t say anything. Physical pain is easy to deal with.
“You okay?” Dean squints at me at the end of the first block.
“Yeah, fine.”
“You’re limping.”
He caught me. “My feet are killing me,” I admit. “But… I want to go with you to eat.”
He takes a step back, looking me over thoughtfully. Then he turns so his back is facing me. “Okay, hop on.”
I laugh. “What?”
“Your feet hurt, and it’s another three blocks.”
“You don’t have to carry me!”
“I want to.”
“I’m not light, you know.”
“Are you suggesting I’m not strong enough to carry you?”
I remember the feel of his tight muscles under his shirt when I had my hand on his arm. He’s perfectly capable of carrying me. “Okay, fine.”
So he does. I ride on his back the rest of the way to the restaurant. He barely grunts as he lifts me—this guy is strong. At some point, I lean my head against his back. This could be one of the nicest nights I’ve ever had.
When we get to the restaurant, Dean lowers me carefully to the ground. My feet throb as they touch the ground, but it’s not too bad. I’ll be fine as long as I’m not walking anymore.
“Thank you,” I say.
“My pleasure,” he says.
Chapter 34: The New Girl
<
br /> Cassie is dreading going out to dinner with Lydia and Pete. She’s hinted to Joel multiple times that Lydia is not her favorite person, but she suspects that’s part of the reason he set up the dinner. Pete is his best friend, and he wants them to all get along.
Fat chance. But fine, she’ll try.
Lydia picks the restaurant, which is a French place on the west side. Cassie has never eaten French food in her entire life. Unless French fries count, which she suspects they don’t. She takes a peek at the menu online and her heart skips a beat when she sees the prices. She can’t even pretend to offer to pay.
“Listen, Joel…” Cassie rubs her nose in the taxi on the way to the restaurant and sniffles loudly. “I’m feeling kind of sick. Maybe I shouldn’t go. I don’t want to infect them.”
He rolls his eyes. “Nice try, Cassie. Come on, it won’t be that bad.”
In response, Cassie tugs at her skirt. This one is black and falls below her knees, but she’s still worried it’s too short and Lydia will find a way to belittle her. Although even if she were wearing the perfect outfit, Lydia would still find a way.
The French restaurant is one of those hole-in-the-wall places that you might miss if you didn’t know exactly where it was. The cab deposits them right in front, and Cassie feels like a woman walking to her own execution as she heads to the door. It doesn’t even help when Joel takes her hand. Well, it helps a little.
Lydia and Pete are already sitting at a table in the back of the French restaurant when they arrive, although the place is so dark, it’s hard to tell. The lighting is mostly by candle—their table has three candles on it of varying heights. But Cassie is still able to see Lydia’s stunning light blue dress that perfectly complements her skin tone.
Pete offers a crooked smile as he rubs at his already messy dirty blond hair. The first two buttons on his shirt collar are undone, and Cassie suspects those two buttons are driving Lydia crazy. “Good to see you again, Cassie.”
Cassie wonders how Lydia lets him get out of the house like that without brushing his hair. “Hi, Pete,” she says. “Lydia.”
Lydia simply nods and takes a sip from her wine glass.
The Ex Page 16
