“No, I know. Ideas only.”
“As long as you understand my budget.”
“I’ll pick you up around nine?”
“Nine is fine.”
“I can’t wait to see you,” he says. I can’t wait to see him. The last time we were in the same room was last Monday for dinner, and that was five days ago. I want to run my fingers through his hair. I shake my head and gather my thoughts.
“Me, too.” My mom appears from downstairs ready to help me pack. “I’ve got to go,” I mutter disappointed.
“Okay, until tomorrow,” he whispers.
“Goodnight,” I breathe into the phone and hang up.
“Who was that?” my mother asks.
“Chase. He’s taking me to brunch tomorrow and then furniture shopping.”
“I miss going to brunch with your father,” she says with a slight melancholy edge to her voice.
“I do, too.” I hand her a box before the conversation turns tragic.
It takes two hours to pack up all of my belongings into identical brown boxes. All ten of them. Nine of which are full of clothing and shoes. The last box was for miscellaneous items from around my room that my mom made me pack. Stuff from my childhood, like a stuffed animal or some old books.
I bring the boxes down the stairs one by one, and place them by the front door, not having the energy to put them in the car. I’ll bring them to the Jeep in the morning before Chase gets here. As I’m bringing the last box down, my cell phone rings. Chase must know when I’m thinking about him, since he seems to call when I’m in the middle of something. I answer the phone.
“You can’t wait that long to see me?” I say playfully into the phone.
“Hi, Liv.” It isn’t Chase. I should have looked at the caller ID before answering.
“Evan,” I say caught off guard. “What do you want?” My tone is abrasive. Why is he calling me?
“I heard you were home,” he begins. That’s right. My mom, Benedict Arnold told him.
“Yeah, I’m right in the middle of packing. I’m moving,” I toss out.
“Moving? Where?”
“My new job at NOAA has me traveling often, and most of my field work will be in the city. I rented a place in Manhattan.”
“You can afford that?”
“Yes, I found something in my budget.”
“Wow. That’s . . . great.” He tries to sound happy for me, but I can tell by his tone he’s not.
“Thanks.”
“Can you take a break? I mean, I thought we could meet up for a drink or something,” he says. My tone softens.
“I’m going to be busy for the next few days.”
“What about tonight?” he asks. “It’s still early. Just one drink, so we can talk?” He’s pleading.
“I don’t know.” I am very hesitant about seeing Evan.
“Please, one drink, I swear.” I take a deep breath. Do I really want to do this? I did tell him that when I was back we would talk, but I’m not sure if this is a good idea. I could use a break, I guess. “Where?” I manage to say.
“Wherever you want.”
I don’t want someplace intimate. “The Oar, outside bar.” That will be loud and busy once the Saturday night band starts, and allow me a quick getaway if needed.
“I can be there in half an hour.”
“Fine. I’ll see you then.”
Crap. I’m not sure what he wants to talk about. There is nothing left to say. He says he wants to be friends, but I don’t think I can do it. I can’t help but think that all I’ll see when I look at him is the vision of him and my whore of a roommate Brandi, naked and fucking on my bed. I do want to get rid of all of the anger, so this could be good in a way.
The more I think about this, the more I think it’s a bad idea. I don’t want Chase to find out. He will definitely take it the wrong way. The one and only time they met, I thought he was going to kill Evan. I can only imagine what would happen if he saw us together again. I shudder at the thought.
I don’t want to keep secrets. That won’t do either one of us any good. I should call Chase and tell him that Evan wants to meet me, and he has nothing to worry about. I’m going around in circles here. If I call Chase, I’ll have him stewing over nothing. I decide that the plausible deniability route is the best idea.
I go upstairs and try to fix my hair, not really caring what I look like. I can’t change; all of my clothes are packed up with the exception of a couple of pairs of jeans and a few tops. I’ll have to go out with what I have on, which is jeans and a lacy tank top. I grab my staple pair of Coach flip-flops and head down the stairs. “Going out,” I yell through the house as I head out the front door.
I am sitting at the outside bar waiting for Evan. I’m not even sure what I’m doing here. I have a feeling that this is a bad idea. I take the last sip of my Amstel just as Evan comes through the parking lot and onto the dock. He sees me and heads over toward the bar.
“Hi,” he says. I can see his anxiety.
“Hi.”
“How are you?” he asks, contrition in his voice. As well he should be.
“Fine.”
He waves the bartender over. “Can I have two of these?” He points to the Amstel on the bar. The bartender heads for the chiller as Evan takes a seat on a stool. Two Amstel’s appear on top of the bar. Evan pushes one toward me. I take a long pull from it. “I know we spoke at the beginning of the summer, and you said we could try to be friends. I’m hoping we can get back to the way we were when we first started dating. We were so happy then.” His tone is wistful.
I remember when we first met. I was a freshman in high school. Our school district was large so we went to separate junior highs. I was so young and naïve. Eventually, once I got to know Evan, I saw how charming he was. I hung on every word he said like he was the only man on Earth. We had so much in common. He pulls me out of my reverie.
“I thought we could start out as friends, and maybe if you can learn to trust me again, become something more.” Crap. Double crap. I need to tell him about Chase before he gets any ideas.
“Evan, I need to tell you something.” He gazes at me, waiting. Okay, here it goes. “I’m seeing someone.” His face falls, the color draining from his face.
“What?” he whispers in horror.
“I met someone at Davis,” is all I can manage to squeak out.
“But . . . what about . . . I thought . . .” he stammers.
“He was there to pick up the pieces.”
“I thought you loved me,” he says, his voice anguished.
“I do, but I don’t think I can love you the way that you want me to anymore.”
“Yes, you can,” he almost shouts. I can see a myriad of emotions cross his face. Anger. Hurt. Fear. He takes a deep breath. “I know I fucked up, and you have every right to hate me for it.” Oh, he’s changing tact. “But please, don’t rush into anything while you’re hurting,” he beseeches me.
“I’m not. We’re taking things really slow.” I know I’ve only been with Chase for a short period of time, but he cares about me and I’m not sure I want to do anything to risk that.
“At the risk of sounding crazy, I don’t want to see you hurt.” Well I wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for me being hurt! This conversation is making me dizzy. I slam down the rest of my Amstel and wave for another.
“Look,” I say aggrieved. “I don’t want to argue about this. I don’t see the harm of trying to be friends but nothing more, not now.” As long as he understands his boundaries, maybe this can work.
He stares at me. I can see the wheels in his head working overtime. “Okay, I can accept that. For now.”
I’m not sure what’s giving me the strength to sit here with Evan and have a semi-normal conversation. It’s very surreal. I’m angry, but not as much as I was a few weeks ago. Being with Evan starts to feel comfortable, except for the whore that is dangling over our heads.
We sit and talk for ho
urs about things we’ve been doing over the summer. I neglect to add any information that might involve Chase. There’s no reason to pour salt on his wounds, although a couple of months ago, it would have been hydrochloric acid.
I glance at my watch and see it is almost eleven. Holy shit. “I need to go. I have an early appointment tomorrow.”
“Um . . . okay. Can we do this again soon?” he asks.
“I’ll be living in Manhattan this time next week. Maybe you can meet me in the city,” I suggest.
“Okay, I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Thanks.”
Chase knocks at the door, punctual as usual. He is breathtaking in a pair of khaki’s and a tight white t-shirt. I look dull in comparison in my cropped jeans and black tank top. I step aside so he can come in.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he purrs as he kisses my forehead. He is all smiles this morning.
“Good morning, yourself.”
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, let me grab my bag,” I say as I hear noise coming down the stairs. Crap, my mom’s up.
“Honey, are you leaving?” she yells down the stairs.
“Yes,” I call back. She appears from around the wall and almost walks right into Chase.
“Oh . . . hello,” she stutters.
“Mrs. Barrett, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he says as smooth as silk. She stares at him.
“Mom, we need to go,” I say trying to break the trance.
“Yes, of course,” she manages, regaining her bearings. “You must come for dinner one night. I would love to get to know the man that has my daughter’s heart.” Oh for the love of Pete.
“Yes, I would love to,” he replies. I run upstairs to get my purse and make my way back down again before she says something stupid.
“Okay, let’s go,” I say to Chase. I turn to my mom. “I’ll be home later.”
“Have fun you two.” She waves as we head out the front door.
As we pull away, I can see my mom watching from the front door. It makes me feel like I’m still in high school and going out on my first date. Sheesh. Before I know it, we are speeding off toward Manhattan on the Expressway.
“You mom seems very nice,” he says.
“Yes, when she wants to be. It’s me she makes crazy.”
“I understand.” He reaches for his iPod and tosses it to me. “Why don’t you find something to play.”
His playlist is just as eclectic as his Pandora station, maybe even more so. There are songs from Van Halen to Phantom of the Opera and everything in between. I decide since it’s Sunday and I’m feeling kind of mellow to play some Norah Jones. Come Away With Me is one of my favorites. Her voice is so soothing, so melodious. I close my eyes and absorb the soulful sounds. I can hear Chase chuckling. “Interesting choice of songs,” he says.
“I felt it fitting,” I quip back. “Technically, I am coming away with you, moving here to the city.”
“True,” he says smiling. “She has a beautiful voice.” He starts to sing along. Reaching across the center console, he places his hand over mine. He strokes my hand with his thumb. “I can’t wait until you’re living within walking distance.”
“Me too.”
A short hour later, we are in Manhattan finishing our brunch. He remembered how much I enjoy brunch and found an elegant buffet in midtown. I’m happy they have bottomless mimosas. Considering we’re going furniture shopping, and I know he’s going to want to pay for all of the largesse, I need as many mimosas as I can drink to deal with the stress.
We exit the restaurant and walk toward the 59th Street bridge. I thought we were going to furniture stores, but I guess he has other plans. Chase stops in front of a huge antique store. “Let’s take a look in here first, to get a sense of your taste in furniture.” Not what I had in mind but looking can’t hurt. He holds the door open for me, and we enter.
The store is huge. It’s compartmentalized into miniature rooms. I don’t know where to look first there are so many choices! As soon as we enter the shop, we are approached by a sales associate dressed in an expensive designer suit.
“Good afternoon, my name is Jonathan,” he says with a smile. “Is there something I can help you with today?”
Chase answers before I even think of what to say. “We’re looking to furnish a large penthouse,” he begins. Seriously! I look over at Chase. His lips quirk up into a smile. I roll my eyes at him, which makes his smile grow wider. Jonathan’s entire demeanor changes in a nanosecond. His stance becomes taller and straighter, like he’s trying to impress Chase.
“What style or period are you looking for?” He directs his question to Chase.
“That’s why we’re here. The penthouse is for Olivia.” He gestures in my direction. “She doesn’t know what she wants.” I can see Jonathan’s eyes change into dollar signs. This is going to get ugly. Jonathan steps toward me smiling like he has won the lottery. If Chase has his way, he will.
“Do you like dark wood or light wood?” His question seems simple enough.
“Dark, I guess.”
“Good choice, oak has fallen out of fashion anyway,” he murmurs. “Do you like plain or fancy?”
“I’m not sure,” I mutter. I’ve never gone furniture shopping so I don’t even know what I’m looking for. And the pieces in this store look nothing like the internet research I was doing. “I know I don’t like boxy furniture. My mom has this French table with angels on it. I always thought it was pretty.”
“Good, that’s a start. Why don’t you come with me, and we’ll start with bedroom furniture.” He motions to the middle of the store. I follow Jonathan and Chase follows close behind me.
There are so many different shapes and sizes and colors, it’s making my head spin. As we walk, I find a room that catches my eye. There is a beautiful inlaid dresser with a black marble top, a pair of matching inlaid nightstands with marble tops, and an inlaid vanity. I stop and look over the set. Chase is behind me, his arms around my waist.
“Do you like this?” he asks nuzzling my ear.
“It’s pretty,” I murmur distracted. He’s very good at distractions.
“Good, let’s keep going,” he breathes against my neck.
“You need to let me go,” I say loud enough for him to hear me. I hear a low groan as he releases me. I move to the next room, but it’s too square. So far that’s the only bedroom I would consider.
“What kind of furniture would you like for the living area?” Jonathan asks.
“I want a leather couch, either tan or dark brown.”
“Okay, have a look at these.” Jonathan leads us farther toward the back of the store. Again looking at miniature rooms, I find a couch and pair of oversized chairs I really like. I take a seat in the leather chair. It’s dark brown with tufted arms and a curved back. It comes with an ottoman. It’s soft and comfortable. Chase and I can fit in the one chair and have room left over.
“Nice choice,” Jonathan approves. “The pair of chairs are Ralph Lauren.” Wow, he makes furniture?
“I can fall asleep in this,” I say leaning on the back of the chair.
“Don’t doze off yet,” Chase warns. “We still have lots of rooms to furnish.” He yanks me from my comfort.
“What about the dining area?” Jonathan asks. “I have plenty of tables and chairs to choose from.” He leads us to the other end of the store where there are dozens of different rooms set up for dinner. I stop in front of a square table.
“That is a walnut dining table. It was made in the 1870s and the style is aesthetic.” The base of the table is in the shape of an X with flowers carved into the wood. The chairs are also carved and have leather panels both in the back and in the seat, which are held in with tacks. “The table comes with four leaves and can open up to ten feet in length.” That’s almost twice the size of my mom’s table. The space in the penthouse for a dining table is huge. Even if I wanted to leave the extra leaves in, I would still have plenty o
f room for a buffet or small server. Something like this could be an option.
We continue to look around the store. Jonathan leaves me to look around on my own. Chase follows behind as I look at small tables and other small pieces of furniture. My champagne buzz is starting to wear off, and I start to add up all of the pieces and possible prices. I return to the first item I looked at when we entered the store to see how off I am on cost. I look at the tag attached to the dresser. Fifteen thousand. Holy fuck! Before I start to hyperventilate, I turn to Chase who is looking at something behind me. “I don’t think I need all of this.” I wave in the general direction of the room.
“You need furniture,” he presses.
“I know, but this is too much.”
“We’re here to get a feel for your taste in furniture. It doesn’t mean that you have to purchase it here.”
“But-”
“No buts,” he pulls me in close and kisses the top of my head. “Don’t panic. Much of this stuff comes into the country on containers from Argentina and France. One of our investors imports from France. I plan on giving him a list of styles and then have him deliver the furniture to the apartment. It’ll be much less expensive than what you see here.” Oh. I feel as if a load has been lifted off my chest, and I can almost breathe again.
“Is there anything here you can’t live without?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t think . . .” then something catches my eye. There is a painting on the wall directly behind Chase. It’s a medium sized oil painting depicting the side of a building, but in front of the building are dozens of sunflowers. It’s so vivid, so lifelike.
It reminds me of when my dad used to take me and my mom out east toward the end of the summer. They would go wine tasting at Pindar. I was just a kid so there wasn’t that much for me to do, but my dad, no matter where we went, managed to make it special for me, and Pindar wasn’t any different. We would spend the afternoon listening to live music while enjoying a picnic lunch.
The vineyard had fields full of gorgeous sunflowers. The woman at the counter would give us shears and allow us to pick our own for a fee. Dad would take me into the side field and we’d walk through endless rows until I found the right ones. The man had the patience of a saint.
Drawn to You Page 19
