by Juniper Hart
“Our apartment is cozy!” Ramon shot back. “The cockroaches are friendly, and the kids have new hiding spots for all their action figures in the ceiling cracks! And if the leak continues in the kitchen, we’ll have an indoor stream soon. Can your billionaire claim that?”
Addison groaned, pained by the thought of Ramon’s toddlers living in such a place.
“He’s exaggerating,” Olivia said, sliding the plate off the stainless steel and wandering off to serve her table. “The apartment is huge and owned by a hundred-year-old Italian couple with four sons in construction. Nothing is ever wrong with that place.”
“Killjoy! Why are you ruining my fun? Did you see the look on her face?” Ramon cried, and Addison exhaled, laughing.
“Ass,” she quipped at Ramon, who grinned back disarmingly.
As the night wound to a close, the chaos started to slow down, but being Friday, Addison did not have high hopes of getting home before one o’clock.
An elderly couple soon shuffled inside the diner, appearing somewhat dazed.
“Aw, look at grandma and grandpa,” Ramon cooed, gesturing toward the door.
“I’ll get them before they keel over in the entranceway,” Addison volunteered, though Ramon’s head had already retreated into the kitchen to tend to his orders. She went over to the couple. “Hi,” Addison said sweetly. “Would you like a table or a booth?”
“My goodness, Florian,” the woman murmured, looking into Addison’s face with awe. “She looks just like Lily, doesn’t she?”
Addy cocked her head to the side, her green eyes peering inquisitively at the old woman. “Lily?” she asked politely.
“Our granddaughter,” the old man replied, clasping his wife’s weathered hand. He leaned forward, his rheumy grey eyes twinkling. “She has a twin, Violet, but Lily is prettier, isn’t that right, Rose?”
“Oh, Florian, don’t say things like that!” Rose chided, but Addison could see she agreed with her husband. She swallowed a smile of amusement at the family named of flora, but she nodded with feigned interest.
“Why don’t I find you a booth?” she offered, gesturing for them to follow her. They slowly walked after her.
“Look at that hair, Rose! Exactly the same shade as Lily’s!”
“Not so loud, darling. Everyone in the restaurant is staring at us.”
Addison turned back and smiled, shaking her head. “This is not exactly a quiet spot,” she said before Florian could defend himself. “Be as loud as you like.”
“Oh, we know, dear,” Florian chuckled as Addison stopped at a booth. “This place has been here since before your mama was a twinkle in her papa’s eye.”
Addison balked and laughed at the dated adage.
“That’s true,” she replied, trying to remember the restaurant’s history. “Constantine’s Diner has been here since the forties. Same location, even.”
“This is where Rosie and I met back in 1961,” Florian told her, laboriously falling into the booth after his wife.
“Wow!” Addison gasped, handing them each a menu. “You’ve been together that long?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Florian continued, ignoring the menu in favor of grasping Rose’s hand. They smiled at each other, and as Addison stared at them, she could almost feel the electricity between them.
“How long have you been married?” Addison asked, unable to pull her gaze away from them.
Rose blushed and looked away. “Florian, don’t you go telling her the entire sordid story!” she warned, her cheeks flaming almost purple.
Her husband whooped at her embarrassment. “Oh, Rosie, times have changed. Nobody cares about those things anymore.”
Addison found herself waiting with baited breath for the story she was about to be told. From somewhere behind her, she heard the ding of the service bell, but she could not stop watching the couple, the need to know their story suddenly overwhelming.
“We got married in 1961,” Florian explained when Rose pursed her lips together, pretending to read the menu. “Three months after we met in this very diner.”
Addison’s grin widened. “Love at first sight?” she asked, and Florian chortled.
“They called it love back then,” he agreed, and Rose’s face took on a brighter shade of red, blushing in embarrassment. “They also called it a shotgun wedding.”
Addison looked down, her grin disappearing entirely. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, humiliated that she had pushed for the story.
“Why? It’s a wonderful story, dear. Anthony was the first of six children, eighteen grandchildren and four great-grandchildren, with one more grand and great grand on the way,” Florian replied, and Addison’s head moved up slowly.
“Really?” she asked in disbelief.
“That’s what more than fifty years together will get you,” he said.
Again, the bell dinged, and Addison heard Ramon loudly clear his throat to capture her attention, but she was far too invested in the couple before her to react.
“How do you do it? What’s your secret?” she questioned, enthralled by the energy that seemed to flow between them. “How do you make it work and still appear to love each other so much?”
“Secret?” Rose asked, slowly tearing her gaze away from Florian to stare at her. “There is no secret, dear. When you find the right person, no matter what the circumstances, it doesn’t take work—it just takes commitment. If you ever feel like you are not his number one, if you feel like you are not loved enough, then he is not the one for you.”
“Your husband should treat you like the queen you are,” Florian agreed, but he was speaking to his wife, the adoration on his face naked and palpable.
Rose’s words stabbed Addison like a thousand hot knives.
This is how it’s supposed to be, she thought, a strange panic seeping into the edges of her psyche. One man with one woman, not a slew of mistresses sprawled across the city.
“Are you all right, dear?” the elderly couple asked in unison, and Addison nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.
“I—I’ll be right back to take your order,” she whispered, turning to flee into the kitchen.
“Uh, hello? I’ve been ringing the bell for half a goddamn hour!” Ramon barked at her as she entered the galley.
Addison waved dismissingly at him, brushing past him and out the back door. In the alleyway, she fell against the brick wall, inhaling the sour air in gulps of air. She was being stupid. She was being ridiculous.
But no matter how she tried to justify the swarm of emotions that had just overcome her, she could not stop herself from thinking that she wanted what Florian and Rose had. Florian didn’t need a hundred women to be satisfied. He only needed Rose. Addison could tell by the way he looked at her that he had probably never even glanced at another woman in his life.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Ramon demanded, slamming open the fire door. “You left Olivia out there all by herself! She delivered your order and took the couple’s order as well, by the way.”
Addison looked at him, guilt flooding her face. She had never let her personal affairs pull her away from work like this.
“God, I’m sorry,” she mumbled, turning to head back inside, but Ramon grabbed her arm.
“Hey,” he said, his voice much gentler. “What happened? Are you okay?”
She stared at him, her lower lip quivering slightly as she shook her head.
“No,” she exhaled. “But now is not the time to talk about it. Olivia needs help.”
Ramon released her, and Addison made her way back inside the diner, pleading with herself to regain some semblance of control.
You came back to the diner to take a break from the life you have downtown, she reminded herself as she walked back into the diner.
“Where did you go?” Olivia squealed when she caught a glimpse of her co-worker. “I’m swamped!”
“Sorry,” Addison muttered. “I’m here now.”
“Okay, take tables eight
and twelve. They just walked in.”
Addison nodded. Then, before she could stop herself, she asked, “Olivia, would you ever be in an open relationship?”
Olivia turned to stare at her. “What?” Her mouth parted in shock. “Like swinging? Partner swapping? What do you mean?”
“No… never mind,” Addison said, heat stinging her cheeks. “Forget I asked.” Olivia’s eyes narrowed, and she stared at Addison as if she wasn’t really seeing her.
Suddenly, Olivia clapped her hands together and jumped onto the counter. She whistled through her fingers. The din in the diner suddenly decreased.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, “I am very sorry, but you must evacuate the building immediately. We have a gas leak. Please exit the premises as quickly as possible. Emergency vehicles are on the way, but I suggest you remove yourselves as far from the vicinity as you can, in case of an explosion. We are sorry for the inconvenience.”
A roar of unrest flittered through the restaurant as people began tripping over themselves to leave, and Olivia jumped off the counter.
“What the hell are you doing?” Addison asked, her face contorted in shock.
“Look at the chickens move,” her friend chuckled as everyone made for the doors in a panicked rush.
“A gas leak?” Ramon choked. “What happened? Who called? Union Gas?”
“Ramon, you better go help those old people. They’re slow moving,” Olivia instructed, grabbing her purse off the counter in the kitchen. “And then lock up and go. John will be here soon, but we need to go. Think of your children! Run far and fast.”
Olivia grabbed her arm and dragged Addison out into the parking lot, where people were screeching out of their parking spots in terror.
“What are you doing?” Addison hissed, blood rushing to her face. If the owner found out about this, they would all lose their jobs.
“I’m just closing up a little early. It was a shitty night anyway,” she replied flippantly, and Addison gaped at her. Olivia unlocked the door to her Civic, and she gestured at her. “Get in.”
Addison obliged. She barely closed the door of the passenger seat when Olivia took off toward the Bluffs.
“What is going on with you?” Olivia demanded. “And don’t give me any horseshit! I know you’re in over your head with something.”
Addison groaned. “If you knew that, why didn’t you say something?”
“Because it’s not my place to pry into what’s happening in your life,” Olivia replied. “And I have barely heard a peep out of you since you just up and left on the arm of some billionaire who no one knows a damn thing about.”
“Marcus and I have been together for—”
“A year, yeah, yeah, I know,” Olivia interjected. “I’ve heard the spiel. I don’t know why he never shows his face around here or why you suddenly had to relocate to be with him.”
“I moved downtown, not to Europe!” Addison protested, regretting that she had said anything to Olivia at all. “I’m two subway trains away, Olivia!” But who else could she talk to about this? At least Olivia could be objective about the entire thing… kind of.
“So, he wants an open relationship now that he’s uprooted you from your friends and you’re living in his part of the city?” Olivia wondered. “Does that sound right to you?”
“It’s not like that,” Addison said sharply, sitting up in the passenger seat to look out into the night. “Anyway, he lives closer to here than he does downtown.”
“That’s not my point and you know it!” she snapped. “Come on, Addy, talk to me! If he wants a booty call, he should have been upfront about it. This is a game changer, don’t you think?”
“No,” Addison replied quietly. “It’s not a game changer because it’s always been this way between us. He’s always had other women.”
The brakes squealed as Olivia hit them, and Addison put her hands on the dashboard to stand the sudden halt.
“You altered your entire life for a guy who wants to sleep with other women?” Olivia shrieked. “Are you crazy?”
“Just drive,” Addison urged, looking behind them to see if anyone had been inconvenienced by Olivia’s stop. Her friend didn’t know the half of it.
“I would like to hear more about this,” Olivia retorted, continuing the drive toward the cliffs. A pang of nostalgia swept through Addison as she remembered how many times they had gone to the picturesque landmark together over the years. It was good to have a willing ear, for once.
“It’s always been on the table,” Addison explained. “He’s never lied to me.”
“I guess that’s something,” Olivia muttered sourly, her face pinched into a frown of displeasure. “I mean, if you’re both not in a place where you’re ready to commit, I guess it’s nice to know you’re sort of on the same page. But, honestly, why bother? And what do you tell men that you’re dating on the side? ‘Hey, yeah, that’s my boss, and we sleep together sometimes’? Or do you not bring it up? And doesn’t that just make things complicated?”
Addison glanced out the window again. “I don’t date other men.”
Olivia snorted. “So, you see? You have feelings for him and he won’t keep it in his pants. That’s a recipe for disaster, Addison. You have to call this off, filthy rich or not.”
“I don’t have…” Addison turned back to her friend and then took a deep breath. “I mean, I do like him, but I don’t care if he sees other women. I—I just don’t want to date other men.”
The words sounded empty when they escaped her lips, and she thought back to Florian and Rose.
“Oh, honey,” Olivia sighed, the anger gone from her voice. “You deserve a man who sees you for the gem that you are, not a man who only wants you on Tuesday nights.”
“He cares about me!” Addison protested, and Olivia made a commiserating sound.
“He cares about what’s between your legs,” she replied sadly. “And the sooner you accept that, the better it will be for you. If you prolong this, it will only make it harder on your heart, Addy.”
Addison gritted her teeth and stared at her hands as Olivia pulled into the Bluff’s Beach parking lot. There was so much that Olivia didn’t know, so much that Addison was not about to tell her. She wanted to say that she lived like a princess, and that she knew Marcus clearly cared about her, but she had a feeling that the more she spoke, the deeper she was digging herself into a hole. Not to mention the fact that she did not want anyone to know the entire ugly truth.
I like the life I am living, even though it is mundane and paid for, Addison thought. More importantly, I am in love with Marcus, and that’s what matters.
The real question was, would he ever love her back the way she loved him?
9
Anders’ condo in New York City was not unlike the one Addison lived in Toronto, though on a much larger scale.
The brothers sat on the rooftop garden, perched on the edge of the building like two statuesque gargoyles ready to overtake the Big Apple down below. Anders had already shifted back into his human form, but Marcus wanted to feel his dragon skin for just a moment longer.
“You miss it, don’t you?” Anders chuckled, eyeing Marcus through his peripheral vision. “All the corporate stress is getting to you.”
Reluctantly, Marcus transformed from his silver-grey suit of armor back into his human form, the claws on his feet retracting.
“I don’t miss the plundering of villages, if that’s why you mean,” he replied dryly. “And I live a very fulfilled life.”
“So, I hear,” Anders teased. “You have your revolving doors of women, after all. How do you do it, dear brother?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Marcus shot back, spinning around to place his feet on the blacktop. He stretched, his wings tucking back into his spine, and he glanced at Anders, who sat in place. “What? You want another race?” he challenged. “I’ll let you win this time.”
Anders laughed and shook his head.
“No,
” he answered easily. “I was just admiring the view. No matter how long I live here, I never get tired of it.”
“You shouldn’t stay in one place for so long,” Marcus warned him. “It’s not good for your identity.”
“Look who’s talking,” Anders responded, also sliding off the ledge to join Marcus. “You have been in Canada for what, forty, fifty years? You look remarkable, brother.”
Marcus snorted, and the two headed back into the multi-floored condo across from Central Park.
“Did you have the contract?” Anders asked, and Marcus nodded, reaching for his briefcase.
“The email quality was good,” Marcus commented. “Why do you need the originals?”
“Well, I just want to see if I’m missing something a scan overlooked,” his brother answered. “But whatever you sent me has all the workings of a proper contract, except for the board mention.”
Marcus placed the papers in Anders’ hand and dropped unceremoniously onto the sofa, reaching for a sifter of brandy. A member of the house staff scurried in.
“Is there something you need, Mr. Williams? Mr. Williams?” He looked from one man to the other, but Marcus shook his head.
“Yes, Rico,” Anders said, scanning the documents in his hands. “Can you make up Marcus’ usual room on the third floor?”
“No need,” Marcus said quickly. “I’m heading back to Toronto tonight.”
Anders glanced up, surprised by the declaration. “It’s late, Marcus. You have your jet, don’t you?”
“I do not,” Marcus replied shortly, his eyes darting toward Rico, who seemed to take his cue and hurry away.
“You flew here?” Anders demanded, shaking his head. “And you are worried about me getting us exposed! Shame on you, Marcus. If that’s the case, I suppose you’ll want to leave in the cloak of night. Stay until tomorrow night, then, or else you can use my plane.”
“No,” Marcus said. “I want to get home tonight. I have… plans for the weekend.” Try as he might to keep his answer vague, Anders’ eyes widened in surprise, clearly having heard what he was saying between lines.
