Teach Me Something (Something Series Book 4)
Page 8
“I’ll agree to the thousand per hour, but only if we go with the higher estimate.”
“We’ll split the difference between the numbers at twenty-one.” The illogical part of my mind was already coming up with a lot of different scenarios regarding the way to spend those hours, none of which had to do with him assisting me in dating.
“Deal. Do you want to do the earpiece tomorrow night with only the microphone, or I can give you real-time feedback by talking you through it?”
I shifted, not liking the idea of my date unaware he was being recorded. Nor did I want the distraction of Will listening in. “Neither. At least not yet. It just feels weird to have you in my ear or my date oblivious to the fact we’re not really alone. What if you sit nearby in the bar or something, and I can excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room and touch base with you if I need pointers or assistance? Then we can do a recap after or something.”
“Whatever you’re most comfortable with. Shoot me the logistics and plan to meet me there thirty minutes ahead of time.”
“Okay.”
He stood and crossed towards the door, but before leaving, he turned. “And, Cath?”
I swallowed hard at the familiarity implied by his shortening my name. “Yes?”
“Thank you.”
***
I was nervous, but it had nothing to do with meeting my date Paul for the first time and everything to do with knowing Will was there in the bar only ten feet away. He’d given me a pep talk earlier, and I could still remember his breath close to my skin when he’d leaned in and given me a hug while telling me I’d do fine. Clearly I needed to get laid so I’d stop lusting after any man who breathed on me.
Standing up when Paul came in, I appreciated that he actually resembled his photograph, with dark hair, chiseled jaw, and brown eyes framed with dark lashes. He stood six foot tall, as his profile had indicated. I’d heard stories that this wasn’t always the case, but then again, if Melanie was as good as her reputation, not to mention her asking price, she wouldn’t overlook such details.
“Hi, Catherine. I’m Paul, but I guess you already knew that.”
I smiled, taking his outstretched hand in greeting, and we took our seats. “Yes, nice to meet you, Paul.”
“Likewise. Nice restaurant choice, by the way. I’ve been here a couple of times.”
The restaurant was a quiet venue with tables spaced far enough apart to have a private conversation. With space being a premium in Manhattan, it wasn’t always so. I was also a big fan of the laid-back atmosphere and muted classical music in the background.
We made small talk for the first few minutes. I appreciated his manners and the way he was wearing a sport jacket and slacks, showing he’d taken time to dress nicely for our date. The casual conversation was what I was good at; at least I thought so. Talking about New York was second nature to me since I’d lived in this city since college. We ordered wine and then an appetizer and settled into more personal dialogue.
“So, I have to put it out there that I’ve worked with your ex-husband a time or two on some business deals.”
The wine stuck in my throat on the way down, but I managed a forced smile and an “Oh yeah?” So much for worrying I’d be the one to inadvertently bring up my ex.
Paul must’ve thought my noncommittal comment was a green light to continue. “Yep. Matter of fact, we’ve played golf together. I texted him on my way here to tell him that, of all people, I’d been set up on a date with you.”
This time I choked on my drink. “You did what?”
“It’s okay. He was cool with it.”
That was the last thing I worried about. What I actually hated more than the fact that Paul thought it was ‘cool’ to contact my ex and tell him he’d been set up with me was that my ex-husband was now aware I’d had to seek out a matchmaker.
In this moment, it was obvious to me that Paul wasn’t getting a second date, but did I continue to suffer through this one? If I was Sasha, I would simply get up and leave with an epic tell-off, but I was way too nice and polite for that, so I set my mind towards getting through the meal.
But wait, maybe I didn’t have to. After all, wasn’t that the beauty of being in my thirties and knowing what I did and didn’t want? To not have to put up with the crap and waste time. I excused myself to go to the ladies’ room before the waitress returned to take our dinner orders. But instead of going there, I made a beeline for the bar where I found Will sitting in a stool.
He quirked a brow.
I slid in next to him, not really caring at this point if Paul got up to look for me. “Would it be rude to slip out a bathroom window?”
He laughed. “That bad already?”
I gave him the lowdown of Paul texting my ex-husband.
“Who the hell does that?”
“Exactly. I’d feel bad ditching him without an explanation, though, so I guess I’ll tell him I received a phone call or something.”
“Or you could finish the date to gain the experience.”
Was he being serious? “Experience doing what: trying not to tell someone to ‘fuck off’ after he tells me my ex-husband is ‘cool’ with him going out to dinner with me?”
This he found hilarious. “Sometimes you surprise me, Cath. Anyhow, how about you think of it like you have nothing to lose? So, it won’t end up in a second date or a forever match. Hell, knowing that may in fact take the pressure off flirting.”
I blew out a breath. There was some sense to what he was saying even though I wasn’t thrilled about wasting the next hour. Grabbing his drink, I tossed back the contents of what was unfortunately only seltzer water. Just my luck.
He shrugged, giving me a grin. “Sorry, no liquid courage. Go and try to have fun.”
“Fine, but keep your phone on because if I need a rescue, I fully expect you to come over and save me.”
He winked. “Fair enough. Maybe I’ll come up with an outrageous story just in case I need to. Now, off you go.”
To Paul’s credit, once I returned to the table, he grew better as the meal progressed. He ticked all the boxes that I’d given to Melanie about being successful, confident, and ready to settle down and have kids—if his hints were any indication about his priorities shifting towards family now that he’d hit the milestone of forty.
So why was it all falling flat?
It could’ve been the first impression he’d made with the deal about my ex, but it was something less tangible. After dinner, he paid the bill and saw me out to my waiting car in front.
“So, how do you feel about doing something tomorrow night?”
“I have a charity event, but thank you for dinner. It was nice meeting you, Paul.”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “In other words, you’ll tell Melanie what the problem was but not me.”
This matchmaking thing was new to me, but I’d thought that was the whole point. Go back and give Melanie the scoop without the necessity of an awkward conversations. But in doing that, I was avoiding direct dialogue with the person involved. Since that seemed impersonal, not to mention chickenshit, I decided to be direct, but kind.
“Look, Paul, the whole texting my ex-husband to see if he was okay with you going out with me was—well, not cool. How would you like your ex-wife knowing you’d gone to a matchmaker or any of your personal business, for that matter?”
He had the decency to turn slightly red. “I didn’t think of it that way.”
I noticed there was no apology, which sealed the deal for no second chance. “Yes, well, take care.” I squeezed his hand and got into my sedan quickly, while attempting to appear like I wasn’t running away. It wasn’t until Sherman pulled out into traffic that I let out a resigned breath.
“Dating sucks,” I muttered and then wondered where Will was. Pulling out my phone, I thought about texting him, but instead found myself wanting to hear his voice. So I dialed.
“Hiya. Nicely done with giving it to him straight.”
“I was standing to the left by the valet station, so I caught most of it. I didn’t think about New York being a small world for you sometimes.”
“Yes, it is. Way too small in the case of tonight.”
“Did I hear you say you have a charity tomorrow night?”
“That part was the truth.”
“If it’s for the New York Women and Children’s Center, I’ll probably see you there.”
My heart beat faster at the thought of seeing him again so soon. “It is, so I guess I will. Uh, when did you want to do the recap?”
“Sunday okay? Maybe we could meet for lunch. Would that be cool?”
I could hear the amusement in his voice. “At least you asked me instead of my ex. Oh, good grief. Speaking of which, he’s calling me on the other line.”
“Why? Because he heard about your date?”
“Maybe. He’s wanted to get together since last week to talk about something.”
“Sounds cryptic. And you don’t know what it is?”
“No clue, since he won’t tell me in a voicemail or via text. I’m really not in a hurry to see him.” It was more than annoying for him to call when he had to be aware I was out on my date, so I let it go to voicemail. I hoped he’d think I was having a great time with Paul.
“Good. Have a nice evening, Cath.”
Ah, that sexy voice did something to a girl. “You, too.”
***
I loved wearing a beautiful dress, accessorized just right, and feeling red-carpet worthy. It was that love which had pushed me to pursue a career in fashion in the first place. I was a communications major in college, wanting to go into some sort of print media. But my adoration of fashion design had led me to a career at Cosmo Life.
I took one final look at my blond hair back in a low chignon and the simple, yet sparkling, chandelier earrings complementing the diamond rope necklace which dipped low into my cleavage. Both the neckline and the slit up the left side were a little more provocative than what I normally would wear, but I hadn’t been able to resist the champagne color of this Versace gown with the Jimmy Choo nude heels to match. The shoes elevated my five-foot-seven frame another three inches and made my calves look good, if I did say so myself. I might be almost mid-thirties, but I wasn’t dead yet and could still feel sexy.
I gave up telling myself the extra attention to detail wasn’t because of the possibility of seeing Will this evening.
When I got in the back of my car, I checked my watch, grateful I was right on time. This particular charity was near and dear to my heart as it funded women’s shelters around New York City. I’d been involved since my very first year with my magazine when we’d done an exposé on domestic abuse which included the resources available for women when they chose to leave, many of them with their children. I made a point to clear my schedule every year for this gala and volunteered at some of the shelters around the city at least once per quarter. After all, it wasn’t just about writing a check. At least not to me.
As much as I wished I had a date for tonight, I was very accustomed to attending this type of thing alone. My ex-husband had a very busy work schedule in investment banking which meant he’d traveled quite a bit during our marriage. It was rare that we’d actually attended an event together.
After getting out of the car, I walked the small red carpet and smiled for the photographers while rattling off the designer names of the clothes I was wearing. Once I entered the beautiful hotel ballroom, I accepted a flute of champagne.
I’d done this scene a thousand times the world over, for fashion shows, charities, and parties. For the most part, I enjoyed mingling and meeting new people, but tonight I felt a foreboding as if something wasn’t quite right.
I should’ve trusted my gut instinct and run for the door, I realized, when my eyes landed on my ex-husband. He was dressed in a tux, looking twenty pounds lighter and better than he had in years. His sandy blond hair and brown eyes made him the quintessential all-American executive, and he was making a beeline for me.
“Catherine.” He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.
“Michael.” I returned the same cordial greeting, but then couldn’t help asking, “What are you doing here?”
He smiled, making it appear to anyone who might be watching that we remained on good terms and were simply having a friendly conversation. “You won’t return my calls or see me.”
“I have a busy life, one which no longer includes you. I asked you what it is you wanted, and you chose not to respond.”
He had the decency to wince. “I know, but what I needed to talk to you about was better done in person.”
“So you thought confronting me at a charity gala would be the appropriate place?”
He sighed. “You didn’t leave me a lot of choice. And how the hell did you come to date Paul Morris?”
“You’re not going to question me on who I’m dating. What is so important that you’ve decided to stalk me here tonight?”
“I needed to talk to you about getting a church annulment. Brittany and I want to get married, and she wants a Catholic ceremony.”
“I see,” was all I could manage. It wasn’t enough for me to feel like I’d failed at making the marriage work; he wanted me to pretend it had never happened in the first place. Ouch.
“So you’ll agree?”
I hated that he’d put me on the spot here, of all places, and needed a minute to process. “You could’ve asked me this via text or email. Your decision to come here tonight is pretty shitty, Michael.”
He blushed slightly. “Look, I know, but time is of the essence and—”
Thankfully, one of the main sponsors came up and inadvertently rescued me by leading me away to meet with the board members. “I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll discuss,” I offered Michael as I walked off. I hoped he’d leave me alone for the rest of the evening.
Unfortunately, after I spent the next hour mingling with the foundation’s leaders and staff, I spotted Michael again. He was hanging out near the entrance, apparently trying to make sure I didn’t leave without speaking with him again. I’d looked around for Will but saw no sign of him. Since I wanted to avoid another encounter with the ex, with the potential I might get emotional in public if he casually asked me—again—to annul our marriage, I nicely inquired about getting some fresh air. Someone mercifully pointed me towards a rear entrance.
I sent a text to Sherman to meet me at the back of the building, but before I could make my escape, one of the volunteer coordinators cornered me. It was only a three-minute conversation, but it was enough time to worry that Michael might figure out where I’d gone.
When I heard his voice calling out, I practically ran into the nearby bathroom, but the unfamiliar sight of urinals greeted me. Too late, I realized I’d picked the wrong one. Just my freaking luck.
The sight of a man in a tux at the sink washing his hands capped off my humiliation. But fate was a weird thing. When he turned around, I saw the man was Will, of all people.
“Fancy meeting you in the men’s room, Cath. I understand you wanted to be a little more adventurous, but, uh, I can think of some better options.” He smirked.
“I didn’t—I mean I was hiding from—You know what? Let me get out of here.” I turned tail and out the door.
Will was right behind me. “Wait up. I was only teasing. Who are you hiding from?” He pulled gently on my arm and peeked over my shoulder. “That bloke there?”
My eyes tracked where his had landed. “Yeah. My ex-husband and an awkward conversation.”
He glanced at my face and then over my shoulder again. “Is this my cue to kiss you silly and make him uncomfortable enough to want to leave?”
Yes, please. But that thought had nothing to do with my ex and everything to do with how unbelievably gorgeous Will looked in his tux and the feel of his warm hand on my arm.
He must’ve interpreted my shocked expression for panic. “Relax. I was joking. Not only would it be cliché, it would come off as desperate and look like you were trying to make him jealous.”
“Uh huh.” Wouldn’t want that.
“Catherine, can I please speak to you one more moment?” Michael’s voice interrupted. “In private,” he added, basically dismissing Will.
“You want me to stay with you?” Will asked in a low voice.
Although I was tempted, I shook my head. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”
He squeezed my hand, flashed Michael a pleasant smile, and walked about twenty feet away, where he leaned up against the wall to wait.
“Who the hell is he?” Michael questioned.
“None of your business.” He had some nerve to ask.
“Fine. I made an appointment for us with Father Daniels at eleven o’clock tomorrow.”
My seldom-seen temper flipped. “And, what? I’m supposed to drop everything to be there?”
His face showed irritation. “I knew you would fight me on this. That you wouldn’t wish for me to be happy.”
“Get over yourself, Michael,” I yell-whispered. “You want the annulment, fine. I’m not going to fight you on it. But that you’d spring this on me in a public place or make an appointment without checking my schedule is over-the-top rude. And I don’t get your hurry. You’ve been engaged for over a year. I hope you’re aware it can take up to two years for them to grant an annulment.”
Considering he hadn’t once stepped foot in church the entire time we’d been married, I wasn’t surprised when his eyes bugged out at this news.
“Two years? Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice rose with the question, and I saw Will pop off the wall. He looked uncertain whether or not to come closer.
I held out a hand, waving him off for now. “I’m not kidding,” I told Michael. A friend of mine had been through it, and it had taken a very long time.
He raked his hands through his hair. “Brittany’s family is devout, and we can’t marry in a Catholic church without it.”
“The best I can offer is to set up my own appointment with Father Daniels later this week and give them whatever they need.” I wasn’t sure what grounds Michael would cite for the annulment, but at this point, I didn’t care. I just needed to be done with this evening and with him, for that matter. I felt like my offer was more than fair.