My parents stepped away to afford us some privacy.
“It was a beautiful service, Michael,” I murmured and was then startled when he engulfed me in a lingering hug. Then again, he’d just lost his mother, so I returned the embrace. In his moment of grief, he probably needed support from everyone.
“I’m so glad you came. It would’ve made her happy.” When he pulled away, I could see the unshed tears in his eyes.
“Your mother was always kind to me.” And she had been.
“Why don’t you stay for a while? After refreshments in the church hall, we’re having family and friends over to my father’s home if you guys want to come.”
Uh. Awkward. “Thank you, but I think it would be better if it’s only your family.” I didn’t say it with any bitterness; it was the truth. We weren’t part of that family any longer, and our presence didn’t seem appropriate.
He sighed. “All right. So, maybe I could call you later this week?”
“I’ll be busy prepping for Fashion Week and all the shows coming up. Oh, I think someone’s looking for you.” I saw a pretty girl coming down the steps and assumed she was his fiancée although I’d never met her in person.
“Brittany, I told you to wait inside,” he snapped impatiently.
I don’t know who was more shocked by his sharp tone: her or me.
“I, oh—okay.” She turned around with her head down and retreated up the stairs and into the church.
“I’ll let you get back,” I murmured, not liking the way he’d spoken to her. But now wasn’t the time to judge him for it considering he’d just lost his mother. Frankly, it wasn’t any of my business.
“I have time.” He dragged a hand through his hair, almost appearing nervous.
What in the hell was going on with him? Thank goodness for my mother cuing in on the discomfort and helping me navigate out of it. “Actually, we have plans, Michael. But please give our respects to your father and the rest of your family. Again, we’re very sorry for your loss.”
Luckily, Sherman had pulled up, and my dad was opening the car door for us to get in.
Once the door closed, my mom sighed. “Good grief. I know you probably don’t want to hear this, Cathy, but I can’t believe he spoke to his fiancée in that manner. In all the years you were married, I never heard him use that sort of tone towards you.”
No, I hadn’t either, but to be fair, I didn’t know the man who once was my husband any longer.
“Give him a break, Liz. He’s grieving. Besides, it’s no longer Cathy’s problem.” My father focused his attention on me. “How you holding up, kiddo?”
I gave them a soft smile. “Okay. Thank you both for coming.”
“Of course we’d be here for you. It’s very sad. She was the same age as me.” My mom exhaled heavily before looking at me curiously. “Now then, would this impromptu trip to Australia you flew in from have anything to do with the extremely hot British guy?”
I rolled my eyes, aware my mother had only started with the twenty questions. “He’s Australian, and we’re only friends.” As the words left my mouth, I wondered if I was trying to convince my mom or myself.
***
New York Fashion Week was in full swing. Although I looked forward to it every year, it came with the price of a grueling schedule of events. This involved multiple daily wardrobe changes and social engagements, including the gala my magazine was hosting tonight at the Westin Hotel. I glanced around the beautiful ballroom, recognizing quite a few faces, from both the magazine and the designers in town for the week.
As far as I knew, I was the youngest major fashion magazine editor in the business today. But what I didn’t have in experience, I made up for in my people skills. These last couple of days presented a prime example. In my opinion, sitting at the shows for this annual event, mingling with the workers, and networking with the designers, most of whom were the who’s who in the fashion world, was what had catapulted me to the top. I didn’t take any details for granted, from remembering names to taking the time to thank people for their hard work.
I’d seen Will briefly on the runway yesterday, and the sight of him had propelled my heart up into my throat. I doubt he’d noticed me considering he’d had to maintain a thousand-yard stare while walking, but the sight of him had made me realize how much he’d been on my mind over the last week.
Checking my phone for the millionth time, I promised myself that I wouldn’t be the first one to send a text. We’d both had a busy few days with little time for anything outside of work-related tasks, but this was only an excuse. The real reason I hadn’t texted him was because I didn’t trust my words wouldn’t reflect how terribly I’d missed him since leaving him in Australia. Talking with him, sleeping with him, and being with him, period. It was a confirmation of my epic fail in the attempt to keep things casual.
Moving around the room, I mingled among the growing crowd for an hour before gratefully taking a glass of champagne and sipping it out on the balcony. The fresh air was a welcome respite, if only for a minute, before I needed to get back in there.
“Hiya Cath,” came the low voice from behind me, instantly recognizable from his accent.
Once I turned, setting my gaze on him, I had to restrain myself from physically touching him because the urge was so strong. “Hi, Will.” He was dressed in a tuxedo, and I found myself breathing in the scent of him, wanting to get closer.
“You look beautiful. I thought red was your color, but the blue really brings out your eyes,” he complimented.
“Thank you. You, too. I mean, not beautiful, but handsome. I saw your show yesterday. You did a great job.” Awesome, I was talking in short, silly sentences as if I’d never spoken with a member of the opposite sex before.
He smiled with humor in his eyes at my lousy attempt at conversation. “Thanks. I have to say I prefer magazine shoots over runways, but it was still a good experience.”
“I’m sure you’ll get quite a few bookings after this week.”
“Yeah, luckily I already have. So, how’s your week been?”
Terrible because I’ve missed you. “Busy, but good. Yours?”
“Same. Uh, do you—?”
He was cut off when a German designer by the name of Claus von Loch came up to greet me. “Catherine Davenport. I swear you get more stunning every time I see you, darling.” I turned towards him and he made a show out of kissing both of my cheeks dramatically.
“Claus, how nice to see you. This is—” As soon as I turned, I realized Will had excused himself quietly and quickly. I tried to ignore the pang of longing I felt with his absence. “Sorry. I’d thought to introduce you to Will MacPherson. He was in the Calvin Klein show yesterday.”
“Ah, yes, the Australian with those stunning blue eyes.”
I wanted to gush and give him a recommendation. Getting signed by Claus would be a huge paycheck for Will, but knowing how sensitive he would be to a favor, especially now that we’d slept together, I chose to keep my mouth shut and leave it alone.
Three glasses of champagne and two hours later, I was heading into the home stretch of the party and spending way too much time scanning the crowd for Will’s face. That’s when I saw a beautiful redhead cozied up to him. She looked like she was a model, too, and whatever he was saying to her was making her laugh.
When his cool gaze met mine, I could feel my face flood with hot embarrassment that I’d been caught staring. Swallowing hard, I purposefully walked towards the other end of the room so I wouldn’t be tempted to torture myself further by gawking.
And this, in a nutshell, was why I couldn’t do casual. He was free to sleep with her or anyone else, for that matter. It should’ve been my wake-up call, for if it stung now, it would only get worse if we continued sleeping together. But then his text message came in.
“Meet me on the second floor by the Mayfair Conference Room in 5 min.”
Well, that was unexpected. With butterflies in my stomach, I tried to
appear nonchalant while strolling to the elevator, but then decided the stairs would be easier. Considering most of the guests had rooms in the hotel, it wouldn’t be out of character for me to be heading to mine if I’d booked one.
After stepping onto the second landing, I followed the sign for the Mayfair. As I came around the corner, I felt a hand grab my arm and tug me into a nearby room.
“It’s me.”
Will’s voice relaxed me immediately as he closed the door. “You startled me. Where are we?”
It looked to be a large storage closet stacked with chairs and folded-up tables. The only light came from Will’s illuminated phone.
“Storage closet. Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. Did you need to speak with me about something?”
“I’d rather not talk.” He put a hand behind my neck; the other gripped my ass, pressing me against him. “How long before you have to return to the party?” He kissed behind my ear, on a quest for the sensitive spot he knew drove me crazy.
“A few minutes. Why, do you have something in mind?” I was unable to deny myself this moment with him, despite my earlier thoughts about this making things harder in the long run.
When he tucked his phone in his pocket, the small space was plunged completely into darkness. He turned me around and put my hands on the wall and then skimmed down my bare arms with his fingertips. “Yes, I have number twenty-two on your list in mind.”
“I can’t remember which fantasy that was,” I whispered, feeling his hands traveling up the outside of my thighs, taking the material of my dress with them to bunch around my hips. The sensation of his fingers working my thong down came next. He made short work out of helping me step out of it entirely.
“It’s the one where you said you’d like the thrill of potentially getting caught. It’s making you wet to think about it, isn’t it?” His fingers reached around and slid directly into my heat.
“Yes,” I murmured, having missed the feel of him. I protested with a whimper when he removed his hand.
“Give me a second, love,” he whispered.
I heard the sound of his belt, the rustle of clothing, and the distinct sound of the foil packet. The sensation of having my lower half exposed like this inside of a closet one floor above my magazine’s party was feeding both a sense of fear and adrenaline. But once he touched me again, I couldn’t think of either as I became so lost in the sensation.
“Keep your arms up, palms on the wall. I’m going to fuck you hard and fast while you try to remain quiet, and then I’m keeping your panties while you go back downstairs to your fancy party.”
Was it possible to orgasm with words alone? Because when he entered me on one stroke, crowding my body closer to the wall and lifting me up with every thrust, I was already close. No warm-up, no slow teasing, just him burying himself deep. “Yes, oh God, yes.” The darkness was only heightening my senses, with every touch feeling electric. The heavy sounds of our breathing provided the erotic soundtrack to the primal way he was taking me against the wall, unapologetic in our coupling.
“Come for me,” he demanded, cuing into the fact that I was on the edge and triggering my orgasm. His followed shortly after.
We stayed like that for a couple of minutes, him deep inside of me, both of us trying to steady ourselves before we moved.
I winced as I felt him pull out, already missing the fullness of him inside of me. When I turned around, his hands lingered while they straightened my dress before tending to himself.
He took out his phone, illuminating it just enough that we could see one another again. “I’ve thought about you all week long, wanting to contact you and find out how you were doing after the funeral.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He chuckled. “Because you practically bolted from Australia, using the phone call from your ex as an excuse.”
That might be the truth, but I certainly didn’t like him noticing my panic. “I needed to go to the funeral.”
He tucked my thong into his pocket, and my eyes went wide. He was serious about not giving it back. “Are you really keeping my panties?”
“Absolutely. Maybe I need a souvenir since you seem to be in a hurry to escape.”
“It’s hardly escaping when I have a party I need to return to.” I hated my defensive tone.
“Talk to me, Cath.” His hand stroked down my face.
“It’s not you. It’s me.”
He broke out into a smile. “Eliza Winters said the same thing to me in the fourth grade when she dumped me on the playground.”
Being compared to a fourth-grade girl in this situation wasn’t helping my self-esteem. “I’m sorry, but you, of all people, know how badly I suck at this part.”
“Which part?”
The part where I was already at risk of falling for him. “I need to go.” I squeezed past him into the hallway, grateful there wasn’t anyone around.
He tugged on my wrist. “I’m a grown man. You don’t need to let me down easy. Like I said in Australia, you’re in the driver’s seat. But don’t make me guess. Just be honest.”
I sighed, deciding perhaps the best method of self-preservation was to put it all out there, after all. Once he heard I couldn’t do casual, the Band-Aid would be ripped off, and he’d run far, far away. “Okay. How’s this for honestly. I’m getting way too attached to you considering we’d only agreed on fun and casual.”
His eyes widened in disbelief. Before he could say anything, I decided to get the rest out. “I know there are some women who can do casual sex, but I’m not programmed that way. Just seeing you downstairs with that redhead made me crazy with realizing I have no claim over you, no expectations that we’re exclusive. I have no regrets whatsoever. Matter of fact, thanks to you, I’ve learned a great deal about myself in the last few weeks. But I need to be honest.”
He started to speak. “Cath, I—”
We both jumped when a woman’s voice called out. She approached us, dressed up and looking familiar with her long blond hair and big brown eyes. “Excuse me, Catherine?”
Recognition dawned as she walked closer. It was Michael’s fiancée, Brittany. Will must have sensed my shock because he stood close to me.
“Yes, and you’re Brittany? Michael’s fiancée?” I added the last part for Will’s benefit.
She appeared nervous. “I am, or at least I was.” And just like that, her face crumpled and she burst into big fat, ugly tears.
Will and I shared a ‘holy shit’ look before he stepped forward, taking charge of the situation in his compassionate, effortless way.
“Deep breaths, Brittany.” His voice was soothing as he tried to comfort her.
She took one and then apologized profusely. “I’m so sorry. I went by your office today to talk to you because I wasn’t sure who else to speak to. They told me you were at Fashion Week, but then I read that your magazine was having a party in this hotel, so I thought I’d come here. I followed you upstairs thinking maybe you were in the restroom, but I couldn’t find you. And now here you are, and I realize this was a big mistake.”
“No, it’s okay. But why did you want to see me, of all people?” That was the million-dollar question.
She sniffed. “Michael is having a midlife crisis or something. He doesn’t want our baby now.” This statement launched a fresh wave of tears, which were morphing quickly into full-on sobs.
And yet still she hadn’t answered the question. But what struck me the most about this bizarre situation was that I experienced no satisfaction in her distress. Not that I was the type to relish someone else’s misfortune, but even I wasn’t above hoping my ex-husband’s newfound happiness would crash and burn—as if this would prove that he’d made a mistake in leaving me. But in this moment, all I could feel was gratitude that this wasn’t my life.
Will took her arm. “Don’t cry; it’s not good for the baby.” He turned towards me. “Cath, why don’t you return to your party, and I can speak with Brittany
here. And we’ll talk later.” His eyes made a point with his last sentence before he surveyed the space. He seemed to be scouting out the best place to move the overly emotional woman.
I felt terrible for putting this burden on Will and was growing more and more pissed off that my ex-husband had once again caused me drama at the expense of his very pregnant and emotional fiancée. Wondering if I’d regret it later, I made a quick decision. “What if I have Sherman come around, and you can talk in the back of the car? Give me twenty minutes to say good night to everyone, and then I can join you.”
He arched a brow. “Are you sure?”
I mouthed, ‘Are you?’ I was grateful when he nodded. “Okay, let me text him, and he’ll be out front shortly.”
***
I returned downstairs, distracted by the situation that I’d just had sex in a closet, blurted out my feelings to Will, was wearing no underwear, and now had my ex-husband’s pregnant, emotionally distraught fiancée in my car with the guy who had my thong in his pocket and was probably thinking about all the ways he could let me down easy. How was that for an evening so far?
As I said goodnight to my guests, I contemplated whether or not to call Michael, but opted to speak with Brittany first.
Will got out of the car as I approached and then closed the door to speak with me privately on the sidewalk.
“I’m so sorry and owe you big time,” I started out saying, but he only shook his head.
“You have nothing to apologize for, but your ex sure does. She’s calmed down, but the CliffsNotes version is he’s been treating her like shit since the funeral and staying out late. He missed the baby checkup today which is what set her over the edge. He also accused her of trapping him.”
“That’s ridiculous. He’d already proposed to her before she got pregnant. Where is she staying?”
“With a friend for now. What do you want to do?”
“I’ll talk to her. Thanks again. You definitely have a knack for doing this for a living someday.”
Teach Me Something (Something Series Book 4) Page 18
