“That was a very nice show you put on there, Casanova,” he said dryly as he poured a couple of drinks. “Now do us both a favor and take care of that one before she burns my bar to the ground.”
I snorted, busying myself with drying some glasses. “She wouldn’t do anything like that.”
“Tell that to the napkin and three coasters she just ripped to shreds. Zola, stop being a fuckin’ pussy and go talk to her. As your boss, that’s an order.”
I sighed. Not much to say to that. I tossed the bar towel over my shoulder, grabbed the bottle of wine Jamie had opened, and headed over to meet my doom.
“Of all the gin joints in all the world…” I started as I approached.
“Save it,” Nina snapped. “I finally watched that movie, you know, and it’s not nearly as good as you think it is.”
I slapped a hand to my chest like she had shot a bullet through my heart. “You didn’t like Casablanca? How is that even possible? Who doesn’t love Humphrey Bogart?”
“He doesn’t even fight for her. She’s married, sure, but she was in love with him. And he just lets her go.”
“He was being noble. He knew she’d be better off.”
“He was a coward and a cad. And he didn’t deserve her anyway,” Nina cut back, then tipped back the remainder of her wine like it was a shot of cheap tequila.
I couldn’t help but wonder if she was still talking about Bogart…or someone else. “Well, so much for lightening the mood. Hello to you too, duchess.”
“What are you doing here?” Nina demanded without reservation.
I frowned. “Come again?”
“I said, what are you doing here? Working or whatever. If that’s what you’d call it.”
She looked over her shoulder at the two girls now giggling away with a pair of investment bankers who had joined them in their booth instead of me. I could have kissed her for the unbridled jealousy.
“I don’t give a shit about them and you know it,” I said as calmly as I could as I started polishing a set of wineglasses that definitely didn’t need polishing.
Nina turned back, her hair swishing around her shoulder as she did. “Then what was that all about?”
“What was what all about?”
“You know.”
I raised a brow. Suddenly, I had no intention of making this easy on her. Two months I’d settled for newspaper clippings and secondhand information. There was an elephant in the room, and she didn’t want to deal with it. But somehow she thought she could interrogate me?
Think again, doll.
“What’s that?” I asked instead of answering her question.
“The—” She did a pretty admirable job of miming the girls’ idiotic body language, followed by my own tendency of leaning on my forearm across the bar with a knowing look.
“I do not do that,” I said.
“You absolutely do. Usually when you’re trying to ‘charm’ someone. I should know.”
The acidity in her voice burned. I didn’t like the insinuation, though I knew what it meant. She thought I had tried to play her too. And she was right. Sort of.
“Fine. Maybe I do,” I said, unable to keep my own bitterness at bay. “Paying a mortgage on tips is a lot harder than it sounds, princess. Not that you’d know.”
She recoiled visibly at the pet name, and because I knew why, I did too. Her husband used that name for her. I heard him do it once, and I’d wanted to beat the shit out of him right there and then.
I hadn’t meant to use it. She was just sitting here like goddamn royalty, looking down her long nose at every person in the place, including me. Who was she to get pissed at whatever I needed to do to pay my bills? Female bartenders could show off their tits. So I had a few nice lines and a smile women seemed to like. I wasn’t breaking any laws here.
Still. That name was a low blow, and I knew it.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did. And I deserved it.” She also had the grace to look dejected. “But I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t use it again.”
I nodded in a funny kind of half bow. “You got it, duchess.”
We stared at each other in a funny, awkward kind of silence. I grabbed another perfectly clean wineglass and started polishing.
“Well, are you going to take them up on their invitation?”
I snorted. “Are you kidding?”
“I don’t know. They seemed quite eager, don’t you think?”
Suddenly, I was done with the games. I didn’t want to trade jibes anymore. Not when every one of them felt like a punch to the gut.
“Nina.” I stopped what I was doing, set the glass on the bar top with a clink, and fixed her with a steady gaze. “Why in the fuck would I bother with a poster print when I’ve got the original here in front of me? Even when you clearly want to slap me silly, you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Nina’s mouth dropped, and I fought not to stare. I lost. Her lips closed, and she bristled. And finally looked away.
“I didn’t think you would be here,” she said quietly. “I left the house tonight somewhat…frustrated. I wanted a drink. And I ended up here. Call it nostalgia, if you like.”
“You didn’t think I would possibly show up at my best friend’s bar?” I asked incredulously.
“Well, I didn’t exactly know you worked here until tonight, if that’s what you’re asking.” She blinked coyly, though it was obvious she had given up on hiding her innocence. “But really. Why are you working here?”
I shrugged, glancing down the bar to make sure Jamie didn’t need help. Things had calmed down again, and he was busy at the register. Everyone else in the joint had a drink.
“Like I said, I have to pay the bills somehow, don’t I?” I pulled out the bottle of wine I’d brought over. “Another?”
Nina bit her lip—which certainly didn’t help me to stop looking at it—but then cautiously nodded.
“Why, though?” she persisted as she watched me pour. “Why are you doing…this?”
“I’m on leave, remember? I tried to quit all together, but my boss wouldn’t let me. Four more months of this, or so I think. Really depends on how the trial goes. I doubt I can come back until your husband’s locked up. Or worse, let off.”
“But you’re a lawyer. You should—can’t you get work in another office?”
“Not for a year, at least. I signed a non-compete when I was hired.” I looked regretfully around the bar. “You know, after I finished law school, I really thought I was done with this kind of grunt work. But then again, I didn’t think I’d meet someone like you, either.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I shrugged as I stowed the bottle back under the bar. “Someone worth throwing it all away for.”
Nina softened for a moment. “No one asked you to do that.”
“No one had to. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
We stared at each other for a long second, unsure of what else to say.
A million questions danced between us, all unspoken. I wanted to ask her a million things, but couldn’t.
Did you take the plea the papers say you did?
Are you really getting divorced from that scumbag?
Did any of those motherfuckers at Rikers touch you?
Have you forgiven me for not believing you?
Have you forgiven me for not being there when you got out?
Will you ever forgive me…for all of it?
But before I could get up the nerve to ask anything, Nina reached into her purse and pulled out a pink envelope decorated with green heart stickers.
“Olivia made this for you,” she said quietly. “It came in the mail last week.”
With one slim finger, Nina pushed the letter across the bar toward me. “She wanted you to have it in time for your birthday. I apologize for not getting it to you sooner.”
I took the letter, which had my name scrawled across the front in a little
girl’s naive, looping script. I tore it open and pulled out a hand-drawn card that had pictures of baseball and pizzas on it, along with the following written inside:
Dear Matthew,
I hope you’re having a good birthday and had a really big cake with your sisters and your family. I hope I get to meet them someday too and see you again.
xoxoxoxo,
Olivia
I stared at the note for a long time, trying to understand why such a short, perfunctory card from a nine-year-old girl I’d only spent a few days with seemed to tear my chest in two. I had received a few other “cards” for my birthday from my nieces and nephews. Equally childlike, with the same kinds of simple drawings and wooden messages.
But this one, sent of her own accord from the little blonde girl with soulful dark eyes…the one who called me Matthew like her mother and who fell asleep on my chest like it was the most natural thing in the world… Yeah, this one meant something more.
Then it occurred to me that I’d never told Olivia my birthday. But I had told her mother.
“You remembered,” I said. “My birthday, that is.”
“I remember everything about you, Matthew.” She didn’t sound like she was glad of the fact.
Yeah, well. I knew the feeling.
Her eyes were bright, but still disturbingly hardened, even in the bar’s dim light. So different from the soft, silky gray I had always found there, begging to wrap me in their warmth.
But there were other differences too. Her hair, though still glossy and bright, actually looked a bit duller than I remembered, and more than a few strands were out of place. Her lips were full and plump, but plain and unpainted. Under her eyes, shadows carved fatigue into her porcelain face.
“Hey,” I said as I reached out a hand. “Are you all right?”
She looked at my hand on the bar, but didn’t take it. Still, the pretense fell.
“It’s been difficult,” she admitted. “Very difficult. I don’t suppose you’ve been following the news—”
“Every word,” I cut in. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
“Then you know. About the plea deal. And the divorce. You know things are…moving forward.”
I nodded. “I read something about it. But your case was sealed, right?”
She nodded.
“Good. So Cardozo won’t have to give it up to Calvin’s attorneys until later. But you had to go to Rikers, didn’t you?”
Nina shuddered. “Yes. I did. Fifteen days.”
It wouldn’t matter if it was for an hour or a lifetime. Any time spent in that shithole would never be okay.
“Are you all right?” This time I set my hand on top of hers. “Now, I mean.”
“I’m so…oh, Matthew, I’m so angry at you still. But…I miss you.” Her head dropped, like she was deeply ashamed. “I do.”
Words bubbled up before I could stop them. Fuck, I wanted to hold her so badly.
“Nina, I’m so sor—”
“Don’t.”
I frowned. “Why the fuck not?”
She sighed, staring at our hands entwined. Our fingers weaved together, light and dark.
“Because. I’m not ready to hear it.” Before I could stop her, she pulled her hand away. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.”
She slid off the stool like a stream of water, set an embarrassingly large bill on the bar, and started toward the door before I could stop her.
“Shit,” I muttered. “Nina, wait. One more thing!”
She turned. “Yes?”
I gulped, grasping for straws. And then, by some miracle, I found one. “Eric and Jane’s Christmas party. Are you going to be there?”
She stilled. “I—yes. Why? Were you invited?”
“Well, yeah. They are friends. Would you mind if I came?”
She swallowed, and for a moment, I thought she might say yes. I told myself it didn’t matter. I wasn’t planning on going to the party in the first place, since I figured she’d be there and wouldn’t want to see me anyway. If I was smart, I’d just lie low for a while and definitely away from the Gardner case and anything to do with it.
But I wasn’t smart. When it came to Nina de Vries, I was the dumbest man in New York. All she had to do was crook her little finger, and I’d come running.
After all…what more did I really have to lose?
“No,” she said. “I wouldn’t mind.”
Relief flooded me. “Well, all right then. I guess I’ll see you there.”
I turned toward the other end of the bar with every intent of using other patrons to make my cool exit.
“But, Matthew?”
I looked back. “Yeah, doll?”
The nickname made the side of her luscious mouth twitch, but she didn’t smile.
“You’re not forgiven. Not even close.”
Maybe not, I thought to myself. But for the first time in months, I found myself able to see a possibility of a bright side. Maybe the fact that she was bringing it up meant that it could change. Maybe there was hope after all.
Chapter Five
Nina
It had been a sudden decision to change the color and style I’d worn essentially for at least a decade. Jane and I had been trying to decide what to wear for the Christmas party she and Eric were throwing. While she was mostly concerned with making her debut as a budding designer amid the upper echelons of New York society, I was trying unsuccessfully not to hear the sound of Matthew’s voice every time I held up a dress in front of the antique twin mirrors mounted in the guest-room closet.
“Everything I own is white,” I complained once I had cycled through every piece of clothing I had taken out of my storage unit to their house. “I look like that Disney princess. The one who makes the ice in that movie Olivia loves. Frozen, I think.”
“Elsa?” Jane chuckled as she looked me over. “Actually, that’s not a bad comparison. But I think technically, she was an ice queen.” She had only laughed harder when I fixed her with a glare. “You look just like Eric when you do that, you know. And it only makes me tease him more.”
I held up a white sateen frock that was once one of my favorite pieces. It glittered with tiny mother-of-pearl beadwork that shimmered when I walked. The perfect winter white, like a snowflake.
It was very…me. Icy. Colorless. Lifeless.
Classic, doll.
With another scowl, I threw the dress on the bed. I didn’t want to be his doll right now, whether it was at a bar or in my own head. Right now, when I looked in the mirror, I saw only a woman who was played for a fool—by a charming Italian-American prosecutor, my best friend, my grandmother. Classic was fine. Icy too. But apparently they were too easy to imitate. So much that the man who swore he loved me more than anything was fooled by a few pictures.
And just like that, I was seething all over again.
“Nina, are you all right?” Jane reached out tentatively. “I’m sorry about the joke. I didn’t mean anything by it, really. You don’t look like Elsa, I swear.”
I just shook my head, swept up my purse, and started for the door. I needed to get out of there. Go…somewhere. “Do you think Eric would mind terribly if I purchased a new dress for tonight?” I immediately hated myself for even having to ask.
Jane frowned. “Nina, you don’t need his permission or mine to use your own money. That’s why he put it in your account. So you wouldn’t have to ask at all.”
“Well, if it came from you, it’s not really mine, is it?” I snapped, then wilted completely. “I’m sorry, Jane. That was unforgivable.”
Jane put her dress on the bed next to mine, albeit much more carefully than the way I’d hurled the priceless piece. Then she strode to me and placed a hand on my shoulder with a light squeeze.
“Absolutely no apologies needed,” she said firmly. “I can’t blame you for being irritated. I’d probably have destroyed this entire room by now.”
“Sometimes I feel li
ke all of this is her punishment from beyond the grave,” I said. “Like there was some sort of test for my life, and by choosing the way I did, I failed. And she’ll never stop punishing me for it.”
Jane just looked on sympathetically. “I know I’m still relatively new to this family…but I really don’t think Celeste wanted to punish you for anything. If anything, I think she would be happy to see you becoming more independent.”
“Ha.” The sharp laugh flew out of my mouth on a bite. “By independent, do you mean wearing orange instead of black? Or smudging the pristine de Vries name with my gorgeous record?”
The hand on my shoulder rubbed more insistently. “I think she’d be impressed that you did whatever you believed was right. It took guts. Everyone knows that.”
I stared at myself in the mirrors again. Despite being of similar heights—Jane was also close to my nearly five feet, ten inches—we were polar opposites. Her hair was a deep black brown, but streaked with a few colorful riots on one side that tended to change with her moods. Right now they were aqua and green. Her gold cat-eyed glasses gleamed atop her bright hazel eyes and the slash of red she always wore on her lips. In slim black jeans, the sturdy combat boots, and the bright red top that wrapped around her torso like a snake, she was an explosion of contrast and color, daring anyone to ignore her. Meanwhile, I was as colorless as the dress I’d discarded. Between my light blonde hair, one of hundreds of white silk blouses, light gray wool pants, and the tasteful makeup designed to look as natural as possible. Everything was impeccable, of course. Products of the very best designers and the very best salons and the very best stylists. And yet, I practically disappeared into the walls behind me.
Suddenly, I couldn’t bear it any longer. I wanted to scratch my own eyes out for hatred of their plain, distant gray.
“Go,” Jane urged with a light tap on my back. “Spoil yourself a little. Just take Tony with you—otherwise Eric really will be angry when he gets back.”
I nodded. When I’d fled the apartment, I had been rid of Davis, the Calvin-assigned driver, as well as my assistant, Moira, and anyone else who could have potentially told him more about me. I was content to trade one babysitter for another. For now.
The Honest Affair (Rose Gold Book 3) Page 6
