Trust Me

by Isabel Jolie

  It’s so frustrating. I want to shake him sometimes. Things I control are so much easier to deal with, and I have absolutely no control here. Helpless isn’t a feeling that sits right with me.

  “Sam, did you hear me?” My blank expression must serve as an answer, because she continues. “I said there’s no point in either of you worrying until you get those results back. If they aren’t good, make sure he brings you in with him when he meets with his doctor to discuss next steps. That’s all you can do.”

  She then proceeds to check off her list as I half-listen.

  The plan was to meet at the restaurant, but I notify my driver I need him now, then shoot off a text to security to let them know I’ll be on the move. I grimace when I contact security. The whole situation pisses me off, but as long as they stay out of my way, I can deal. After all required parties are notified, I head on up to Columbia. I can’t wait any longer. If he got bad news, he’ll want to tell me face to face, so I’ll bring my face to him.

  * * *

  Jason’s office is rather small, and the whole room has a sterile feel. The standard issue metal desk he’s sitting behind might be from the sixties. The off-white walls are marred by light gray scratches and smudges. Supposedly, there are security cameras throughout campus, but I have yet to locate one in the halls of this building, and there’s definitely not one in Jason’s hole of an office. I tap on his half-open door, and his head jerks up from the papers he’s grading.

  I put a big smile on my face. The smile does not reflect my inner turmoil, anxiety, or worry, but it’s what I think he needs, so I smile. “Hey, man!” I walk right on in like I own the place and plop myself down in one of two wooden chairs across from his desk.

  “I thought we were meeting at six-thirty? At the restaurant.” His brow wrinkles in confusion.

  “Yep, that was the plan. But I wanted to get out of my office. Figured I’d come down and see if I could convince you to swing by Ten Twenty for a drink before dinner.”

  He lifts his arm off the desk and checks the watch on his wrist, shoulders slouched forward in a defeatist position. All his movements are slow. Damn. “If you need to stay here and finish grading papers, that’s fine. I have my laptop with me. I can work right from here, and we can head over to Pisticci’s whenever you’re ready.”

  Jason stares vacantly in my general direction. It’s too much for me, so I peer down at his desk and notice the black and white name holder. The white font reads “Dr. Longevite,” but someone has taken a pencil and darkened parts of the loops of the o and e’s. “Someone’s been messing with your nameplate, man.”

  “What?” He sounds somewhat confused.

  “This nameplate right here.” I pick it up and turn it to him so he can see.

  Jason taps the eraser end of a pencil on the desk, apathetic to what I’m showing him. “Probably a student. Probably did it while I was sitting right here talking to them, and I didn’t even realize it.” He leans back into his bulky wooden office chair. It’s on wheels, which is the chair’s only redeeming feature that I can see. Nothing about that chair is ergonomically correct. He sighs. “If you’re here to find out if I’ve gotten the results back, I haven’t. I promise I’ll tell you when I do. Should be any day.”

  “Hey, man, I know you’ll tell me. You seemed a little down, so I thought my smiling face might cheer you up.”

  A blank face stares back at me. No emotion. It’s like he didn’t even hear me. I don’t know what’s going on with him, but I know it’s not good. I’m on the verge of carrying him out of this sad-as-fuck interior office when he speaks. “You don’t need to worry about me. There’s nothing you can do, anyway, so don’t expend the energy.”

  “Are you out of your goddamn mind? That makes no sense.”

  He looks away from me to the blank wall. Stacks of books and piles and piles of folders sit along the floor. A good gift might be hiring someone to come in and organize all those messy piles.

  “Enough about me.” He taps his desk with his knuckle. “Really. Enough. Can we not talk about me tonight? Please?” His eyes glisten, and more emotion rings through his voice than I’ve heard from him in ages.

  “You got it, man.” My first instinct is to reach down and pull out my laptop. Scan through to look and see if there’s a game I can put on to watch while he grades papers. But then I think about a certain student of his, and I grin. “Did you know that one of your students is an intern of mine?”

  He studies me while shaking his head. I can tell he’s wondering where I’m going with this.

  “Olivia Grayson. Do you know her?”

  His fingers flick over the corner of one of the stacks of papers on his desk. “Yeah, I know her.”

  I think he’s going to say more, but he doesn’t. He rests his arms on the chair while he stares at one of the haphazard piles on his desk.

  “What’s she like?” I ask. Might as well see what information I can get out of him. Anything to keep a conversation going on something other than his health.

  He looks up and squints. “Is that why you’re asking me about her? I thought you might be preparing to ask me to do something nefarious.”

  I laugh out loud. “Nefarious? What the…? What do you mean by that?”

  “She’s having trouble with accounting.” A smile breaks out on his face, the first one I’ve seen in ages. “You planning to hit on your intern?”

  “That sounds bad, doesn’t it?” I smirk. “She’s not actually my intern. We hired her, but she quit. Turns out she took a job working for one of the law firms I work with. Small fucking world, huh?”

  Jason puts both elbows on the table again, but this time he actually looks entertained. Alive. “Yeah. But you work with half the law firms in Manhattan. I guess odds were she’d end up working with one that works for you in some capacity.”

  I point at him. “That is a huge exaggeration.”

  “I doubt it. Anyway, you asked about her. She’s smart. Good student. Doesn’t have an accounting background. I haven’t paid much attention to her, but now that I know she’s your love interest, I will.”

  This guy must be seriously in his head these days if he didn’t take more notice of Olivia. She’s stunning. Those eyes. Showstoppers. “Well, I’ve only asked her out on a date. And when I did, she told me she was busy. All fucking weekend. I asked her out on a Monday.”

  “You losing your charm?” The smirk on his face makes me grin too.

  “Nah. I’ve still got game. And you know me, I love a challenge. I’ll float some date ideas by you over dinner. I’ll get her to give me a chance. Eventually. I’m not one to give up.” Out of all my buddies, Jason comes up with some of the most unique date plans. Or at least he used to. Back in the day, before cancer hit him, he was known for memorable dates. Things like painting dates, horseback riding, planetarium. Never an ordinary dinner and a movie. Always something out of the ballpark.

  Yep, shoot two birds with one stone. Make Jason think about something else. Simultaneously plan an unforgettable date with a dark-haired stunner. My kind of night.

  Chapter 6

  Olivia

  Standing outside Anna and Jackson’s doorway Saturday evening, I struggle like a circus juggler with a loaded grocery bag, wine, and cake. Grappling with it all, I almost spill the bourbon salted caramel cake I purchased from Billy’s Bakery. I can’t get a hand free, so I bang my elbow on the door, creating a low thud. Sharp pain shoots through the bone in my arm, so I switch to kicking the door.

  Minutes pass before the door swings open. “Hey, whoa.” Jackson springs into action, lifting the cake box first.

  “Hey, I know I’m early. I bought all the stuff for the charcuterie, but I need to put it together. Do you mind if I head to your kitchen?” I shake my right hand to encourage blood flow to return.

  “No problem. Anna will be out in a minute. I’m gonna jump in the shower. Chewie needed to go for a walk.” Anna and Jackson have the most adorable labradoodle. She was An
na’s, and if it wasn’t for Chewie, they probably wouldn’t have ended up together. Jackson encouraged Anna to transition from walking Chewie to running with the apartment-bound dog. I was in Prague during all of this, but even from afar, it quickly became apparent that Jackson was more than a running coach.

  I head into the kitchen and start pulling out my ingredients for the charcuterie. Anna has a dream kitchen. The countertops are all Carrera marble. The white shaker cabinets with antiqued brass knobs are my favorite, although I covet her sea glass tile backsplash. The kitchen opens up into the great room with a pass-through bar. After I unpack my bags, I survey everything spread out on the counter and decide I might have gone a little overboard at Zabar’s today.

  “Hey, you!” I hear Anna’s cheerful voice before I see her. She comes around the corner and wraps me in a warm hug. Taking a step back, she peers into the bag I brought. “What all did you bring?”

  I pull out my board, a large slab of walnut hand-hewn by an artisan from the Hudson Valley. I love the deep, rich browns along the grain pattern and the curved, natural flowing edges. “Well, I kind of did the normal. Prosciutto, pate, salami, olives, found some fresh figs, dried pears, jam, brie, a golden cheese.” I artfully arrange thin peppered crackers in one section of the board while I talk. “And I know not everyone loves foie gras, but Zabar’s had the most gorgeous terrine. Sound good?”

  “Sounds delicious. I have lasagna in the oven but haven’t started it yet. Needs a little over an hour in the oven, but figured I’d wait until everyone is here to start it.” She picks up the wine I brought over and studies it.

  “I didn’t go fancy on wine. Zabar’s had the Decoy cab on sale for, like, twenty bucks, so I figured I’d go for quantity tonight.”

  “You brought four bottles?” Her gaze runs along the counter, and she sees the cake box. “And cake? You know, you don’t have to bring so much food when you come here. You make me feel bad.”

  “Well, I know how our group can get. I want to contribute so you and Jackson don’t start turning us away.” Truthfully, I kind of live for these weekend nights at their place. It’s more lowkey than a restaurant. We’ve been enjoying their amazing rooftop, but tonight the weather has turned chilly. October is letting us know winter is on its way. I’m kind of hoping we stay inside, at least until I’ve had a couple of glasses of wine.

  “Tonight, it’s only four of us, and it looks like you brought enough for eight. But it’s okay.” Anna pulls out salad ingredients from the refrigerator and lines them up on the island. “We’ll just save any leftovers for next weekend. Most of your charcuterie stuff saves.”

  “Who’s coming tonight?” I hadn’t asked, but I’d assumed it would be our normal crew.

  “It’s just us and this guy Jackson has been working with. A client.” I pause from layering the three different kinds of salami. I turn to Anna, but her back’s to me as she chops away, so she doesn’t know my mouth dropped open. She continues. “Delilah and Chase had other plans. They both have dates. First date dates.” She turns her head with a smile, sees my face, and whips around. “What’s wrong?”

  “Who is the guy coming over?”

  Her smile goes from normal to enormous. “Someone you know. And someone who asked Jackson if it’s okay if he asks you out.”

  “Motherfucker!” A mixture of annoyance and panic rises within me. Anna starts laughing but turns her back to me, dismissing my alarm in favor of finishing up her salad.

  “I haven’t met him yet, but Jackson has talked so much about him I feel like I already know him. He seems to love working on his projects. I don’t exactly understand everything they do, but I can tell Jackson’s happy. And it’s awesome he told Jackson he wants to date you. He likes you. It’s so sweet.”

  “Anna! You couldn’t have given me a heads up? Told me he was coming? Asked if I was okay with it?”

  Anna spins around. “Are you not okay with it? Do you not like him?”

  I resume work on my board and huff. This is fucking crazy. I don’t like being set up on dates, and Anna, of all people, knows this. I’ve gone years being her one friend who didn’t annoy the crap out of her by trying to force her on bad blind dates. “It’s not that. I would have liked a heads up. That’s all.”

  Anna brushes past me and opens a bottle of wine. Smart move. The buzzer sounds, and she sets the wine bottle on the counter and heads to the door so she can buzz him up. I get to work on unwrapping the cheeses. The last plastic cheese wrapper won’t unwrap. Frustrated, I toss the block of cheese on the counter then pour myself a large glass of wine since Anna never finished the task. I give myself what I like to call an “American” pour, filling the glass far too close to the rim. Then I swallow a large gulp.

  As I drink my wine, I stare out through the window. Lights flicker in random apartments, a scene not too different from the view from my place in Prague. How many nights had I sat, staring out my window there? Sort of wishing I had friends to go out with. Feeling like a bit of a lame ass on a Saturday night, weighing my option of staying in or going out alone. So many months, I stayed in. Ordered in. Then, one night, I’d had enough of the solitary confinement.

  I got dressed, did my hair, and headed out, Kindle in tow. Ordered wine, similar to what I’m drinking now, and ordered dinner. Simply being surrounded by other human beings had felt cathartic. That first day, I’d felt awkward and self-conscious. Like people were looking at me and wondering what was wrong with the friendless woman alone on a Saturday night. The more I did it, the less I cared what anyone else thought. The sensation of judgmental gazes on my back diminished as I came to realize no one cared. And I even met people. Interesting people of all ages. All on my own.

  I set my wine glass down and resume work on unwrapping the last block of cheese, using my knife to pierce the thick plastic wrapping. Had I known he’d be here tonight, I might have had my hair blown out or spent a little more time on my make-up. I’m wearing jeans and a somewhat thick sweater, and I’m in my socks because I took my shoes off at the door. My hair has been in a ponytail for hours, and if I let it down now, it won’t hang straight. This is not exactly putting my best foot forward. In fact, he may see me and think I’m trying to communicate a lack of interest. Stellar friendship, Anna. It’s all fine. Perhaps it’s for the best if he loses interest. Sam’s gorgeous, confident, and has articles written about him in major magazines. The last good-looking, confident guy I dated ended up being a lying cheat. And he was a fraction as successful in business as Sam.

  Sam’s deep Texan timbre echoes through the hall. Jackson’s heavy footsteps resonate from the other end of the apartment and continue down the hall to the entry.

  After a few more minutes, as I’m finishing up, the three of them exit the entry hall and enter the great room. I’m in the kitchen, and Sam and I lock eyes through the opening between the two rooms. I hold my breath, caught off guard. Sam’s wearing faded jeans, cowboy boots, and a waffled cotton Henley that shows off shapely pecs and biceps. The Henley sleeves are pulled up a bit, revealing light hair on his forearms and a leather wrapped bracelet on his right wrist. Weekend Sam. An electrical charge surges through me, and I hold the counter, suddenly uncertain about how to greet him or what to say.

  His white teeth glimmer in the kitchen light as he smiles. “Olivia? It’s so good to see you again.” He steps up to me and places a light kiss on my cheek. My stomach flutters, and heat cascades from my cheeks down to my chest. “Seeing you again makes my weekend.”

  I cast a glance down to his boots and swallow, then remember my wine and search the counter for it.

  Sam takes a step back. “Damn! Look at this spread. Did you do this?” His expression is one of wonder, like he can’t believe I could put this together. It’s really the easiest thing in the world to prepare, which is why I always do it. But his reaction makes me feel like I’m Julia Child.

  I nod and look up at him, feeling self-conscious. “It’s kind of my thing.”

  �
��The charcuterie board is completely her thing. No one rocks a charcuterie like Olivia,” Anna comments as she bypasses us to push buttons on the stove. “Here, why don’t you guys put that on the table? We can munch on it while we drink wine. We have a little over an hour before the lasagna will be ready.”

  Sam picks up the board and leads us to the kitchen table, calling over his shoulder, “I brought wine too. Let’s finish the bottle you guys are drinking and then we’ll open up one of mine.”

  I gather the wine glasses and see the two bottles he brought over. Stag’s Leap. I recognize the label. He has solid taste in wine.

  The rectangular table seats eight, but Anna has pulled some chairs away. It’s clear from the place settings the four of us will be sitting at the center of the table, two on each side. Anna and Jackson sit together on one side, and Sam and I are on the other. It feels like we are having that first date this weekend after all.

  Sam’s light brown hair looks darker, maybe a little damp, and the skin on his jaw looks especially smooth. A hint of cedar floats past when he leans in. The Henley he’s wearing hugs his biceps, and he straddles the seat with his legs wide. He’s a city boy, but so much about him says country. A cowboy hat is the only thing missing from his ensemble.

  “Sam, where are you from?”

  He grins as he cocks his head at me. “You don’t think I’m from here?”

  I shake my head and take a sip of wine. My eyes are locked on his smoky blues, and my body temperature rises.

  “Well, you got me. I’m from Texas.”

  “I knew it!”

  He chuckles. “What do you mean, you knew it? I’ve worked hard to hide that accent.”

  I twirl the wine in my glass, a wide smile on my face. “I don’t know. I can’t really tell you exactly what says Texas. The moment I saw you in that coffee bar, it was the first thing that came to mind. That you were from Texas. That you looked like you should be on a horse. And you know, the ever-present cowboy boots.”