by T. K. Leigh
“Yeah,” I groan. “And it’s proving to be impossible. The man’s a ghost.”
“Like Keyser Söze.”
“Exactly!” This is why we get along so well. We all think the same thing. It can be a little scary at times, but being able to anticipate what each other is thinking and feeling makes things easier.
“I wonder what he looks like.” She grabs a magazine off the stack of back issues of Blush and flips through it.
I’ve kept a copy of every single issue since I started there. I remember holding the very first one in my hands and seeing my name in print. The feeling was indescribable. I even slept with it on my nightstand that night. Trevor never even asked to read the article.
“Maybe he appears differently for everyone who hires him. You know, like the Mirror of Erised in Harry Potter.” She stops flipping through the pages, turning the magazine around to show us an image of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie when they were still “Brangelina”. “Brad Pitt would be my August Laurent.”
Chloe laughs. “I don’t think it works that way, Nora. I don’t think he changes his appearance based on what the person who hires him wants to see.”
With a frown, Nora returns the magazine to the pile, then places them on a small bookshelf. “Pity. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Sure,” I say with an eye roll.
“How did you figure out he frequents the Steam Room anyway?” she presses.
I avoid her speculative gaze as I remove a few of my favorite coffee mugs from bubble wrap. Trevor always hated my affinity for mugs with snarky sayings on them. He drank out of the same boring black mug, said most adults don’t drink out of mugs with profanity. I guess I’m not like most adults.
“Just a hunch based on a few tips.”
“Hmm…” Her lips form a tight line. “Those tips wouldn’t have come from our very own gossip queen, would they?” She waggles her brows, nodding toward Chloe.
I open my mouth to respond just as my phone rings. I glance at the screen, my breath hitching when I see Trevor’s face smiling back.
“Who is it?” Chloe asks, noticing my reaction.
“Trevor,” I answer hesitantly.
“What do you think he wants?” Nora sneers.
It took my friends no time at all to go from Team Trevor to Team No One, especially after I told them about seeing him yesterday. Of course, I left out any mention of bumping into Julian and his little proposition.
“Maybe to tell me he realized he made a mistake.”
“You’re not going back to him after this, are you?” Chloe presses.
Unsure how to respond to her, I shrug. I should just write him off. If we’d only been together a few months, I’d do just that. But it’s been twelve years. There’s a certain level of patience, understanding, and forgiveness that increases over time.
“Trevor,” I say when I answer. It’s strange to greet him this way. Normally, I’d say “Hey, baby” or “Hiya, sweetie”. I hate I can’t do that anymore.
“Oh, Evie. Hey,” he responds, like he’s surprised to hear my voice, even though he was the one who called.
“Is there something you need, or was this a butt dial?” I quip in a sarcastic tone when he doesn’t say anything more.
“Right…” There’s a pause and I hold my breath. Something’s different in the timbre of his voice. Regret? Remorse? Sorrow? “I stopped by the apartment to change suits for tonight.” Hope builds inside me that my plan has already had the intended effect. “There was a delivery for you.”
“A delivery?” I can’t remember the last order I placed. I normally have everything sent to the office, unless it’s a big item.
“Yeah. It’s… Well, someone sent you flowers.”
I roll my eyes, thinking it’s someone else from the magazine who decided to send me flowers in condolence for my breakup. Most likely one of the contributors who doesn’t regularly come into the office.
I’m about to explain what my coworkers do during a breakup, when he cuts me off. “Who’s Julian?”
My jaw falls open, a rush of adrenaline causing my skin to tingle from the name alone. “Julian?” I swallow hard.
In an instant, Chloe and Nora kneel directly in front of my position on the floor, their curious eyes trained on me. Who’s Julian? Nora mouths. I hold up a finger, hushing them. This is as much a mystery to me as it is to them. Why would he send me flowers after I turned him down yesterday?
“I didn’t mean to read the card, but it wasn’t in an envelope. It was kind of hard to miss. Are you already seeing someone else?” His voice is low with a hint of jealousy. I shouldn’t smile at the pain I hear, but it gives me a taste of vindication. Now he knows how it feels. Even if I’m not seeing Julian, he doesn’t need to know that.
“You’ve already moved on. You can’t expect me to sit around and wait for you, can you?”
“Well… No. I guess not.” He blows out a long breath. “I just thought—”
“Actually, you didn’t, Trevor. That’s the problem. You didn’t think. You didn’t think I’d ever get over you. Well, maybe I have.”
“Is that the only reason you’re dating him?” His voice becomes strained, turning into almost a growl. I picture him pacing in front of the entryway table, tugging at his hair, sneering at the flowers Julian sent. “To piss me off? To make me jealous?”
“Do you really think so little of me that I’d stoop to such levels?” I keep my tone calm, refusing to show any hint of emotion. “Maybe I’m with Julian because he makes me laugh, makes me smile, makes me feel like I matter.” I stand, pacing in the little free space between all my boxes. “And you know what? He likes that I’m a bit eccentric. He likes that I don’t fit into the cookie-cutter mold it appears you want. He likes I don’t have a size two body. Not to mention he really likes that I have more than a handful up top.”
Nora snort-laughs, her wide eyes sparkling with amusement. I may have dug the knife a little deeper than necessary, but it feels good. Who knew? Apparently, Julian did.
“So am I doing this to make you jealous? No. I’m doing this to give me the happiness I deserve.” I draw in a deep breath, my own words surprising me. I think they surprise my friends, too. They gape at me for a moment, then they both jump to their feet as they give me a silent standing ovation.
I glare and wave my wands at them, warning them not to make me laugh as I return my attention to my phone. “As you probably already noticed, I’ve packed up my things and brought them over to Chloe’s. You shouldn’t receive any additional deliveries for me over there, but text me if you do and I’ll swing by to pick them up. There are a few more things I need to get out of the apartment this weekend. After that, you’ll finally have me out of your life. I’m sorry it’s taken so long.”
A lump builds in my throat at the double meaning. I want him to beg me not to go, to tell me he doesn’t want to come home to an apartment without tripping over my shoes, or seeing my collection of coffee mugs that haven’t yet made their way into the dishwasher. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything.
“Goodbye, Trevor.”
I stay on the line a moment longer, praying he’ll admit he made a mistake. But he doesn’t. I go to end the call to see he already has. I remain motionless for a moment, simply staring at the phone as I try to process what just happened. Is this officially the end of Trevor and Evie? Trevi? I’d even planned for us to honeymoon in Rome just to go to the fountain bearing the same name as our couple name. Will I ever find someone I’ll have an awesome couple name with again?
“Want to tell us what the hell is going on?” Chloe’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
I glance to see her standing beside me, her arms crossed.
“Who’s Julian?” Nora adds. “Why didn’t you say anything about a new suitor?”
I shake my head, unsure where to even begin with this. I still can’t wrap my head around it myself. “Julian isn’t a suitor,” I begin, then my phone rings once more.
/> “Is it Trevor telling you there’s another delivery of flowers from yet another gentleman caller?” Nora giggles.
Rolling my eyes, I look at the phone to see my office line number, indicating it’s a call forwarded from there, something I do whenever I’m away from my desk during normal business hours.
“It’s a work call.” I grit a smile. “Just a second.” I bring the phone back up to my ear, squaring my shoulders and plastering on as professional an expression as I can, even though whoever’s calling can’t see me. “Evie Fitzgerald.”
“Hello, Evie,” a deep baritone responds.
The instant that voice comes over the line, my core clenches, my breath quickening as desire builds inside me, low and deep. My cheeks heat, so I look away from Chloe and Nora, hoping they don’t notice the sudden change in my demeanor.
“Good afternoon, Julian.”
Nora squeals and I glare at her. She quickly silences herself, but that doesn’t stop her and Chloe from making obscene gestures, the occasional moan of “Oh, Julian” thrown in for added emphasis.
“Is it?” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice, leading me to believe this was all part of his plan to begin with.
“It is now.” I walk away from my two best friends, who seem to be acting like they’re in middle school instead of professional adults, and head to the bay windows in Chloe’s living room, looking out at the streets of Greenwich Village.
“And why’s that?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I lower myself to the window seat. “Maybe because my ex-boyfriend just called me in a jealous rage because someone happened to send me flowers.”
He chuckles, the sound still having the same effect as it did yesterday. “Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“I told you I can help, did I not?”
“All you did was send flowers,” I retort. The last thing I want is to sound overly eager to agree to his proposition. I’m still not convinced it’s the right way to go about this. “You were lucky Trevor was even home when they were delivered. He’s been practically sleeping at the office these days.”
“You call it luck. I call it due diligence.”
“Due diligence?”
“Precisely. I promised that if you agreed to help me, I’d do everything to help you. Randomly sending you flowers doesn’t cut it. If I simply wanted to send you flowers, I would have sent them to your office. I wanted him to know I sent you flowers. Which is why I paid the delivery person to sit outside your building and wait until he saw Trevor walk in.”
I’m momentarily speechless by the length it appears Julian went in order to make Trevor jealous. I have to hand it to him. It certainly worked.
“Do I want to know how long the delivery man was sitting outside?” I’m unsure if I should consider this a creepy form of stalking or if it is simply a demonstration that he’s a talented manipulator.
“Probably not. So, what do you say, Evie? Did I prove you wrong?”
I brush my hair behind my ear, ignoring the questioning stare of my two friends, who are now squeezed on the opposite side of the window seat, their gazes seemingly glued to my every move.
“What do you mean?”
“You said Trevor was too smart to buy into the idea of us being a real couple.”
“And he is.”
“You still believe that?”
“I do. He asked if I was only dating you to make him jealous, so he’s certainly skeptical.”
“But he did think you were dating me.” His voice is light and playful. “I think my column deserves points for that alone.”
“This isn’t a game, Julian.”
“Of course it is. Life is merely a game. So are relationships. It’s all about strategy.”
“Is that what this is? Your strategy to get me to agree to your proposition?”
“And if it is?”
I pinch my lips together, carefully considering my words. “Then it seems you’re going to awful lengths when I’m sure you have your choice of women who’d gladly agree to be your arm candy at a few parties in the Hamptons.”
Nora shrieks again, but Chloe jabs her in the side, silencing her. Still, they both stare at me like I’m the three-headed dog from Harry Potter.
“But I don’t want any of them. I want a stunning, irresistible woman who can hold her own in a room full of stuffy businessmen and their stuck-up wives.”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree because I—”
“Don’t think you fit that description?” he interrupts, finishing the thought on the tip of my tongue. “Well, you’re wrong. Maybe in your ex-boyfriend’s opinion you don’t, but from what I’ve seen, you’re the perfect person for the job. I’m not looking for someone who can’t form an intelligent thought if her life depended on it, or someone who will only speak when spoken to. I’m looking for someone with edge. Someone who has confidence in spades. That’s you. So let’s do this. I help you. You help me. Tit for tat.”
I chew on my bottom lip, torn. On one hand, I don’t have anything to lose by agreeing. It could work, considering how jealous Trevor sounded just from the idea of me receiving flowers from another man. But on the other hand, there are too many variables, too many ways for this to turn from a strictly business relationship into something…more.
“It’s unwise to agree to this without ironing out all the details. Despite what you may think you know about me, I prefer when there’s a concrete plan.”
“I couldn’t agree more. I’ll make dinner reservations for seven o’clock tonight. Shall I pick you up from your place or the office?”
“Tonight?” I look to Chloe and Nora for guidance. Their eyes are bright with excitement over the prospect of me having dinner with a guy tonight.
Chloe mouths, My place, then winks.
“How about you tell me where and I’ll meet you there.”
“I had a feeling you’d be a challenge.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “If this is to work, we need to give off the appearance of being a real couple.”
“Real couples meet at restaurants all the time, especially in this city. I met Trevor constantly. In fact, I can’t remember the last time we went out when I didn’t meet him there.” The second the words leave my mouth, a pang squeezes my heart.
“And that’s precisely why I’ll always pick you up for every single one of our outings,” he responds, not allowing me to dwell too long on my realization. I wonder if he knows this. “No exceptions. So, again, your place or the office?”
“How about my friend Chloe’s?”
“Is there a reason you don’t want me to pick you up at your place?”
“I moved out.”
“Good girl.” The way he caresses those two words forces me to squeeze my legs together, an ache building as my overactive imagination goes to places it shouldn’t, not when I’m still supposed to be pining for Trevor. “Program this number into your phone. Let me know when you’re ready.”
“Hold on.” Jumping off the bench, I head into the bathroom, wanting some privacy. I put him on speaker, then switch to my contacts. “Ready.”
He rattles off his number and I input his information into my phone. “That’s my cell. Text me her address.”
“I will.” I save his number and take him off speaker, bringing my phone back up to my ear.
“No. Right now.”
I groan. “Seriously? Been stood up too many times?” I open the door, stepping back into the living room, only to be met by my friends’ scowls.
“Never, but you’re different from the usual women I find in my company.”
“Fine.” Continuing past Chloe and Nora, I pull the phone away and switch to the message app. After typing out a quick text with Chloe’s address, I hit send, then return my cell to my ear. “Is that a good or bad thing?”
“Only time with tell.” I hear the ping of an incoming message in the background. When he speaks again, his tone is low, almost seductive. “I’ll see you
at seven, Evie.”
“I look forward to it.” I stare blankly ahead, about to hang up when I think of something. “Julian, wait!”
“Yes?”
“What’s your last name?”
“My last name?”
“Yeah. In case you turn out to be a serial killer, I’d like Chloe and Nora to know the full name of the man I was last seen with. That way, the police have a head start on tracking down my body to some old, abandoned warehouse in Jersey City you’ve re-purposed as a kill room.”
“Dammit. You’ve figured me out.”
I laugh, a lightness in my chest at how effortless it is to joke with him. I almost don’t want to hang up.
“Gage,” he says finally. “My last name is Gage.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he says.
It’s silent for a moment. Then I blurt out, “Guinevere.”
“Excuse me?”
“My real name’s Guinevere. That’s why you couldn’t find me online. Evie’s a nickname. I had trouble pronouncing my name when I was a little girl and called myself Evie. It just kind of stuck.”
“Guinevere… I like that.” He pauses, then says, “See you in a few hours, Guinevere.”
Chapter Eleven
“What the hell is going on?” Chloe asks once the line goes silent. I clutch the phone for a moment longer while I attempt to recover my composure enough to face my friends.
“And who is Julian?” Nora teases.
I turn around, meeting their curious eyes, at a loss for words.
“Based on your conversation, he sent you flowers, which made Trevor jealous, and now you’re going to dinner with him. Who is he and where did you meet?” Chloe presses.
