“Eden, turn around.” His tone is clipped.
There’s no way I’m going to get out of this café without looking at Dylan, so I spin on my heel.
My gaze volleys between his ridiculously handsome face and the man standing next to him.
The blasts from the past keep coming. Seeing these two side-by-side takes me back to senior year.
“You remember Barrett Adler, don’t you?” Dylan gestures to his best friend from high school.
Barrett’s gaze travels over my face. He’s looking for a glimpse of the shy, smart girl he used to tease.
“I remember Barrett,” I shoot back.
He’s as tall as Dylan. They both hover around the six-foot-three mark. Barrett’s hair is dark brown. His eyes are a deeper shade of blue than Dylan’s.
I’d know him anywhere.
I’m tempted to ask if he works with Dylan, but his attire suggests otherwise. Barrett is dressed in a black V-neck T-shirt and jeans. The expensive dress shoes on his feet are misplaced, but the rest of his look is casual.
Dylan is the polar opposite. Today he’s wearing a dark gray suit, a white shirt, and a patterned blue tie.
He smells as expensive as he looks.
His cologne reminds me of his bed and how it felt to be there with him.
“Next.” The barista calls out again. “Ma’am, you’re next.”
“I need to go,” I glance at Dylan before my gaze lands on Barrett’s face.
He’s the lesser of two evils. I don’t have to face him in a courtroom later this month, and he’s not going to ask me to explain why I didn’t say anything at the club.
“It was good to see you again, Eden.” Barrett shoves a hand at me.
I hesitate before I reach for it. I don’t offer the same kind words back. Instead, I ask a question that I’m not sure I want to know the answer to. “Do you two come to this coffee shop often?”
Dropping my hand, Barrett laughs. “Not a chance. I still call Chicago home. I’m heading back there this afternoon.”
“I’m here every morning before work.” Dylan steps closer to me. “I live on this block.”
I wait for him to point out that I know that, but he falls silent.
I assumed that he’d be at his office by now, so I thought grabbing a cup of coffee here was safe.
I was wrong.
“Next.” Impatience taints the barista’s cheery tone. “Ma’am, your order please.”
“Have a safe trip back home, Barrett,” I say before I spin around.
Sucking in a deep breath, I move to the counter and order the largest coffee they have and two blueberry scones. I have a sinking feeling that I’m going to need all the help I can find to get me through today.
Chapter 11
Dylan
I’m not arrogant enough to think Eden walked into this coffee shop with the hope that I’d stop in before work.
Kurt’s office is a block over on Lexington. I see his staff here regularly, including the man himself.
It was purely coincidence that we ended up here at the same time.
Typically, I’m in my office before seven. The clock is approaching nine, but Barrett’s in town, so work can wait.
I take a seat at an empty table by the window. Barrett offered to grab two coffees after Eden took off. I don’t know if he thought I was going to give chase as she pushed her way through the crowded café to the exit.
This isn’t the time or the place to corner her.
Barrett places a large cup in front of me before he takes the seat across the table. “Eden looks great.”
I take a sip of the black coffee. It’s potent. I look forward to the jolt of caffeine it offers.
Barrett went to sleep after his second glass of scotch last night. I stayed up staring at the yearbook picture of Eden.
Jesus, she was such an angel back then.
Pure and innocent. Smart and kind.
I used her to hurt someone else, never considering the toll that my actions would have.
“I can’t believe she’s a lawyer.” He rests his back against the wooden chair. “She was smart enough to get it done. She skipped ahead a grade, didn’t she?”
“In middle school,” I say with a sharp nod.
It was never what Eden wanted. We met during sophomore year when she transferred to the honors program in our school. She felt out of place. She was out of place. She was too good for all of us.
“I didn’t see a ring on her finger.” Barrett glances at two women who pass our table. “Has she mentioned Clark at all?”
Fifteen years have passed, but the sound of that name still makes my fist clench.
Clark Dodson symbolizes everything I hate in this world.
He was the quarterback of the rival high school’s football team, the dick every girl wanted, and the reason Eden planned to go to Ohio State instead of coming to New York to study at Juilliard.
Barrett’s phone buzzes in the pocket of his jeans. He fishes it out while I take another sip of coffee. I don’t want to discuss Clark. I try to forget he exists most of the time. I would have taken that same approach in high school, but the bastard was in my face all the fucking time.
“I need to make a few calls.” Barrett skims his finger over the screen of his phone. “I won’t be able to walk you to your office. I’m a shitty date.”
“You’re a busy COO.” I chuckle. “Thanks again for the yearbook.”
“There are things I need to say… want to say about Eden.” He ignores the string of chimes coming from his phone. “I can tell that you’re not ready to talk about it. I get it. If or when you are, I’ll hop back on a plane.”
“I need to figure some things out.”
“It’s not my place to say this, but you know I don’t give a shit about my place. You need to hear this one thing.”
I laugh. “Say what you need to say.”
“You can’t change the past, so stop looking back.”
“I fucked up her life.” I squint at him. “She’s got to be pissed about that.”
“She didn’t look at you like she’s pissed.” He glances at his ringing phone before he sets his gaze back on me. “I didn’t see any of that in her expression.”
“You figured all of that out after seeing her for less than a minute?”
He holds up a hand in surrender. “I’m not an expert on all things Eden Conrad, but I like to believe I have some insight when it comes to women. She wouldn’t have gotten into bed with you if she were holding a grudge or if she hated you.”
“Hate sex is a thing.”
His lips curve into a grin. “That I’m an expert on.”
I laugh aloud.
“Look.” He taps his palm on the edge of the table. “You have no idea what the past fifteen years of Eden’s life look like. You let her down one night of her life. It’s time to stop beating yourself up over it, because it sure as hell seems like she’s doing just fine.”
He means well, but even though Barrett is my oldest and closest friend, I’ve never told him every detail about the night of our graduation party. He has no clue that I made a decision that night that has impacted Eden’s life to this day.
Only one other person on this earth knows what the fuck I did that night.
Clark Dodson, Eden’s first boyfriend and the guy she wanted to marry, knows my dirty little secret.
***
I exit the café, my hand hovering over the screen of my smartphone. My contact list is open, and it would take only one touch for me to call Tony Girano.
Tony’s the private investigator I keep on retainer. I run the man ragged, but he’s not complaining.
The apartment he purchased in Murray Hill two years ago was financed primarily by the monthly checks I place in his hand. In exchange, he brings me concrete proof that the soon-to-be exes of my clients haven’t lived up to their vows to love, honor, and cherish. Remaining faithful is something too many people struggle with much to my benefit.
I’ve been entertaining the idea of using Tony to bring me up to speed on where the hell Clark Dodson is and whether he’s a factor in Eden’s life.
I’ve resisted the urge until now because I didn’t want confirmation that he was living the dream with Eden and a couple of kids who looked like her by his side.
Eden made it clear to me on the last night of high school that Clark was her future.
I pocket my phone, praying with everything I am that he’s part of her past and that my secret remains there too.
Chapter 12
Eden
Well, damn.
I thought when the clock struck six and my workday ended that I’d avoided Dylan Colt’s questions for the day.
Maybe it was naïve of me to believe that he wanted to focus on the case at hand since he had a courier drop off my watch earlier.
It was polished and tucked inside a rectangular white gift box.
There wasn’t a card. The courier had nothing to offer but a smile and a wave of his hand when I tried to give him twenty dollars for his trouble.
He told me that Mr. Colt had taken care of it.
It seemed too good to be true, and now I know why.
Dylan Colt, looking like sex in a suit, is waiting for me on the sidewalk outside of my office. I thought he was gorgeous when he was eighteen. That lanky, messy-haired quarterback had nothing on this square-jawed, tall, breathtakingly handsome man.
“Eden.” My name flies off his perfect lips as I approach him. “I see you got your watch back.”
His eyes graze my arms.
I took off my blazer when I was in the elevator since it’s almost ninety degrees outside. My sleeveless blouse isn’t sheer, but it’s thin enough that I know he can see the lace of my white bra underneath it.
It hardly matters at this point.
The man sucked on my nipples. He knows exactly what my breasts look like.
“We’re having a drink together.”
I raise a brow at that declaration. “No, we’re not.”
“We are.” He flashes me one of his dimpled smiles.
My core clenches in need.
Traitor. My body is a traitor.
“I’m prepared to offer your client a deal if she’ll sign off on the terms of the settlement that Kurt proposed in mediation,” I say, clinging tightly to the hope that his drink invitation is business related.
“I’m going to ignore everything you just said because we both know that my client has suffered immeasurably because your client can’t keep his dick in his pants.”
“Your client’s vagina isn’t as innocent as you think it is,” I blurt back.
That draws the attention of a gray-haired couple passing us on the sidewalk.
Dylan glances at them. “We’re lawyers. Ignore us.”
The woman gifts him with a bright smile. “It’s hard to ignore you.”
With a scowl on his face, her husband grabs her hand, tugging her forward.
“Have a drink with me, Eden.” Dylan gestures down the street. “We need to talk, and not about the Alcesters.”
He’s right. We do need to talk.
“I have dinner plans at seven, so one quick drink.”
His brows draw together in curiosity. I don’t need to tell him that my dinner plans consist of take-out and three hours of binge-watching my favorite show.
Noelle is hanging out at her parents’ apartment tonight since Kurt needs to be at the hospital at six a.m. tomorrow to be prepped for the surgery.
His gaze falls to his watch. “I can work with that. There’s a place a block over. We can walk there.”
I fall in step beside him, being careful not to let my hand brush against his.
I wouldn’t have slept with him if I had known that he would be my archenemy in court. I can’t make the mistake of touching him again.
***
Dylan watches as I take a tentative sip of the drink I ordered. I close my eyes briefly in appreciation of the skill of the bartender.
“The look on your face makes me wish that I’d ordered a Negroni instead of scotch.”
“It’s delicious.” I chuckle. “Scotch is your go-to drink, isn’t it?”
He swallows a mouthful of the amber liquid. “Guilty as charged.”
I’d take that as an invitation to wade back into the Alcester case, but he made it clear that this impromptu meeting isn’t about work.
“When did you decide to become a lawyer?” I ask, expecting that he’ll bounce the question right back at me.
“When my folks divorced.” He lifts the glass in the air. “When did you decide to withhold your identity from me?”
“Dylan.” His name comes out in a whisper.
He leans his elbows on the table, narrowing the space between us. “Eden. When did you realize it was me?”
“About the same time you didn’t realize I was me.” I take a sip of my drink.
The corners of his lips curve up. “Touché.”
I draw in a deep breath. “When you said your name was Dylan, it took me back to that quarterback in high school that I tutored. That’s when I really looked at you. When we danced, I knew.”
His gaze travels over my face. “Help me understand why you didn’t just come out and say who you were.”
I let out a heavy sigh. “I thought at some point you’d recognize me. By the time we got back to your place, the window to tell you had closed.”
“That window was wide open.” He curves his hand around the glass in front of him. “You should have told me who you were. I wish I would have known it was you before we fucked.”
Hearing the word come out of him in a growl sets me on fire.
“Would we have fucked, Dylan?”
His brow furrows. “What?”
I push my glass aside. “If I would have told you that I was the shy nerd who tutored you in high school, do you think we would have left the club together?”
He sits in silence, his eyes trained on mine.
“I didn’t set out to deceive you,” I go on, my hands shaking. “I thought that we’d sleep together, I’d leave your place before you woke up, and we’d never see each other again. I didn’t think you’d ever realize that I was the woman you went to high school with.”
“Eden.” He exhales roughly. “Eden, look…”
“You didn’t remember me.” Managing a small smile, I shake my head. “Or you didn’t recognize me. I don’t blame you for that. I know that I’ve changed.”
It’s the elephant in the room that neither of us has acknowledged.
I have no idea if Dylan even knows what happened to me on the night we graduated.
He left the party we were at to go to the airport with Barrett so they could fly to Europe for a two-month long backpacking adventure.
I never heard from him again until I saw him at the club a few nights ago.
He takes a long swallow of his drink. Placing the glass back down, he studies me carefully. “We’ve all changed.”
“Not as much as me.” I drag a fingertip over my nose and down my cheek. “I was in an accident.”
He nods. “Barrett’s mom told us. She said you broke your ankle.”
“Both legs and my left shoulder.” I fold my hands in my lap. “I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.”
His eyes close briefly before they lock with mine. “Jesus, Eden.”
“I hit the dashboard.” A sigh escapes me. I’ve told the story countless times, but it never gets easier. “I was told by a doctor in the ER that my head hit the dashboard. The force of the impact shattered most of the bones in my face. That’s why I don’t look exactly like the Eden you knew.”
Chapter 13
Dylan
The remaining scotch in my glass isn’t enough to crush the onslaught of emotions that hit me with the force of a hurricane.
I scrub a hand over my face.
I thought it was a broken ankle. It was so much worse.
I’d bet everything I have that
she has no idea that I’m the cause of that suffering.
If she had a clue, she wouldn’t be sitting here sharing a drink with me. I cost her the chance to pursue a future in professional dance. I may have cost her more.
“Dylan?” Her voice lures my gaze back to her. “I just wanted you to know why my nose looks different, and my chin. It’s because of the accident.”
It’s because of me.
I was supposed to drive her home that night. I made that promise to her dad, but my arrogant immaturity got in the way, so she got in a car with her boyfriend.
“You still look like you,” I point out.
Her full lips tug up into a smile. “I know I do, but maybe I look different enough that you didn’t recognize me.”
“You know that’s bullshit.” I chuckle. “I looked at your yearbook photo earlier. You haven’t changed that much.”
“Earlier as in today?” Her brows peak with interest. “You were looking at the yearbook today?”
“For the first time since we graduated.” I lean back in my chair.
“I haven’t looked at mine.” Her voice softens. “I don’t look at pictures from that long ago.”
From before the accident.
Barrett first got word of the car wreck when he called home to tell his mom that we’d landed safely in Paris. She didn’t have any details beyond news of Eden’s broken ankle and Clark’s busted arm.
I called Eden’s dad, my high school football coach. I expected his rage because I hadn’t followed through with my promise to watch out for his daughter and see her home safely that night.
I didn’t get rage. I got silence.
He never called me back, and I never faulted him for that.
I let him down. Given everything he had done for me, it was unforgivable.
I sure as hell have never forgiven myself.
“I took us off topic.” She lets out a deep and exaggerated sigh. “I should have told you who I was when we were dancing.”
She should have, but she didn’t.
“I don’t know what came over me.” Her hand darts to her chin. “I got caught up in the moment.”
VERSUS Page 5
