I’m surprised to hear that. “Really? He seemed so nice. And hot.” I thought she might like him and that they made a nice pair although she is with Patrick, who came to the wedding as her plus one.
“No. Okay, yes to the hot part. But that’s genetic, right? They all looked like cuts of hotness. Did you see his dad?” She starts fanning herself and I can’t help but laugh.
“Celine,” I chide her.
“What? I can look, can’t I?”
“So you jumped from the son to the dad?” I giggle.
“It’s an observation. I like older men…or any kind of man, if I’m being honest. Anyway, tell me what happened with Tom.”
I pull in a steady, steady breath.
“Nothing happened with Tom because Nick came and took me away from him.”
“Okay…is that the thing you’re going to tell me? Or that maybe you think he’s jealous and it means something that could change your friendship, finally?”
Well, that would have been better than what happened.
Maybe…
No…I don’t know.
“Our friendship has changed and it’s not that. We…” I can’t say it because it doesn’t quite feel real to me yet. And I get all hot and bothered, aroused, wanting him all over again just from thinking about all that we did.
Celine’s lips part, and I can see she gets it straight away. “You slept with Nick?” She gasps a little too loud.
A guy from the nearby table glances at us, but something catches my eye in that moment.
Another guy next to him has a newspaper. It’s the Daily News. A tabloid newspaper. As he holds it up, flicking through the pages, I die when I see the front page.
There’s a picture of me and Nick, and the headline says:
Playboy Nick is back on the scene with his latest catch…
* * *
I get up and rush over to the man. I must look like a crazy person when I grab the newspaper from his hands.
“Hey!” he balks, but I ignore him.
Celine joins me and gasps when I flick to the second page.
The air leaves my lungs when I see the pictures. The one on the front didn’t have my face. But these do. Oh no, what did I do? I can’t tell which one shocks me more. The picture with my breasts exposed so much they had to blur it out or the one of me clearly grabbing his cock through his pants.
Although the article is calling me the mystery woman, it doesn’t matter; anyone who knows me will see this and have all manner of questions.
Shit!
“Holy fuck!” Celine hisses.
I can’t talk.
The newspaper slides out of my grasp and floats to the floor.
I take a step to flee, but then I see something much worse.
Nick.
He’s here, and he looks like he’s looking around for me.
My only saving grace is that he hasn’t seen me yet.
I’m not ready to talk to him. I don’t know when I will be. I got up to more with him than I’ve done with anyone in my life, and that’s saying something because I’ve done a lot.
I can’t talk to him, though, not now.
Celine sees him too.
“Celine, tell him I’m not here or you haven’t seen me,” I say to her.
Worry etches her face. “But—”
I don’t wait, I just go. Walk. Or maybe the better term is flee.
Shit. When I thought my situation with Owen was bad, it wasn’t. Sure, it’s bad to walk in on the man you’re supposed to be in love with having sex with his wife, but what’s mad is changing a lifelong friendship with your best friend by having sex with them nine times and getting caught by the press.
For me, that’s worse than Owen because Nick is my constant.
I manage to hide successfully for a few hours in Archives, pulling Kayla’s records that were all online. That was something I would have looked at with Celine, and then we’d look at everything on paper too. I went back down to the office to do the paperwork later, but by then, Celine was doing her other duties as I should have been. Mac would have expected us to have completed all of that today, but I’ve only done half the work.
I’ve allowed my personal life to intrude on the professional quality of my work and what people put their trust in. That is not good. I feel awful for it.
In my time alone, I went over a few things in my head to get to the bottom of this situation.
Nick is my constant. He wasn’t anything more before because as much as I can admit that he was who I wanted to be with, I can also admit that I don’t want a playboy.
Specifically, I don’t want him to be the playboy with me and hurt me.
Owen is out of my life, and all the other guys I’ve been with are out of my life. I couldn’t stand it if he were out too. I trust him, but history has given me the heads up as to what he’s like when it comes to women.
Even the papers know it.
That’s why they call him the playboy. I hate that kind of stuff, and to them, I’m just his latest catch. The catch of the day, one of his many women to pass the evening with. Like the skanky one from the other night. I can’t be with him like that. I think it would be very foolish of me to even try.
Worse than Owen. More hurtful than Owen. At least with Owen, I can say that I never saw it coming. With Nick, it’s different.
I already know what he’s like. The same life I’ve spent being his friend is the same time I’ve taken to know him.
I left the hospital late with that on my mind and a host of messages from various people. Mom and Tamar, my sister. I even got a message from Grandma. All asking me what was going on with Nick.
I haven’t answered yet. I’m going to think about what to say tomorrow and send one text to all with the same info.
I was happy to get home, but as I opened the door, I knew I wasn’t alone from the presence lingering in the air.
It’s his.
Along with the musky scent of his aftershave. Apart from my mom and Tamar, no one else besides him has keys to my place, and they wouldn’t come here unless I told them to.
There’s not a whole lot to look at in my apartment. When you come in you’re already in the living room, and then there’s the open-plan kitchen.
By the door is a little archway where I keep my coat and a shelf for the mail and the keys. Once you step past that, you’re in.
So I can’t exactly flee again when I walk in and see Nick sitting over by the window in the corner.
I stop in my tracks and look at him. He looks a mess, and the worry in his eyes is worse than his presentation.
He stands when he sees me and opens his mouth like he’s going to say something but stops and just stares.
“How long have you been waiting here?” I ask. It’s not relevant, but it’s speech. It’s talking about something and not just looking at him. Looking at him and remembering it all.
Remembering and wanting it and being logical. Remembering the reasons why we shouldn’t have it.
“Hours,” he answers. “I saw the papers and figured you saw them too. I also figured then that if you’re avoiding me, there’s no way I’d find you at the hospital. The only other place you are when you get like this is with me so…this was the obvious place. Got to go home sometime.”
I’m gazing at him, and I truly don’t know what to say. In this instance, my actions have spoken for me.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
“For which part? What are you sorry for?”
I need to be straight up with him. We’ve never lied to each other, and I can’t do it now.
“All of it,” I answer. It feels like someone else is talking for me. I can’t be causing the hurt I see in the depths of his blue eyes.
It can’t be me who is making him look like that.
Yet it is.
“Oh,” comes his reply. He steps forward, moving closer to me, and stops a breath away. “You remember, don’t you?”
Once again, I remind
myself that I shouldn’t lie. “Yes. I remember.”
“Did we sleep together?”
He doesn’t remember? I feel worse at the thought. “Yes, we did. You don’t remember?”
He gives me that good-natured smile that always gets me. “No, I don’t. But looks like it’s better if I don’t.”
He takes a step to leave, and I reach for his arm. “Nick, please don’t be upset with me.”
“I can’t be upset if there’s nothing to remember, right? It’s like that shit about if you don’t remember then it must not have happened.”
My hands drop to my sides. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like?”
I sigh. “What are we even talking about here? What more am I supposed to say?”
“We slept together. A lot, from the evidence, and you’re telling me you're sorry it happened. Translation—mistake. So if I feel like shit from what you’re saying, clearly I’m hurt. What do you think we’re talking about? What the hell do you think we’re supposed to be talking about?” he throws back.
He’s right, and the thing we should be talking about is the thing we never talk about because it’s not supposed to exist.
“I can’t…” I say, and once again I have that weird feeling come over me. Like my lips are moving, saying words, but I can’t believe I’m saying them.
He leans back in. “Why find clones if you don’t want the original?” he counters, and my skin flushes from the heated blaze in his eyes.
He remembers me saying that. I almost feel like speaking my heart was more intense and precious to me than giving myself to him.
“I need the original. I can’t lose him. I need the friendship we have.”
“What if he wants to be more than friends?” He stares me down, and now I can’t believe what he’s saying.
How many years have I wondered the same thing? Lying awake at night and wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
Truth is truth, though.
Fact is fact. You can’t refute it.
“He shouldn’t. He prefers to play, and I can’t play around with him. It’ll be the thing that breaks me. That’s why I can’t.”
I look down.
“Play. Playboy player…playboy Nick. I wouldn’t treat you like that.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think you would intend to either. But something would happen. You never risk messing with the original. You keep it safe, the way it is.”
He looks away from me. His gaze is on the picture of us when we were kids in the park playing in the sandpit. Then he just walks out. He leaves.
Leaves me wondering if I made a mistake.
Nick
In all the years I’ve known Tania, this has been the first time that days have passed with no contact.
Not even when she was mad as all hell at me did we go without speaking to each other.
The time I can remember was when she saw me giving Lisa French a lift to school. I didn’t know at the time that she and Lisa couldn’t stand each other. Lisa was the new girl at school all the guys were talking about. Tania didn’t talk to me for two days.
Last night made four days since we haven’t spoken.
It’s nothing by most people’s standards, but when you speak to a person all the time, and you proclaim yourself protector over them, it’s a big deal.
It’s the first time in my life where I don’t know if she’s okay and I don’t know what she’s doing. I guess this is what it would be like if we didn’t know each other.
What’s worse is I still can’t remember shit.
It’s like someone cast a fucked up spell on me. I can’t remember, but she has all these memories of us that I want to have.
She wants to keep things the same after that, and I want more from what I can remember.
Tony walks into the office with a bag of Chinese. It’s late; I thought when he left hours ago I’d see him tomorrow at the meeting with Brian.
He’s back though and wearing his casual clothes. We always wear suits in the office, although it’s more a smart casual environment.
“Still here, like I knew you would be.” He smirks and sets the bag of food down. It smells amazing and reminds me that I haven’t eaten since the meager lunch I had that consisted of one banana.
“Yeah, just running over a few things I wanted to go over with Brian,” I answer.
“Or trying to get lost in the distraction of work so you don’t have to face what’s really bugging you?” he imparts, pulling up a chair.
“Or that,” I confess with a small smile. It’s a smile I don’t feel. Not one damn bit.
He knows all. Well, all that I can tell him.
I held my silence right up until last night, tense with everyone and wound up, snapping and talking to everyone like shit. Then I caved in and spilled the contents of my mind.
He lowers to sit on the chair and taps the bag. “Eat. I’m not risking you being flaky tomorrow. I’d offer to do most of the talking, but really, it’s your vision. I know we got him to agree to back us, but you know what Brian is like.”
I know exactly what Brian is like. When you work with him it’s like signing a contract with a vision of dreams.
He gives you the passage to push your foot through the door, but the rest is up to you. He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t hold you back. It’s why we’ve all worked together for so long.
His agreeing to back us is good, but now we have to sell him the dream. Or rather I do. I have to. Tony is right that it should be me. I planned for that anyway.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure we got this good,” I promise.
“Good. Of course I plan to help in other ways, so when we start the next phase hit me with whatever you need to. I’m very aware that you’ve done most of the leg work while we’ve just come along for the ride.”
I laugh. It kind of looks that way but I know it’s not. These guys are anything but lazy. “I plan to do just that. I figured you could get more involved with the application process and, of course, Bradford and Rory can get on board with the coaching side of things.” It’s them who would have the bulk of the work during the six-week program, and we’d be helping them out.
“I think it’s safe to say we’re all excited about this business venture. But, with that said, I’m not about to allow my best buddy to stew in his worries when maybe talking the shit off your mind could help.”
I steeple my fingers and bite the inside of my lip. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. We’re acting like we’re mad at each other, and it’s not that. It’s understandable why she wouldn’t want to be with me. Next to you, she’s a woman who knows all my secrets. She knows what I’ve been like.”
“Sure, she said that, but she said some other stuff that shows she’s just scared. Plus, Nick, again, I have to remind you of the situation with Owen,” he points out.
“Yeah, I know, but I thought maybe she’d believe I wouldn’t hurt her because it’s me.” That’s part of what gets me. The rest of what’s eating away is on me. I’m the one who can’t remember, and I’m the one who painted the playboy picture in her head all by myself. No one else. Just me. I did it.
“I don’t think it’s as simple as that, Nick,” he says with a chuckle. “I think she values what she has with you so much that she doesn’t want to lose it. You can’t blame her for that. Weeks ago, I told you to position yourself so you’d be right in her line of sight when she opened her eyes. You did that, and it’s great. But what I think you need to do now if you do want more from her, is don’t throw away years of friendship over this and...” He pauses.
“What?” I’m eager to hear what he has to say. He seems to have taken on the role of mentor, so I’m listening.
“See how you feel if and when you do remember. Maybe remembering will help guide your next actions. I don’t think you can fully know what you want if there’s missing pieces of the puzzle. I think when you remember you’ll know if you want her
to give you a chance to be more than what she thinks you’ll be. More than the guy she thinks will hurt her.”
I think about it and nod. “So I need to be patient?” I smirk. I hate that word.
“You need to be patient, yeah,” he agrees.
“You know, I don’t think I had a problem with being patient until I met Louise.” That’s why I hate being patient.
He chuckles. “Nick, that woman was just a little better than the others I’ve seen you with. Louise and Tania aren’t the same.”
“No, they aren’t. But I have to wait.” It’s the waiting like some schmuck that grates me. “When Louise wanted to break up with me, she asked for a break. She told me she needed space to think about her job. She told me she needed something concrete to work with. Something that showed we weren’t just screwing around and meeting up to fuck around. I waited, and it pushed me to think of what I wanted with her. When the question was posed to me, I went straight to the store and bought a ring. I proposed to her, and she shot me down. I haven’t been the same since, so it’s kind of a big deal for me to take this step with Tania.”
“I get it, and I’m guessing you don’t want to hold on patiently, and it doesn’t work out.”
“No, I don’t, but I won’t have any control over that. The same way I had no control over Louise. I just kind of wish I’d taken this step with Tania before. Maybe if I had there would have been no Louise, or anybody else,” I state, and it fucking scares me. “When I kissed her, it felt like I should have always been kissing her.”
He raises his brows. “Damn, never heard you talk like that before. You always just denied feelings for her or danced around the topic. Why the hell didn’t you do anything before?”
“I didn’t think she saw me that way. Then when I thought she might, I thought she could do better.”
He chuckles. “I think the real question is, do you want her to do better with someone who isn’t you?”
I look at him. He’s struck something deep inside me.
Nick Page 9
