Lana

The metallic taste of blood hit my tongue, and I pulled my thumb out of my mouth to see the skin by the side of my nail bleeding. Shit. I stopped pacing and tried to concentrate on the ocean as the voice on the other end of the phone kept talking about talent and meetings and New York.

“So can you make a meeting next Thursday?” Beatrice Gravel, the senior buyer at Barneys, asked. It was the second time and I couldn’t put off my answer any longer. This was exactly what I’d been aiming for when I’d sent my drawings and photographs of the cuff I’d made to a contact of Mr. Butcher’s two weeks ago.

“That would be in Manhattan?” Of course it would. Where else would it be? I hadn’t been back since college. But the possibility of having a jewelry line in Barneys? Was I really going to pass that up because of my ex?

“Yes. We can have lunch, talk about next steps and show you some of the other designer jewelry we have in the store. We think your designs would be a beautiful fit.”

If Ruby was here, she’d rip the phone from my hand, accept on my behalf and then tell me it was going to be okay. So would Matt, for that matter. I took a deep breath. I could always pull out later if I totally freaked out. But as I stood on my deck, overlooking the ocean, sheltered from the storm that I could feel was just a few minutes away, I felt brave. Powerful. Like I was standing on the edge of my destiny. “That sounds great.”

“Wonderful. If you have any more designs, bring them with you. We love the Bastet collection and we definitely want to start with that, but we absolutely want to see anything else you’re working on.”

I pressed my forefinger against my bleeding thumb. “I’ll see what I can find.”

“Great. Well, I can’t wait to meet you in person after all these phone calls.”

“Yeah, it will be . . .” I searched for the right words. Why was I so awkward when people were being complimentary? “Nice to meet you, too.”

I cringed, but we said our good-byes and I hung up, wondering what I’d gotten myself into.

I jumped, my phone buzzing in my palm. I grinned as I saw who was calling and then swiped the screen. “Hey, Mr. Movie Star. How’s Italy?”

“Hey, beautiful,” Matt replied. “I just got to the airport.”

I couldn’t hear the normal hustle and bustle of airport noise in the background, but then he was probably in some kind of VIP lounge.

“Sweden next?”

“Yeah, I think so. Although, at this point, I really have no idea.”

He sounded exhausted, which made sense. He was getting close to the end of his publicity tour and every time we spoke he came across a little less enthusiastic about his job.

I laughed. His schedule was ridiculous. I’d flown to London a couple of weeks ago and we’d spent a few days together holed up in the Dorchester hotel, but he hadn’t had much time off.

“How did your call with Barneys go?” he asked.

I bit back my lip, pleased he’d remembered.

“I’m going to meet them in New York on Thursday for a meeting.”

“That’s great,” he yelled, and I had to hold the cell away from my ear.

“I figure I can always cancel.”

“Hey, don’t do that. This is a fantastic opportunity.”

“I know, I just . . .” I leaned over the railing toward the ocean. I knew it was time to put to rest all my old ghosts. But that didn’t mean I was looking forward to it. “I won’t cancel. I just need to prepare myself.”

“You’re stronger than you think you are,” he said. “Don’t underestimate yourself. And hey, I’ll see what I can do to fly back.”

“Your tour doesn’t finish until that Friday, and anyway I’ll be okay.”

“You can stick around for the weekend and I could meet you there? I’ll check my schedule and talk to Brian and let you know.”

“It would be good to see you.” During my trip to LA, things had solidified between us and we had transitioned from a summer affair to a relationship where we spoke every day and tried to see each other as often as we could. But he wanted more—for us to go public. I understood and I knew I wanted to be with him. I just didn’t know how it would work. I hoped he’d give me the time I needed to figure it out.

“I want to be there,” he said.

“Seeing you would be a good incentive to visit the city again,” I said.

“More so than a jewelry line at Barneys?”

I laughed. “Maybe the same.” The business opportunity seemed too good to be true. Just a few years ago it would have been more than my wildest dreams. I’d thought I’d been forced to leave the dream behind, but it had been reignited in me.

“Okay, I’ll talk to Brian about it and see if I can make it happen. I miss you. I don’t want to go more than two weeks without seeing you.”

“Is that a rule now?” I asked.

“Not a rule, just—if this is going to work, then we need to minimize our time apart.”

There hadn’t been a day since he’d left Maine that we hadn’t spoken to each other, but neither of us had mentioned the idea of going public again. He’d promised not to push me and he’d been true to his word. In fact, he’d said that while he was in Europe he was going to meet with Kristin Cooper, an actress Sinclair thought might make a good girlfriend.

His split with Audrey was over a month old. I guess he had to make a decision. Was he waiting for me to bring it up? I could talk to him about it again in New York. See how his meeting had gone.

“Okay. Were there a lot of Audrey questions today?”

“Yeah, at least one in each interview. But it must be so dull listening to us. We have our script down on this one. ‘We’re still such great friends, distance and work schedules, blah, blah, blah.’”

“Distance and schedules, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s like a resigning politician saying he wants to spend more time with his family.”

Distance and work schedules. They were so plausible that it made sense that they were well-worn excuses. “If you can’t make it to New York, I can always fly from there to LA.” I didn’t want distance to be the thing that proved to be our undoing.

“You don’t need to do that. I’ll make New York work.”

I sighed. “You will?”

“I will, I promise. I can’t expect you to always fit around my schedule. Your work is important, too.” He had all the right words, all the time.

“Are you sure you’re not a figment of my imagination?” I asked, taking a seat on the bench.

“Maybe I am. But just go with it,” he said, and I laughed. “So what are you doing tonight?”

“I’m just going to sit out here on the porch and wait for the storm to roll in.” It would be a good way to relax.

“I wish I were there. We could watch it side by side, then get naked and fuck all night.” He growled into the phone.

Even though we’d spent more nights apart than together since he left Maine, I still missed his body every morning when I woke up. “You’ll have to save it until New York.”

“I’m not sure I can wait that long,” he said.

“Keep telling yourself how I’m worth it. You’ll start to believe it’s true.”

The man a million women wanted only wanted me.