Nick: Can we talk?
I stared down at the message. It had been forty-eight hours since he’d sent it, and I was starting to feel like an asshole for not responding. Initially, my reaction had been emotional.
I guess I feared that I would go into that conversation with hope—hope that I’d want to hear what he had to say, that things could be different, that there was still a way to make us work.
And all that hope could only mean a harder fall when I got let down.
But I knew there wasn’t. Nick had made his decision, and he was not the kind of man who took things lightly. When he made a big decision, he made it with careful thought and planning. He lacked that impulsiveness I seemed to be so damn good at it.
Maybe a simple conversation with him will be a good thing? Maybe it will help you move on from this?
Without thinking further into it, or giving myself time to second guess, I went with what felt right in that moment.
Me: Okay. I’m busy tonight, but how about we meet for lunch tomorrow?
I pressed send and slid my phone into my purse. My heels click-clacked down the hallway as I quickened my steps and headed into my shoebox-sized bathroom to put the finishing touches on my hair and makeup.
And a few moments later, I got another text message from an unknown number.
332-111-5555: Good evening, Ms. Hollis. My name is Hugh, and I will be your driver this evening to dinner with Mr. Michaels. I’m sitting outside of your apartment. Feel free to come down whenever you’re ready to go.
Me: Hi, Hugh. I’ll be down in just a sec.
I quickly pressed send on my message and touched up my lipstick before grabbing my phone, purse, and keys and heading out the door.
“To Charlotte Hollis,” Conrad Michaels lifted his glass of wine and grinned at me from across the table he’d reserved for us at La Porro. “A woman who is a true force to be reckoned with, and for whom my organization will always be grateful.”
My cheeks flushed from his complimentary words.
“Wow. Thank you. I honestly don’t know what else to say.” I clinked my glass with his before taking a small sip of the white wine he’d chosen for our meal.
Tonight was a little celebration dinner that Mr. Michaels, the CEO of Kennedy Medical Center, had set up to show his appreciation for the work I’d done for his hospital. He’d even flown in from LA just for this event. Not to mention, the complimentary limo ride from my apartment to the restaurant.
Over the past six months, I’d managed to bring five exceptional surgeons to his organization. And the one he was most thankful for was Dr. Sylvia Morris. She’d officially been at Kennedy Medical Center for three months, and already, she’d trailblazed a path that centered around innovation and patient-focused care.
“You’re a true gem, Charlotte,” he complimented with a toothy grin. “And just know that if there ever comes a time when CMI isn’t treating you right, give me a call. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
My cheeks heated again, and I waved him off. “Stop it, or else my head will get too big to fit out the door.”
He chuckled softly. “All right, for the sake of you being able to leave the restaurant tonight without the use of a bulldozer, I’ll change the topic of conversation for a little while.”
“Thank God,” I teased.
“So, you used to live in LA for a while, right?”
“Yep,” I answered after a small sip of wine. “A little over two years, I think.”
“Which is better,” he quirked a brow, “LA or New York?”
I scoffed. “New York. Hands down.”
Conrad smirked. “So quick to respond. It’s like you didn’t even think it through.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy my time in LA, but New York is my home. I belong in this city.”
“You grew up here?”
I nodded. “Born and raised.”
He winked. “A New Yorker through and through, huh?”
“Yep,” I answered with a smile. “I will always—” I started to add more insight into my NYC love, but I paused midsentence when someone said my name behind me.
I turned in my seat to find Nick walking toward me. No, striding toward me, with a determined look on his face.
“Nick?” I questioned the obvious. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to talk to you,” he answered. His mouth morphed into a firm line when glanced at Conrad, and then when his gaze made its way back to me, he added, “I needed to see you.”
“But I sent you a message and said that I could do lunch tomorrow. How in the hell did you know I was here?”
“Harper and Ivy.”
Those little bitches.
I nodded toward Conrad at the table. “But I’m kind of in the middle of something here, Nick. I don’t have time to talk to you right now.” I started to say more, but he didn’t let me go any further.
“I couldn’t wait until tomorrow. And it’s okay, Char,” he said. “I understand that we’re not together, and it’s your right to go on dates, but I’m here because I don’t want it to be like that between us anymore.”
“This isn’t a—” I tried to explain, but he was a man on a mission, his words flowing past his lips quicker than I could insert anything into the conversation.
“I don’t want you going on dates with other men. And I sure as fuck don’t want to go on dates with other women.” The more words that flew out of his mouth, the louder his voice grew, and patrons within the swanky restaurant started to look toward our table. Most were just intrigued, but others appeared downright disgusted by our presence during their expensive dinner.
“This isn’t a date,” I said loud enough to force him to slow his rambling roll. “I’m not on a date, Nick,” I repeated. “This is Conrad Michaels, the CEO of Kennedy Medical Center.”
“It’s not a date?” he questioned, and the relief in his voice was nearly palpable.
“Not a date,” Conrad chimed in. “For one, my wife wouldn’t be too pleased with that, and two, this is actually a thank-you dinner for Charlotte. My organization has a lot of gratitude for everything she helped us achieve over the past year.”
Nick glanced back and forth between us. “So, it’s not a date?”
Good Lord, for a highly intelligent brain surgeon, he was acting kind of stupid.
I still had no clue why he was here, but it felt like he’d turned into a fucking broken record, and my opportunity to get answers was quickly fading away.
Not to mention, now the entire restaurant was staring at us.
I wasn’t sure if I would rather crawl under the table and hide my face or make an even bigger scene and sprint out of the restaurant like my ass was on fire.