Chapter Twenty-Two
Note to self. You are not twenty anymore. Do not eat hot fudge sundaes for dinner. On that same note, you are not twenty anymore and you should no longer have fantasies about Nicholas Wells. But what if he’s calling you? Like he was at this very moment.
I stared at his name holding my stomach while I laid in bed not sleeping. Soothing ocean sounds played on James, my hands-free speaker. My twenty-year-old self told me it was okay to believe in magic. My thirty-four-year-old self wanted to believe her, but she argued that there were rules in place for a reason, a valid reason, and he was a client. My twenty-year-old self reasoned that answering his call wasn’t breaking any rules, personal or professional.
I pushed the speaker button. “Hello.”
“Kate . . . Hello,” he made sure to add in.
I smiled to myself. “I had a feeling you would be calling.”
“You are getting to know me better already.”
“I don’t know about that, but you seemed frustrated tonight that we didn’t talk.”
“I didn’t want to cause you any more discomfort. You obviously don’t like it when I pay attention to you in public settings.”
“Thank you for recognizing that.”
“I am sorry,” he had a hard time articulating that last word, “about Tabby today. Even if her assessment was spot on.”
“It wasn’t your fault, though thanks to her and you, I will be the main source of office gossip for weeks to come.”
“I’ve never met anyone like you.”
I rolled over on my back, holding my stomach, but now for other reasons than the hot fudge. “Because I’m a private person?”
“No. Whether you think so or not, I value privacy. What intrigues me about you is that you don’t recognize how noticeable you are.”
“I’m not—”
“Kate, the first time I met you, you . . .”
My heart pounded wildly. We weren’t really going to talk about that day, were we? “I what?”
“You left an impression.”
“Even though you didn’t recognize me again when we met?”
“I couldn’t place you. There’s a difference. And in my defense, you were wearing a hat. The question is why you didn’t tell me when I asked you if we’d met before?” He paused. “I know, you have your reasons.”
I sat up straight in bed. “Nick.” I felt as if I couldn’t catch my breath. “That day . . .” I couldn’t do it. “Ask me any other question,” I blurted without thinking. What did I open myself up to? I swore I could hear his mind working to take advantage of the power I’d handed him.
“Don’t think I won’t come back to the previous question again someday, but for now I’ll settle for a list of your dating rules, beginning with number one.”
“Why do those matter to you?”
“Ah-ah-ah, Kate, you said anything.”
I landed back against my pillows. “You’re probably going to make fun of them.”
“Probably.”
I took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. I was just going to get this over with. “The biggest and overarching rule is no narcissists or those with narcissistic tendencies.” That would be you, buddy. Maybe. I still didn’t know.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“Narcissistic tendencies—it has a ring to it. Like a movie title.”
“Narcissism is no laughing matter. A person with narcissistic personality disorder can lead to a trail of emotional, psychological, and even physical abuse, leaving partners and loved ones drained and traumatized.”
“Hey, slow down. I’m not saying it sounds like a romantic comedy. I was thinking more along the lines of a psychological thriller.”
“Oh. That would be fitting.”
“Do you like psychological thrillers, doctor?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I’m reading one right now called, Fading Orchid.”
“Sounds intriguing.”
“You should check it out.”
“I will when I’m done working on my current project. I don’t read while I’m writing.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to muddy the waters.”
“That makes sense.”
“So no narcissists,” he went back to rule one. “How can you tell if someone is a narcissist?”
Ooh. This was good. Maybe I could use this to my advantage. “It’s difficult to diagnose since most narcissists are highly intelligent and they can manipulate situations to their advantage, make you believe they are something they aren’t. Not only that, but they will probably be proud of that accomplishment, and can play the game for a long time in some cases.”
“Hmm . . . Interesting. If you can’t diagnose it, how do you know someone has narcissistic personality disorder?”
“You can diagnose it, but people who have NPD don’t usually walk into a psychologist worried they might have it. It’s usually a partner who recognizes the signs.”
“And what are those?” He was so curious.
“I could give you list of questions that you could . . . I mean, that I might ask someone.” I hoped that came out nonchalant.
“That would be good.”
I heard some rustling in the background. Maybe some typing. Was he working on his script while he talked to me?
“I’m ready whenever you are.”
“Okay. Do people gravitate toward you? Are their first impressions positive, but sour over time?” I paused waiting for him to answer.
“Keep going.”
Darn it. I sighed. “Do you take responsibility for your actions or do you play the victim?”
“I know a lot of people like that,” he growled.
Like yourself? I wanted to ask, but didn’t. I was sure I heard typing now, though. “Are you materialistic and like to show off large purchases? Do you always have to have the best?”
“Have you been to Hollywood?” he snorted, not helping me out at all.
“A narcissist would also be unable to handle criticism and always think they are truly special.”
“You just described the better part of Hollywood’s population.”
“Including you?”
“I really am special.”
I couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. “I bet you think you are.”
“So do you. I saw your worn-out copies of On the Edge.”
“I’m rolling my eyes at you right now, but will admit I may have had a slight lapse in judgment in my late teens and early twenties.”
“Now we’re getting to the truth. Tell me what your favorite episode was.”
“Did I mention that narcissists always make the conversation about them?”
“No. That’s a good one though.” He was completely unfazed by the question and didn’t answer it. And what did he mean that it was a good one? Did he see himself doing that?
“Are we done now?” I asked.
“Not even close. I thought you had twenty rules.”
“I do.”
“Looks like we have a long night ahead of us, Kate.”
He wasn’t lying. We talked until almost one in the morning. He got to hear almost every rule, from my no dating entertainers, celebrities, bartenders, dancers, choreographers, massage therapists and police officers because they had the highest divorce rates, all the way to age ranges. The closer in age you were, the better your relationship fared. That went for income and level of education as well.
He listened and made remarks, like how normally staying away from celebrities was a good rule of thumb, but I shouldn’t make broad stroke judgments regarding them. But mostly he asked a lot of questions.
“You weren’t lying when you told my dad you do your best to keep men away. I doubt if you’ll ever find anyone who matches your expectations.”
I closed my eyes and pulled my knees to my chest. “I know.”
“You would rather be alone?”
“There are worse things than being alone.”
“Agreed.”
“You speak from experience.”
“As do you, I would say. Have you been married too?”
Wow. He tossed that right out there.
I took a moment to answer. “Technically, no.” That was one good thing about annulment. In the eyes of the law it never happened. In my case, it couldn’t have happened since he was already married.
“Technically?” He was obviously confused.
I wasn’t going to elaborate. “I think we’ve talked enough about me for the night.”
“Was opening up so awful for you?”
I thought about it. “It was tolerable.”
He laughed, but in a muted sort of way. “There’s always next time.”
“Next time?”
“How do you expect for us to get to know each other if we don’t talk?”
“I suppose that would be difficult.”
“I would say impossible. I say we pick it back up this weekend—”
“Excuse me,” I yawned. I was getting too old to stay up this late on a work night. My brain was late-night foggy. I must have heard him wrong. “I’m sorry, did you say we should get together this weekend?”
“Yes. Is that a problem for you? I would say a night this week, but my schedule is full.”
I rubbed my face in my hands. “Nick, aren’t you taking out Chanel?”
“That will only take a couple of hours.”
“How do you know? You may really hit it off, and you’ll want to keep your weekend clear so you can spend more time together.”
“That’s not going to happen. Besides, I already know what we should do.”
“And what is that?”
“There’s a film noir event going on downtown. I thought you and Skye would enjoy it.”
“How did you know I loved that genre?”
“I saw several among your DVD collection.”
“Nick—”
“I already worked it out with the theater manager. We won’t be seen.”
“How do you know I’ll say yes?”
“It’s all in your eyes, Kate.”
My eyes and I were going to have a serious talk, as well as my heart that pounded because he had taken notice of my interests. “I need to think about this. It’s late, and I have to get to work early.”
“Fine.” He sounded put out. “I’ll call you tomorrow. By the way, Janelle is looking forward to meeting with you.”
That’s right. In all the weirdness I’d forgotten that his friend was coming in today for her evaluation. “Did you sign her up hoping you would be matched with her?” Though I could tell right away judging by their questionnaires they would be considered statistically improbable. On paper she was too good for him.
A patronizing chuckle escaped him. “Janelle and I will never be more than friends. And I don’t need a dating service to ask a woman out.”
“Then why are you using one?”
“Like you, I have my reasons.” His tone said not to press.
“Good night.” I was going to hang up.
“Kate . . . that came out harsher than I intended. I know how all this may appear. I’m hoping you can separate the two. Good night.”
I lay staring at my phone in the dark. Separate the two? I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t even know if I could separate fiction from reality anymore, because more and more my life seemed like my twenty-year-old dreams.
I guess it was a good thing that I knew better now than to follow them.