CHAPTER 23
The partners of James’s firm arrive an hour later. After giving a lengthy tour of the property, plus answering every question, I’m fairly certain they’ll make an offer. But still, I’m cautiously excited.
Before they leave, I shake everyone’s hands and wish them a nice weekend. They funnel out of the lobby, appearing pleased.
“When will you have papers ready?” James rucks his wool coat over his shoulders and straighten his lapels. He secures the buttons.
“Tonight. I’ll run back to the offi—” My words fade when I remember Evan’s at the office waiting for me. I can’t afford for this day to take a turn for the worse. I clear my throat and continue, “Actually, now that think about it, I left them on my desk at home. I’ll run past and pick them up.”
“Can I take you? I have a car waiting outside.”
I consider his offer. The sooner I deliver our standardized leasing papers, the quicker negotiations can start. “That’s nice. Thank you.”
On the other side of a revolving glass door, James opens the back door of a dark sedan. He slides in behind me. With the tinted windows, the space darkens when he snaps the doors shut. The driver weaves the car into traffic.
It’s Friday rush hour, jammed packed, break lights and horns honking. Our crawl doesn’t seem to bother James. He’s chatty, hands animated when he speaks, and flirty and charming with his compliments. If things were different, I might give him a chance. But if things were different, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here right now. I do my best to veer the conversation toward the deal, toward the weather, anything other than us. When the car glides to a stop outside my building, I reach for the handle to escape.
“I’ll be back in a moment.” I press the door open with my foot and slide out.
“Take your time, I have some calls to make.”
I hurry up the stoop, past Evan’s door, and climb to the sixth floor. In my apartment, I drop my bag on the counter and go to work. I don’t even bother closing the door. This should only take a few minutes.
When the last paper slides out of the printer deck, there’s a knock on the outside wall. I cringe before I look.
“Find it?” James steps in with his hands in his pockets.
“How did you know which apartment?” I organize the stack of papers.
“I’m psychic.” James taps his head and enters, shutting the door behind him.
“Right, the mailboxes.” I remember. I slide the papers into an envelope and approach him. He accepts it, and then his gaze casts away. He fumbles with the envelope.
“Cait, now that this is somewhat settled, would you have any interest in joining me for dinner?” The overly confident James is gone. This time he’s hesitant and bashful. Multiple rejections could do that to a person.
I still. This isn’t how I imagined letting him down. My gaze flitters around the room as I adjust my stance. I’m buying myself time to compose a proper response, one that won’t hurt his feelings. I do like him. He’s a good guy. It’s me who’s all wrong for him.
Before I can answer, there’s another knock at the door. My head swings toward the noise, but I remain planted and stiff. I stare, hoping whoever’s there will go away, but when they knock again, a tight knot forms in my back.
“Can I get that?” James asks with a raised brow.
“Yes, I mean, no, I’ll get it.” I pursue a smile but end up gritting my teeth. My heels click the wood floor as I cross the room. If I move slow enough, maybe they’ll leave before I arrive. I suck in a deep breath, grip the door handle, and open the door.
As expected, Evan stands on the other side. One arm is raised above his head, elbow leaning into the doorframe. His body language implies he wasn’t sure if I would answer, or worse, like he’d given up on me answering. He glances up from beneath his thick-fringed lashes. He appears tired. His eyelids are heavy. A swath of dark skin sits beneath each eye. I want to ask him if he’s okay, but I need to keep this short. James is here.
“What’s up?” I keep it casual, friendly.
He rakes his gaze over me like he has so many times before, but this time is different. It’s not sexual. He’s searching me. Pleading with his eyes. Does he want me to say something? I can’t read him, but I wish I could. I catch myself before I become too engaged. I cross an arm over my chest, holding myself back. I must lock my emotions down. We’re nothing and never will be.
“You’ve been ignoring me.” He steps forward, but I inch the door closed to stop him. He halts in surprise.
“This isn’t a good time.” I speak through the narrowed crack, the space big enough to fit the width of my body.
“There will never be a good time.” He pushes against me, shuffling me back. If I was ready for it, I could have held my ground, but now he’s inside. I press a hand into his chest, holding him back. My face is a steel facade.
“I promise I’ll find you later, okay?” I want to appeal to him, but this is what I get for brushing him off for days—weeks.
“Everything okay?” James approaches. He’s taken a protective stance behind me. From the corner of my eye, he’s an imposing figure.
It seems Evan’s only now seeing him. His eyes widen. With uneasiness, I step aside so Evan and James are facing each other. “James, this is Evan, my landlord. Evan, James. My client from Lakeman, Shire and Black.”
My introductions are curt. I want to make it clear I don’t intend for either to interact past this moment. If I were still playing a game with Evan, I would have called James my date. James would have delighted in it, but now there’s no need to let Evan believe otherwise. Besides, I need to send him a message: be on your best behavior.
Despite my explanation, an envious spark flicks behind Evan’s eyes. I recall the same poisoned expression when he met Lou. Though it shouldn’t matter at this point, there’s still something inside me that aches because I did that to him. I made Evan jealous for no reason. I don’t want to hurt him. I just want him to go away.
James reaches to shake Evan’s hand. When their grasps connect, there’s an intense strain in their fingers. With gazes locked, territorial warnings seem to pulse between them. I clear my throat and cross my arms at the rising tension. At the sound of my annoyance, their grips release.
“I also came looking for a hammer Gusterson left.” Evan’s gaze scours the room. This is an outright lie. In the messages he left, he never once mentioned any missing tool, but I play along to get rid of him.
“Feel free to check.” I gesture down the hall. Evan stands straighter, maybe to match James’s height. Even though they’re matched in body mass, James is taller. When Evan marches past, James relaxes some but makes his own play. He places a gentle hand on my arm. He speaks low, murmuring promises about the restaurant he wants to take me to. You’ll love this restaurant; the wine list is superb and the soup is to die for.
Evan’s in the other room making a ruckus. The noises escalate as the seconds pass. To say he’s purposely creating a distraction would be an understatement.
“Need any help in there, buddy?” James offers.
Evan peeks out from the bathroom. The muscles in his neck flex when his stone-faced expression studies James. At his side his hand grips a hammer, and it looks likes he wants to slam it into James’s face.
“Nah, man. I’m good.” He relaxes and flashes a familiar cocky grin. It’s the one I haven’t seen in weeks. He’s gloating, like he knows he’s seen me naked and James hasn’t. If I could make him understand that James isn’t competition, he might drop this absurd, macho act.
Evan crosses to leave but pauses near me. He leans down and presses his lips near my ear. “Still dreaming about our night together, aren’t you?” His halfhearted attempt at a whisper is too loud on purpose.
My eyes fly wide, and I spin. Who the hell does he think he is? This blow is so far out of the playing field I want to kill him. I raise my hand and smack him across his cheek with the force of my humiliation. His head whiplashes. My stinging hand falls away as I step back and survey the damage—a searing, red handprint on his skin.
His head pivots back, his jaw locking into place and shoulders squaring. A muscle ticks in his cheek, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Not a chance, asshole.” My lips tremble as I deliver the lie.
It doesn’t matter now if his statement was true. He’s gone too far by interfering with his misplaced jealously.
I point a shaky finger toward the hallway. I want him out. Now. Without a word, Evan stomps away, slamming the front door as he leaves. The photos hanging on the wall rattle, and I flinch at the sound.
“Shall I kick his ass?” James jokes in a non-joking way. My elbows squeeze tight at my sides and embarrassment returns in full force.
“I’m so sorry.” My hands frame my clammy face. “That was so unprofessional. He was so—so—”
“Jealous.” He finishes my sentence.
“I should explain.” I’m scrambling. My thoughts are a wreck. I’m feeling overwhelmed. My perfect work mask has faltered. It’s crashed into my personal life again, creating a hot mess. This is not the impression I want to make.
“No need. I won’t spend another thought on it.” James is doing his best to put me at ease.
He continues, “And I know a chocolate cake that can make all of this disappear.” He snaps his fingers.
I release a tension laugh but then realize my mistake. I don’t want him to translate my reaction as acceptance.
He must read my resistance because he adds, “It’ll be business. We can review the contract together, make notes, and I’ll present the draft to the partners first thing Monday. From there the leasing lawyers can duke it out.”
He waves the envelope. “Besides, leaving the building might be good for you.”
“On that you’re probably right.” I relent a smile. He’s trying to make me feel better. If I forget this incident, maybe he will too.
I nod and accept for the sake of moving forward. But also, I fear if I stay, I may have a real confrontation with Evan.
I’m tense until we make it down the stairs and out the door into the safety of the sedan. When we’re locked inside and the car speeds away, I relax into my seat, watching buildings stream past below a darkening sky.
Our evening begins at Dalton’s in the Gold Coast. It’s one of the nicest and most popular restaurants in the city. The interior walls are covered with framed autographed photography of celebrity guests. A grand piano sits in the corner of the bar. Behind it, a musician strikes the keys to the sound of jazz, which keeps the room filled with wealthy patrons. They mingle shoulder to shoulder, balancing mixed drinks between fingers.
On the handful of times I’ve come with Aggie, we only made it to the bar to drink, never securing a coveted table. But as soon as James steps through the doors the manager greets him, and we’re whisked to the second floor. Here, celebrities, politicians, and the influential society dine far away from prying eyes.
Our table is the best in the room, tucked in a quiet corner overlooking Mariano Park. On weekends the area bubbles with activity under white twinkle lights. Tonight is no exception. Residents sit at cafe tables and sip coffee while they gossip under heat lamps. Tethered dogs sleep at their feet. Tourists gather around a water fountain, enjoying gelato. It’s the perfect spot for people watching but less so for a business dinner.
“Do you know how many times I’ve tried to get a reservation here?” I settle a napkin in my lap.
“It helps that my family owns the restaurant.” He unbuttons his jacket and settles into his seat. “It’s the family business.”
“And you’re not part of it?” I lean closer.
“My mom was the accountant and Dad was the visionary, leasing the buildings, developing the food concepts, and then executing them. Everything I learned about the business, I learned while I was playing with my Legos in their office. As the years passed and their company grew, they put me to work. I paused for college, but returned after. Working for my father wasn’t easy. It never was. In his eyes, I could never be good enough. And after a few years, I decided to try something new. Lakeman’s a better fit.”
“Sorry, did I hit on a bad subject?”
“My family’s the same as every other. We have issues.” He takes a sip of water “What’s your family like?”
“Mine are the same. You ever hear of Senator and Judge London?” As soon as I say their names I regret it. I school the chagrin forming on my face. London is a popular enough surname. I could be anyone, not necessarily related to them.
“Those are your parents?” Now he’s the one leaning closer.
I nod, though I’d like to retract the statement. I readjust the silverware on the table even though it’s set perfectly. With my gaze averted, I’m praying he hasn’t heard too much about them. If he has, he’ll know some of my past. Anyone who connects me to them would.
When I revert my attention, I find a sad recognition in his eyes. It’s the same one I encounter from anyone who’s ever met me after—distress, sorrow, pity. I hate the last one most. He may not know details, but what he might have heard is bad enough.
“Cait, I’m so sorry.” He shakes his head and reaches across the table to place a hand over my arm.
“We have our issues like any other family.” I blow off the obvious discussion. His touch slides away. What did I expect him to say? No one knows what to say. I wouldn’t. I should have lied instead of letting my guard down. But his reaction is assurance I’ve been handling all the new relationships in my life as I should—by keeping them in the dark.
I’m thankful when the waiter appears at our table. He presents us with the menus, rattles off the specials, and hands over the wine list before leaving us to decide.
This is how the evening progresses; everything’s perfect as promised. Especially the dessert, which is the largest I’ve ever seen. Sitting in the middle of the table, the mousse cake is as tall as a blender and half the size of a regular pie. The chocolate skyscraper is big enough for a table of twelve to share.
It’s only after we finish our espressos that the contract appears. James places it on the cleared table. We work through each page, marking possible revisions. We finish well after ten and he escorts me home.
When the sedan stops at my apartment, James closes the divider between the driver and us. The window slides shut, causing the pressure in the car to fill like a tub. Eager to escape, I reach for the door handle with plans to say my goodbyes and slip out.
“Cait.” James pins me with guilt.
My fingers clench. This is where I must tell him his efforts were for nothing. This is where I must explain my heart’s not available. It’s broken. Unfixable. Not because of a man, that would be too easy. It’s because of a day in my life I can never change.
“You already know my answer.”
“I do.” He’s solemn.
“I gave it real consideration.” The leather of my seat squeaks as I turn to him to give my full attention. He deserves at least this. It’s all I can offer.
“Did you?” Under his scrutinizing gaze, I’m unsure.
“I wanted to. I tried. I thought of it. Thought of you, but there are a lot of things going on with me.”
“That guy? I hope he isn’t one of the things. You deserve to be treated better.” His expression turns sympathetic.
“He is a decent guy. Well, when he’s not being an ass. But no, he’s not what I was referring to.”
“Let me guess. It’s you, not me?” His smile does not reach his darkening eyes.
“Trust me, I’m no prize.” This is as honest as I can be.
He takes my hand and kisses the top. “One day you’ll see that you are.”