by Lisa De Jong
He lifts a brow, lips curling. Why is he so hard to stay mad at? “This place has the best burgers and fries in the country. Just wait.”
“What do you suggest?” I ask, staring up at the menu board.
He points to an empty table. “Grab us a seat, and I’ll order. If you don’t like it, I’ll let you run the show for the rest of the trip.”
Now, it’s my turn to lift my eyebrow. “You’d give me all the control?”
“No, that’s just how confident I am that you’re going to love it.”
“We’ll see,” I taunt as I watch him walk away.
The wait seems like forever, and I have to admit all the food that passes smells amazing.
“Is this seat taken?”
I look up to see Pierce smiling down at me. “It depends. What’s in it for me?”
“My company and this,” he answers, setting a basket of the most delicious smelling food in front of me.
“Consider the seat yours.” I pick up a piping hot fry and pop it in my mouth. It burns the roof of my mouth, and as I struggle to cool it off, Pierce slides a cup in front of me. I sip it, tasting chocolate ice cream; it’s a perfect compliment to the salty fry.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much.”
For the next few minutes, we eat in silence. The burger is cooked to perfection, the juice soaking through the bun. It’s messy but worth it.
I catch him watching me every now and then but divert my attention to the people that walk by.
“Why don’t you just yell at me and get it over with?” His words are so out of the blue I practically choke on my food.
“I’m not mad anymore if it makes you feel better,” I reply, going back to people watching.
“I’m not talking about this.”
Now he has my attention. “What are you talking about then?”
“You blame me,” he says, pushing his food away.
I open my mouth to ask what he’s referring to, but I already know. And he’s right … if he hadn’t said some of the things he did about Blake, I would have approached things differently that day. He can’t take it back nor can I.
“You have to know, Lila … you have to know it wouldn’t have worked out whether I told you or not.” He stops, playing with the corners of his napkin. “I wish I could go back. I wish I would have chosen my words better, but it’s done. I’m sorry.”
Tears pool in my eyes, not because I’m thinking about Blake but because Pierce just proved himself to be a better man than I already knew he was. I built a short wall between us because I did blame him for some of what happened with Blake, but at the end of the day, it was all me. I didn’t trust Blake enough to not draw the wrong conclusions.
“I don’t blame you,” I whisper so he won’t hear the tears in my voice.
“I feel like you do.”
I shake my head, looking up to the sky as if it holds all the right answers. “I’m not happy. I wouldn’t say I’m depressed, but I’m not happy. My friends keep telling me it’s time to move on, but I don’t know how.”
He leans across the table, holding my hand in his. “You have to forget. You have to have moments where you think about something other than him.”
As I look down, I notice his watery eyes. “Is that what helped you get through what happened with Alyssa?”
Now he’s staring up at the sky. “It took a long time, but I buried myself in my work—kind of like you do—and after a while I realized that wasn’t enough. You’re just putting off what needs to be done.”
I wait for him to look at me. “And what’s that?”
“Live. You have to live the life you want … look forward instead of back.”
“And how long did it take before you were able to do that?” I ask, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“I’m still working on it. It’s a constant search for happiness.”
I think long and hard before what I say what’s on my mind. It’s something I’ve wanted to say to him for a while. “Her death is not your fault, and it wasn’t his either.”
There’s a long silence again. Maybe I overstepped my bounds, but I needed to say it.
“I don’t want to argue,” he finally says, “but that’s something I’m still working through. My opinion might change down the road, but it’s something I struggle with.”
This is a point I’m not going to push. Alyssa was his sister. He knew her all her life, and I can’t imagine what it was like when she took her own life. I can’t imagine.
I pick the remnants of our lunch up and throw it in a nearby trashcan. When I get back to our table, I don’t sit down, but I hold my hand out to Pierce instead. “Ready?”
His eyes widen. “Where are we going?”
I shrug. “You’ll see.”
We passed a playground on the way in. It reminded me of when I was a little girl. I used to swing for hours, dreaming of what the world had in store for me. It was a form of meditation; I always felt like the weight of the world was off me when I was done.
I pull him straight to that playground, finding two empty swings.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he remarks, his hands on his hips.
Grinning, I say, “I played your game. It’s time for you to play mine.”
“I could fire you, you know.”
“But you won’t.”
I sit on the swing, kicking my heels off in the sand. Pumping isn’t easy with long legs and a pencil skirt, but the emotional benefit hasn’t changed. “Aren’t you going to join me?”
“You look a different kind of beautiful with that smile and the wind blowing through your hair. I might just stand here and watch.”
“Pierce, if you don’t get on that swing right now, I’m taking the next plane out of New York, and I’m leaving you to deal with Wade all by yourself.”
He throws his hands in the air, showing mock fear. “I’m not scared of Wade, but I don’t want you to leave so you win.”
If I look ridiculous on the swing, he looks outright crazy. He does his best to get it going, and I can’t help but laugh.
He smiles genuinely, lifting his legs in the air. “For the record, I didn’t really think you would leave if I didn’t do this. It just looked kind of fun.”
“While we’re on the record, that different kind of beautiful comes from within … because you make me happy. I like how happy looks on you, too.”
“Are you flirting with me, Ms. Fields?”
“Take it how you want,” I laugh, pumping my legs faster until I’m a few feet higher than him.
For almost an hour, we play that game—trying to see who can go higher while reminiscing about our childhoods. For once, I’m just in the moment.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I LET YOU talk me into stepping foot into Wade’s conference room again.”
The elevator door closes, lending me a few seconds to smooth my red pencil skirt and straighten my black blouse. I read in an article not long ago that said wearing red to a business meeting shows strength. Since a suit of armor would look ridiculous, this is all I got.
“Quit fidgeting,” Pierce says, coming to stand a few inches in front of me. “If you looked any more beautiful today, he wouldn’t hear a damn word you had to say.”
My eyes cautiously float up to his. He’s got that look again. “Stop doing that. Besides, now I have sand stuck to my legs, I smell like a French fry, and the sweat from our little park workout probably washed all my make-up away.”
The corner of his mouth turns up. “Stop doing what?”
“Looking at me like that … flirting.”
He presses his hand to the elevator wall causing the sleeve of his suit to brush my cheek. “I don’t know any other way to look at you, and I definitely don’t understand how the truth got confused with flirting. Besides, I think you did a little flirting back at the park yourself. My memory isn’t the best, but I do remember that; I practically framed it.”
The scent of him. The closeness
of him. The memories. It hits me all at once—a long lost desire pooling between my legs … something I haven’t felt in months. This could be so right … could be. Without another thought, I lean into him until my chest is pressed to his. His warm breath hits my lips and then we collide. It lingers, neither one of us wanting to let go … neither one of us moving.
I’m lost. We could be on a deserted island. We could be on packed sidewalk with the whole world walking by. We’re nothing but two lost souls found in a moment.
Just as he starts to press for more, the elevator dings, forcing us to slowly pull apart until I see into his eyes again. “We need to talk about this later,” he says, leaning in just enough that I think he might kiss me again. Or maybe I just want to get lost again.
The elevator doors open, and his hand is wrapped around mine pulling me forward.
I want to kiss him more, but there’s a little voice in my head telling me to stay away. Yet, the more time that passes, the more I wonder what is holding me back, and the guilt starts to wash away. Blake left me. It was his choice … not mine.
Wade’s conference room hasn’t changed. The arrogant look on his face hasn’t either. “It’s nice to see you again,” he remarks, eyes scanning the length of my body—from my sleeveless blouse to my fitted skirt, not stopping until they hit my black high heels. Pierce did the same thing when I walked on the plane earlier today; his stare just didn’t leave a sick feeling in my stomach.
“Likewise,” I answer, struggling to pull my lips into a smile. “I didn’t think I’d be back.”
Fingers curl against my back. “Behave,” Pierce whispers behind me. I almost forgot that he’s standing there. Chess only has two players after all.
“I knew you’d be back,” Wade chides, holding his hand out to me as he steps closer. I take it, wrapping my fingers tightly around his, not because I want to feel his snaky skin, but because I want to show the power I possess. I’m not the same Lila I was when we last met. A metal shield around my heart keeps it from breaking or bending. It’s left my mind to think without interruption, and I could care less if I offend this guy.
When I let go of his hand, Pierce still has hold of my shirt, keeping me from moving forward. “I see you’re starting out with your regular pleasantries,” Pierce remarks, his comments pointed at Wade this time.
Wade holds his hand out to Pierce. He accepts, and I’m finally free. “Oh, come on, Stanley. You should know how I am by now. Quit acting like anything I do surprises you.”
Pierce laughs. “It doesn’t but don’t consider that a challenge.”
Wade’s eyes briefly meet mine then he smiles at Pierce. “This is strictly business. Who has time for surprises?”
“Let’s get started then, shall we?”
I nod and make my way toward the expansive conference table, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table than I’d sat last time. Maybe it will bring good luck.
Not surprisingly, Pierce takes a seat right next to me, and Wade sits at the end of the table next to him.
“So, what’s the plan for the next couple days?” Pierce asks, never one to mince words.
Wade unbuttons his suit jacket and leans back in his chair. “I figured you would be tired tonight so we’ll start going over your ideas tomorrow and Wednesday. I want to show you the site and have you meet with some of the suppliers I’ve been using locally. And don’t forget the get together I’ve arranged at my place tomorrow night. Cocktails. Appetizers. You know the drill.”
Thank God for the little black dress I threw in my suitcase last minute.
“Lila and I would like to have some time in the space to talk and go over some final details before we present them tomorrow. Can we get in there tonight?”
Wade reaches into his suit pocket and slides a key card across the table. “That should get you in.” His gaze drifts to me. “I’m excited to see what you’ve got planned. Pierce told me you took the reins on this one.”
For the first time since we walked in, my hands sweat. Though my heart is guarded, my head controls my perfectionism, and unfortunately, that’s never going to shut off. Clearing my throat, I say, “I did. I think you’re going to like it, especially if you’re tired of the ordinary.”
He leans in, his elbows resting on the table. He’s as close as he can get with Pierce between us. “That’s why you’re here.”
“Good choice.” Somewhere along the way, I learned to fake confidence, too.
“If you don’t mind, I think we’ll be going,” Pierce interrupts our exchange. “We have some work to do yet tonight.”
“Just work?” Wade asks, lifting a brow.
“Just work.” Pierce stands. His shoulders are stiff, and I can tell that even though this hasn’t been so bad, he’d rather be anywhere but here.
“Well, it was good seeing you again.”
As Wade walks us out, his assistant hands us a carefully put together itinerary for the next few days. It’s so thorough that I’m surprised it doesn’t tell me when I’m going to get to use the ladies’ room.
“Remind me again why I agreed to do this with him?” Pierce asks as we climb into our waiting car.
I stifle a laugh. He was so nonchalant about this before we left Chicago, but in reality, Wade crawls under his skin like a blood-sucking insect, eating away at him until he can no longer ignore it. “I think it had something to do with money. Lots of money.”
“Next time, remind my forgetful ass that he’s not worth it. I need something to drink. Would you like to join me?”
“Give me one reason why I should.”
“Because I asked you to … because I want you to.”
I’m tempted to look over at him, but I can’t. Not when I already feel his eyes burning into the side of my face. I know exactly how he’s looking at me—the same way he does when we’re alone. And, after what happened in the elevator earlier … I just can’t.
“Can I take a rain check?”
“No, but I’ll compromise.”
I chance a look in his direction. “A cup of coffee?”
He shakes his head. “That’s not going to cut it tonight.” He pauses, his deep green eyes staring into mine. “One drink in the hotel bar then if you want to go to your room, you can go.”
“You’re kind of pushy.”
“And you’re kind of beautiful.”
I snort. “Kind of?” Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that.
The look I tried so hard to avoid minutes ago is there—eating away at my conscience resolve. “Lila, I don’t think you can handle the weight of my thoughts. If you want to skip drinks, we could discuss them.”
“Drinks sound good,” I answer back quickly, rubbing my fingers together to control the nervous butterflies in my stomach.
He laughs.
The rest of the ride is quiet. The day is winding down as the city’s business people make their way down packed sidewalks. We barely move, but as long as it’s quiet, I could sit and stare at the view for hours.
But then my mind flashes to the past. It’s been doing that a lot the last few months when it has nowhere else to go. I hate thinking about it. Even though some things were good, my mind has a way of focusing on the bad. Chicago wasn’t an escape for me; it was just another stepping-stone in the journey of life. Love and hurt and everything in between—it just follows you wherever you go.
Warm fingers curl around my bare knee. I flinch, but then reality comes into focus again. “We’re here.”
We’re at the same hotel we stayed at last time. Memories emerge, but I bury them. This time is different.
“Do you always stay at the same place?” I ask, chewing on my lower lip.
The driver pulls his door open, but his eyes remain on me. “I’ve only had one bad experience here.”
His eyes linger. Mine are stuck to them. “Why would you want to come back?”
“Because I think everyone deserves a second chance.” With that, he slides out of the seat, hold
ing his hand out to me. I take it, leaving our fingers entwined as we walk up the sidewalk into the hotel I fell in love with last winter. Nothing about it has changed except for the way I feel once inside. There’s no shock and awe … just memories.
Pierce uses my hand to pull me to his side. “Do you need to change, or should I have someone bring our bags up?”
“It’s just one drink, Pierce. I think I can handle it in this.”
He turns, acknowledging the older gentleman who’s handling our bags. “Can you make sure those make it up to our rooms? The red one belongs to Ms. Fields, and the other is mine.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Stanley. Anything else I can do for you?”
“No, and thank you,” he says, passing the man a couple twenties he had rolled between his fingers.
He guides me to the right where a dimly lit restaurant sits, piano music faintly echoing through the doorway. It’s the same one we had dinner in the last time we were in town. “Would you rather sit at the bar or get a table?”
“Bar,” I answer without hesitation. If we do everything the opposite of how we did it last time, the results should be different, right?
We take the last two seats at the bar, each ordering a glass of red wine. Pierce defies my wish for drinks only, ordering a caprese salad for us to share.
“I agreed to a drink, Pierce.”
His lips curl. It’s so hard to stay mad at him when he does that. “What kind of guy would I be if I gave you alcohol, but didn’t feed you?”
“Let me think … one who stuck to his word.”
“Nope,” he says, holding a fresh piece of mozzarella close to his lips. “An asshole.”
I follow his lead, taking a bite of tomato and cheese all at once. “I didn’t realize how many assholes I’d met in my life until you just defined them for me.”
“If I had it my way, you’d never have to deal with another.”
There he goes again, laying it on thick. I put my wine glass to my lips, remembering what he did to them earlier. One side of my brain is telling me it would be okay. He’d never hurt me like Blake, not intentionally. But the other side—the one I’ve chosen to listen to—is telling me he could tear down the cage I’ve put around my heart.