I glance to where Wei is standing, his backpack over his shoulders. He looks resigned.
“Perhaps I could tutor Wei online? We could continue our lessons remotely. It wouldn’t be a problem, most of the syllabus I’ve set up doesn’t require me to be”
“You will be remunerated in full for the notice period,” she snaps, and I feel my temper fray.
“This has nothing to do with money, Mrs. Li. I genuinely want to tutor your son. I think he’s got an exceptional gift, and I’d love to continue to work with him. You don’t have to pay me.” I hear myself add.
Jia Li looks at me as if I just crawled out of a block of cheese.
“You would tutor him for free?”
I stand my ground. “I would.”
She turns to her son. “Would you like Ms….” She trails off, not having a clue what my name is.
“Miss Holland,” I say quickly.
“Miss Holland to continue to tutor you?”
Wei bobs his head nervously, unsure whether the honest answer is the right one. Jia gives me an appraising look.
“I’ll think about it,” she says eventually. “I’ll be in touch with Principal Chen if we decide to take you up on your offer.” And with that, she turns on her heel and walks out. I reach out and grab Wei as he makes to follow her and crouch low on my haunches.
“You be good,” I tell him softly, fighting back tears. This is too soon, too sudden, and I can’t quite believe it’s happening, but the least I can do is say goodbye. She’s not going to contact Bianca. I know it, and Wei knows it too. “You be a good boy, because you are a good boy,” I say quickly. “And work hard. You’re the smartest seven-year-old I know. Don’t let me down, okay?”
Wei nods. His dark eyes shimmer but he stands tall, shoulders back. “I won’t let you down, Miss Holland,” he says.
I sit on the floor, unmoving, for a long time after he’s gone.
15
The following evening, I get ready for my date with Chase Crawford. It’s the last thing in the world I feel like doing but, mindful of the exorbitant rent on this apartment, which won’t pay itself, I slip on a little black dress and pull up my big girl panties. Bianca had been just as upset by the abrupt turn of events as I was but, sadly, it was completely out of her control.
“His parents have the right to move him wherever they want,” she’d said. “And I know this isn’t going to make you feel any better right now, but I had to send Wei’s transcripts over to the new school. They listened, Amber – it’s an exclusive private school with a high-level entrance exam. He’s going to be fine.”
She was right. It didn’t make me feel better.
I catch a cab to The Bill and Trout, a cozy little restaurant uptown. The sound of sixties blues wafts through the open door, and I almost walk into the live band.
“Mr. Crawford?” I ask the waiter who steps forward to greet me.
“Right this way.” He leads me to an empty table in the far corner of the restaurant. “Mr. Crawford hasn’t arrived yet,” he says, unnecessarily. “Can I offer you something to drink while you wait?”
“A bottle of red wine, please. The most expensive.” I may as well set a precedent for my new client.
“Make it two,” a low voice purrs. My head jerks up and my mouth drops open as I catch sight of the breath-taking man standing just behind the waiter. He gives me a crooked smile. “Amber, I presume?”
I recover my composure as quickly as I can with the answer to every woman’s fantasy standing before me.
“Chase?”
“Last time I checked.” He gives the waiter a wry look. “Just the wine for now.” And then steps around him to offer me his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Amber.”
I meet his sapphire blue eyes and extend my hand, barely conscious of the waiter scuttling off, dismissed.
“You too.”
He takes his seat, draping himself over it like a cat, all lithe grace.
“How did you hear about me?” I ask. “My services, I mean.” Even I cringe at the word ‘services’, but Chase doesn’t bat an eyelid.
“Frank.”
“Frank Gunner?”
“Do you date many Franks?” he asks teasingly.
“Only the one right now.”
I don’t know if it’s losing Mandy, or losing Wei, or just the charisma radiating off him in waves, but I throw caution to the wind. The old Amber opens a sleepy eye and stretches. I know I’m flirting with Chase, which is not against the rules, exactly, but probably not the best idea, given how attracted I am to him. Considering most of the men I’m attracted to end up being the wrong kind, I suspect Chase may not be being entirely truthful.
Half an hour later, my suspicions are confirmed. Not only is he ridiculously good-looking, but he’s charming as the devil. We’ve moved on to our second bottle of wine when I call him out.
“So what’s the catch?” I ask, during a rare lull in what has otherwise been scintillating conversation.
“The catch?” he smears a liberal amount of butter onto a bread roll and tears a chunk off with perfect white teeth.
“I wasn’t born yesterday, Chase. I’ve gone on five dates before this one, and seen men so completely unalike they may as well be different species. But do you know the one thing they all have in common?”
“Excellent taste in women?”
I ignore the compliment and fix him with a pointed look. “None of them look like you.”
He scans his menu. “I should hope not. I pride myself on being the only person who looks like me.”
“You know what I mean. Do you really expect me to believe that a man who looks like you can’t find himself a date the conventional way?”
“I never said I couldn’t.”
“Then why am I here?”
He sets the menu down on the table. “I think I’m going to have the salmon. And as to why you’re here,” he adds, conversationally, “it’s simple. I have what I would assume is the opposite problem to your regular clients. I have no problem finding a date. It’s finding someone to spend time with who doesn’t want anything more that’s a problem.”
I burst out laughing. “You have a problem with being objectified? With women wanting to get you into bed? How very metrosexual of you.”
“What can I say? I want to be able to go out with a beautiful woman for once, and make conversation, without it ending in meaningless sex.”
“Is that what usually happens?”
He shrugs.
“That must be so hard for you.”
“It’s a curse.”
I steeple my fingers and lean toward him. “Well, Mr. Crawford, I can assure you that won’t be happening on my watch. You’re quite safe with me.”
“And that,” he drawls, raising his glass in a toast, “is why you’re here.”
Despite Chase’s claims, and my best intentions, there is an undeniable chemistry crackling between us. If I lit a match, I’m pretty sure we’d both burst into flames. I drink more than I should, skirt the line between courteous and cute, serious and sexy, and Chase takes it all in his stride. Over and over in my head, I recite the rules Mandy laid out. For all Chase’s talk of wanting a platonic friendship, I call bullshit. I don’t know what his deal is, but I’ve been with enough men to know that the way he’s looking at me is not the way a man looks at a friend.
“Well, I guess this brings our evening to an end,” Chase says softly, as he settles the bill. For the first time tonight, he won’t look at me.
My tongue darts out to lick at dry lips. “I guess so.”
Chase puts his hand on the small of my back to guide me through the tables but drops it the second we emerge into the frigid night air. For a second, we stand awkwardly, facing each other on the sidewalk.
“Well,” I say, brightly, as I extend my hand. “This was fun. Thank you.”
His eyes gleam in amusement as he eyes my outstretched hand. I drop it.
“Okay, that was weird. Sor
ry. I’ll just…” I eye the street for a cab. “I’ll just go.”
Chase’s hand catches my arm as I pass.
“Amber”
Our eyes lock. Time freezes. Mandy’s warnings fly out of my head faster than a canary out of a cage.
“I don’t want to objectify you,” I whisper.
“Please, do,” he groans, and then his lips crash down onto mine.
When I wake up on Thursday morning, it takes a few seconds before the events of last night come rushing back to me. I kissed Chase. I kissed a client. Mandy would be furious, but I don’t feel too bad about it. That’s all we did. We only kissed. For fifteen minutes, and in full view of the street, but it hadn’t gone any further than that. I brush my fingers across my lips. They feel bruised. I haven’t done that much kissing since college. Still, it’s a good thing that I won’t be seeing Chase for another two weeks. That’s the rule, and he knows it. It’ll give me time to talk some sense into myself. It’s not as if I’m falling for him, but who can blame a girl who’s been on her own for so long from wanting a little physical affection?
I check my phone to find a message from Mandy, asking how things are going. It’s like she knows. I haven’t told her about the date with Chase yet, and I decide I’m not going to. It’s safer if I don’t. For me, anyway. I reply that everything is absolutely fine and ask her how Ryan’s doing. Dragging me to every God forsaken tourist attraction in Toronto, she replies, but then she sends a heart-in-the-eyes and an eggplant emoji, and I burst out laughing.
On Friday afternoon, I’m tidying up my classroom, singing Tracey Chapman’s ‘Give me one reason’ softly under my breath, when I hear a deep voice behind me.
“I’ll give you one reason to stop singing.”
“Kent!” I gasp, my hand flying to my chest. He’s lounging against the door frame, looking outrageously casual in a pair of dark blue jeans and a branded T-shirt. He’s even wearing sneakers. “What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
“I got an earlier flight. I had an unexpected meeting this morning, so I flew in yesterday.”
“How did it go?”
“It went well. What are you doing?”
While we’re talking, I’ve started stacking the chairs as I do every Friday.
“Tidying up. The cleaners throw a fit if they have to do more than absolutely necessary.”
He smiles, and I know exactly what he’s thinking.
“The irony isn’t lost on me, either,” I remark wryly.
“So this is the place that’s tamed the untameable Amber Holland,” he says, pushing off the door frame to come toward me. His eyes scan the walls, taking in the children’s drawings, and the weekly theme board, which is currently decorated with planets. I stand tall, proud of the work my kids have achieved.
“It’s awesome,” he says eventually, his eyes coming to rest on me. “What you’re doing here is incredible, Amber.” I don’t want him to see how much it means to me to hear him say that, so I turn my back to him and round my desk.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” I say, then adding a hint of my teacher’s tone to my voice, “please take your seat, Mr. James.”
Kent grins and strolls casually to the desk right in front of mine. It takes him a few seconds to wedge himself into the tiny chair, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“You, Sir, are very predictable. Always demanding front row seats.”
“Well, I am a star student, so this is where you would place me, not so Miss Holland?”
“That is, in fact, Gabby Martin’s desk. Gabby is by far the naughtiest child in my class, possibly the entire school, so you’re definitely in the wrong chair, Mister Perfect.”
“I’ll have you know I was a terror at this age. I blame my best friend. She was always getting me into all kinds of trouble.”
“I would’ve separated you immediately,” I say sternly, trying not to smile.
Kent’s face softens. “No, you wouldn’t have.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t have.”
He scans the other desks. “Where does Wei sit?”
I don’t reply.
“Amber?”
“His parents pulled him out.” My voice is tiny, fresh pain washing over me.
“Oh, Jesus, I’m sorry.” He’s trying to get up, but he’s having difficulty extracting himself from the chair. “I know how much he meant to you.”
“I’m fine. There was nothing we could’ve done, and he’s gone to a really good school. I was just… I wasn’t prepared.”
“I’m sorry,” he says again. He’s managed to free himself, but I don’t wait for him to get any closer.
“I’m fine, it’s over now.” I don’t want to talk about it. “How would you like a tour?”
To my delight, Kent pays a genuine interest in everything I show him. He asks questions about the children, the teachers, and even asks after Principal Chen’s grandmother, who had been ill when he visited three weeks ago.
“She’s fine. Bianca was super stressed because they couldn’t find what was wrong with her, but it must’ve been a bug because she bounced back.”
We wander back to my classroom door, and Kent looks up at the colorful sign on the door. “Miss Holland’s class,” he reads out loud.
“That’s me.”
This time, when he looks at me, it’s like he’s seeing someone else.
“I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time, Amber. I’d forgotten how good it looks on you.”
A blush rises on my cheeks. “I am happy.” Then, with an arched brow, I add, “but I like to think I always look good.”
A low chuckle rumbles from his chest. “That you do.”
16
I take Kent to Calico’s, regaling him with the story of how Denri drove us girls here that first time. Given that his hired BMW makes the journey in under a minute, he can’t help but laugh either.
“Do you still see much of Denri?”
“No. It took me two weeks to convince him that I was perfectly capable of getting around on my own, but he finally accepted it.”
“Do you come here often?” Kent asks as I find us seats at the table I usually share with Mandy and Kate.
“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it,” I tease. I try to remember how I saw the dingy little pub the first time I came in here, but I can’t. Now, all I see is the cozy wallpapered interior and a bunch of familiar, friendly faces. “You’re going to die when you taste the burgers,” I add, confidently. “They’re the best in town.”
It takes Kent ten minutes to get us a beer at the bar, after striking up a conversation with Lorenz, the regular barman.
“Sorry,” he tells me, setting two rapidly warming beers on the table.
“Making friends?” I tease.
“I’m a friendly guy.”
“You definitely look more approachable than usual. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans.”
“I wear jeans all the time! You wouldn’t know because you’ve only seen me a handful of times the past few years.”
I start to tick them off my fingers. “My mom’s birthday, my dad’s birthday, your mom’s birthday.” I don’t mention his father. I haven’t seen Kent’s dad since his parents split up when we were twelve.
“Christmas Eve,” he adds.
“That’s at least four times a year.”
“My mother would kill me if I wore jeans to one of her functions. Yours too, probably.”
Thinking of my mom brings a fond smile to my lips. “I miss her.”
“She misses you too. I saw your mom just before I flew out. She said you call her twice a week, which seemed to make her happy.”
“I think I talk to her more now than I did when I lived just a few minutes away,” I admit. “It’s true what they say. You really don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.”
Kent averts his eyes and sips his beer. I’m about to ask him whether he’s seen my dad, w
hen my phone beeps. It’s a text from Chase, and it catches me so unaware that I almost fall off my chair.
I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s too soon. He shouldn’t be contacting me.
“Everything okay?” Kent asks as I frown at my screen.
I set my phone to silent and shove it back into my purse. “Everything’s fine.”
We eat our burgers in silence. Kent admits that he’s never had better, which gives me a smug satisfaction, and then we head back to his hotel for a few drinks. On the cab ride over, I point out a few of my favorite places – the street-side market which sells the best wontons in town, the holistic center, where Kate, Mandy and I had medicinal leech therapy, which, I add, is as gross as it sounds.
“I got this,” I say, holding up my arm to show him a small, fresh scar on my elbow, “in that park. I fell off my bicycle,” I add, as he scans the flash of green to our left.
“Were you drinking?” he asks, but his voice is filled with humor.
“I wish. Mandy insisted we race down to the river. My only consolation is that she fell off, too.”
“She left, right?”
“Yes. It’s not really the same without her.”
“Sounds like you’ve had a bit of a bad time. First Mandy, then Wei.”
“That’s life, I guess.”
We walk into the airconditioned lobby of his hotel and make our way to the bar. A few finely-dressed patrons give us odd looks, and it takes me a while to realize that they’re offended by our casual clothing.
Kent orders us each a beer, and then he deliberately raises a toast to a blonde woman who is still openly glaring.
“You’re terrible,” I laugh. “Maybe you should go upstairs and put on a suit.”
“Screw that.” He gives me an appraising look. “Actually, I have a better idea. I’m not in the mood for this pretentiousness. Let’s both go to my room.” He orders a bottle of wine to be sent up, while I stand stock still, mixed emotions barrelling into me. I know he means nothing by it, but the thought of being alone with him in his hotel room does something to my stomach.
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