Taking a long sip of my water, I decided to be partially honest. “I have a crush on him, okay? I’ll admit that. A pretty big one. And maybe sometimes things border on flirtatious, but that doesn’t mean I expect it to go anywhere. He and I are in two different places in life. What does a single man living in New York City want with a girl who has a baby?”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re a very beautiful woman. And it doesn’t sound like he minds having Sunny around.” She tilted her head. “How old is he?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Hmm. So, pushing thirty, then. How do you know he wouldn’t change or grow to want a family? He seems good with kids.”
“Okay. Now you’re taking this too far.” I laughed. “Being a helpful next-door neighbor and all-around nice guy doesn’t mean he wants the real responsibility being with me would bring. He has enough women without baggage lining up at his door.”
Her face turned serious. “You don’t know he wouldn’t want Sunny.”
Her words made my heart clench. Just the thought of any man not wanting my daughter, or worse, someone leading her on and leaving, made me so sad.
“I pretty much do know, Simone. He’s made it clear in subtle ways that he wants nothing to do with me—with us—that way. He leaves abruptly anytime things get a little tense between us. The answer is in his body language and behavior. He doesn’t need to say anything for me to know where he stands. And that’s perfectly fine. We’re just friends. To be honest? It’s kind of nice to have someone I can turn to right next door without having to worry about complications.”
“Well, that’s too bad. I think you guys would make a cute couple.”
Feeling flushed, I looked down at my phone. “Shit. I have to go. I’m gonna be late getting back to the office.”
“Way to escape the uncomfortable convo.”
I laughed as I got up from the table and dropped a twenty in front of her. “That should more than cover me. I’ll call you. Let’s do this again soon.”
* * *
When I returned, Cynthia asked if I could accompany one of our potential investors, Neil Spectra, around the city for the remainder of the afternoon. She was supposed to do it, but apparently had gotten called home for a family emergency.
Neil was the son of Albert Spectra, a multimillionaire who’d contributed generously to the arts over the years. Word was that Albert’s wife, Ginny, had recently passed and had requested that a portion of her money go to one of the two major ballet companies in New York. But it was apparently up to her son, Neil, to decide which company would receive the funds.
We visited a new exhibit at the Met. Then he expressed interest in going for coffee after so he could ask me some questions about our company. I suggested the Starbucks near my apartment so I wouldn’t be late getting home. Neil had a driver, so I wasn’t really putting him out.
Once we got to Starbucks, though, it seemed Neil was more interested in learning about me than City Ballet.
“Carys, I hope it’s okay that Cynthia told me a bit about your history with City’s competitor, The Manhattan Ballet. I was intrigued to learn about your background.”
“Yes, I have fond memories of my time there both as a dancer and behind the scenes.”
“I was kind of hoping since you have experience with both companies that I could pick your brain.”
Feeling unsure about where this was going, I nodded as I sipped my latte. “Sure.”
He clasped his hands together. “This decision is very important to me. It meant a lot to my mother. She grew up in this city with very humble beginnings, and one of the rare luxuries was going to the ballet with her grandmother. Ballet got her through some rough times when her mother—my grandmother—was sick. So, as you know, in her will, she asked that a major donation be made to the company of our choosing.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, why do you think she would be opposed to splitting it between the two ballet companies?”
“I’m not entirely sure. I guess, perhaps, she figured a higher amount given to one company could make a bigger difference. She asked that it go to the company we felt deserved it the most. I have to follow her wishes.”
“I see.”
“I’m not as well-versed in the arts as my mother was. But my father tasked me with overseeing this decision. I’ve learned a lot by visiting the two companies, and this experience has given me a greater appreciation for something my mother loved so dearly.”
“Well, we’re extremely grateful for your consideration. I think it’s safe to say there’s no wrong decision.”
He took a sip of his espresso. “I have to tell you, you’re a lot more gracious than your competitor.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The gentleman I spoke with over there seemed to point out all the reasons I shouldn’t give my money to City, rather than trying to sell me on why his company was the best fit. Turned me off a little, to be honest.”
Charles. I knew it had to be him, but I didn’t dare mention his name so as not to have to get personal with Neil.
“Anyway, today has been a…refreshing change,” he said. “And that’s due mostly to you.”
He was definitely giving me a vibe that he might be interested in more than just my expertise on the ballet.
A couple of minutes later, I was surprised to see Deacon walk in. Well, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. He hit this Starbucks daily, but it was rare for me to be in here.
When Deacon spotted me, his eyes went wide. “Carys…hey.” He turned to Neil and extended his hand. “I’m Deacon, Carys’s neighbor.”
“Neil Spectra.”
Deacon nodded a few times before he turned to me. “I didn’t expect to see you here at this time of day. Thought you were across town at work.”
“I am…at work, actually. Neil is a potential investor. So this is a business meeting. We just had it here so I could get home in time.”
“It is a work meeting,” Neil interjected. “But Carys has done a tremendous job of making me forget this is still business. She’s a joy to be around.”
Deacon stared at Neil for a few seconds. “I’d have to agree with you.” He looked at me and nodded. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your meeting. Just gonna grab a cappuccino and head back.”
“Okay…” I smiled. “See you later.”
Deacon proceeded to the line. Was it my imagination, or was this run-in a little awkward? My eyes wandered to where Deacon stood at the register. He seemed fidgety as he waited for his drink. I wondered if it bothered him to see me with Neil. Maybe that was wishful thinking.
A few minutes later, Neil was talking when Deacon walked past us with his coffee. Rather than interrupt to say goodbye, he winked at me before heading out the door. My eyes lingered on the exit. I wondered if Deacon thought there was something going on between Neil and me.
It was as if Neil could read my mind. “So, I hope this doesn’t come across as inappropriate, Carys, but I’ve really enjoyed your company and was wondering if perhaps before I return to Palm Beach next week you might let me take you to dinner?”
Oh boy. Neil was decently attractive, smart, and successful. It was tempting to take him up on his offer. But there was no point, especially since he didn’t even live here. And mixing business with pleasure was never a good idea, as I’d learned the hard way.
“That’s really nice of you to offer, and I’m flattered, but I don’t think I have the availability. Not sure if Cynthia mentioned it, but I have an infant daughter. I’m a single mother. So, it’s not easy for me to get childcare on a whim.”
His eyes widened, and for the first time today, Neil seemed speechless. “Cynthia hadn’t mentioned that, no,” he finally said. “You’re so young. I never imagined…”
“Yeah. She was a surprise.”
I could’ve used this opportunity to tell him the man he’d met with over at our competitor was also the deadbeat father of my daughter, but I didn’t. And Nei
l didn’t try to convince me to go out with him after my revelation. Apparently having a child was enough of a deterrent.
We stayed at Starbucks for the better part of the next hour as the conversation moved back to business. He grilled me about my history as a dancer and asked for my honest opinion about how the money might be put to use at both companies.
When five o’clock finally rolled around, I was relieved to have to walk only a block down the street to get home.
Once I got to my door, I was surprised to hear music playing inside my apartment.
And not just any music. The song was an old one: “How Deep is Your Love” by the Bee Gees.
The Bee Gees?
I only knew them because my mother had loved disco when I was growing up.
I assumed maybe Sharon had a thing for the seventies until I opened the door and saw Deacon standing there. The music came from his phone.
What the hell?
CHAPTER 10
Deacon
THE BIRTHDAY GIFT
After I’d returned to my apartment, I couldn’t stop thinking about Carys and that guy in Starbucks. Fuck. Why had it bothered me so damn much? Seeing her with a dude who looked like he wanted to eat her up definitely got under my skin. I’d always told myself nothing could come of my attraction to Carys, yet I seemed unable to turn off the jealousy. That was messed up, because it couldn’t work both ways. That old saying came to mind again. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too, Deacon.
It may have been a business thing, but there was no way Carys was walking away from that meeting without an invitation for something more. And why wouldn’t she take it? He looked like he had his shit together.
It was only a matter of time before she started dating, anyway. As her friend, I’d have to suck up my feelings on that. She had needs—as her masturbation book had proven. What I’d neglected to tell her back then was that she needed a good fuck more than any self-service, whether she realized it or not. I just couldn’t be the one to give it to her. But I wasn’t going to encourage her to go out and get it from some asshole who didn’t deserve her, either.
My coffee was cold, and I’d tried to force myself to get some work done, but I couldn’t concentrate. Although it wasn’t because I was thinking about Carys anymore. It was Sunny. She wouldn’t stop crying. Sharon was next door with her, so I knew she was in good hands. But when the crying hadn’t stopped after a full thirty minutes, I’d decided to head over there to make sure everything was okay.
Sharon had opened the door looking completely frazzled. We’d met once before, so she knew who I was, and Carys had always told her to call me in the event of an emergency.
She’d thrown her free hand up, carrying Sunny with her other arm. “I can’t get her to stop crying. I’ve changed her diaper. Fed her. I don’t understand. She hasn’t done this before.”
I pressed the back of my hand to Sunny’s forehead. “What’s up, Sunny?” She didn’t feel hot or anything. I took her from Sharon.
Her crying slowed before it eventually stopped.
“Oh no you don’t. We can’t go down this road. There needs to be another way to get you to stop.”
Sharon seemed amused. “Does she always stop crying when you hold her?”
“Most of the time, yeah.”
“That’s so cute.”
“It is until you can’t put her down.”
When I placed her in the swing, the crying started again. I was determined to help Sharon find a solution that didn’t involve me picking Sunny up.
I took out my phone and scrolled over to my music-streaming app.
Kneeling down next to Sunny, I said, “We’re gonna find something you like.”
Song after song, nothing seemed to stop the crying—until I got to the seventies station. “Stayin’ Alive” by the Bee Gees was on.
Little Sunny’s eyes went wide as she listened. I started bopping my head to the music and watched as she fell silent and remained content.
“Did we find a winner?” Sharon asked.
When the song ended, a Donna Summer tune started, and Sunny wasn’t having it. She started wailing. So I tried a little experiment. I pulled up the same Bee Gees’ song on YouTube, and sure enough, Sunny stopped crying again. When it ended, the next video was another song by a different artist. Again, she started crying.
The Bee Gees definitely had a unique sound. I wondered if it was the song she liked or the pitch of their voices. So I pulled up “How Deep is Your Love,” a slower ballad. Sunny again quieted and listened intently.
No shit? This is gold.
At that point, I downloaded the whole freaking Best of the Bee Gees album onto my phone.
Then Carys walked in. I couldn’t imagine what she was thinking.
She looked concerned. “What’s going on? Why are you here, Deacon?”
“Deacon is a genius,” Sharon said. “He figured out that Sunny likes the Bee Gees. Listening to their music keeps her from crying. He heard her from next door and came over to help.”
“Well, she stopped crying when I picked her up, but I didn’t want to encourage that habit,” I explained. “Decided to try something new. But the only thing she likes is the Bee Gees, apparently.”
Carys’s mouth hung open. “The Bee Gees? They’re ancient! What made you think of that?”
“It was luck,” I said. “They just happened to come on. That’s when she calmed down.”
“That’s so bizarre. But…thank you for figuring it out.”
“I downloaded their whole best-of album. I’ll get it for you, too, so you have it.”
After Sharon left, we kept the album playing. Carys walked over to the swing to kiss Sunny’s head. She then kicked off her heels and plopped down on the couch, putting her feet up on the coffee table. I had to the urge to grab her feet and massage them, but I refrained.
“What a day.” She sighed.
“As in bad?”
“That guy you saw me with is a huge potential investor. Cynthia sprung him on me because she had a family emergency. It’s been nerve-wracking trying to make a good impression.”
“It seemed to me he felt you made an excellent impression.”
“Yeah, so much so that he asked me out.”
I swallowed. “Really?”
She nodded. “But that interest got squelched as soon as I mentioned I had a baby.”
Despite my jealousy, I was actually offended for her, which seemed hypocritical coming from me—a guy who didn’t want kids.
My fist tightened. “He said something negative?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. But his tone changed. It went from flirtatious to a bit more guarded.” She waved her hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t have gone out with him anyway.”
I shouldn’t have been thrilled to hear that. I should’ve wanted her to find someone who could make her happy. Instead, my selfish ass was relieved that she wanted nothing to do with that rich prick.
“I need a drink the size of my head tonight,” she said. “And I don’t even drink much.”
“After Sunny goes to bed, you should have it. You deserve it.”
She turned to me. “Hey…thank you for coming over to help today. That’s not your responsibility.”
“Well, now that I know Sunny, it’s hard to ignore her when she’s crying. I’m just glad we discovered something that can pacify her.”
Our eyes locked for a few moments before she asked, “Big plans tonight?”
I hesitated to answer. I did have plans—with a woman I’d met online. Couldn’t say I was too excited about it, though.
“Uh…just dinner.”
Her brow lifted. “Anyone interesting?”
“Not sure yet. The verdict is still out. Haven’t met her in person.”
“Gotcha.” She played with some lint on the couch. “Well…if it doesn’t work out…you know…if she doesn’t make the cut to come back and…play Parcheesi, maybe you can stop by and have a late
drink with me.”
Play Parcheesi. I remembered I’d once used that as a metaphor for sex.
“Yeah. Maybe,” I answered, sweating a little and feeling oddly anxious. This felt different. Was it just in my head?
Carys had no idea how badly I wished I could play Parcheesi with her tonight.
* * *
Her name was Allie, she worked for the city’s water board, and she liked karaoke bars. That was about all that registered. Everything else was in one ear and out the other.
I would’ve loved to believe I just wasn’t that into her, but I knew it was more than that; I couldn’t stop thinking about Carys—her invite and whether I was going to take her up on it. Aside from that one dinner, our get-togethers were always during the day—innocent. Her inviting me over for a drink in the late evening felt different.
Allie was attractive enough. If this were a different time, I might have taken her back to my place for a nightcap. But I had no interest in that tonight. Believe me, I wished I did.
Finally, we came to the point in the evening where we needed to leave the restaurant and figure out the next step. Allie asked the question that forced me to make a decision.
Out on the sidewalk, she flicked her curly blond hair to the side. “Would you be interested in seeing my apartment? It’s small but cozy. We could have drinks there instead of going somewhere else.”
Code for: would you like to come back to my place and fuck?
I could practically hear the ticking in my head as my brain formulated a response. “You know, I actually have an early appointment tomorrow. So I’d better head home.”
“Oh.” Disappointment was written all over her face. “That’s too bad. I would’ve liked to hang out some more.”
“Next time, maybe.” I forced a smile.
“Yeah.” Her tone proved she knew there wouldn’t be a next time.
Once I separated from Allie, I grabbed a cab back home.
My palms were sweaty as I texted Carys from outside her door. I’d gone to her apartment many times, but somehow the vibe from earlier had stuck; it felt different this time.
The Anti-Boyfriend Page 9