All ONES: The Complete Collection

by Aleatha Romig

I stand and hold out my hand to him. “Come on. Let’s walk. Remember, I’m free until work in the morning.”

  Trevor’s eyes sizzle, golden flakes exploding like fireworks as he reaches for my hand.

  Hand in hand, we walk along the main path, taking in the crowds of people, all most likely brought out by the nice weather. New Yorkers are a hardy bunch. Winter doesn’t stop them, but spring brings them out of the woodwork. Like rats in the subway, and yes, I mean that favorably, sunshine, flowers, and budding leaves awaken the masses.

  “Can I ask you about one other thing that’s been bugging me?” Trevor asks.

  “Sure.”

  “Do you want to steal cars or is there something about credit?”

  I twist and play punch his shoulder. “Stop. My autocorrect was having problems last night.”

  “Oh, we’re blaming autocorrect?”

  “Yes. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

  After nearly two hours of walking and one pedicab ride, we’re back to the entrance.

  “May we continue this date on to dinner?” Trevor asks.

  “I want to.” And I really do.

  “I sense something else.”

  “It’s Kimbra. Since I arrived in the city, I’ve only seen her last night, and as you know, I kind of left abruptly. She’s sent me a few hundred text messages this afternoon and wants me to come over to her apartment.”

  Trevor’s smile grows. “I think she’s setting you up.”

  “What? Why?”

  He pulls his phone from his pocket. When he shows me the screen, he too has multiple text messages from Kimbra and a few from Duncan.

  “When you came into the restaurant, I was talking to my brother. I mentioned that my date arrived. Since then, the two of them have been blowing up my phone. I had to put it on silent. Kimbra thinks she sensed something between us last night.”

  My eyes widen as I chew momentarily on my bottom lip. “You mean we aren’t as good of actors as we thought?”

  “Apparently, neither of us should give up our day jobs for Broadway.”

  “Well, there goes that backup plan.”

  “Right?” he asks. “All those voice lessons down the drain.”

  “You sing?”

  “Only in the shower.”

  My cheeks rise and heat as they undoubtedly fill with pink.

  Trevor reaches for my hand and hails a taxi. “That’s it. I’m taking you to my apartment to hear me sing.”

  “Trevor...”

  When the taxi stops, he gives the driver an address that right away I recognize.

  “Wait a minute. You don’t seriously think we should show up at Kimbra and Duncan’s together. Do you?”

  Before he answers, I willingly get into the back seat.

  “My lady, I’m tired of keeping our history a secret.” He turns my way as the taxi moves forward. “We can change our destination. We can go to my apartment or you back to your hotel. But no matter where we go, I’m not making the same mistake I made before. This will not be our only date. I want another one and another one. I think coming clean to Duncan and Kimbra is the first step.”

  “What if they’re upset?”

  “It won’t stop us. Nothing will stop us.” He leans close and kisses me.

  I’ve never wanted anyone to be more right about anything.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Trevor

  Of course, my brother and his wife live in the penthouse, their apartment complete with an amazing view of the Empire State building. “Have you been here before?” I ask Shana as the elevator moves upward.

  “Once.”

  “Good.”

  Shana turns my way and smiles. Today’s walk in the sun and wind has left her cheeks pinkened. Her hair is pulled back in a long ponytail, the ends twisting into long curls and her eyes are wide. “Is there a reason we’re now talking in one-word sentences?”

  “I was just thinking that it was a dick move to bring you here before my apartment.”

  “Why?”

  “Now, who’s using one word?”

  Thankfully we’re alone in the elevator as it continues its climb. To access the penthouse, you must first check in on the lobby floor and the doorman must enter a key, unless of course, it’s your penthouse and then you have a key.

  “Okay, why was it a dick move?” she asks, leaning back against the wall of the elevator.

  I look at the numbers changing above the door and know there’s no way I have time to explain that my apartment pales in comparison to Duncan’s. Instead, I lean over and kiss her cheek. “Because I would rather be back at my place serenading you.”

  Shana squeezes my hand. “If you can’t carry a tune in a bucket, I’m going to be very disappointed.”

  “No, my lady, when we’re together in my shower, I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

  Shana takes her free hand and reaches out to the elevator’s control panel, her finger poised to push something.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m looking for the turn-around button.”

  “I don’t think—”

  We both still as the elevator comes to a halt and the doors slowly open.

  The entry before us is an expansive foyer with two large doors leading to one destination.

  “Once, before they were married,” Shana explains, “Duncan was out of town and I was in town. I stayed here with Kimbra for two nights.”

  Before I can respond, one of the grand doors opens and both Kimbra and Duncan are standing in the open frame. Their expressions are a mixture of emotions that seem to be waiting for us to comment.

  “Hi,” Shana says, stepping forward and hugging Kimbra. “Sorry about last night.”

  “Come on in,” Duncan says.

  Once the women are ahead of us, he pats my shoulder. “Sly, I like it.”

  It’s no secret that I’m not overly thrilled to get dating advice from my older brother.

  Their apartment is luxury at its finest—marble floors, fireplaces, and floor-to-ceiling windows. I think back to when Duncan first bought the penthouse. With his reputation as a lady’s man, I expected it to be the ultimate bachelor pad, a place with a revolving door where the doorman allowed only one woman up at a time—unless instructed differently.

  To his credit, as far as I know, it never was.

  With my experience in architecture, I could better describe the penthouse by assessing the square footage and mentioning the twelve-foot-high ceilings or custom woodwork and molding. While that’s all impressive, what really matters is that it’s fucking huge with a to-die-for wraparound balcony. And despite all of that, for years this beautiful apartment was simply the place where he slept.

  Kimbra really has changed his life.

  Looking around now, I see the subtle differences since they married: color and accents. If Max were here he might call them homey touches such as pictures of the two of them, as well as other photography of the city and artwork that was never here before.

  Through the years, my brother and I haven’t always seen eye to eye. There’s the natural brotherly competition, and yet for some reason as I stand here at this second, I see him differently.

  With our history, this is a welcome revelation.

  “Wine?” Kimbra asks.

  “I’m fine,” Shana replies.

  The difference in Shana’s demeanor from the park to now makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want to be the cause of any problem between her and her best friend, even if that best friend is my brother’s wife.

  Taking a deep breath, I jump in with both feet. “Wow, I bet the two of you…” speaking directly to Duncan and Kimbra, “…would never believe that Shana and I ran into one another in the lobby?” I look to Shana whose eyes are wide. “Actually, it was our taxis that arrived about the same time. Right?”

  “Umm,” Shana says, “we did arrive at the same time.”

  “Because?” Kimbra prompts, not letting us off the hook.


  Shana rushes toward Kimbra. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how.”

  I can’t help but notice Duncan’s large smile. Soon, his wife is smiling as widely. “That’s it,” Kimbra says. “Spill. I know darn well that you didn’t accidentally bump into one another in the lobby or sidewalk. I want all the juicy details.”

  As Kimbra speaks, Shana and I sit and our hands come together. From the strength of her grip, I know that she’s more nervous about this then she’s let on.

  “Oh my goodness, you’re holding hands.” Kimbra says, practically bouncing on the edge of the sofa facing us. “Last night...your lips!”

  “What?” Duncan asks.

  “It wasn’t an allergic reaction. Was it?”

  “We should have told you,” Shana confesses, blowing my well-contrived lie out of the water. “It’s that we didn’t want to complicate your wedding.”

  “Whoa, our wedding?” Duncan says.

  “That was nearly a year ago,” Kimbra remarks as if the wheels are turning in her head. “You two...this has been going on...for a year?”

  Shana’s big blue eyes turn my way and I begin our story. “Yes and no. You’re right. We arrived in the same taxi and how about before we give you all the details, we take you up on that offer of some wine?”

  “Only if Shana will help me find the glasses,” Kimbra says standing and beckoning Shana away from us.

  Before she goes, I give her hand one last squeeze.

  Instead of talking, Duncan leans back against the sofa and stares. I can’t tell if it’s his CEO look or just his cocky I’m better than you attitude. With each passing second, his grin grows until I find myself debating about yelling at him or jumping up from the sofa and punching him. Because that’s what brothers do or what being with my brother makes me think of doing.

  “Stop,” I finally say.

  “No way. I’m enjoying this.”

  “What?”

  “Seeing my little brother smitten.”

  “Smitten?” It seems like I’ve heard that recently. “What kind of word is that?”

  Duncan shrugs. “It’s what Kimbra calls it. I like it. It means—”

  “Bro, I’m the one with the master’s degree. I know what it means.”

  Instead of flinging back with a comment on how my education hasn’t given me the empire he’s built, Duncan stays calm, cool, and collected. “It looks good on you,” he says, moving his head up and down. “You know, better than that brooding loner thing.”

  I exhale. “You’re not mad?”

  “Fuck no. All I want is for you to be happy.”

  “Whatever this is,” I say, “started the night before your wedding. After that, I let her go, and I’ve regretted it for a year. I’m not letting her go again.”

  “Then don’t fuck this up. Kimbra loves Shana like the sister she never had. That makes the woman who was holding your hand like family.” His nose scrunches. “Okay, that seems weird, but whatever. Whatever you do, don’t piss off my wife.”

  “I’ve seen your wife pissed.”

  Duncan laughs. “Christmas last year. Who knew a delivery company could be persuaded to deliver on the holiday?”

  “She didn’t give them a choice.”

  We both laugh, remembering Kimbra’s persuasive technique.

  “Yeah, no one wants her upset.” I turn the direction of the kitchen. “They’re taking a while to get glasses.”

  Duncan tips his head toward the other side of the room. Nestled near the fireplace and built-in bookcases, there’s a small bar area with a large wine refrigerator and stemmed glasses hanging below the shelf above. “Especially since the glasses aren’t in the kitchen.”

  We both chuckle as the ladies come out of the kitchen empty-handed but thankfully, smiling from ear-to-ear.

  “No glasses?” I ask.

  “Actually,” Kimbra says with a smirk, “we were checking on dinner. It’s still baking but should be ready in a half hour. In the meantime...” she goes to the wine bar and reaches for the glasses. The crystal clinks as she brings four large round goblets and places them on the table between us. “Red or white?”

  Once we’re all properly equipped with our glasses, I begin.

  “The night before your wedding, at a small piano bar in the hotel in Indianapolis, I happened to go outside to the fire pits and saw the most beautiful woman—”

  “Wait,” Duncan interrupts, talking to Kimbra, “...the most beautiful...I thought you spent that night at your parents’?”

  Shana and I laugh as Kimbra slaps his chest. “I love you. Now, shut up and let Trevor talk. I just adore stories with happy endings.”

  My gaze meets Shana’s as she begins to speak.

  “The ending isn’t set, but right now, we want to see where this takes us.”

  I clear my throat. “Well, the strangest thing happened with that beautiful woman; I was instantly…” I think of the right word. “...smitten.”

  “Smitten?” Shana asks.

  Duncan smiles as Kimbra bounces and says, “See, I told you!”

  Two hours later, the four of us are laughing and talking as we finish the remainder of dessert. “Damn,” I say, “Kimbra, my brother definitely doesn’t deserve you. Not only are you beautiful, but you’re also an amazing cook.”

  Her cheeks grow pink. “Confession time.”

  “What?”

  “The chicken Marsala was mine and being from Indiana, I make a killer green-bean casserole; however, the cannoli, not so much. They came from that great little bakery on Mulberry Street.” She turns to Shana. “I had Duncan go pick them up for you.”

  “Oh shit,” Shana says as she begins to giggle and her face drops a little. “You’re a bitch.”

  “But you love me.”

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  Duncan looks to Shana. “Kimbra said that you like cannoli, and she wasn’t sure when the last time was that you had really good New York cannoli.”

  I can’t figure out what’s happening. All I know is that now both Shana and Kimbra are laughing.

  “Am I the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on?” I ask.

  “No, bro, I’m pretty clueless.” Duncan speaks to Shana. “Don’t you like cannoli?”

  Shana’s voice is all strained from laughing as if she’s gasping to breathe. “I love cannoli as much as the next woman. Right, Kimbra?”

  “I definitely love cannoli, the bigger the better.” She lifts her wine glass to her lips before adding, “I especially love the cream filling.”

  It’s then that Duncan’s hands go into the air. “Seriously? Are you kidding me? You sent me to a bakery across town to get edible penises?”

  I spit a little as I look down at my empty plate. “Shit and you let us sit here and eat them?”

  Kimbra’s entire face is almost as red as her hair because she’s laughing so hard. “I wanted Duncan to get them yesterday. You know, so they wouldn’t be as fresh.”

  “So they’d be hard,” Shana adds, almost choking on her laughs.

  My lady isn’t the only one who’s laughing. All four of us are cracking up.

  Finally, I stand. “I’m getting some water. Would anyone else like some water to wash away the cannoli?”

  Duncan raises his hand as the two women look at each other and break into another fit of laughter.

  “Hey,” Kimbra calls as I make my way toward the kitchen. “Spitting is for quitters.”

  When the night finally comes to an end, we stand near the elevator as Kimbra hugs Shana.

  “I know the future is unwritten, but I just want you to know that the two of you have our full support.”

  Duncan nods.

  Kimbra goes on, “And if you, Trevor Willis, hurt my friend, I will hunt you down.”

  Duncan nods again, this time chuckling to himself.

  “Yes,” I say, “I’ve been warned.” I reach for Shana’s hand. “All I can promise is that I will do my best to not let th
at happen.”

  Duncan’s hand lands on my shoulder. “That’s good. I don’t want to be the one to tell Mom and Dad that my wife made me an only child.”

  Kimbra crosses her arms over her chest. “But I would do it.”

  As I hug her goodbye, I whisper, “You’re kind of scary.”

  “Don’t forget that,” she replies as she kisses my cheek.

  When the elevator doors close, Shana leans toward me. “I got the feeling you weren’t looking forward to that.”

  “I wasn’t, but I think it was the best time I’ve had with my brother in…well, in a long time.” I reach for her hand. “Now, my lady, shall we discuss Italian pastries?”

  Her cheeks fill with pink before she leans in and kisses my cheek. “How about I go back to my place tonight and maybe we can meet for dessert tomorrow night?”

  “As long as I can accompany you to your hotel.” Before Shana responds, I add, “Only to the door, my lady. I can’t let you ride across town alone.”

  “I think I’m…”

  I shake my head. “You’re capable. I just want to be sure you don’t share a drink with anyone at the piano bar. You know, there are some men out there who may try to take advantage of you.”

  “I guess that means that I found the right man.” She tilts her head. “But maybe soon, he’ll decide that taking advantage wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

  “Oh, he already has given that some thought.”

  “Good.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Shana

  Monday evening, Stephen and I walk out of Saks and onto busy Fifth Avenue as the traffic picks up its pace. In New York City that means the volume increases as the speed decreases. Across the street, tourists as well as employees buzz in and out of Rockefeller Center. The city is filled with electricity, yet the traffic and iconic buildings are merely blips on my already-full radar. I’m thinking, instead, about the ongoing discussions I’ve been having most of the day up on the tenth floor of this famous store.

  According to Vicky and others in our meetings, the sales from the fashion show were even better than the earlier emails indicated. Nevertheless, fashion headlines are still mentioning the change in models. What I’d hoped would go virtually unnoticed is trending with the following hashtags: #mysterymodelmayhemwhoisthatgirl #sakssexysub and #sakssecretmysterymodel.