by Morris, Liv
“Yes, I have attention issues. No, I’m not on meds.” I shook my head and did the unthinkable: I laughed. Not just a quick gaff, but one that started deep down inside me. It felt foreign, but good at the same time, using muscles that had likely atrophied.
“Good to know. But I wanted to ask you a question. Game?”
She nodded and rested an elbow on the table, making her jacket stretch at the buttons. To my delight, she unbuttoned them again, giving her more room and me a stellar view.
“How did you know about Peaches & Herb? You’re way younger than me, and it was an oldie during my teen years. It’s ancient now.”
“My mother runs a small bed-and-breakfast back in my hometown. It’s been in our family for years.” She fanned herself and closed her eyes. “I should’ve asked for an iced coffee.”
She peeled off her jacket and draped it over the back of the stool. When she turned around, my eyes landed somewhere between her waist and collarbone. Perfect Cs would be my guess. Though she was petite, she packed some mighty curves.
“Where was I?” Like I could remember after your innocent striptease. “Oh, yeah! My mother played disco music when we cleaned up after checkouts. Thus we listened to Peaches & Herb, Donna Summer, and my favorite, Earth, Wind, and Fire. Once, we timed the cleanups without the music, and it took over ten minutes longer to tidy up the same room.”
“That was in the south, right?” She nodded.
“In a super small town.”
“How long have you been in the city?” She didn’t seem to mind my rapid-fire questions. A seasoned New York woman would’ve told me to get lost after the second one.
“Two months, close to three. I’m working for a startup in midtown called Wilsons. They’re into children’s lifestyles. You’ve probably never heard of it.”
I hadn’t, and I wasn’t about to tell her I was primed to be the CEO of Iron Gate. There was no need to get personal. Dating her was impossible anyway. I’d sworn off that matchmaking ritual years ago. Once a woman peeked under the attractive surface and found what lay beneath, she’d run in the opposite direction.
“I’m not familiar with your company. And who wants to talk business? It’s my day off.”
“Fair enough. Is there a Mrs. Herb? I don’t see a ring, so I wondered what she’d think of you saving my life and all?”
“I’m not married, nor do I ever plan to be.”
“Perpetual bachelor. I see. Have you ever been in love?”
I choked on my coffee. Clearing my throat, I eyed her with a touch of contempt at asking such a personal question.
“Once.” I glanced down, fumbling with the lid of my drink, then met her eyes again. One word was all I cared to share.
“She did quite the number on you. I’m assuming it was a she.” She gave me a teasing smile and nudged my arm. Leave it to her to find humor in a dark corner of my life.
“It was a she. And yes, numbers were involved—about seven figures.” I swallowed the rest of my words with the last of my coffee. It was barely even warm. Had we been talking that long?
“Hey, I’m sorry. I was always in detention at school for talking, asking too many questions. Having straight As saved me from getting kicked out, I think. Surprised?”
“By the talking, no. The grades either.” Sure, she had a hyperactive brain, but her wit was quick, and her intuitive side blew me away. “Anyway, it was a long time ago. When I was about your age.”
For the first time since she fell into my arms, neither of us spoke. The silence allowed unwelcome memories to resurface in my mind. Beautiful auburn hair falling over a bare shoulder. Light freckles speckled over cheeks. An ultimatum thrown at me. The family attorneys who rescued me from disaster. I rubbed a hand over my forehead, wanting to wipe away the memories.
She placed her delicate hand on my forearm in comfort, but nothing has helped in over ten years. I resigned myself to a life of “supported” lovers. The word “paid” brought the ugly truth of the relationships too close to home.
“I’ll lighten the mood.” She sat up taller in her chair, removing her hand from my arm. Her touch felt genuine, unique in my world.
“Yes, please do.” I’d had enough reminiscing and wanted to stay in the moment with her.
“You’re the first man who’s touched me in weeks. I’m on a self-imposed boycott of boys, as in guys.” Her green gaze slid over me. “You’re definitely a man, so it doesn’t apply to you.”
“I take it this is new for you?”
“Totally. All my dates have been horrible here. I don’t want my twenties to be the decade I Netflixed and chilled with God knows how many guys. I’d rather work on building a relationship versus hooking up. Not that I’m opposed to the occasional liaison if needed. I’m not a nun.”
“No, you’re nothing like the ones I knew growing up. Though, they could’ve used your pep and joie de vivre.” Especially Sister Mary. She had a permanent, sucked-on-lemons face.
“That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in ages.”
“That you’re not a nun?”
“Mon Dieu. Non, la joie de vivre. J’adore le français.”
“France, huh? Have you been to Paris?”
“Only in my dreams. It’s easy to do with Google Earth. I’ve walked the Seine and stood near the Eiffel Tour. Also, there are live broadcasts all around the city. Someday, maybe it will happen.”
She’s maddeningly happy and pure of heart. I didn’t know people like her existed outside of Hallmark movies. My sister was addicted to them, thus I succumbed on the rare occasion—or with bribery on her part.
“I hope it does.” And I did.
“Thanks, Herb. You look like a man who’s traveled the world.” All I wanted to do was escape it.
“Used to be.” I left it at that. “Finished with your coffee?”
“Yep.”
I rose off the stool, relieved to stretch out my legs. “You probably have to get back to work.”
“I could call in sick.” She raised her brows, offering a questioning gaze. “Though, Wilsons needs me today.”
She grabbed her jacket off the stool and stood next to me. We tossed our empty cups into the trash can by the door, and I opened it for her.
“Thank you.” Her manners were polished and gracious. I bet she’d even write a thank you letter to the guy who found her shoe.
Not ready to part yet, we stood near the front entrance of the coffee shop. My hands and emotions were stuffed in my pockets, while she rose to her tiptoes then lowered back to the ground.
I decided to throw a question back at her. Go for broke. Why not? It wasn’t like I’d ever see her again. Besides, I was curious to know what a young woman full of dreams and idealism thought of love. Was she a fairy-tale princess waiting for her prince? Or in her free-spirited nature, did she love with open arms?
“You asked me about love. Rather bold, considering we hardly know each other. So, turnabout is fair play, correct?” She nodded, giving me my green light. “Have you ever fallen in love, Peaches?”
She glanced up at the sky, tapping her chin. When our eyes met again, I saw a light shining in hers. She had her answer, and I was all ears.
“I’m open to it and hope to find it someday. For now, I’m saving myself for marriage.” Her mouth tipped at the corners as her green eyes glimmered with a teasing energy. “Not that kind of saving. I’m not letting go of my heart until I know it’s him—the man I’ll pledge my life to. Sound corny?”
Shit.
It sounded beautiful. Perfect. She knew her worth and wouldn’t settle for anything else. A practical dreamer. The kind who found their happiness in the end. I truly wished that for her.
“How are you so mature, at what, twenty-three?”
“Raised by a single mother, and I’ve done plenty of Netflix and chilling in my days, old man.” She waggled her brow and swayed from side to side. So damn cute.
“Interesting how a streaming video subscription becam
e a verb for screwing.”
“It was probably some college guys who started it.” She began talking like a college bro. “Hey, babe. Why don’t you come over and chill? I have Netflix.”
“Confession. I’ve never watched Netflix. I don’t do TV.”
“Herb, you need to stay in more often and just relax on your couch.” Little did she know, my thirty-thousand-dollar sectional was made of fine Italian leather and as comfortable as a wooden picnic table. There was no casual in my life.
“Promise me you’ll download it today and watch something. It’s under twenty dollars a month. About the price of one of the buttons on your suit.”
“Excuse me. They’re more like a thousand. Pure gold, then lacquered to a shiny navy.” She shook her head and sighed.
“All right. I’ll figure out how to get it to appear on my screen.”
“Good.” She clapped her hands together, overjoyed I’d agreed. “Start with The Office or Parks and Rec. People usually prefer one over the other. Kind of like how people are either a wiz at geometry or algebra. I’ve never known a genius at both.”
“Algebra.” I raised my hand. “Let me guess. Geometry?”
“Never met a right angle I didn’t like.” She gleamed up at me.
“Funny.”
I caught myself smiling again. My facial muscles were protesting this unknown activity. I knew what was next: leave or ask for her phone number.
I’d do the best thing for her and say goodbye, but I wanted nothing more than to go back in time—erase my sins from the past and be twenty-five all over again. Then I’d find out more about this green-eyed goddess.
I glanced at the window of the coffee shop, seeing us together in the reflection. A petite young woman standing on the sidewalk. She was full of life and promise, beautiful in a breathless way. I was chained to a life of survival and completely dead inside. Beyond a reasonable doubt, I would ruin her.
“Peaches, I’ve gotta go.” I ran my hands through my hair, unable to look her straight in the eyes.
“I’d love to go home with you and Netflix.” She covered her mouth and laughed. “Without the chill part, unless you want to. Gawd, I’m making this worse, aren’t I?”
Just like I’d feared. Maybe she was a damsel looking for her white knight after all. She was holding her heart out to me, an unworthy bastard.
“I…we aren’t…” I stammered. I couldn’t say I wasn’t worthy of her, because I didn’t want it to be true.
“I get it.”
I looked at her again to gauge her true feelings. Did they match her words? Her face was downcast. I’d crushed her hope. It hurt like hell, but it was better this way.
“Really, I do.” She was convincing herself now. “I need to get back to Wilson’s. He’s…I mean, they’re going to wonder what happened to me.”
“Goodbye, Peaches.” I wanted to kiss the soft blush on her cheeks. Have the memory of touching her skin. But I’d crave another taste. The tender spot behind her ear. The soft skin of her neck.
“Oh, please don’t say goodbye.” Her shoulders drooped as her smile disappeared. “It’s one of my least favorite words. Let’s replace it with another one.”
The wheels in her head spun as she thought of a word to swap it with. Perhaps bonsoir, since she seemed to love French.
“I’ve got it. Serendipity.”
“Huh?” Her mind was a dangerous place. I couldn’t keep up.
“It’s a movie. Kate Beckinsale and John Cusack are in it. She wrote her phone number in a book, then sold it to a used bookstore the next day. He tried to find the book and her the rest of the movie.”
“Let me guess, he got the girl in the end.”
“It wasn’t that simple. They were reconnected at the last second before he married another woman. Serendipity put them back together. Who knows, maybe we’ll meet again. I’d like that.”
I would too, but I’d fail her, crush her spirit.
“Skeptical, aren’t you?” she said. I scoffed and shook my head. No one would ever call me a dreamer. “Don’t worry, Herb. I’ll believe for both of us.
She moved closer to me, and I tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t belittle her fantasy. But we were never going to happen. She was better off if goodbye meant just that.
“Come here.” She curled a finger at me, red lips forming in a devilish grin.
When I didn’t move at lightning speed, she grasped my tie and brought us nose to nose. Aggressive little thing when she knew what she wanted. She leaned in closer. I felt her hot breath against my skin, then she brushed her lips against my ear, and whispered, “Serendipity, sweet Herb.”
Her lips blazed a short trail on my cheek where she planted a chaste kiss. After she pulled away and let go of my tie, my skin tingled. I felt fifteen again. The kiss was pure and tender—just like her.
I watched her walk away toward her subway stop until she disappeared like a mist into a crowd of people. I considered running to find her, but the truth of who I was and the life I’d chosen kept my feet from moving. She would have to remain the beautiful nymph I met on a Wednesday morning.
An unfamiliar ache formed in my chest, making it difficult to catch my breath. I welcomed the raw pain, not how much it hurt. For the first time in years, I had true feelings for a woman beyond just the bedroom and my own base needs.
Did I want more for my life? Maybe what my best friend, Barclay, had with his new girlfriend? So bad, the want for it made the aching worse, but my cards couldn’t be reshuffled. I was dealt the hand and had no one to blame but myself.
8
Lucas
My assistant, Jared, packed up his briefcase, ready to leave for the day. We worked until noon from my home office on Saturdays. I couldn’t survive six days in a row at IG without losing my mind.
I peered out my window towering over the ground below. Gone were the cold granite and concrete buildings of Wall Street. Today, my view was nothing but clear blue skies. I exhaled a deep breath.
Rising from my chair, I cracked open the terrace door, letting a cool breeze circle the room. Fall wasn’t far away, which also meant the Hamptonites would be filling up the streets again.
“Sir, I think everything’s in order for your meetings on Monday.” I turned to Jared, who was standing by the door. “I’ll be in Philly tomorrow, but you can reach me by phone.”
“I won’t need anything. All I have is the benefit tonight.”
I was receiving recognition for donating a million dollars to fund brain injury research at New York’s Cognitive Study labs. The group had no idea I gave the money in hopes of helping my mother and relieving my guilt.
“There’s still time to arrange for someone to attend with you.” Jared had to remind me I was going alone, though it’s something I seldom did.
Without few exceptions, I brought beautiful women to stand by my side as a distraction from the monotony at these types of events, and…well, my life in general. After years of attending them, I couldn’t think of one who stood out from the other.
“I’m going alone.” There were rules he needed to follow. Like keeping his nose out of my personal business. “If you want to stay employed at IG, enough of the monkey suit on Saturdays. You’re up-staging your boss.”
I had on a pair of Amiri jeans any rocker would be proud of, my favorite Harvard T-shirt, and leather loafers, sans socks. Jared pulled at his tie and straightened his jacket, eyes wide as he stared back at me. He swallowed and cleared his throat.
I steeled my gaze. He needed to tone down his dress-for-success obsession. Never top the person who controlled your future.
“Yes, Mr. Shaw.” Jared paused at my door, turning back around to face me. “Oh, I emailed you a list of my favorite Netflix shows.”
“I’ll look it over later.” I heard the front door shut and pulled up Jared’s email.
When I arrived back to my empty apartment after meeting Peaches, I followed her advice and “stayed in,” even tho
ugh the couch was hard as fuck, but I added some scotch—a lot of scotch. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my day off than watching junk TV and getting drunk, cue a truckload of sarcasm.
As daylight turned to shadows against my wall, my alcohol-soaked brain began to play tricks on me. I imagined I’d brought Peaches home with me after all. Like a crazy person, I even asked her how in the hell one downloaded Netflix. Silence was my only answer. I woke up the next morning on the same couch wearing the same clothes. My back hurt like hell for three days.
I realized something: I could no longer drink like a college freshman, my back and head made it abundantly clear I was getting old, and I hated being alone.
After more failed attempts, I caved and asked Jared to do whatever needed to be done to make Netflix appear on my screen. I wanted to slap the knowing grin off his face while he set it up. So, I didn’t do TV or movies. Instead, I read books and wrote at night. When he was finished, he handed me the remote, instructing me on the best ways for finding shows to watch.
I took Peaches’ advice over Jared’s and spent the last two weeks watching two full seasons of The Office.
Here was my take: Michael was a buffoon and needed remedial management classes. Jim and Pam were the only ones I’d even consider hiring to work for me. Someone should burn all Dwight’s mustard and brown clothes, then take him straight to a hairstylist.
I hated to admit it, but Peaches was right. The escape did me good. It made me forget about other things, like acquiring another lover since I’d broken it off with Barbie, who had reached the three-month maximum. The service I used specialized in ambitious blondes seeking wealthy sugar daddies. It had worked fine for the past seven years, but I didn’t have the appetite to pick up where I left off.
Maybe in a week or two, the edginess I felt would pass. Though, one thing would help: if I could get a woman with green eyes, raven black hair, and luscious red lips out of my head and restless dreams.