Love Not at First Sight

by Sarah Ready

  My car, parked down the street, had all my climbing gear in the trunk. I have on my climbing shoes, my chalk bag, and holy crap…I’m going to free climb a six-story building.

  I let out a shaky breath. It’s alright. I’ve got this.

  Sam and I climbed worse in the cave, in the dark. There was no safety net then either.

  I stare up at the building. Trace my route. There are plenty of holds and ledges, and if I get stuck there’s scaffolding set up against the building next door.

  I don’t know how else to get in contact with Sam. I don’t have his number. His business phone isn’t listed. I don’t have his email. I don’t know his address. It’s not like we exchanged contact information in the cave. Celebrity billionaires are surprisingly difficult to contact. The security guard at the desk wouldn’t take a message to relay. I could wait and see if he comes back to Romeo, but wait for how long? He hasn’t been back in six weeks.

  I swing my arms back and forth, stretching them out. I stretch my legs.

  A memory flashes in my mind. I was fifty feet up, Chloe was belaying and Erma was trying to tell me the name of my soul mate. I was climbing as fast as I could to get away from him.

  I walk up to the building and boost myself onto the rough stone of the wall.

  Then I start the slow, careful climb up.

  To Sam.

  16

  Sam

  It’s been forty-four days since I left. The same number as the depth of the pit that Veronica nearly fell in. I push the thought away. Concentrating on the past doesn’t help me. For the last six weeks I’ve been looking toward the future. Planning, building, being the man that I know I am.

  “We’re all set,” I say. “I look forward to working with you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Knight. Me as well,” says Kyle Davidson, a passionate, driven PhD and my newest hire, the soon-to-be Head of Research and Development at Knight Research Laboratories. “And may I say,” says Kyle, “I believe wholeheartedly in your mission and I respect you immensely. You aren’t at all like what they—” He drops off and clears his throat. “I mean…thank you for the position. I look forward to overseeing our research.” I can see on the video chat his cheeks redden slightly.

  I hold back a smile. Kyle Davidson is one of more than two dozen hires I’ve made in the past month. I chose him as Head of Research and Development because of his candor, and because he was one of the youngest and most brilliant PhDs to come out of MIT in the last decade. He was working at an underfunded academic position scrambling for grant money until I lured him away. It only took the promise of using science and technology for the betterment of humanity in any way that our team could dream up. With one condition, our first project must be developing a prototype search and rescue rover.

  “Kyle,” I say, “as you’re going to be my Head of Research and Development, I need you to feel comfortable being honest with me. I don’t need pandering, I need someone to tell me the truth. There’s no need to step around my feelings. If we want this project to succeed then I need honesty. Tell me when something works, when it doesn’t. I give you leave to be upfront with me. At all times.”

  Kyle nods and clears his throat again. “In that case,” he says, “you aren’t at all like I was led to believe. You’re driven, you’re probably more intelligent than I am, which is hard to accomplish, and I think that you’re going to achieve great things. And I look forward to doing that with you.”

  “Good enough,” I say.

  We hang up and I lean back in my office chair. I put my hands behind my head, close my eyes and let out a long sigh. I’m in my Tribeca office. The same place I’ve been nearly eighteen hours every day since I got back to the city. I’ve been working day and night to put together the business Veronica and I dreamed up in the cave. It’s scheduled to begin operations in less than two months. I found a space just outside Romeo that I’m ready to make an offer on. My hires expect to be relocating to Upstate New York. I sigh. What will Veronica think when I start running my business from her hometown?

  It’s taking a gamble, one that I’m not sure will pay off.

  When I left, I wanted to turn around. Within ten feet of leaving her hospital room, I wanted to turn around. But what she said hit home.

  Six days before, I had been cavorting with models, donning my player persona. I’d spent five years building that image and I needed to take some time tearing it down. I needed to start, at that very moment, being the man I knew I was. Becoming someone worthy of myself again and through that becoming worthy of her.

  She may be afraid of players. She has a right to be, her father pulled a number on her. But she doesn’t have to be afraid of me.

  I should’ve told her who I was while we were in the cave. But I realized something important. In the cave I couldn’t tell her who I was because I still hadn’t accepted me for me. And if I couldn’t accept myself, how could I expect her to?

  So, I accept me. Just as I am. A man who felt unworthy, then was betrayed, then made mistakes, tried to bury pain in the wrong way, and then came out of it again. I accept all of it, the good and the bad.

  Instead of turning around and going back to her, I decide to keep moving forward. Building a life I’m proud of.

  I lean forward and pick up the phone. I dial the architect firm overseeing the renovations to the house in Romeo.

  “How’s progress?” I ask without preamble. Dean isn’t one for small talk.

  “The climbing wall’s finished,” he says. “I thought you were crazy to ask for it. But I have to say, she looks good.”

  “Send a picture,” I say.

  My phone vibrates and I pull up a photo of the room. The corner of my mouth lifts as I stare at the image. The wall looks like rock, but has various routes, holds, and technically complex spots to keep a rock climbing lover busy for years. It’s exactly what I wanted.

  “It’s perfect,” I say. Before we end the conversation, he promises that the house will be finished on schedule.

  I look at the photograph of the climbing wall and wonder what Veronica would say. Every day, at least ten times every hour, I think of getting up, walking to my car and driving up to Romeo. Evie, in her tendency to psychoanalyze everyone, tells me that I’m suffering from a condition called…love. I tell her to stuff it. She thinks I should go up to Romeo and woo Veronica with all the charm and suavity I have. That’s exactly the opposite of what Veronica would want, so I tell Evie I’m handling it.

  Except, at times like this, when all I want is to see Veronica, talk to her, hear her voice, touch her…I’m not sure I am handling it.

  I’ll keep on my course though. I’ll start the think tank, get it up and running. I’ll renovate the home that we dreamed of together. I stay out of the media spotlight, grateful to move beyond the parties and wastefulness. I’m back working behind a computer on projects I’m proud of. I spend Sunday afternoons with my parents and my sister. My mom and dad came back early from South Africa when they heard I was missing. They haven’t said anything, but I know they’re relieved that I’m back to being the son they knew. I sent a baby gift to my ex-business partner and ex-wife. I feel nothing but thanks to them. Without their betrayal I would never have met Veronica. I’ve moved out of the past. In less than two months, Knight Research Laboratories will open in Romeo. The house will be finished.

  And I’ll ask Veronica…I’ll ask her if she’d like to meet me in the outside world.

  It’s the waiting that’s hard.

  I drop my head in my hands.

  I miss her.

  I rub my eyes. I miss her so much. The feel of her hand in mine, her fingers laced and holding on to me tightly. The sound of her soft breath while she sleeps. The feel of her body wrapped in my arms. The sound of her voice. Her sense of humor and her determination. How much she cares—for her friends, her business. How much she cared for me.

  I think back to the night we thought all was lost. When we made love. I’ve never in my life felt so
whole and like the world was full of so much light and hope, even though we were lost in the dark. She was a guiding star. Even now she’s guiding my actions. I’m becoming the best man I can be.

  But I miss her. So much.

  Then, I hear a noise. A strange scratching sound, then a knock.

  I look up at the door. The knock sounds again. It’s not at the door though. It sounds like a knock on glass. From behind me. On the window.

  I turn around.

  I shake my head. Stare in shock.

  Veronica’s hands shake on the window ledge and she holds herself against the exterior of the building.

  I swear and rush to the window. Yank it up and open. I look down. She’s climbed without a harness sixty feet up the side of my office building. Sweat drips down her forehead, her hair tangles in the wind. She blinks at me and gives a cautious smile.

  “Hi,” she says. Her arms shake on the ledge.

  I grab her and pull her into my office. She lands with a soft thud on the hardwood. I notice her climbing shoes. There’s chalk on her hands and smudges of chalk on her face. I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight in my life.

  I never knew how much I would love the sight of a woman in climbing gear and hiking shorts.

  I want to grab her, kiss her, make love to her. But instead what comes out is, “What are you doing?”

  17

  Veronica

  I give Sam a hesitant smile. I didn’t really have a plan for what I’d do or say after I climbed into his office. About three-quarters of the way up I was just praying that he’d actually be in his office.

  I take in the sight of him. I’ve never seen him in person looking like this. In the clearing, and even in the hospital, he was still covered in bruises and cuts, dirt, he had a beard and messy hair. The full effect of him as Frederick Knight wasn’t there. Now…it is.

  He’s in a man of New York kind of outfit. Tailored and expensive. His hair is trimmed perfectly and he’s close shaven. All the bruises and scrapes have healed. The swelling is gone. He looks just like the man from the magazine covers. A thick lower lip, long eyelashes, a firm jaw, eyes that are made for seduction. Wide shoulders and defined muscles you can see even through his shirt. For a moment, the fear comes back and he looks like a stranger again. A billionaire player that seduces models and actresses and pours champagne on women in hot tubs.

  Then I look closer. See the expression in his eyes.

  He’s looking at me like I’m the only light in the darkest night. Like I’m the first star he’s seen and he’s making his heart’s greatest wish.

  I step forward, move toward this man that looks like…like the man who loves me. And the man that I love.

  He reaches out, then drops his hands, closes them into fists. I see on his wrist the watch that he wore in the cave. The one he gave me so I could find my way out. He wanted me to live. Even if it meant he’d die alone. Seeing that watch fills me with determination. This is right. I’m not afraid anymore.

  “What are you doing?” he asks.

  I look into his eyes. They’ve shuttered and I think he’s concerned that somehow I’m going to reject him or hurt him again. Or maybe I was mistaken and it wasn’t love I saw. That he’s written me off and that’s why he hasn’t pulled me into his arms.

  I’m shaking and I can’t tell if it’s because my muscles are fatigued or because I’m scared that he’s going to ask me to leave. But I can’t stop now. I have to move forward. I pray he wants to move forward with me.

  “What are you doing?” he asks again, and my heart squeezes at the way he says it. Questioning, cautious, without the love in his voice that I remember.

  “Oh,” I say and I shrug, determined to keep going. “You know. Just hanging out.”

  I bite my bottom lip and silently push him to remember.

  His brow lowers and he looks confused. Then his eyes clear and the beginnings of a smile forms on his lips.

  “Oh yeah?” he asks.

  “Yup. Just hanging out. In the outside world.”

  His eyes turn from hazel to a clear happy green. And a place deep inside me responds to his look and unfurls with shining joy.

  “I’m Veronica Diaz,” I say. I hold out my hand.

  His eyes crinkle and he steps forward, takes my hand in his. I feel his touch to the depths of my soul. I draw in a ragged breath. He looks at me and I can tell that he feels it too.

  “Nice to meet you,” he says, still holding my hand. Then, “I’m Frederick Knight.”

  He gives a half-smile and my heart breaks for him. At the way he says his name and the way he looks at me when he does, like he’s asking me to accept him.

  “Nice to meet you, Frederick,” I say.

  He lets out a shaky breath. “My friends call me Sam,” he says. And the man he was and the man he is come together and I see him just as he is.

  “Sam,” I repeat.

  We stand for a moment just looking at each other. I drink him in, the feel of his hand in mine. This is right.

  Then he drops my hand and puts both his hands in his pockets.

  I frown at the chill I feel when he lets go.

  “Well…” I say, and then I swallow down the lump in my throat. I just want to throw myself in his arms and never let go.

  “Well,” he repeats.

  He looks around his office. I do too. It’s large. There’s a glass and chrome desk, leather chairs, a seating area with a couch, a mini-bar. The only noise is the ticking of the clock on the wall.

  I nod. “Well…” I start again.

  “I was wondering,” he says. He pauses. I watch as he swallows nervously, then, “You see, you just popped in and the second I saw you…I realized that you’re special and that I’ve never felt this way about anyone before and I wondered if you’d go to dinner with me?” He smiles at me and the corners of his eyes crinkle.

  My heart turns over. He’s asking me.

  I smile at him, and say, “No. No, thank you.”

  He wipes the expression from his face. Looks at me in silence and doesn’t say anything at all.

  Maybe I made a mistake, maybe he wasn’t going where I thought he was, wasn’t replaying the meeting we’d dreamed up. Was I wrong?

  I watch the second hand of the stainless steel clock on the wall. I count ten seconds, fifteen, twenty, the whole while I pray…please remember, please remember. I’m about to say something, tell him I will, that I’ll go to dinner with him, I’ll go anywhere with him, when he turns around and strides out of his office.

  The door shuts with a hard click.

  He…left?

  I let out a painful gasp and bend forward. I wrap my arms around my waist. He left. He left me. I grasp my waist and try to pull back the hurt, the shock, the…he didn’t remember. I made a mistake.

  He left.

  My coming here was a mistake.

  I take a deep gasping breath, pull back the tears threatening and stand up straight. Wipe away a stray tear that escaped. I turn and look out the window. Walk to it and glance down. Should I climb back down or go out the office door? I think, since Sam didn’t say goodbye, he doesn’t want to see me again. I close my eyes and forcefully wipe away the tears that are falling freely.

  I really messed up.

  I turn to the door. I’ll walk out through the lobby. I can’t stay here any longer. I start for the door when it flings open. Sam rushes in then stops short when he sees me.

  “You’re crying?”

  I shake my head and wipe my eyes. “No,” I say.

  He kicks the door shut. Then, I notice what he’s holding in his hands. Flowers. Pink roses, daisies, lavender, greenery, all mixed together in a beautiful bouquet.

  He remembered.

  I feel like the sun has come out and it’s shining down on me. I smile at him.

  He looks down at the water dripping from the stems to the hardwood floor. “I’m sorry. I got them from reception. I didn’t have flowers with me…I…”

  He
holds them out to me. I take them and pull them to my chest. I bury my nose to them and smile into the roses.

  “They’re perfect,” I whisper.

  He nods. “I was wondering,” he says, “if you’d like to go to Central Park, we’ll climb the boulders, then, we could get coffee and cookies at this old Hungarian bakery near where I grew up. Tonight I can take you home and make you pasta. We’ll eat it on the roof deck, have wine, and watch the sun set over the river.”

  I clasp the flowers and feel my heart swell.

  He looks at me and nods. He watches as I bite my bottom lip.

  “No, I don’t think so,” I say with a bright smile.

  He smiles back. And then I feel it, the hope, the bright shining love that we have for each other.

  “No?” he asks with a grin.

  “No,” I say. “Get lost.”

  “How about we go to Italy and climb the Dolomites? I’ll take you to a villa with a patio and an outdoor oven, we’ll drink Italian wine, and eat olives and fresh bread. I have a private jet, we could be there early tomorrow.”

  I shake my head. “No. Leave me alone,” I say.

  He nods. And we look at each other and share that same look we had when we made it out of the cave. Like we can take on the world and do anything as long as we’re together.

  “Then how about…” He pauses and looks at me with a smile.

  “Yes?” I ask, then I hold my breath.

  “We could go on a walk?” he asks.

  I let my breath out in a rush, start to breathe normally again.