“A simple hello would’ve worked.”
Raquel put on a show of indignation. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Sure you did. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
Raquel huffed. “Let’s just do this.”
The building’s lobby was all polished stone and glass. A wall fountain made soothing sounds. They rode up to the fifteenth floor and followed Raquel down a hallway that doubled as a gallery space for modern sculpture.
The condo unit itself was no bigger than the apartment Leila shared with Alicia. Unlike her apartment, the unit had a modern feel. The floor was a honey-toned bamboo. Raquel pointed out that the wall between the guest bedroom and living room had been replaced with glass panels for “flexibility.” Also missing was the upper kitchen cabinets, which made the space seem larger than it was but arguably less functional. The master bedroom was nothing special, but the en suite bath and walk-in closets had all the bells and whistles anyone could hope for.
After the tour, Raquel waited in the living room while Leila and Nick stepped out onto the balcony to talk. They leaned on the iron balustrade. The view of the beach would satisfy both Chris and Eddy.
“Do me a favor,” Nick said. “Raquel is watching. Pretend you hate it.”
“I don’t have to pretend,” Leila said. “It has no character. Your place is much better than this.”
“Well, thank you, babe.”
“How is it worth a million and a half?”
Nick turned to the view and pointed to Government Cut in the distance.
“The view alone can’t be worth that much. I thought after the market crashed—”
“You thought prices might be fair?”
“Not fair, but reasonable. Accessible.”
Again he pointed to Government Cut.
“Yes, I know! I get it!” she cried. “We’re South of Fifth.”
“Bottle that outrage for when we tour McMansions out in Homestead.”
“Like you’d ever be caught dead in Homestead. Chris and Eddy deserve more for their money. You should keep looking.”
“We should keep looking. You’re in this now.” He hooked a finger through the belt loop of her jeans and reeled her in. “The hunt continues.”
She nudged him. “You said your parents aren’t motivated by money. Neither are you.”
“You keep trying to redeem me,” he said. “Nothing wrong with money, Leila. It’s the currency of power.”
“I read that quote on the internet somewhere.”
“Okay, smarty, what’s my motivation?”
“The deal,” she said. “You like lining up the pins and knocking them down. That’s what excites you.”
Nick tilted his head. “Want to talk about something that really excites me?”
“No,” she said firmly. “Raquel is watching, remember? Everybody already thinks we’re sleeping together.”
“Good thing we are,” Nick said. “Don’t want to mislead anyone.”
“Okay,” she said, “then why not start with me? I think you’ve slept with everyone you’ve ever worked with. Am I wrong?”
“Excluding Greg and Tony, you mean.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Did you sleep with Raquel?”
“Not if memory serves.”
“You don’t remember?”
“We might’ve fooled around in the back seat of her Escalade.”
The scene flashed before her eyes: Nick and Raquel intertwined, her skirt hiked up to her waist.
“It was just for fun,” he said.
As if that made it any better.
“Have you had any serious girlfriends?”
“Depends on what you mean by ‘serious’ and ‘girlfriend.’”
“You’re not a relationship person.”
“Who is, Leila?”
“Lots of people. Most people.”
Nick waved her words away. “Most people make choices when the time is right. To be honest, I’m focused on my career.”
Eight weeks, she reminded herself. Maybe the universe had set it up this way to protect her from certain heartbreak.
“What about you?” he asked. “Is there some great love in your past? I don’t mean your prom date.”
Leila opened her mouth to respond but found she couldn’t remember the name of the guy in college she’d been so infatuated with.
Then, likely tired of being ignored, Raquel joined them on the balcony. “If this doesn’t do it for you, I have something else in the building. It’s not on the market yet, but the owners are home and willing to let us in.”
* * *
The unlisted condo was a corner unit on the thirtieth floor. The owners, a married couple in their eighties, explained that it broke their hearts to leave the home they’d purchased for their retirement but they had no choice. Leila understood all too well, having had to walk her aunt Camille through a similar process.
The couple waited in the hall while Raquel showed Nick and Leila around. The interior was a chaotic mess of faux stone finishes, smoky mirrors and heavy drapes. The kitchen was of another era and would have to be gutted. The master bathroom with its bidet, walk-in tub and grab bars was not suited for a young, hip couple. But Leila had a feeling they’d hit gold. Nearly every room, including the dated bathroom, offered water views. And the fact that the space hadn’t been updated meant that Chris and Eddy, talented designers, could go wild.
“What do you think?” Raquel asked.
“It’s not exactly turnkey,” Nick said.
Raquel bristled. “I know. We’re discussing staging options.”
“Save your money. Staging isn’t going to save this.”
“It’s an amazing space and you know it.”
“Let’s talk price.”
“Two point two.”
Nick winced. “Ouch!”
“What’s the problem? You can see Fisher Island from the freaking john.”
“This place has to be gutted, down to the studs.”
“In the right hands, it’ll be a showstopper. We know it, and we’re not going to give it away.”
Nick turned to Leila. “What do you think?”
Leila measured her words. “It has potential, but will Eddy see it? I’m not sure.”
“Don’t you dare tag-team me,” Raquel said. “I know what you’re up to.”
Nick laughed. “Raquel, you used to love dealing with me. Where did we go wrong?”
Raquel was stone-faced. “Clearly, you love dealing with someone else now.”
* * *
And Leila loved dealing with Nick, as much as she loved the time they carved out to be alone together. If they weren’t making love, somewhere, anywhere they could manage, and not be caught, they were talking about work. They searched listings, attended open houses, analyzed comparative pricing and discussed market trends.
When Chris and Eddy put an offer on the condo with views from the freaking john, they celebrated like some couples might celebrate a milestone anniversary. Nick took her to dinner. They dined on candy-shaped ravioli and never once checked over their shoulder to see who might also be in the cozy Italian restaurant.
Even with his transfer imminent, Nick went on previewing properties, booking appointments and courting clients. The man never stopped working. His drive made him all the more alluring. Leila couldn’t keep her eyes off him.
The tight confines of the office made matters worse. Keeping up appearances was a struggle, which shouldn’t have been the case, considering she was trained in the art of masking inner turmoil with bright eyes and a broad smile. But Nick robbed her of her tools and tricks. She was giddy around him, light-headed. She laughed too loudly and looked a little too content at work. She worried she wasn’t fooling any
one and that Nick wasn’t even trying.
She scolded him one afternoon when he followed her into the office supply room. “We’re supposed to be on the low. Do you know what that means?”
“I’m familiar with the concept.”
“You can’t follow me around like this.”
He locked the door. “I can’t help myself.”
“You’re going to get us in trouble.”
He had her trapped against the shelf stacked with ink cartridges and sticky pads. “Kiss me and I’ll leave.”
“I can’t. You’ll have red lipstick all over your face.”
“You leave me no choice.”
She was wearing her pleated skirt, the one she’d worn on her first day. He’d said it drove him crazy. The flared hem allowed easy access. He bent before her, the soft fabric draped over his shoulders. She bit down on a sticky pad to keep from crying. There was no fighting it. She just couldn’t help herself.
Chapter 13
One Friday in mid November, Nick called her at the office, claiming to have back-to-back listing appointments. He’d be out all day. Holding the phone to her ear, she checked his calendar. It was blank. He suggested dinner, but couldn’t fully commit. He’d call her back around five to confirm. “Maybe we could meet somewhere at seven.”
Leila, feeling slighted, rejected the invitation outright. “I think I’ll stay in tonight.”
He did not press her. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
She replaced the receiver and took a sip of water to settle her stomach. Relationships were roller coaster rides, the highs giving way to sudden drops. She’d expected as much. But on her birthday?
No, she hadn’t made the grand birthday announcement. She had planned to whisper it in his ear in bed right before requesting the gift of multiple orgasms. Now that plan was shot. More importantly, though, when had they taken this turn? Usually she could see the signs: one-sided conversations, missed calls, text messages gone unanswered. Just last night he’d covered her naked body with hot kisses, as if branding it as his own. Tonight, he couldn’t squeeze her in for dinner.
Leila was having a lonely lunch at her desk when Jo-Ann stopped by to give her the afternoon off. “Nick’s gone,” she said. “It’s Friday. Go have fun.”
Leila tried thanking Jo-Ann, but she waved it off. “Don’t thank me.”
During the slow elevator ride to the garage, she considered Jo-Ann’s choice of words. Nick’s gone. Not “gone for the day.” Just gone. They were probably already interviewing candidates to fill his position. Everyone was getting ready for life after Nick—everyone except her. She was running full-speed toward the cliff.
Go have fun. It was Friday in a city that lived for the weekend, and she was drawing a blank. Leila couldn’t recall the things she’d liked to do before Nick, or even the phone numbers of friends she used to hang out with. There was always the sales team at the boutique. She hadn’t heard from them in a while. Maybe she’d stop by for a visit, treat herself to a decent lunch and spend the afternoon window-shopping. Or actual shopping. It was her birthday, after all.
Leila absently got off the elevator on the wrong floor and had to take the stairs to get to her car. When she spotted the Miata, the first thing she noticed was a large red envelope tucked under the windshield wiper. It contained a first-class ticket to New York City and a brief note reading, “Meet me at LGA, Centurion Lounge, 7:00 p.m.” There were additional instructions for her to check the trunk of the car.
She popped open the trunk and discovered an oversize Neiman Marcus box wrapped with a red bow. She tore into it like Christmas, finding a structured black wool coat, a pair of leather gloves and a white cashmere scarf as soft as a cloud. Leila buried her nose in it. More than the thrill of the surprise, she was overwhelmed with relief. Nick wasn’t gone. He was right here.
* * *
“I’m glad you changed your mind.”
The hostess had pointed him out, seated by the windows overlooking the runway where a silver Boeing stood out against a soft lavender sky. Magnificent. And she wasn’t thinking about the plane.
He rose to greet her, smiling, proud of the coup he’d so seamlessly carried out.
“Happy birthday, love.”
After a kiss she asked, “How did you know?”
“Oh, come on.”
“What if I hadn’t shown up?”
“I’d have someone find you and drag you here.”
“How did you get Jo-Ann to—?”
He kissed her again, harder. “Forget Jo-Ann. Forget everything. Can you do that for me?”
“I can try.”
He wasn’t convinced. “You need a drink.”
The menu listed fruity cocktails with Miami-inspired names. “We’re heading to Manhattan,” Nick told the waitress, rejecting her recommendations—the Five Island Flamingo and the Collins Avenue Collins.
“Off menu, we offer the Astoria Bianco, a classic New York martini with a twist.”
“Sounds good,” Leila said.
“We’ll have two.”
While they waited for their cocktails, Nick asked her when she’d last visited New York.
“Five years ago. I was a model at a hair convention in New Jersey.”
He massaged his temples, seeking to relieve the pain her words had inflicted. “Stop talking.”
“You asked!” she cried. “After the gig, a few girls and I rode the subway into the city. We spent the day shopping.”
“What the hell is a hair convention?”
“It’s an extravaganza showcasing all the latest styles and trends.”
The waitress returned with two martini glasses garnished with orange peels.
Nick proposed a toast. “To New York...done right!”
Leila raised her glass. “To New York!”
The chilled liquid went down smoothly, washing away the day’s emotions.
“Name one thing you’d like to do,” Nick said.
“I’d love, love, love to stroll Fifth Avenue. Tiffany. Bergdorf. Saks.”
“What else?”
“Nick, you’ve been generous enough. I’m fine spending the day at Central Park.”
“Don’t do that.” He rested his glass on the round table between them and took her hand in his. “Let me spoil you rotten.”
“This trip is too much already. Normally, I would—”
“I don’t care what you’d normally do,” he said. “You’re with me. And we’re past all that.”
That much was true. So when she woke up the next morning in a smart hotel suite overlooking the Hudson River, feeling slightly disoriented and lost, she turned to Nick asleep beside her and felt settled. She was with him.
* * *
Nick wanted to give her all of Manhattan, but her requests were so simple. They visited the two main houses of worship on Fifth Avenue: St. Patrick’s Cathedral and Bergdorf Goodman’s. The cathedral was undergoing renovations and tangled in scaffolding. They slipped into an empty pew and stared in wonder at the ceiling and the innumerable arches all pointing heavenward. A peaceful silence amplified every footstep, every awkward cough. The air was heavy with incense, mass having let out just fifteen minutes earlier.
Nick draped an arm around Leila’s shoulders and whispered, “I love the smell of incense.”
“Are you Catholic?” she asked.
“I’m a capitalist,” he replied. “Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate top-shelf incense.”
She bit her lip to suppress a laugh. “This really is the good stuff.”
He nuzzled her ear. “The best.”
Leila confessed she hadn’t stepped foot in church since her mother had died. Nick wasn’t a praying man, but if he were he’d ask to feel this close to her forever.
* * *
The windows at Be
rgdorf’s featured angelic mannequins with ostrich-feather wings. Nick practically had to drag her into the department store and up the escalator to the lingerie department. He insisted on buying her a gift and warned her it would be rude to say no.
Afterward, they went full-on tourist and toured Rockefeller Center. The day ended with a late meal. Burgers loaded with caramelized onions. Fries for her, rings for him.
Nick took her hand and licked ketchup off her fingertips. “What happens in January?”
She skirted the question. “Generally, you make resolutions you can’t keep.”
“You know what I’m talking about,” he said.
“You mean what happens when you move here?”
He nodded.
“We move on. Rolling stones, remember?”
“Move on with other people?”
Leila looked nervous. She ran her palms on the red-and-white-checkered tablecloth. “That’s how it works.”
“There’s one problem with that plan.”
“Actually, it’s pretty straightforward.”
“I can’t imagine you with someone else.”
“I have the opposite problem. I can imagine you with any number of women.”
“You’re the only woman I want.”
She kept her focus on her food, dipped a fry into a puddle of ketchup. “You’ll be selling penthouses and brownstones in no time. You’ll forget about me.”
He pushed back his plate. “I want you to consider coming with me.”
“Here? To Manhattan?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious.”
She closed her eyes. “Nick, is this trip about you getting me to follow you to New York?”
“It’s about me wanting you in my life. You can’t blame me for stacking the deck in my favor.”
“You know real life isn’t like a weekend getaway. Right?”
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Don’t you like the idea even a little?”
“I like it a lot,” she said. “Only let’s not talk about it right now.”
“Promise you’ll give it serious thought.”
“I promise.”
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