Outside, darkness was falling. They were staying at the Standard, High Line in the Meatpacking District, which was a fixture in New York nightlife. When they got back to the room, Nick got a message from a friend asking to meet with him at the hotel bar. “He may be in the market for a condo in Brickell.”
“What do you care?” Leila asked. “You’re out of the Miami market.”
“I’ll co-list with Greg. He can take over when I’m gone.”
“You can afford to take a break, Nick,” Leila said. “If I were you, I’d be winding down.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” He grabbed his wallet and keycard off the nightstand. “Give us one hour.”
“No problem,” she said. “The soaking tub is calling my name.”
Nick hesitated to leave. Was it his imagination or was she relieved to see him gone? He knew he’d freaked her out with his request, but what choice did he have? Leaving her behind, living without her, wasn’t an option for him.
* * *
Once Nick was gone, Leila was finally free to remove the corset of fear strapped around her waist and breathe deeply. She sat on the edge of the tub, waiting for it to fill. He’d made her promise to think about his offer, as if she could think about anything else.
Earlier at the Cathedral, she’d said a silent prayer asking to always feel as loved and cherished as she was at that moment. Her prayer must have been answered lightning fast because she had not anticipated Nick’s proposal just hours later. Of course, she wanted to say yes. It would be no trouble at all to pack up her few things and follow him. He’d take care of everything, including her. She had no doubt his feelings for her were sincere. She had no doubt she loved him. But she knew stories that began with “I followed my boss/lover to a new city,” generally did not end with “And we lived happily ever after.”
Leila sank into the warm bath. From the tub she had a view of the city awakening for the night. This could be her future if she wanted it. But she had to be smart here. If she’d learned anything from Nick it was to stay focused. If things didn’t work out between them, and what were the odds that they would, she’d be left with nothing. She’d agreed to eight weeks, no more. The only problem was telling Nick. How would he take rejection? She didn’t want to find out anytime soon.
* * *
Miami welcomed them home with a damp hug, the triple assault of heat, humidity and the scent of rain in the air. They headed toward the long-term parking lot, wheeling their luggage behind them. Her car was on the fourth floor, his on the ground level. He followed her and helped load her luggage in the trunk.
“Are you coming home with me?” he asked.
“I shouldn’t. I have to get organized for work tomorrow.”
“I could stay at your place.”
“Not ideal. I have a roommate and...”
He frowned. “I guess I can give you up for one night.”
Her insides twisted with anxiety, not liking the idea of him giving her up at all. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ll never forget this weekend.”
He smoothed her hair. “There’ll be others.”
Leila said nothing. Nick stiffened. “You’ve already made up your mind.”
“No!” she cried unconvincingly. “Anyway, now isn’t the time to get into it.”
She tried to kiss his worries away, but he extracted himself from her arms.
“It’s as good a time as any. Do you have something to tell me?”
Brick by brick, a wall was rising between them.
“I can’t follow you to New York. Where will I work? What will I do?”
“You’ll transfer with me. I already spoke to HR.”
“Without even asking me?”
“The opportunity came up. They’re looking to hire my assistant.”
“And you said, ‘Don’t bother, my girlfriend is coming with me’?”
“That’s not what I said, but if they want me, they don’t have a choice.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Leila, tell me what you need and I’ll make it happen.”
A family of four walked past them pushing carts loaded with mismatched luggage. The parents eyed them with sympathy. They were just another volatile young couple having it out in a parking lot. Those days were surely long behind them.
“I’m going home,” she said. “This is not one of your deals, Nick. You can’t dictate the terms.”
Chapter 14
Leila pulled out of the labyrinthine garage, tires screeching. His offer had all the trappings of a romantic gesture, but ultimately it was all lies. The last words they’d tossed at each other were still bouncing in her mind.
All you want is for me to be on hand for quick trips to the supply room.
You loved that. Don’t act like you didn’t.
I’m not trying to make a career out of it.
Leila, we’re good together. What’s wrong with trying to keep that?
Don’t you see? You’re only postponing the inevitable.
What’s inevitable here?
Nothing. Forget it.
No matter how I play this, we’re done. Is that right?
Raindrops were tapping on her windshield now. She switched on the wipers.
Put yourself in my shoes. Would you drop everything and follow a woman—your boss—to a new city?
What exactly are you dropping?
You entitled son of a —
She merged onto the highway and floored the pedal.
* * *
For Thanksgiving weekend, Nick went to visit his parents in Toronto. She spent the weekend in Naples with her aunt and caught up with old girlfriends.
Over lunch, they bragged about tedious but enviable internships or the complications of applying to grad school. Leila listened and offered encouragement, but had nothing to contribute. What could she possibly say? “I’m sleeping with my boss. He wants to promote me to professional girlfriend, but I’m still thinking about it.” She returned to Miami, her pride bruised but her resolve hardened.
* * *
Nick hadn’t softened, either. Determined to smooth things over, he apologized with flowers and a card reading, “Yes, I’m an entitled SOB, but I’m truly sorry.” He apologized with a gift of La Perla lingerie. A tulle-and-lace bodysuit that must have cost as much as her rent—but not as much as her purse. He apologized in person, waiting until the office emptied out before timidly approaching her desk. She pretended to be in a hurry, packing up her things with unnecessary concentration and focus.
“Leila, look at me.”
She exhaled forcefully but complied because, more than anything, she needed this to end. She needed to be with him. The nights spent alone were agony. Still, she took her time, putting her purse aside and switching off her phone. When she raised her eyes, she was stunned by how adorable he looked. He had a boyish expression of contrition, at once humble and fearful, that tugged at her heart.
“I hate that you’re okay with my leaving.”
“I’m not okay with it. I hate it, but it is happening.”
“You’ve been so damn casual about.”
Now they’d come to something. It was time to come clean.
“You’re right about me,” she said. “I don’t have much going on. But before I met you I had goals, a plan. Now all I do is follow you around. I can’t follow you to New York. I have to work on me.”
“Leila, we make a good team.”
She wasn’t so sure. It was a team in which she had absolutely no leverage. He’d consult her, but his decisions would be final. What kind of team was that?
“I don’t know enough to be on your team,” she said. “We’re not at the same level. All I’d do is defer to you.”
Nick looked away. He was losing the argument and, she could tell, his patience.
“That’s crap and you know it. How long before men start coming after you?”
Leila scoffed. “Is that all you’re worried about?”
“Hell, yes, I’m worried about it.”
“Nick, we still have time,” she reminded him. “And I don’t want to waste it fighting.”
But that was exactly what they did.
Any petty disagreement spiraled into a full-blown argument. Afterward, they’d put away the knives and make up in bed. He’d kiss her in unusual places—her collarbone, her hips—and apologize for whatever insensitive thing he’d said. She’d admit to having started the fight in the first place. On and on they went, circling the opening of a black hole.
Chapter 15
Nick hadn’t planned on attending the party—a broker’s open at a Coconut Grove estate that he, on his way out, was no longer in any position to consider seriously. He’d ignored the invitation, but saw it now as an opportunity for him and Leila to break the pattern they’d fallen into. Too many fights. For once, he had no interest in make-up sex. He wanted to hear her laugh, to see her eyes light up with curiosity. This event was perfect, not too obvious. They attended brokers’ open houses all the time. Granted, this one was rather extraordinary.
He waited for her out front, hanging out and talking basketball with the valet attendants. “Aren’t you coming in?” he was asked more than once when friends arrived. “In a minute.” He didn’t want Leila to venture alone into a house full of strangers. He’d noticed how shy she was at their first open house, uncomfortable in the crowd. He felt protective of her.
When she pulled up in the little red convertible, he was glad that he’d waited. The boys at the valet tripped over each other to get to her. He watched from the top of the steps, amused, until she stepped out in red lace with straps so fine they were practically invisible to the naked eye.
He stepped forward and chased the pack of wolves away.
“Leila, my God.”
He was speechless. Earlier he’d asked her to wear the red dress from their first open house, the one that tied with a knot.
“The other dress was at the cleaner’s,” she said.
He pulled her close. “You’re so good to me.”
She laughed, and he knew that they were going to have a good night. He led her by the hand through an arched portico. She looked up and took in the sprawling two-story Mediterranean estate. “What do we have here?”
He loved that she was as excited as he was. He squeezed her hand. “Let’s find out.”
In the foyer, Leila gasped at the limestone floors and high, vaulted ceiling. “This is amazing!” In the game room, they played a round of pool. She sucked at it, but it gave him the opportunity to lean over her, touch her and watch her attempt impossible shots from every angle. After a while, he yanked the cue stick out of her hands. It was giving him ideas. In the meditation room, she tried to get him to sit still and clear his mind. He stormed out. They headed up the staircase and wandered through the eight bedrooms. In the panic room or sex dungeon—who were they kidding?—he pinned her to the leather-upholstered wall.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“You wore this dress to seduce me,” he said. “Here I am, seduced.”
Touching a finger to her chin, he drew her in for a kiss.
She pulled back. “Did you at least lock the door?”
She had to know him better than that. “Come on, Leila.”
Twenty minutes later, outside by the pool, she stood close to him, seeking warmth. True to her nature, she asked, “How much are they asking for this place?”
“No idea.” For once he didn’t care. He wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her to him. But she stiffened and pulled away.
“Greg is here. Look to your left.”
He didn’t bother. “And?”
“He can’t see us together.”
“Leila, I’m not hiding from Greg.”
He didn’t care about the optics. Being here with her felt natural.
“We’re not hiding,” she said, moving further away. “We’re playing it safe.”
“Where are you going?”
She pointed to the house. “Ladies’ room.”
Nick watched her as she briskly walked away. If he was fated to fall hard for a woman someday, that day had come.
* * *
As time raced on, they kept to themselves, enjoying each other’s company and avoiding crowds. However, they couldn’t avoid attending the office holiday party. For the occasion, Leila purchased a deep blue dress with a plunging V neckline. The look was over-the-top for an office event, but she didn’t care. She was competing with the imaginary New York fashionistas lining up to replace her in Nick’s life.
The party was held at the Clevelander. A fixture of South Beach, the hotel’s open-air patio offered views of the Atlantic. Nick was waiting at one of the bars. She’d insisted they show up and leave separately, for appearances’ sake. The look on his face validated the effort she’d put into her outfit, not to mention the expense. However, once they joined the party they were ripped apart. Nick was the man of the hour, the holiday party doubling as his send-off under the banner New York Nick. He was congratulated, celebrated and, at one point, surrounded by dancers in Vegas-worthy show gear.
After an hour, Leila stepped to the terrace edge. Some guests, mostly clients, were huddled together, smoking. Craving pure salt air, she fled the party. She rode the private elevator to the ground floor and crossed Ocean Drive, leaving the neon hustle and bustle behind for the beach. Her heels dug into the rough sand. She kicked them off and cradled them in her arms.
The beach was quiet. The rolling waves echoed the worries of her heart. Was she making a mistake, letting him go? How many men like Nick were there out there? She quickly reminded herself that this wasn’t about Nick or any man. This was about her, putting focus and energy on her, rather than him.
Her phone rang. Without hesitation, she took it to her ear and said, “I’m out for a walk.”
“In the dark?” Nick asked.
“Needed some air, that’s all. Are you done with your farewell tour?”
“Leila, I have to play the game.”
“I’m only asking if you’re done.”
“All done,” he said. “Now I’m all yours.”
“Good.” She closed her eyes. The night breeze was cool on her skin. “I need you to make love to me.”
A pause suggested that he took her request seriously. “All you ever have to do is ask.”
* * *
Leila drove with the car radio off. When she pulled onto the Venetian, the causeway unfolded ahead lined by romantic lampposts. She lowered the car windows and breathed deeply. Nick had enlisted Greg to sell his place. She would not be making this trip again.
She let herself in with her key and waited for him on the balcony. When she heard him at the door, her breath grew shallow.
Nick called out, “Where are you?”
She didn’t respond. She waited for him to find her, which he did easily. The sliding-glass door squeaked open and he stood in the doorway.
“I should’ve known.”
She turned away and kept her eyes on the water’s surface. Her tears were near.
“Are you still mad?” he asked.
Mad was far less complicated than sad, so she went with that. It was sad to hear him say goodbye and to feel beforehand the vacuum of his absence. And sad was the slight change in attitude she’d noticed these last few days. They fought less, mainly because he’d stopped taking the bait. He’d given up on her.
Nick approached, gathered her hair out of his way and kissed her neck. “Remember that first morning when I found you out here?”
“Of course, I remember.”
“You were wearing next to nothing. You looked incredible in the sun.”
Nick’s hands roamed her body. He tested the deep V of her neckline, finding it allowed easy access. She tried to turn around and he stopped her.
“Hold on to the rail.”
“What if—?”
“Someone sees us?” He leaned against her, offering concrete proof that he was beyond caring. He said, “I need this, too.”
Leila closed her eyes, but could still see the twinkle of the distant city lights. Modesty was a virtue for the suburbs.
* * *
The agency shut down from Christmas Eve through New Year’s Day. Leila was relieved that they could drop the act and finally just be. Christmas was celebrated with a tabletop tree and Chinese takeout. On New Year’s Day, she insisted on making squash soup as per her dad’s family tradition.
“For breakfast?” Nick asked.
“It’s tradition!”
They’d ushered in the New Year with a midnight boat ride and fireworks over the bay. Although she was tired and not at all sure she had all the ingredients, she insisted on making the recipe. Despite her best efforts, the soup turned out like paste. Despondent, Leila shoveled the thick mass into the trash. She’d wanted to share something personal about herself before... Frankly, before it was too late. She’d botched it.
“Want to try my family tradition of mac and cheese?” Nick teased.
“No.”
“Want me to pick up coffee and bagels at the deli?”
“Yes, please.”
He hugged her. “I love that you tried.”
The next day at dawn she drove him to the airport. Traffic was thin; they arrived at MIA in record speed. Nick declined her offer to park and walk with him to the departure gait.
“It’s so early. We could get coffee.”
“I’d rather not.”
He was dressed for another climate in a black sweater and dark jeans. Leila gripped the steering wheel with both hands. A SUV pulled up to the curb just ahead and a young couple jumped out, hugging, kissing, saying goodbye like normal people.
“Fine. Let’s do it your way.”
“We’re doing this your way. Remember?”
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