***
With Alli at work, I spent most of the next day catching up on my own. I took a few breaks and meandered around the park to collect my thoughts and people watch. As dozens of tiny figures walked across the bridge to Manhattan, I tried to imagine what it might be like to be a New Yorker.
Maybe it was time for a change. Alli was so blissed out here, due in large part to Heath jumping her bones expertly and frequently it seemed, based on the very little sleep I’d gotten the previous night. But maybe I could be happy here too.
I pulled up Blake’s text thread in my phone more than once, tempted to write to him. I missed him, but after days of silence, maybe I’d lost my chance. Obviously being with me wasn’t going to be easy. I’d left him in the heat of the moment, not knowing how to react to the bomb he’d dropped on me, and hadn’t even given him a chance to explain or talk about it. I groaned, frustrated in more ways than one. Fuck, maybe I did love him, though I had no idea what that really felt like.
I loved Marie. I loved Alli. In my youth, before I knew anything about anything, I loved my mother deeply, with every ounce of my being. Yet I didn’t know how to love someone I was sleeping with. With other guys I’d dated, keeping a comfortable distance had always been easy. Ideal, really. When they wanted to move on, I mostly felt relief that I wouldn’t have to deal with negotiating a more serious commitment that I couldn’t ever see myself fulfilling.
None of the men I dated knew me, really. Not about my past anyway. Now, not only was Blake blowing my mind in bed, he was systematically stripping away the emotional barriers I’d so carefully built around myself over the years. I couldn’t keep up the façade much longer at this rate. I prided myself on portraying an impenetrable image of success, of having it all together, but he broke that down with a few strokes of his fingers and his persistence. His goddamn persistence—which was why I was in this situation to begin with.
I miss you.
I typed the short message into my phone, regretting it the moment I sent it. Every moment that went by, I wondered if he’d received it.
With no word from Blake, I finished up work and dressed for the gallery opening. I had an image in my mind of mingling with a crowd of snobs in turtlenecks, quietly assessing a collection of art that I might have a hard time appreciating at all. I scolded myself for being so negative, blaming my text to Blake for throwing me off.
I scoured Alli’s closet, appreciating some of her newer additions. Eventually I decided on a pair of tight black crop pants and a bold fuchsia and black lace tunic and pulled my hair back into a tight bun. Unfortunately when I arrived, the motif at the event was strictly black and white, matching the starkness of the artist’s photography.
I spotted Alli chatting with another woman on the other side of the gallery. I slipped through the crowd, drawing attention as I went. I pushed away my self-consciousness. If I was here to network, the last thing I wanted to be was forgettable.
I joined the two women, nodding to Alli before I introduced myself to her long-legged friend. She looked oddly familiar. Maybe she was a model. She was tall and incredibly beautiful, with long dark brown hair.
“Erica, this is Sophia Devereaux. She’s friends with Blake—well, Heath too actually.”
Blake’s name in the presence of this Amazonian made my throat tighten. So this was Sophia.
Alli went on to explain Clozpin and our role in it, saving me from the task of tooting my own horn. Sophia looked mildly interested, but Alli didn’t stop there.
“Sophia actually runs her own modeling agency here in New York.” Her eyebrow arched toward me. “She works with a ton of brands for their shoots,” she continued, spoon feeding me talking points now.
“Impressive,” I said, meaning it, though I had a difficult time pushing thoughts of what she might mean to Blake out of my mind. There was only one way to find out. People invariably loved talking about themselves, and over the space of a few minutes, I learned just how well Sophia was connected. She had worked with every major designer I knew, dozens I didn’t, and casually spoke of them on a first name basis. Yet it seemed strange to me that someone so young would be running an agency versus working for one. She was the picture of physical perfection, at least when it came to high fashion and the type of look it demanded.
In the midst of our small talk, Alli briefly excused herself, winking at me, silently letting me know she would come rescue me soon. I hoped that’s what the wink meant anyway.
“So how do you know Blake?” Sophia asked, her voice low, deliberate, and laced with a hint of bitchiness that had been previously absent from our conversation.
I stared hard at her, trying to gauge her intent, my adrenaline spiking. “We’re seeing each other,” I said evenly. Sure, we’d spent the past few days enduring what, at least to me, felt like a devastating separation, but she didn’t need to know that.
Her head cocked. “Interesting.”
“And how do you know Blake?” I asked, burning with curiosity.
She smiled, catching a few strands of shiny perfect hair between her fingertips. “We catch up from time to time.”
“Interesting,” I said, mimicking her sneer, praying she was bluffing. Based on her tone, there was no doubt in my mind that catching up in this case meant fucking. And the thought of Blake fucking her filled me with a blind jealousy. I garnered every ounce of self-control not to show it just then.
“A little advice, from one woman to another. If you’re after his money, or his connections for that matter, he won’t keep you around for long. He protects what’s his.”
“You would know, I suppose?” My teeth gritted with restraint. This woman definitely had a dark side, devious almost. I barely recognized her the moment Alli left us, and just as quickly, her expression changed again when we were joined by a young man holding out two glasses of red wine.
“You two look entirely too sober for this event,” he said, his eyes lighting up with humor.
“Darling,” Sophia purred, taking her glass from him and air kissing him from cheek to cheek.
I took the glass of wine he offered with no care of its origin or vintage. This bitch was winding me up.
“Isaac. This is Erica Hathaway. She runs a fashion website. The details escape me,” Sophia said with a careless wave. “Would you two excuse me? I am running late for another engagement. It was delightful to meet you, Erica. Please stay in touch?”
I forced a smile and reached out to shake her hand. I reveled a bit at the opportunity to crush it. She winced at the contact. For being so imposing in height, she was a wet noodle when it came to handshakes.
“I’m Isaac Perry,” he said as soon as she left.
“What brings you here tonight, Isaac?” I asked with blithe interest.
“The art, I suppose. Definitely not the people, though I have to say I’m rather interested in you.” He grinned.
Not only was Isaac in a great mood, he wasn’t hard on the eyes. Tall and lean, with pale blue eyes and a mop of sandy blond hair, he was dressed in black slacks and a V-neck sweater. His entire persona came across as casual and boyish, making him seem less pretentious than most of the people around us.
“And what do you think of the art?” I asked, skipping right over the bait he offered for me to talk about myself. I was already strung too tight missing Blake. I couldn’t quite handle meaningless flirting at this point.
Isaac breathed out a whistle and stared at the piece in front of us. “I think I like it, which is good since we’ll be doing a write up on it.”
“Are you a writer?”
“Publisher. I own Perry Media Group.”
I recognized the name, which had somehow penetrated my tech bubble somewhere over the course of my time at school. The write-up he spoke of could belong to any number of quality international publications. I coughed a little on my last sip of wine and caught him smirk as he surveyed the room.
“Tell me more about what you do. I have to admit, I don’t know a
s much as I should about the social space these days, but it’s fascinating, isn’t it?”
“It is,” I agreed. “There’s nothing quite like it. I’m sure publishing moves quickly, but technology sort of blows your hair back sometimes. It’s a challenge to stay current, but that’s what I really love about it.”
“You’re so young to be doing this.”
He was buttering me up, but coming off of my time with Sophia, I couldn’t argue with some praise and thoughtful appreciation.
“I guess so.”
“On top of being a woman, that seems rare.”
“That’s true. I guess I’m a bit of an endangered species in the high tech department.” I would have enjoyed having a peer group with a little more gender diversity, but I figured that would change eventually. All in good time.
“I’m on the flip side. In publishing, I’m surrounded by women. They’re just so damn good at it.”
He shot me a disarming smile. He was officially enchanting, though I couldn’t imagine why on earth he would be seen air kissing the diabolical Sophia.
“So, fashion, huh? You must be tapped into the fashion bloggers in the city then?” he said.
“Not really, no.”
“Oh wow, you should be. They’re like the grass roots effort that gets all of the cream rising to the top. If you can get into their good graces, you’ll be everywhere.”
“I’ll definitely look into it. Thanks for the tip,” I said, clinking our plastic glasses together, my jovial mood beginning to match his. I wasn’t sure if it was the wine or just his sheer force of positive energy, but I felt better than I had all day.
“What are you doing for dinner Saturday?” he asked. His voice was markedly lower.
I chilled at the suggestive tone. I didn’t want to be wanted, but he didn’t know that yet. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“Brunch on Sunday then. I’d love to learn more about your business. Maybe we can figure out a way to work together.”
I hesitated. The publisher of Perry Media Group wanted to discuss working together. I couldn’t turn that down, no matter how he was looking at me. Dinner meant too much, implied too much, but brunch I could do.
“That sounds doable,” I said.
We shared contact info, digitally penciling each other in.
Alli joined us shortly thereafter and excused us so we could meet Heath for dinner. We decided to walk, and Alli wasted no time grilling me for details.
“Who was he?”
“That was Isaac Perry.”
“Holy shit, good find, Erica. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”
“Whatever.” I shrugged. “I guess Sophia knows him too,” I added, hoping to prompt Alli. I was eager to know more about her even though she’d already put me in a pretty foul mood.
We turned into our destination, an Asian fusion restaurant that emitted some fantastic smells as we passed through the doors. Alli spotted Heath and immediately changed. Her countenance, her body language, all her energies focused on him. I groaned quietly, knowing neither would notice.
We settled in and ordered.
“Alli says you know Sophia,” I said, interrupting Alli and Heath’s canoodling.
Heath straightened himself as if he were all business now. “I do. We’re invested in her agency, actually.”
“Blake too?”
“Yes, Blake knows her too.”
I looked to Alli, who appeared conveniently distracted by something at the other end of the restaurant.
“Sounds like he more than knows her.” I took a sip of my water.
Heath looked to Alli, drumming his fingers on the table. Like Blake, he was always cool and calm, with an added layer of carefree charm that set the two brothers apart. Why did talking about Sophia ruffle him? She must mean something to Blake. It was the only logical explanation, considering he probably already knew more about my relationship with Blake than I wanted him to.
“I think they dated on and off, when he was in town, you know. But they’ve just been friends for years.”
If I didn’t know better, I would have thought someone punched me in the gut. Jealousy pulsed through me as I absorbed his words. He emphasized years, but nothing he could say diluted the devastating fact that they had history.
The question was whether they had a present, or a future. I checked my phone. Still nothing. The rejection implied in his silence tore a hole in my heart, and tears threatened suddenly. Get it together, I told myself.
Heath’s phone went off and his eyes widened a bit, darting to me and back to the phone. “Excuse me, I’ve got to take this,” he said and left us alone at the table.
“Well this is awkward,” I said.
“What?”
“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you’ve done a complete one-eighty since moving here. First you move in with Heath and don’t bother telling me, and now you’re introducing me to Blake’s ex-girlfriends without any warning? You could have given me a heads up, you know.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would come up. Like he said, they’re just friends.”
“That’s a shitty reason for not telling me, and you know it. I realize you’re serious about Heath, but what the hell, Alli? This isn’t you.”
“I’m the same person I was a few weeks ago. It’s just… things are more complicated than you realize.”
“No doubt, because you don’t tell me anything.”
She sighed and twisted her hair. “I said I was sorry, okay? I admit it. I should have told you about Sophia. If you introduced me to someone Heath had history with, I’d want to know.”
I relaxed a little. Alli shielding me from the truth wasn’t doing me any favors. I was falling hard for Blake, and I needed to know if that was a reckless effort. She had loyalty to Heath now, but protecting him, and Blake, at my expense wasn’t going to work.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I slept in the next morning, nearly as drained and confused as I had when my head hit the pillow the night before. I checked the clock and forced myself up. I assumed Alli had made it to work all right. She and Heath had gone out for drinks after dinner while I headed back to the condo. We’d made plans to go out on the town the following night, but maybe they needed alone time. Restless, I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours but finally fell asleep, never hearing their return. How she kept up like this I would never know.
I made myself at home in the kitchen, brewing coffee and frying up an omelet. I looked up some local yoga studios on my phone and found a class I could walk into just before lunch. As I devoured my breakfast, Heath came from the adjacent bedroom, looking more than tired. The long night had left heavy bags under his eyes, and for the first time, I noticed he actually looked older than Blake, fine lines fanning out from his dark hazel eyes.
He had the same toned chest and intense eyes as Blake, but while I could appreciate his obviously quality looks, I felt no attraction to him. Blake’s appearance had sparked my attraction from the start, but so much more kept that flame alive. Other men had become invisible to me.
Shirtless, Heath shuffled to the coffee maker. He filled an oversized mug to the brim and emptied it to a halfway point before he finally acknowledged me with a nod.
“Morning,” he said, looking into his cup.
“Long night?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his face and sighed.
“How was Alli this morning?”
“Uh, fine. She—” He paused. “She came home earlier than I did.”
Something wasn’t right.
“Is everything all right?” I asked gently, tiptoeing since I was prying into his personal life, though everyone seemed to think that was all right when it came to mine.
“Yeah, definitely. You know how it goes.” He shrugged.
A tired and overused smirk that I had started to peg as bullshit marked his face. He was obviously trying to downplay something.
“Do you love her?” I blurted it out, surprising my
self even as I said it. It was a bold enough question, let alone one to ask someone in as bad a shape as he was.
His gaze shot to mine, burning with an emotion I couldn’t name, all trace of the bullshit smile gone.
“Obviously.”
He set his mug down hard on the counter. He sounded bitter about it, though. As if the reality of it stung him. The tone spurred me, my protectiveness kicking in.
“I hope so. Because she’s hopeless over you. I’ve never seen her like this.”
A tell tale twitch in his jaw appeared. The same one that tipped me off when Blake was on the edge.
“If you hurt her, Heath…” I lifted my chin, ready to make a point, but my empty threat fizzled as I delivered it. How could I hurt him back? Shielded by his billionaire brother and the lifestyle he afforded, he was sheltered. Threatening him was beyond pointless.
“I won’t,” he said, his voice clipped with fatigue and irritation.
When our eyes met briefly, I recognized a flash of pain behind them before he turned to go. I finished my breakfast and retreated to the bedroom to change while Heath slept off whatever had him looking so harrowed.
Hours later, the yoga studio was filling up quickly. The instructor wasted no time warming us up, mentally and physically. I needed this. I needed to burn off all the decadent New York meals I’d been treated to, but what I needed more was clarity, to be centered. I could never seem to empty my mind of the constant chaos that Blake created within me.
By the end of the half hour, I was straining for perfection in a wheel pose, my torso bending up toward the sky. I breathed through the discomfort. I was sorely out of practice. The challenging movements drained me but awakened me at the same time, as each muscle activated to keep me in good form. In an audience of a dozen or so other attendees, I refused to falter.
The class ended just as I was ready to give up. We lay in relaxation and my thoughts floated to Blake. So much for emptying my mind. When we devoted our practice, I sent love and light to him. I missed him terribly. No sooner had I rolled up my mat, when my phone vibrated next to me, a quiet intrusion into my hard-earned calm. I fumbled for it, too eager. I hurried out into the hallway for some privacy.
Hardwired Page 13