Harper took a minute to process that, and then her gaze softened with understanding. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
I reached over and squeezed her hand in gratitude and then let it go to mutter sardonically, “So how ’bout them Red Sox?”
She chuckled and nudged me with her shoulder. “I have a better awkward-conversation breaker than that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m thinking about breaking up with Vince.”
I let out a little sound of surprise and Harper gave me a wobbly smile. “I think he’s taking drugs.”
“Oh no.”
“I’m not one hundred percent sure, because I know he’s never high when he’s with me. That’s a fact. I know what high looks like. But I know his band members are into recreational drug use and he acts cagey sometimes, like he’s hiding something. I can’t put up with that crap, Ava.” She shook her head, and I saw tears glisten in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Harper.”
She laughed but the sound was hollow. “I knew it was too good to be true.”
“You don’t know for sure, though, right?”
“I’m confronting him tonight. I can tell when someone is lying, so one way or another I’ll know the truth.”
“Why didn’t you say anything about this sooner?”
“I was … I’m irritated that I’ve fallen for a guy who, if my suspicions prove correct, is not at all who I thought he was. I’m pissed that I’ve told him things about myself—personal, private things. And I’m … ashamed that I really, really want to wish the truth away and bury my head in the sand.” She stared at the bar counter, her jaw locked with gritted teeth as she refused to meet my eyes.
“Hey.” I placed a comforting hand on her small shoulder. “One, you don’t know it’s the truth just yet. And two, even if it is, you have nothing to be ashamed of. We can’t help who we fall for, but we are in control of our actions. Don’t blame yourself for caring about Vince, Harp. He’s not a bad guy. But if he’s taking drugs, he’s a good guy into bad things, and you know what you need to do in that situation.”
She covered my hand with hers and looked up at me, tears in her beautiful gray-blue eyes. “You won’t judge me for being a typical girl with a broken heart?”
“You already know the answer to that.”
Her lips trembled. “I really, really want to be wrong.”
Hurting for her, I had to blink back my own tears. “I really, really hope you are.”
“Clam chowdah!” The bartender rudely burst into our moment by dumping two big bowls in front of us.
Harper’s lips twitched and that set me off.
We both burst into laughter, hysterical, rib-hurting laughter, over our bowls of clam chowder. Not because the interruption was really that funny, but because we both needed to laugh.
It was either that or cry.
Twenty
The month of May was one of my favorites in Boston. The weather began to turn a little warmer, to pleasant mid-sixties during the day, so I could walk around without a jacket. And so far the weather, other than the rainfall last weekend, had been sunny and bright, like the city was trying to lift its inhabitants’ spirits.
However, at night the temperatures dropped to upper forties. So while I was enjoying a beautiful Wednesday afternoon on a long lunch date with a man Stella had set me up with, I was surprised to get a text from Patrice inviting me onto her boat on Saturday night.
She was having a boat party.
That was going to be a chilly event.
“Everything okay?”
I stopped licking my ice cream and glanced up from my phone.
Leo Morgan was licking his own ice cream and staring at me quizzically. The sight should have really done more to me in my excitable areas. After Caleb left, Stella took the fact that I’d been seeing him as a green light to start setting me up again. When she first mentioned Leo Morgan, an acquaintance’s son who was getting back into the dating game after the end of a youthful marriage, I’d said no. Stella didn’t take no for an answer. She started telling me about how he was a successful corporate lawyer, about all the charities he worked with, and blah blah blah. It was only when she finally shoved his photo in my face and I saw him that I paused. He looked awfully young.
Turned out Leo Morgan was a very, very handsome twenty-six-year-old.
And I started to rethink the idea.
Not out of shallowness, but pragmatism.
Perhaps the only way to get over Caleb was to get under someone new. Yet I didn’t want to get into a relationship with any man. A casual arrangement, however, didn’t sound like such a bad plan. And before I saw Leo’s photo, I knew he was a divorcé—which meant he was way too capable of commitment—a lawyer, and a philanthropist. Something about him didn’t say casual date. But the cheeky twinkle in his eye and the fact that he was only twenty-six made me wonder. Maybe Leo Morgan got married too young and maybe Leo Morgan would like something that was mere fun this time around.
Moreover, he was way more my type than Caleb ever was. He had thick, light brown hair that was brushed back off his forehead in a natural silky wave, glittering dark eyes a woman could drown in, beautiful lips, a perfect nose, and an angular jaw. He was about six feet tall with a possible swimmer’s build underneath his shirt, tie, and suit pants. His shirtsleeves were currently rolled up to his elbows, revealing corded forearms and more of that tan skin. No tattoos in sight.
He would have been almost too perfect if it weren’t for his smile. Although he had the most beautiful, straight, gleaming white teeth, there was a crookedness to his smile that chipped the perfection. It was a boyish, wicked smile that suggested that, underneath his good intentions, he was actually up to no good.
A man that hot, licking ice cream, should have affected me more than it did. I definitely felt a fizzle of something. But there was no great, rolling wave of lust that a certain other person managed to elicit. Damn him.
But I wasn’t giving up on the idea of casual sex with this guy. If anything, I was more determined than ever to find someone who could make sex with Caleb look like a clumsy fumble in the dark.
Presently I was walking through the Public Garden with a very cute man on our lunch break, hoping he could still be that one. I really liked that Leo was happy to meet this way for the first time. Casual, relaxed, no pressure.
“Uh—” I glanced back at the text from Patrice.
Patrice: Darling, having party on the boat this Saturday.
Anniversary thing. Will call to explain later. Just wanted you to RSVP now. Kisses.
“A friend is having a party on a boat,” I explained as I quickly typed an RSVP reply with one hand while trying to lick my melting ice cream and talk at the same time. “That’s going to be cold.”
He chuckled. “Will anyone turn up?”
To a Danby event? Yes. “Yeah. And she knows it. She’s probably doing it to deliberately torture us.”
Leo grinned. “She sounds fun.”
“She is.” I tucked my phone back in my suit jacket pocket. I’d unbuttoned it and rolled my own sleeves up, but I was still too hot.
“So …” He threw me that boyish smile of his. “How do you think this is going?”
Quite well, actually. So far we’d talked about work and living in Boston. We were both out-of-towners who had been adopted by the city, but we seemed to share a similar love for it.
Still, I decided to be honest. “Good, but—”
“Damn, there’s a but?” He stopped, having finished off his ice cream, and gestured to me. “Hit me with it. It’s the hair, isn’t it? It’s too perfect.”
I laughed, shaking my head.
Leo gave me a wide, comical grimace and pointed to his teeth. “These?”
Giggling now at his antics, I shook my head again.
“Hmm. Stella told you I play One Direction when my boss’s kid visits the office, didn’t she? It’s just for my bos
s’s kid.” He raised his hands defensively. “I don’t secretly listen to them when I’m soaking in the tub with a glass of wine after a long, hard day. That definitely … doesn’t happen.”
Grinning so hard, my cheeks were hurting, I shook my head again. “None of the above. All of which is hugely endearing.”
Leo crossed his arms over his chest, his expression turning mildly more serious. “Okay. Honestly, hit me with it.”
I sucked in a breath and exhaled it slowly. “I don’t know how to say this without coming across as someone I’m not. I’m not someone who sleeps around. At all. I assure you.” I winced. This was coming out wrong. “But I, um … I’m not looking for anything serious right now. If this”—I gestured between us—“was to go any further after today it would have to be totally casual.”
He stared at me with a little frown line between his brows, and for so long I wondered anxiously if he now did think I was promiscuous. Oh God.
Then he dropped his arms to place his hands on his hips and he grinned. “Are you for real?”
“I take it that means you’re okay with casual?”
“Ava,” he said, starting to walk again, approaching Lagoon Bridge. “I got married when I was twenty-one years old. All was great for the first year, and then the next three years were an absolute hell of disappointed expectations, pressure, misery, and resentment. The last year of divorce proceedings hasn’t exactly been a picnic either. A casual relationship with a beautiful, sexy, smart woman who laughs at my jokes sounds like heaven right now.”
Although relieved to find us on the exact same page, I was curious about something. “Stella gave me the impression you were looking for your next big romance—that’s why I was reluctant to meet you.”
He shook his head, smiling wryly. “Stella is friends with my mother. And my mother is determined to have grandchildren. She forgets that I’m only twenty-six and have time for that stuff. Anyway, she’s the one filling Stella’s head, and I’m sure other would-be matchmakers’ heads, with this idea that I’m looking for wife number two.”
“But you’re not.”
He stopped on the middle of the bridge and leaned his elbows on the railing, turning his head to look at me. I settled next to him, feeling his eyes move over me in a way he’d been too polite to allow before. Soon, possibly, Leo Morgan could make me forget about my Bastard Scot. And why shouldn’t he? He was far more personable than Caleb.
“I’m definitely not. And obviously you’re not looking for a husband. Since this is going to be casual, I’m not going to ask why. I’m curious”—he flashed me a grin—“but I won’t ask.”
I nodded in approval. “You might actually be good at this casual thing.”
“Yet … it’s not something you do a lot?” He raised an eyebrow. At my pointed look, he chuckled. “Hey, I said I was curious.”
I merely shrugged, my gaze drifting over to the couple in a swan boat as it neared the bridge. “It wasn’t something I thought much about. I didn’t want anything serious, so I didn’t date. Then, a while back, I kind of accidentally fell into something casual. It worked for me.”
“But it ended?”
“It was very short-lived.”
“And you and I, if we end up having the right chemistry … would there be expectations for duration? The relationship,” he hurried to add. “Not the sex. I can confirm that I have fantastic endurance.”
I burst out laughing at his roguishness. This could work. So far, I liked him. He made me laugh. He gave me the tingle. And we were on the same page. “That’s the beauty of a casual relationship. One of us can end it at any time without any hurt feelings.”
“This feels surreal,” Leo suddenly said. “I’ve just met you and we’re standing on a bridge, discussing casual sex and the rules. I did not expect that this would be my afternoon while I was brushing my teeth this morning.”
Realizing it was weird and hoping it wasn’t sleazy, I bit my lip. “I’m not suggesting we jump into anything. I thought we could just go on a few casual dates, see if we like each other enough to enjoy the other benefits of a casual relationship.”
“I got you,” he reassured me. “You don’t cross me as the type of woman who has sex with a guy she met an hour ago.”
No, not an hour ago.
“I’m still trying to figure out if you’re real.” He reached out and gently pinched my arm, making me laugh and smack his hand away. “Okay, you’re real.”
I shimmied a little closer to him in appreciation of his playfulness and saw his eyes darken as our gazes locked. Tension immediately fell between us and a rush of exultation swooped over me. There was definite chemistry here. And that meant, Good-bye, Caleb Scott. No longer would the bastard plague my thoughts and inspire such longing.
“Sunday?” I asked softly. “Casual dinner?”
Leo’s eyes dropped to my mouth. “Not Saturday, right, because that’s a typical date night.”
“And I have my chilly boat party.”
“Right.” He reluctantly dragged his eyes up to mine. “Sunday. Sounds good.”
I offered him a grin. “Great.”
“Am I allowed to compliment you?”
It was an adorable question. “Yes.”
“Then can I just say you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and I feel like the luckiest son of a bitch in Boston right now.”
It was a grand compliment. A lovely one. However, I couldn’t tell this guy that I was inured to compliments on my physical appearance. That they made me uncomfortable. Instead, I lowered my gaze, as though he’d embarrassed me, and thanked him.
“Modest too. You are perfect.”
My eyes flashed back to his. “No one’s perfect. That’s the beauty of a casual relationship. We don’t have to be.”
Leo’s expression sobered as he processed what I’d said. Then he nodded and said, in the most serious tone he’d used since we’d met, “Then I think this is definitely what I’ve been looking for.”
Twenty-one
For Patrice and Danby, the boat party on Saturday evening was an impromptu event, just for the hell of it, to celebrate life and good times with their nearest and dearest friends.
For me, the party was a celebration of moving forward. I’d finally finished Roxanne Sutton’s summerhouse project, much to my relief. Moreover, tomorrow would be the next step in putting Caleb Scott behind me. Leo had texted to tell me he’d booked us a table at a little Italian place in Cambridge. I thought it was a great choice because we were less likely to be spotted in Cambridge, and neither of us wanted to draw attention to the fact that we were on a date and give people the wrong idea. I’d told Stella that we’d decided not to pursue each other, much to her disappointment.
In general, I was feeling good. Whatever lingering melancholy I might have felt, I buried it.
“I can’t believe you let me come to this party alone,” I said to Harper, clutching my cell to my ear as the taxi let me out at the marina.
“I’m sorry. We’re busy.”
She didn’t sound sorry, and renewed uneasiness niggled me at whom she was busy with. “You’re sure about this?”
Harper gave me an irritable sigh. “I told you I believed him when he said he doesn’t need the drugs. It was recreational. He knows how I feel and he loves me enough to not touch the stuff.”
I shook my head, realizing love did really make you crazy, insensible, and irrational if it could do this to my friend. “I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be. Look, I need to go.”
“Harper—”
But she’d already hung up on me.
Great.
By the time I found Patrice’s boat on the marina (I just followed the loud chatter and music), I was already feeling the chill in my little red dress, and I was sullen over the situation with Harper. Not exactly in the party spirit. All I’d brought with me was a silk wrap, a decision I was now regretting as security took my name before letting me on the boat. I ventu
red onto the unsheltered area of the lower deck, waving away a waiter’s offer of champagne. There were a few people lingering, but I could hear from the level of noise above me that the party was taking place on the two upper decks. As I considered getting off the boat to find a restroom, my savior arrived in the shape of Patrice Danby herself.
“Darling, there you are.” She floated down the spiral staircase from the upper deck. She wore an elegant pantsuit, and I envied her jacket. She grabbed my shoulders and kissed both my cheeks. “Stunning as always. Come, come. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“Patrice—” I hadn’t even had the chance to say hello yet. “I … um … do you think I could use your restroom?”
“Oh, no need to look embarrassed, darling. I have a small bladder too.” She reached into her suit pocket and pulled out a key card. “It opens the master bedroom suite.” She pointed to the sliding doors that led inside before handing the card to me. “Meet me on the top deck when you’re done.”
I thanked her and slipped inside the lower deck, the sounds of her politely moving the guests who were lingering there back upstairs fading as I closed the door behind me.
There was no one inside, because obviously it was out of bounds for the party. Although I doubted once people started getting drunk that they’d care to respect anyone’s privacy. I passed through the small living room and bar area, decked out in rich walnuts and expensive leathers and plush fabrics, marveling at the fact that I had a friend who owned a luxury yacht. Beside the wall where a large flat-screen television was mounted was a narrow door with a key card lock. I slipped the card into it, watching the red light turn green, and pushed down on the handle.
I gasped as I stepped inside.
As an interior designer, I’d seen beautiful and awe-inspiring homes. I’d never designed the interior of a boat, however, and had no idea one could look this opulent. Standing on thick-pile carpet, I gazed around at the semicircular room. The walls were made of glass, with two sets of French doors on either side. The only part of the wall that wasn’t glass was the nose of the semicircle, directly across from a magnificent super-king-sized bed. That wall was a frame for a beautiful gas fire that was currently lit, despite the fact that there was no one in here. There were two gorgeous velvet armchairs on either side of it.
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