He nodded. "Emma and I are going to the theatre."
Emma at the theatre? I couldn't see that one. "That's nice."
He slanted a glance at me. "She misses you."
I tightened my grip on Van's arm, and I didn't miss him glance at me. "Well, she's the one who appears to have moved out. I'm home every night."
"Go out to lunch with her. She needs you."
I felt my throat tighten, and I focused on the elevator buttons. Hard.
"Leave her a note. She goes home during the day when you're not there."
I knew she did. I'd seen evidence of her existence in the toothpaste she left on the edge of the sink and the dishes she left in the kitchen. "She could leave me one."
"She thinks you hate her."
I looked at Blaine. "Why would I hate her?"
"Because she's dating me."
Van looked at me sharply, and I didn't let go of his arm. Great. So now Van would think I was in love with Blaine, in addition to Noah and Max. "I don't care who she dates."
Blaine raised an eyebrow. "Then you need to tell her that."
I scowled at Blaine. How come he was suddenly the expert on my best friend? They'd been dating for what? Twenty minutes?
He held up his hands. "Do what you want." The elevator doors opened, and he stepped out. "Nice to see you, Van."
Van returned the greeting in a far more pleasant manner than I was in the mood for, seeing as how I was still smarting over the fact that Blaine purported to know Emma better than I did. And that I wanted him to be right, that she missed me and we could be friends again.
Van and I walked outside, and I only sort of noticed that the sun was setting and it was a beautiful evening.
"So, isn't Blaine the guy you were trying to impress the night you went to that bar? Wearing that shirt?"
I slanted a look at Van. "How come you remember things I would prefer to forget?"
He grinned. "I'm a crime fighter. It's my job to remember details."
A laugh worked its way past my bad mood, and I smiled back at him. "It's really inconvenient."
"So, am I correct?"
I stuck my tongue out at him—yes, I'm so mature—and said, "I was trying to woo him so he wouldn't steal my secretary time. I figured if I showed a little skin, he'd start ogling me and I could threaten him into submission." Yikes. Had I actually said that aloud?
He laughed. "It didn't work out quite the way you planned?"
I rolled my eyes, and felt my tension start to dissipate. "Actually, my roommate started sleeping with him. Seeing him in his skivvies at two in the morning wasn't all that conducive to improving our working relationship." I shivered when I remembered the full-frontal incident. "He actually saw me completely naked the first night, when I didn't realize he was there. How am I supposed to work with him now? It's horrible." Van was laughing hard, so I elbowed him. "It's not funny. Every time I see him, all I can think about is that he's seen me naked. How am I supposed to get him to take me seriously?"
"Well, you saw him in his underwear, didn't you? Shouldn't he be the one who's embarrassed?"
I rolled my eyes. "Men pride themselves on moments like that. Exposing themselves to a woman? A sign of masculinity. I'm sure he told all his little pals how he'd got caught bare-chested."
He rubbed his chin and made a pretense of considering my thoughts. "Let's see. If I was working with a woman, and she caught me with my pants down...I might be a little embarrassed."
"Might?"
He grinned. "Or I might wonder if she thought I was hot."
I groaned. "See? It's so unfair that guys can think like that."
He laughed and slung his arm over my shoulder in a companionable way. "I'm just kidding. I'd be mortally embarrassed and never be able to show my face again. I can't believe how tough you are to show up at work every day."
I eyed him. "I hate sarcasm."
He widened his eyes like an innocent kid. "No sarcasm. I think you're impressive."
I decided to believe him. Not because I actually thought he was telling the truth, but because I needed to hear that.
The rest of the walk to the North End passed quickly. Van had me laughing almost the whole time with his cheerful attitude. I realized it had been a while since I'd been around someone who was just having a good time. Except Emma, but I hadn't been around her much lately, had I?
It wasn't until we sat down at dinner that Van changed the direction of the conversation. "Mind if I ask you a personal question?"
Chapter Thirty-One
"Probably. But go ahead." I picked a piece of salami off the antipasto salad and tried it. It tasted like salami, which made me happy. I loved salami.
"You haven't seemed like your normal self lately. Want to talk about it?"
I rolled my eyes. "Trust me. You don't want to know."
"Sure I do."
"It'll depress you. And me. I get very cranky when I start expounding on the miseries of my life. And then I'll be in a bad mood for the rest of the night and ruin the evening. And since I'm still trying to get you to forgive me for blowing you off, I don't want to screw it up by being moody." Plus, I was never going to tell him how I was falling for him that night we went to dessert.
He studied me for a moment, and I could see him contemplating his response. For some reason, I was intrigued, and I leaned forward while I waited for his answer.
"Tell you what."
I grinned, even though I didn't know what he was going to say. "What?"
"I'll give you thirteen minutes to vent about everything that's bugging you. Then I'll put it all in perspective for you. And then we can't talk about any of it for the rest of the night, and I'll put you in a good mood."
I love a man who takes charge. Random thought. Whatever. "How are you going to put me in a good mood? I'm pretty intractable once I get committed to being miserable."
He gave me a disdainful look that had me laughing. "I'm insulted that you doubt my abilities." He punched the buttons on his watch. "Stopwatch is going. Start talking. You now have twelve minutes and forty-seven seconds."
"You asked for it." I grinned. "Okay, you know about Blaine. Well, Emma now hates me, and we aren't talking. My other two best friends, who are married and engaged respectively, told me they are having an affair. My parents pretend I died so they don't have to acknowledge my failures to their friends."
I paused, thinking Van would want me to stop, but he didn't. He just looked at me expectantly, as if he wanted to hear more.
A warm feeling settled deep in my belly. "An attorney at work wants me to go to law school so I can be a lawyer there. I'm tempted, but I also hate lawyers and the legal thing, and I don't want to do anything to make my parents happy. Oh, and I have to put on a baby shower for my brother's pregnant girlfriend this weekend. And then my sister's getting married in a few weeks to her overachieving fiancé. So I'm the only one letting my family down, and I might even get fired. Did I mention that? I'm on probation too." I paused. "Oh, and I broke up with Max permanently—but that's good—and Noah dumped me because he values my parents' loyalty too much to risk losing it by dating me. Oh, and my birthday's coming up and I haven't accomplished anything that I wanted to accomplish by the time I turned twenty-five." I frowned. "I think that's the big stuff."
He took a sip of his wine. "You weren't kidding. That's a load."
"I know. No wonder I'm sleeping with random men, alienating my friends, and sabotaging my job." I felt surprisingly relaxed, given that I'd just poured my guts out on the table. It was great to be able to tell Van everything and not worry. He didn't know my family or my friends or anyone at work, and I wasn't trying to get him to like me, so there was no pressure or anything.
"Okay, ready for my spin?"
"Sure." I propped my chin on my hands and waited. "Lay it on me."
"Blaine? Not worth it."
I lifted a brow. "Well, I know that, but he still stole my best friend and my secretary."
"Doe
sn't matter. He'll pass out of your life shortly and be nothing but a bad memory."
"Are you going to kill him for me?"
"I could have it arranged. Want me to take care of it?"
His face was so deadpan, I wasn't sure if he was serious. "Um...Emma might be mad if I had her boyfriend killed."
"Let me know if you change your mind."
"I will." I tipped my head. "Are you serious?"
He changed the subject. "Do you still care about Emma?"
"Well, of course. I—"
He handed me his cell phone. "Call her."
"No."
"Leave her a message. She'll check it."
"I can't. She wronged me."
He lifted a brow. "So?"
"So, she should apologize first."
"Get over it."
I frowned. "Get over what?"
"That attitude. If you want to be friends with her, call her. If you don't call her, then stop worrying about it."
"So that's your spin? Deal with it or get over it?"
"Yep." He rubbed his jaw. "So, the work thing and the lawyer thing. Forget your parents and do what you want."
I started laughing. "You make it sound so easy."
"It is easy."
"Oh, yeah? If it's so easy, how do I make my parents proud of me without doing what they want?" I was still laughing. He was being so black and white that it was ridiculous.
"Be proud of yourself. They'll catch on."
I rolled my eyes. "You're such a guy."
He didn't look offended. "How?"
"Trying to solve a woman's problems. Thinking that it's as simple as mind over matter, when it's not. Life is more complicated than that."
"Only if you make it more complicated."
"It is more complicated."
"Is it?" He sat up and leaned toward me. "See, you're a typical woman."
"I'm going to be offended by this, aren't I?"
He paused. "Maybe."
I laughed again. How ridiculous was this discussion? At the same time, I totally wanted to know what he was going to say. "I appreciate the honesty. Why am I a typical woman?"
"Because you over-emotionalize everything instead of dealing with it. You miss Emma, so call her. You miss your adulterating friends, call them. You want to be a lawyer, do it. You don't want to be a lawyer, don't." He shrugged. "If you sit here and get all worked up, then you're miserable, and the problem doesn't go away."
I suspected there was an element of wisdom in his advice, but I wasn't in the mood to hear it. "What about the fact I don't know whether I want to be a lawyer? What's your answer to making that one simple?"
He rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful. "Have you made a list?"
"Of the pros and cons? Yep." I grinned, waiting for him to come up with something. I was pretty sure I had him stumped.
"How much do you like your current job?"
"Not much."
"Then what do you have to lose? Go to school. You can always quit."
Damn. "How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Make everything sound simple. Because it isn't."
"So you're saying I'm wrong?"
"Absolutely."
"But you're smiling."
I immediately frowned. "So?"
"So, you said that you couldn't tell me what was wrong without it ruining the evening. Well, you're smiling, and your eyes are even laughing."
Was I? "I'm having fun," I admitted. "For the first time in a while. How'd you do that?"
He shrugged, but he was sporting that look of smug male satisfaction. "I have a way with the ladies."
"Oh, shut up." I threw an ice cube at him, which ricocheted off his shoulder and landed in the salad of the woman at the next table. When the woman spun around, searching the restaurant, I dove into my salad and tried to smother the giggling. I looked up to see Van calmly eating his minestrone soup and not looking at all guilty. Unlike me. Of course, I was the one who'd thrown it.
He caught my eye, and he winked.
And I grinned. "Tell me about you. I don't think I know anything about you except that you put up with me and that you work at my building. Where do you live? What's your life when you're not in the lobby?"
He ladled some more soup in his mouth and studied me. Finally, he swallowed. "Can't tell you."
"Why not?" That was annoying. I wanted to know about him.
"You won't like me if you know."
"I'm totally offended. I'm not the kind of person to judge."
"You'd judge me."
Well, if that didn't drum up the curiosity. "Are you a male prostitute? Because that's okay. It's lucrative."
He grinned. "Can't tell you."
"Are you a stripper?" I cocked my head and inspected him. "Looks like you have the body for it."
His cheeks turned a slight pink. "Can't tell you."
"So you are a stripper?"
"Can't tell you." He shot me a look. "Why would you think I'm a stripper?"
"Because you got embarrassed when I mentioned it. It's okay. Can I come see you strip? Where do you work?" Van was cute, and pretty built, but I'd never actually considered him to be a male sex symbol. "Will you give me a private show?"
He grinned. "See? That's why I don't like to tell women. Everyone wants a private show."
"So it's true? You're a stripper?" This was certainly interesting. I'd never met a stripper before. Can you imagine if I took him home to meet my family? Security guard/stripper. Not that I'd ever expose him to my family. I liked him too much to torture him like that. "Do you make good money?"
He was laughing now. "Shannon, I'm not going to tell you, so give it up."
I folded my arms across my chest and pouted. "You know everything about me, and you won't tell me anything?" Okay, fine, so I knew he wasn't a stripper. Yeah, he was kind of hot and everything, but he didn't have the stripper aura. But he apparently did have a secret, and I wanted to know what it was.
"Fine. I live in Brookline."
"Where?"
"You're a pain in the butt."
"And you love it." I fished my phone out of my purse, unlocked it, and handed it to him. "Put your phone number and address in my phone."
He lifted a brow. "Why?"
"So I can call and text you."
"Why are you going to call and text me?"
"So I can harass you into revealing your innermost secrets to me. And I want your address so I can stalk you, too. Payback for being evasive."
He laughed. "I've always wanted to be stalked by a woman who wears obscene tank tops." He ducked out of range of a flying sugar packet as he entered his info, then handed my phone back. He then unlocked his phone. "What's your number and address?"
I raised my brows. "Are you going to stalk me?"
"No. I want to be able to give the information to the police when I have them arrest you for stalking me."
"Oh, well, that's good. I imagine there are lots of attractive cops that I could fall in love with, sleep with, and then get dumped by. Great idea." I rattled off my info, watching him enter it into his phone.
Van set his phone down on the table again. "You need some serious therapy."
"Really?" I should probably have been offended, but the way he said it was nice and supportive, not condescending. "Why?"
"Because you're so hard on yourself. So you made a mistake with Noah? That happens. It doesn't make you a slut or pathetic or anything like that. It makes you human."
Something pinged in my heart, but I shoved it aside. "I was kidding about sleeping with the cops."
"Sort of."
I pursed my lips. He was right. I'd been half serious. "So?"
"So lighten up. You're cute, you're funny, and you're smart. Things are going to work out fine for you."
Van thought I was cute? And funny? And smart? I was quite sure there was no one on the planet who'd agree with him. "Will you marry me?"
He grinned. "No."
"Damn.
I really need a hubby who will feed me those lines and make me feel better."
"Now that you have my phone number, you can call me whenever you need to. I'll be happy to feed your ego."
I tilted my head. "Seriously?"
"Yep. Call me whenever."
"Maybe I will."
Van studied me thoughtfully for a moment. "Some friends of mine are meeting up later tonight. Want to meet them?"
Victory! I had a new group of friends! But I was also a little annoyed. I was having such a good time with Van, I wasn't in the mood to share him. But what if his girlfriend was one of the ones we were meeting up with? Then I had no right to claim him. Not that I did anyway, but I'd have even less right if he was taken. "Do you have a girlfriend?"
He looked surprised. "You already asked me that a couple weeks ago."
"Well, I didn't know if things had changed."
"No." He looked at me so probingly that I focused my gaze on my straw. "Why do you care?"
"I didn't know if you were supposed to meet up with her tonight. I wouldn't want to interfere, you know?"
"I think I'm capable of managing my personal life."
"I'm sure you are." I felt so stupid. "It's not because I want you for my boyfriend, if that's what you're thinking."
"No, I wasn't thinking that."
"Well, good. Because we're friends. And you already told me you didn't want to date me because I was a relationship disaster."
He smiled. "I wouldn't call you a disaster."
"No?" Something caught in my chest. "So you wouldn't be averse to dating me?" Dammit, Shannon! Where had that come from? It made me sound like I wanted to date him. "Not that I want to date you. I just...well...you're the first person to make me feel good in a while, so of course I would want more of that. And you're pretty attractive and stuff, but I need a friend now, not a boyfriend and besides, you keep secrets from me, so I couldn't date you anyway, and—"
Van put his hand on my arm. "Shannon."
"What?" I stared at his hand.
"Take a deep breath."
Might as well humor him, seeing as how I'd already made a total idiot of myself. I took a deep breath.
"Let's not go out with my friends tonight."
Dammit. I'd screwed up. He didn't want to admit he knew me. "I promise I won't embarrass you."
One More Kiss (A Too Many Men Romantic Comedy / Chick Lit Novel) Page 19