by Nicki Elson
She turned to him, her lips spread wide. “Yep.”
“You don’t believe that.”
She sat her bottle in her lap and picked at the corner of the label. “You’re right—I don’t need the free flight benefits. I’m racking up enough frequent flyer miles on my own.”
He pulled his eyebrows together and frowned.
“Oh knock it off,” she said. “What do you care about my stance on men, anyhow?”
He tilted his head and lifted one shoulder. “You’re a good catch, and I think it’d be a shame if no guy ever got to enjoy that. You’re like the good-looking priest my mom and aunts used to call Father Whatawaste.”
She blew out a laugh. “And I suppose it’s because I’m such a good catch that you were so adamantly ‘not interested’ on our first trip together?”
“That was only because we work together.”
Tucking her chin, she raised her eyelids to give him a puh-lease look. “Um, Sabine?”
“That’s different. You and I are partners. I hardly ever see her at work.”
“What about before we became partners?” she challenged. “Did you ever even look at me twice?” He’d certainly won her notice whenever they’d crossed paths in the hallways.
“We worked in different departments,” he said. “I never even saw you until Beecher introduced us that day.”
The temperature of the water hadn’t changed, but to Lyssa it felt as if it had iced over. Why couldn’t she have left it a “good catch?” Why did she have to push for confirmation that his compliments were empty? She pulled her feet from the water and stood, reaching down for her towels. “Well, I saw you plenty, and I rest my case—no man on this earth is going to lose any sleep because Lyssa Bates is off the market. They won’t even notice.” She turned away from him so she wouldn’t have to see the pitying look she was certain graced his face and started walking toward the exit.
“Bates, stop.”
She didn’t. There was nothing he could say to change the facts, and she was suddenly very tired. “G’night Hayden.”
Chapter Sixteen
For the next couple of weeks, Hayden stayed fully clothed in front of Lyssa, and the two of them continued as usual, understanding each other a little bit better. On a Tuesday morning, they sat in DH’s Chicago office for a video conference with Shep and the senior managers at Zinnia Management, Roni’s firm. The company had an “exciting announcement” and was informing its largest clients before sending out a press release.
The connections were made, greetings exchanged, and then Richard Zinnia got down to business. “In this increasingly global world, it’s become vital to keep a constant eye on the international operations of the companies we invest in. As you know, we’ve stepped up our foreign visits in recent years, and we’ve learned how important it is to understand varying cultures as well as business operations, so we’ve taken a big step and opened up a brand new office in Malaysia.”
A graphic popped onto Richard’s screen with images and bullet-point bios of the five professionals comprising Team Malaysia. Roni Wexman was the team leader. Lyssa tilted her head just enough to slide her eyes toward Hayden. She expected him to be looking back with a smug twist to his lips—he had to have known from Roni that something like this was in the works. But his eyes were focused on the piece of paper in front of him, onto which he appeared to be scrawling notes. His expression was stone, giving no hint of any emotion whatsoever.
Out on the sidewalk after the meeting, Lyssa stood back and watched him as he reached his arm out to hail a cab. Two had passed by already occupied and when it happened a third time, Hayden swore and stalked back onto the sidewalk. “Let’s try around the corner.”
Without waiting for a response, he took long strides in that direction, and Lyssa hurried to catch up. On the adjacent block, Hayden again focused intensely on cab hailing. Lyssa stepped up close to him. “Why didn’t you say anything about the new office? Did Roni have you sworn to secrecy?”
He took a half step further into the street and waved more vigorously as a cab approached with its roof light on. “I found out when you did.” The taxi rolled to a stop in front of him, and he held the back door open for Lyssa.
As she scooted across the seat to the other side, she gave the taxi driver the address of F&K’s office building. Barely waiting for Hayden to sit and slam his door shut, she said, “You mean that you found out the details when I did, but surely you knew something was up before then.”
He settled his briefcase on the seat, leaving it standing upright like a little wall between them. “I didn’t.”
“Then why did you think she was moving to Kuala Lumpur?”
He exhaled roughly. “Like I said—I didn’t.”
“You didn’t know she was moving out of the country?”
“No.” He angled his face toward the window, a pretty good sign that he wanted her to drop it, but Lyssa was too incredulous to pick up on his cue.
“Well, I mean, I get that you two don’t talk much between trysts, but she had to have known something like this was coming when you saw her in December. You don’t set up an office in Malaysia in a few weeks. She must’ve at least given you a hint.”
“The woman is ice; she didn’t give a clue. What’s so hard to understand about that?” He swiveled his head to face her, his eyes fierce, like electric lasers cutting into her.
“I’m sorry.” Lyssa backed down, literally, easing toward her door, her spine curving as her shoulders slumped. She hadn’t considered Hayden’s feelings until then. Blown off by two women in less than a month. Ouch.
* * *
Lyssa’s phone rang, but she finished applying her second coat of mascara before taking the call. “Hey.”
“Hey.” It was Trish, sounding uncharacteristically doleful.
“What’s up?”
“I re-signed my lease.”
“Oh. Congratulations? Does this mean—”
“Kurt and I broke up.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I re-signed my lease. I wanted another year, but he said if I wasn’t ready to move in with him now, I never would be, and why should he waste his time?”
“Oh, sweetie.” The two friends stayed silent for a moment before Lyssa offered, “I’m sure he’s just hurt and overreacting right now. He’ll get over it.”
“Maybe. Not sure I will though. He was pretty nasty.”
“Asshole.”
“Yeah. And do I really want to be with someone who’s not willing to give me the time I need?”
“True. But is that really all it is? Or is there some truth to what he said—will you never be ready to take the next step with him? I mean, if you were sure about him, you wouldn’t hesitate, right?”
“Right. Except … I am sure about him. Well, I was before last night, and that’s exactly what made me want one more year on my own. I want marriage and kids and all that, with him, but it means everything will change, and I like my life right now. I just wanted one more year of it before signing up for forever.”
“I thought you said he was only committing to living together.”
“Oh, did I forget to mention that he asked me to marry him?”
“Trish!” During the silence that followed, Lyssa visualized her friend’s shrug on the other side of the phone in lieu of a verbal response. “And you said no?”
“I said not now. That’s not the same as no, but that seems to be how he took it.”
“You know I’m on your side no matter what, right? But I can’t say that I blame him. He’s ready to start now and you’re not. That’s got to hurt.”
“Yeah,” Trish said, and Lyssa didn’t know if she’d ever heard her friend’s voice sound so sad before. “So what are you up to tonight?”
“Just getting ready for Lizzie McNeill’s, but I can blow it off if you want me to come over.”
“Oh shit, that’s right, the annual company party. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got my whole nigh
t planned—gonna watch something sad, cry, and go to bed. I just wanted to give you the update. Do you want to meet at the gym tomorrow afternoon and maybe grab some sushi to have back at my place after?”
“That sound’s great. But are you sure you don’t want me to come over tonight. I don’t have to go to this thing.”
“Nah. Go have fun.”
“Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“’Kay. Love you.”
“Love you too. What movie are you thinking of watching?”
“Mmm, what do you think—Titanic, Toy Story 3, or Marley and Me?”
“TS three gets me every time.”
“Okay, Woody and Buzz it is. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Talk to you tomorrow.” Lyssa clicked off and sat still, looking in the mirror at the desk-turned-vanity for a few moments.
She hadn’t dressed yet and was only wearing lacy panties and a low-scooping black bra. Keith would often lounge on her futon across the room and watch her while she got ready to go out. She’d liked the feel of his eyes on her as they appreciatively roved over her bare, lush curves. That had been a nice thing about being in a relationship, but as Trish’s call had reminded her, the bad things far outweighed the good. A few sweet moments were hardly worth navigating the inevitably painful, emotional labyrinth. She wondered what the real-life stats were on happily actually accompanying ever after.
She threw on black jeans and a long, cowl-neck sweater, covering it all up with her thick, wool pea coat and a knit hat before heading out into the wintery weather. Fox & Keaton saved their annual party for the end of January, giving its employees time to recover from a December filled with wining and dining clients and being wined and dined by investment managers. The party was always low key and casual, and this year the planners had rented out a small Irish pub at the eastern-most end of the river, just before it joined Lake Michigan.
The L train dropped Lyssa off at a station a few chilly blocks from McNeill’s. When she stepped into the neighborhood pub, its cozy warmth wrapped around her like a fuzzy blanket. Julie greeted her almost immediately and then called the waitress over to add Lyssa’s order to hers.
“You remember my husband, Charlie?” Julie asked.
“Yep, from last year’s party and the year before that. Is there a place to put my coat?”
“Over there.” Julie pointed with her thumb, indicating a coat rack not far away. After removing her outerwear, Lyssa checked her hair in the reflection of the window before rejoining her friend. The waitress returned with their drinks, and as Lyssa lifted her very full pint glass to her mouth, sharp fingernails dug into her sides in an aggressive tickle.
“Carla!”
“Merry Focker Day!” Focker had become Carla’s new favorite nickname for F&K.
Lyssa licked the spilled beer off her fingers and rolled her eyes. Mid roll, she spotted Henry Beecher not far off. “Merry FD to you too. I’ll be back, but I want to say hi to Beecher before he leaves.” The senior staff usually only made a brief appearance at these events, which were primarily for the benefit of the proletariats.
“Suck up.”
Lyssa went to shake hands with Beecher, and they made small talk for a few minutes. On her way back to Carla, she spotted Hayden by the bar, but his back was turned. She’d get to him later. The place was small and crowded, which made getting around difficult, so she and Carla staked out an open place to stand and stayed put, mingling as people passed by them. After an hour or so, Sabine walked by on the arm of a tall guy with strawberry blond hair. He said “Cheers” in a British accent, and Lyssa recalled that she’d met him before—the previous summer or spring when Sabine had been with him out at the bars. Perhaps a couple of times before that too.
“Hey Sabinowitz, let me see this ginormous rock I’ve been hearing about,” Carla said. Sabine smiled, holding up her left hand to display the large diamond ring that adorned it.
“You’re engaged?” Lyssa asked.
Sabine nodded and wrapped her arm around the guy’s waist, leaning her head onto his shoulder. “Daniel proposed last night.”
“Congratulations, you guys!” Lyssa’s mouth spread into a huge grin while her eyes inadvertently flicked toward where she’d seen Hayden. He was still there, pouring a shot down his throat.
“Thanks,” Sabine and Daniel said in unison and then went on to answer Carla and Lyssa’s questions about how he’d popped the question, when they planned to get married, how long they’d been dating—on and off for three years—etc. etc. Sabine’s fluent answers indicated that she’d been asked these exact questions dozens of times already, and her responses had become rote.
When the recently affianced moved on, Lyssa returned her attention to Hayden and let her gaze linger, studying him. She now noticed that he wasn’t talking to anyone else and kept his back unsociably turned to the crowd. Carla had become distracted during wedding talk and had wandered off, so Lyssa took the opportunity to weave through the throng and check in on her partner.
“You’re doing a great job of holding up the bar, cowboy,” she said, coming up behind him.
“Bates!” Half turning, he threw an arm up into the air in greeting, then let it drop heavily around her shoulders. “How are ya?” He pulled her in close and pelted his wet lips at her temple in a series of small kisses.
“I’m fine, Hayden.” She pushed away and looked for a napkin so she could wipe the side of her head. “How long have you been here?”
“A while. Barkeep, we want two … two of those things with the little glass in the big glass. An’ you drop it in … bah! What’s it called?”
“Boilermaker?” Lyssa asked.
“Yes! That’s it. Two boilermakers,” Hayden said, placing his order.
From behind him, Lyssa caught the bartender’s eye and shook her head no. At the risk of getting slobbered on again, she moved closer to Hayden and asked in a low voice, “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? Nothin.’ What could be wrong? The top brass has left the building, an’ now I’m getting hammered, that’s all. Just havin’ fun.”
“Getting smashed in a corner all by yourself is fun?”
He reached his hand out and tweaked her nose, except he forgot to let go. “Too serious, Lyssie.” She removed his hand from her nose, and he scowled. “C’mon, lighten up. No need to be serious around Hayden King. Haven’t you heard? I’m king of the man-ho’s.”
“Does this possibly have anything to do with Sabine getting engaged?”
“Ya heard. The strumpet had another bloke in ’er back pocket the whole time.” He grabbed his glass from the bar and took a long drink.
“I think we need to get you out of here.”
He jerked his head back and raised an eyebrow. “You want a piece of the man-ho? ’Bout time.” He raised his glass again, but Lyssa grabbed it and set it on the bar, pushing it away. “Impatient, eh?” He wrapped his arm around her.
“Let’s go.” She held his hand at her shoulder and let him use her as support as they walked past their co-workers on their way to the coats. She grabbed hers and put it on, telling him to find his.
“I don’t need a coat.”
“Hayden, it’s freezing out. Get your coat.”
“You’ll keep me hot enough, baby.” He had his arm around her again and kissed the side of her face—she’d turned her head just in time to avoid him making lip contact. Rifling through the collection of coats while he leaned against her, she identified what she was pretty sure was his and threw it over her arm. Winding her other arm around his waist, she led him toward the door while he nuzzled his nose in her hair, telling her how glad he was that they were finally going to do this.
On the way, she saw Carla and told her, “Hayden’s bombed. I’m taking him outside for some fresh air—please squash the rumor mill before it gets started.”
“Wait,” Hayden said, pulling his face away. “We’re not going to do this?”
“No, Hayden, we’re not,” she answered
on their way through the door.
“That’s a double negative, which means … ” They’d moved a few paces down the sidewalk, and a January breeze hit them. “Shit, it’s cold!”
“Told you.” She untangled herself from him and helped him into his coat. Once it was on, he seemed to immediately sober up a few notches and shoved his hands into his pockets. Lyssa used her new freedom to pull on her hat and mittens while she and Hayden kept walking. She steered him around a dry fountain bed across the street from the bar so they couldn’t be easily observed from the pub windows. “Feeling better?”
“I’m not sure seeing straight is better.” He tucked his chin and mouth into his upturned coat collar, and his words came out muffled, reminding her of a pouting little boy.
“I don’t get it. You didn’t seem to care at all about the breakup a couple weeks ago. Why does Sabine being engaged make it any different?”
He lifted his shoulders and let them fall, and Lyssa noticed his eyes were shining with the sheen of tears. She felt a brief twinge of irritation—she’d elected to stay relationship-free, thus avoiding the pitfalls, yet she kept getting dragged into the aftermath of romantic demise anyhow. She knew she shouldn’t complain. She’d much rather be the consoler than the consolee.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to,” she said. “But I highly recommend that you don’t go back in there.”
He nodded and lifted a finger to nudge his collar down an inch, away from his lips. “A few weeks ago, I thought she’d dumped me for just some guy. But he wasn’t just some guy. She’s fucking in love with him and must have been the whole time we were together. I was only a fling to her. She never took me seriously for one second. And Roni … ” He threw both hands up in the air, and his face fully emerged from its shell, sending an angry cloud of breath into the night as he spoke. “I wasn’t even a fling to her! I was a … a booty call. She plans a move to fucking Madagascar—”
“Malaysia.”
“Wherever! And she doesn’t even think to mention it to me? I get that it was probably top secret, but, fuck, she still hasn’t even tried to call or e-mail.”