Afterwards

by Nia Forrester

  After the salon, Robyn walked Jasmin back to Chris’ office and was about to leave when he stopped her, inviting her to join them for the lunch HR was hosting. The invitation was probably issued because Chris was as nervous about being alone with Jasmin as she was in his presence. But it was fun. There were door prizes and a surprise performance from an up-and-coming pop boy band, and every girl got a cupcake and a goodie bag.

  Robyn watched Chris as he took in the show, obviously finding each new thing as surprising—and maybe even as entertaining—as Jasmin herself.

  This is cool. Robyn leaned over to him during the boy band’s performance. I bet it really helps with employee morale.

  I bet it does, Chris said. But I didn’t have anything to do with it.

  And then they’d both laughed, remembering her admonition to him earlier about Jasmin’s name; that sometimes the perfect truth was not called for. Their laughter almost made her forget that R&D meeting where he’d inexplicably tried to cut her down in front of Frank and everybody. She still hadn’t a clue what that had been about.

  But running her hand over this bag, she decided to put that aside. He had a lot of stress in his life, and had been pretty harsh with Frank as well during the meeting, so she was probably just being sensitive, made even more so because she’d come to think of him as more than a boss or acquaintance, but as a friend as well.

  Sitting behind her desk, Robyn picked up her phone and started to dial his number. But no. This was definitely worth a face-to-face. He was always giving her things, the least she could do was let him know in person that she appreciated it. Getting up again she headed for the twentieth floor.

  _____________________

  “You can go ahead on in.”

  Robyn hesitated, recalling only too well an exchange with Chastity about his schedule when she’d once tried to get on it.

  “Are you sure he’s free?”

  Lisa, the receptionist, glanced down at her monitor again. “Yup. All clear.”

  “Don’t you have to buzz him?”

  Lisa shook head. “No. You’re on the list, so you can just head right in.”

  “The list?” Robyn wrinkled her brow.

  “Pre-approved visitors. People who can go right back without an appointment,” Lisa said, as though it was obvious.

  Robyn leaned in, not sure she’d heard right.

  Lisa raised her eyebrows, waiting. “Was there something else?”

  “No,” Robyn said. “Thanks.”

  Walking back toward Chris’ office, she puzzled over this new information. She was pre-approved to walk back to Chris’ office whenever she wanted? When? Why?

  By the time she was standing at his door, she still hadn’t reconciled it. Sometimes Frank Casey himself couldn’t get on Chris’ schedule. She knew because she’d overheard him bitching and moaning about it. And yet she was on the pre-approved list?

  At his door she paused because Chris wasn’t alone. She only saw the back of a curly head and began backing away when he spotted her.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I thought . . .”

  The curly head turned.

  “Robyn!”

  It was Riley. She stood and came to embrace Robyn and kiss her on the cheek. As usual, she looked effortlessly pretty, wearing dark wash jeans, a white shirt topped with a blazer and a light scarf draped about her neck.

  “I haven’t seen you in forever it feels like. Are you coming to our cookout this weekend?”

  “Of course,” Robyn said, returning the kiss. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Well, I was just leaving,” she said. “Dropped by to thank Chris for the Save the Music thing.”

  Robyn looked at Chris who was engrossed in something on his computer monitor.

  “I understand you played some part in that, so thank you as well. Bill was ecstatic.”

  “Seems like everyone has something to thank Chris for,” Robyn said.

  He still wouldn’t look up, and Robyn got the distinct impression he was avoiding it.

  “Yes, we do,” Riley went behind the desk and standing behind Chris’ chair grabbed his shoulders and leaned in. “Anyway, I have to go, so he’s all yours.”

  Robyn watched as Riley gave Chris a brief kiss and for a moment envied that she was so easily able to be affectionate with him. The thought gave her pause. Be affectionate with him? Did she want to be affectionate with Chris? Well, she wanted to touch him, that had been embarrassingly established, ages ago.

  “I expect to see you both this weekend then,” Riley said as she breezed out, leaving behind her a light citrus scent.

  Chris hadn’t spoken at all the entire time, and only now did he look up from his monitor, his expression as usual giving nothing away.

  “I got your gift,” Robyn said, not knowing whether she should sit or not. “It’s too much for what I did. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  For a moment she saw his eyes travel her length; quickly, like he didn’t want her to see him do it. Robyn mentally inventoried what she was wearing: a floral skirt in lime green and navy blue, lime green shell and navy blue cardigan. Her hair for a change of pace she’d brushed all back from her forehead. She’d liked the way she looked when she left the house earlier, but now wondered if it was up to par. Maybe too matchy-matchy?

  “I’m always thanking you for things, aren’t I?” she said.

  “It’s not necessary,” Chris said shaking his head. He sounded tense. Terse almost.

  “And the Save the Music thing. I mean, you sounded like you weren’t going to . . .”

  “He sent in a proposal. All I did was look at it, and fast-track it. It was a good proposal.”

  “So thank you, again.”

  “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for the kids who need a music program.”

  “Of course.” Robyn cleared her throat.

  Why was she feeling so shy? After all, they saw each other socially every single week at his house. They talked, they ate, and they laughed. But something felt different now. Two nights ago, her mother had shown her a picture from one of the daily newspapers, of Chris at an industry event with yet another pretty model on his arm, and Robyn’s mood had immediately gone south. Based on the date of the event in the caption, she’d been with him just that afternoon, eating sliders and drinking Corona. So he’d obviously dropped her off and gone home to get ready for his date with the model. Whatever she may think about things being different, he obviously saw her as . . . what? That was the problem; she had no idea.

  “Jasmin had a good time,” Chris said after a few beats of silence between them. “She talked about you almost the whole way home.”

  “She’s adorable. And she talked about you almost the entire time I was with her.”

  “She did?” Chris looked surprised. Pleased.

  “Yeah. I think she finds you fascinating.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, right.”

  “Like hero-worship,” Robyn shrugged. “All little girls have that toward their Dads.”

  “Yeah, but she doesn’t know me that well.”

  Hearing something in his voice that sounded awfully close to regret, Robyn sat in the chair Riley had vacated minutes earlier.

  “But she wants to, Chris.” He looked at her like he was hanging on each word, so Robyn went on. “So if you don’t know her well, or she doesn’t know you, I think you have a chance to do that now.”

  “Her mother and I . . .” he began, shaking his head.

  “If you don’t get along, do things with just Jasmin,” Robyn suggested. Then she made herself shut up, because what the hell did she know about raising children?

  “Nah, that’s not it. We’re not together but we get along fine. It’s just strange being a father when you don’t love their mother, y’know?”

  “She gets that you and her mother aren’t together.”

  “I know, but I figure I’ll get to know her when she’s older and can make that call for herself.”

&
nbsp; Robyn shook her head. “No.” Now this she knew something about.

  “No?”

  “No,” she said again, more forcefully this time. “My parents split up before I was a teenager. And my father was always like, twenty minutes away. But he never visited much, just showed up on birthdays, dropped gifts off on Christmas. Occasionally took me for Thanksgiving with his family.

  “And then when I was leaving for college, all of a sudden he started calling more, wanting to do dinner and lunch. I mean, he really made an effort. But by then, I was confused by the sudden interest and more than that, I wasn’t interested. It had been too long. He’d missed too much. There were too many references he didn’t understand. Too many milestones I had to explain to him.”

  Chris’ brow was furrowed, but he looked like he was really listening. Troubled by what she was saying, but listening nevertheless.

  “I wasn’t angry with him,” Robyn continued. “At least not by then I wasn’t. I was just . . . indifferent.”

  “But now you’re older so you understand,” Chris said.

  “I do understand. I understand perfectly. But it doesn’t change how I feel. Now he’s just . . .” Robyn shrugged. “A nice man. He’s not my Dad. And I honestly don’t think he’ll ever be.”

  “Ever,” Chris repeated.

  Robyn nodded, then realized how rigid that probably sounded. “I don’t know. Who knows, right? But today, that’s how I feel. I would sooner call you if I was in trouble than I would call him.”

  Chris gave a smile. “I hope it’s not that farfetched that you would call me if you were in trouble,” he said.

  And at that, Robyn felt a little ripple of pleasure, all the way down her back. Holy crap, she had to get out of there before she said something ridiculous. Standing, she straightened her skirt and cleared her throat once again. Seemed like she was always making that sound around him lately. The universal sound of discomfort.

  “Anyway, I wanted to thank you. And to . . . invite you over for dinner.”

  Chris looked as surprised as she felt. The invitation wasn’t planned at all. She only meant to give her verbal thanks. For the bag, for entrusting her with his daughter. For everything. But then on a whim, she decided she wanted to get to know him on turf and on terms that he didn’t control, for a change.

  “Dinner,” he repeated, as though he didn’t recognize the word.

  “Yes.”

  “When?”

  “Friday evening?”

  Robyn had no idea what his plans might be, but her Fridays had been pretty barren for quite some time now.

  “Okay.” He nodded.

  “Okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “At my mother’s place,” she warned. “Nowhere fancy.”

  “Are you trying to get me to back out already?”

  Robyn blushed. “No, of course not. I just know you’re used to . . .”

  “I’ll see you on Friday night,” Chris interrupted. “What time?”

  “Let’s say eight o’clock?”

  Chris nodded.

  It unnerved her when he didn’t talk much. Made her want to babble to fill the silence. It was a struggle not to do so now.

  “Good. Okay. So I’ll see you.”

  She practically ran out of his office, her heart pounding as though she was being pursued by something; she knew not what, but something big.

  _____________________

  “So do you want me to make myself scarce when he gets here?”

  “No Mom, for the hundredth time this is not that kind of dinner.”

  “Well why not?”

  Her mother was helping her with the place-settings on the table, and with checking on the risotto. It had been a fit of madness to choose risotto for dinner, because it was so easy to mess up, and if Chris was even fifteen minutes late, it would turn into a gummy mess. But Curtis had always told her she made great risotto and she wanted to make something impressive for the man who was not easily impressed.

  “Because it’s possible to be friends with a man, y’know? And have it not be something romantic?”

  Her mother shook her head as she wrapped the last set of cutlery into the napkin. “No, it’s not. And even if it was possible, he’s already proven he’s interested in more. The motorcycle thing, the bag, letting you meet his daughter.”

  “Chris isn’t like most men,” Robyn said.

  The words caused her mother to freeze for just a moment, and then she resumed working on the place setting, needlessly arranging the floral centerpiece that Robyn had asked her to buy that afternoon.

  “What?” Robyn asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

  “You like him too,” her mother said, a smile in her voice.

  “No, I . . .”

  “Don’t apologize for it. It’s wonderful. This is the first time since Curtis I’ve seen you so excited about someone.”

  “I’m not excited,” Robyn said quickly. “I just don’t like that he’s always doing things for me and I can’t reciprocate. It feels strange.”

  “I’m sure it must,” her mother said. “After all you used to do for Curtis.”

  “I didn’t do that much for Curtis. And stop bringing him up!”

  “You did. You got into NYU, you went to St. John’s because you didn’t want him to feel bad he didn’t get in. You gave up that chance to go do a year in the London office because Curtis didn’t want you to go. And now this thing where he shows up at your new job . . .”

  “Wow,” Robyn headed into the kitchen to check on the risotto again. “Look who’s into Curtis-bashing all of a sudden.”

  “I’m not bashing him. I love Curtis. But I see him clearly, that’s all. And he was always getting all of what he wanted while you got some of what you wanted. If you were lucky.”

  “Okay, Mom. Could you just . . .”

  The doorbell rang and Robyn almost jumped out of her skin. Like it was unexpected that it would ring. It was just five minutes till, so she’d known it would ring any moment. No reason to be on tenterhooks.

  “Can you get that?” the tension was in her voice, as well. And her mother heard it, because she smiled just before she turned to go answer the door.

  Robyn heard him before she saw him, greeting her mother by her first name and then the two of them entered the small kitchen. She wished it was closed to the rest of the house, but the ground floor of the townhouse had an open floor plan, so it was impossible to hide out until dinner was ready.

  Chris entered, smelling like musk and looking freshly-shaven, clean and—god, could it be—handsome? He didn’t immediately grab the eyes like his friend Brendan whose smile was one-thousand watts of amazing, nor like Shawn whose good looks were sullen and careless, almost like he resented being that damned attractive. Chris had something else, an edge, a dangerousness to his looks. Mean-sexy.

  “I brought a red and a white,” he said, setting two bottles on the kitchen counter nearby where she was stirring the risotto. “Didn’t know what we were having, so . . .”

  “Did they cost three thousand bucks each?” Robyn asked.

  “Robyn!” her mother said. Then she laughed and looked at Chris. “My goodness. I promise you I didn’t raise her to be so . . .”

  “Relax, Mom. It’s a joke between me and Chris.”

  It was out before she realized how that had to have sounded. Like she and Chris had private jokes. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that he was looking at her as well, a smile playing about his lips.

  “Oh. Well. Then Robyn why don’t I take over with this while you two get situated?” her mother offered.

  She turned away from the stove and faced Chris head on for the first time since he’d arrived. He was wearing grey slacks that looked like they’d been tailored especially for him; and a white V-neck summer sweater, which emphasized his lean physique.

  Robyn led him into the living room where they both sat, and for a moment there was an awkward silence. With her mother just feet away
and completely within earshot, it was hard to think of something to say, and then Robyn reminded herself that it didn’t matter if her mother was within earshot since this was not that kind of dinner.

  “How’s Jasmin?” she asked.

  “Good. She called me yesterday.”

  Robyn smiled. “She did?”

  “Yeah. First time she’s called me that I can remember. Wanted to thank me, and to tell me to thank you.”

  “It was my pleasure. She’s a great kid.”

  “Said her brother was jealous and wanted to know when they had Take Your Son to Work Day.”

  “So you’ll have to arrange that.”

  “I might,” Chris nodded looking down at the floor for a moment. “I just might. I have another son, too. I don’t know if you knew that.”

  She did. The two baby-mamas had been remarked upon in the media. As Robyn recalled, both were very pretty. The standard, long-haired, sepia-toned types of women who men of means like Chris seemed to gravitate toward.

  “Yes. I think I did.”

  “He’s fifteen. I think if I did something like that, I’d bring him in as well.”

  “Tough to impress a fifteen-year old,” Robyn said.

  “He’s into football more than music,” Chris said. “So maybe tickets to a game, something like that might get his attention.”

  Robyn shrugged. “Search me. I have no idea what fifteen-year old boys like. Other than fifteen-year old girls.”

  Chris laughed. “Yeah. Might be time for that talk with him. But Shawn and Riley have a neighbor who’s on the Jets. Maybe I can take Deuce to their cook-out and introduce him.”

  “Deuce?” Robyn repeated.

  “Chris Junior. But he likes being called Deuce.”

  “Way cooler than Chris Junior,” Robyn teased.

  And then there was a lull, while they smiled at each other like idiots.

  “Robyn, your phone is in here vibrating on the counter.” Her mother stuck her head out of the kitchen, saving them both from a moment that just bordered on awkward.

  Robyn mumbled her ‘excuse me’ and went to check the phone. Curtis. Why the hell was he calling? It had been awhile since she’d spoken to Jamal Turner on his behalf, so as far as she was concerned at least, their business was concluded. She hit the ‘Ignore’ button and returned to the living room.