“No. His dad is a geologist and worked for a year in Houston for an oil company.”
“Wow, what a coincidence. Were you friends?”
It was the logical question, but I wanted to laugh. Adam wasn’t my friend. We were never friends. If he’d been my friend, I would’ve stayed in touch with him over the years. But if I told Matt no, I’d lead him completely astray. I had to at least disclose there had been something romantic between Adam and me.
I shrugged. “We went out…a few times.”
As soon as I said it, I kicked myself. I shouldn’t have added “a few times.” I’d just lied to my boss. Yet if I left it open, he could probe more. How could I tell him anything else? I never talked with anyone about Adam.
Matt placed his hands behind his head like he always did when he wanted to enjoy a juicy story. He snickered and asked, “So you kissed him?”
What a question. What hadn’t I done with Adam? Hoping a joke would make everything feel less like a lie, I smiled and said, “Maybe.”
That brought out Matt’s big belly laugh. Thank God for sexual harassment laws because he didn’t press me on the issue and instead moved on. “So did you keep in touch after he left?”
“No, but I’ve kept up with his sister, Sylvia.” I took a deep breath, happy I was back in the land of the complete truth. “She lives in New York.”
His tone became more serious. “I suppose I should ask if you plan on striking up something romantic with him again.”
“Uh, no.” My response was immediate and without forethought. I was pleased of that. Though I wasn’t proud of the twinge of regret I felt after I’d said it.
“Just asking. You know it’s my job to look out for that sort of thing,” he said, looking at his watch. “I need to get going. Thanks for letting me know. I don’t see it as a problem.”
“Thanks. Have a good night.”
“You, too.”
I turned around, feeling like I’d gotten away with murder but happy for it all the same. Yet just as I took a few steps away, I heard him say, “Oh, Nicole.”
“Yeah?” I asked, looking over my shoulder.
Matt wore his most devilish grin. “Have you told Juan Carlos?”
I froze at the thought, but somewhere I found a smile to fake for the moment. The best thing to do when you don’t want to answer a question is change the subject. I rolled my eyes and said, “I gotta go. I need to catch my train.”
But Matt knew me too well. As I walked away, I heard him laugh. “I didn’t think so.” A few seconds lapsed, and he called from his office, “You know what they say about jealous Latin men!”
As I made my way home on the Metro that night, my guilt became so heavy it was crippling. I wanted to curl up in a ball right on the floor of my train. How was I leaving Juan Carlos in the dark? He was my loving, wonderful boyfriend. He didn’t deserve that, and yet I saw no way out. As bad as the conversation was going to be with Lisa, it was nothing compared to the talk I should have with Juan Carlos.
Walking up Connecticut Avenue, I dreaded every step toward Lisa’s apartment. Though she was only in town for a year, working on a fellowship at the National Institutes of Health, she’d lucked out in the hunt for DC real estate. A molecular biologist off on a sabbatical at the Pasteur Institute in Paris had sublet his place for cheap.
When I walked into the living room, I saw Lisa sprawled on the sofa with a blanket as she talked on the phone. She waved hello, pointed at the phone, and then looked to the ceiling as if that might offer some help. She had to be talking with Elliot, her on-again, off-again boyfriend back in Houston. Like Lisa, he was an MD/PhD, so he was smart enough for her, but unlike her, he was a total dork. She swore he was the last white guy she was ever dating.
While she was occupied, I fled to my room, changed into yoga pants, then wandered into the kitchen for a glass of wine to accompany the leftover pizza in the fridge. I took my dinner to the dining room along with my iPad to catch up on my dirty little addiction to celebrity gossip.
After a few minutes, Lisa joined me with the wine bottle in hand. “Hey. How are you?” she asked.
“Okay,” I mumbled.
“Ha!” she laughed and topped off my glass. “You need another drink.”
“I do.” I sipped some wine and said, “I bet you do, too, after talking with Elliott. What’s your status now?”
“Limbo.” She pulled out two chairs, sat in one, and put her feet up on the other. “Which is fine while I’m away.”
“Limbo has its benefits. Is he coming to visit at all?”
“I told him I don’t have time for guests right now—at least while you’re living here.” She waited a moment and added, “For however long that is.”
I got the hint. Swirling the wine in my glass, I said, “Only for a bit.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’d love for you to stay here.” She smiled. “I’ve missed you. It’s been years since we spent this much time together.”
“I feel the same way.” I raised my glass. “To lifelong friends.”
“To best friends.” She clinked her glass to mine, and we both took drinks. Afterward, she gave me one of her signature knowing looks. “And since we’re best friends, why—”
“I know. I know,” I cried out in exasperation with myself. “I should’ve told you. I just didn’t want to talk about it.”
“Well, that’s nothing new.”
“I’m consistent.” I laughed.
“When it comes to Adam, yes, you are.” She shook her head. “Have you told anyone? Shouldn’t your boss know?”
“Of course I told Matt,” I said with proud indignation. She didn’t need to know that I’d only just told him a few hours before.
“What did you say?”
“Just that I’d dated Adam a few times in high school.”
When you’ve known someone practically your whole life, there are times when verbal communication is completely unnecessary. Lisa remained quiet and stone-faced, but her eyes said everything she was thinking. She thought I was crazy—a certifiable psycho-lady, Queen of Denial. She also had some knowledge—though not all—as to why I was so wiggy about Adam Kincaid.
For my sake, I’m sure, she apparently decided not to say everything she thought, but she still shifted in her seat, signaling she was uncomfortable with my lie. “Well…that’s accurate…in a way.”
“Give me a break. I’m not going to go into details, especially when it’s irrelevant.”
“Is it irrelevant?”
“Of course.”
“Have you told Juan Carlos?”
“Not yet.”
“Oh dear God,” she groaned.
“I’m telling him tonight. I swear.”
“Does he know anything about Adam?”
“I don’t know…”
“What have you said?”
“Nothing, really.”
“Nicki…”
“Please. I don’t want to hear about Juan Carlos’s exes. I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear about mine.” That was only partially true. We had spoken in vague generalities about our past love lives. It was a testament to how much I loved him that I’d actually told him about a guy in high school who’d cheated on me. I hadn’t told him I’d been crazy about the guy, however, and I certainly hadn’t said it was Adam. With a flick of my hand, I spoke like I was tossing the issue aside. “Besides, it was a long time ago.”
“Bullshit.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Bullshit.” She leaned forward and placed both hands on the table to make her case. “If Juan Carlos started working with someone he’d once been in love with, you would want to know.”
“Yes, but—”
“Especially if he’d never gotten over the girl.”
My mouth dropped open both in shock and an attempt to find something to say in response. Though nothing came out, it was enough of a reaction for Lisa’s expression to turn into a sad frown. “Oh, Nicki. I’m sorry. I don’
t want to be mean. I really don’t know what happened between you and Adam, and you don’t have to tell me. But you two were in love. You were tight…very tight. I remember that. Adam must remember it, and so do you. Nobody would ever forget something like that.”
I smiled as my throat closed. As hard as it was to hear this from Lisa, it was also comforting—like those distant memories and all their impact weren’t my imagination. Eventually I was able to softly say, “Thanks.”
She grinned and laughed. “Not sure what you’re thanking me for.”
“You’re my reality check.”
“I thought I was being a bitch.”
“Usually.” I snickered. “But not this time.”
“Ha!” She leaned back and fiddled with her wine glass. “So did you talk to him?”
“I told you I’m telling Juan Carlos tonight.”
“No, I mean Adam. Did you talk to Adam?”
Remembering the awkward encounter that morning, I took another drink. “Sort of. There really wasn’t time.” Not a lie, I told myself.
“I’m sure he wants to talk to you.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Do you have Alzheimer’s or something? He told me that when I saw him in London that one time.”
I rolled my eyes. “That was ten years ago.”
“So? Like he wouldn’t still want to talk?” She gave me a retaliatory eye roll. “That could very well be all he wants. You two are going to be working together, after all.”
“Of course I’m going to talk to him…when I have a chance.” I tried to sound firm.
“Well, you should. You know, go out to coffee. Clear the air between you two.”
“Right,” I said. Like it was that easy.
Since the election, Juan Carlos had been on the road. As the political mastermind behind President Logan’s election, he was now in high demand. Democratic candidates around the country wanted him to consult on their campaigns. It was a huge moment in his career and a welcome opportunity for him to make a lot of money. I didn’t begrudge it at all. The son of Cuban immigrants, Juan Carlos had grown up very modestly, and there was nothing wrong with him profiting from his success.
Because we had been spending so much time together during the campaign, we got close really quickly. Now being thousands of miles apart, we missed each other all the time, but our lives were so busy we could only talk once a day at night. The conversations always had the same arc—first, we talked about what was going on in our lives that day, then we switched over to discussing the news, and finally, without fail, we ended with some heavy phone sex. Juan Carlos was good at phone sex. Very good. Who knew some of the best orgasms of my life would happen when I was by myself? He kept trying to get me to Skype so he’d have a visual, but my American inhibitions held me back.
After Lisa and I polished off the bottle of wine, I took a long bath, and not long after I crawled into bed with a book, Juan Carlos called. He was happy because he’d just landed another big client who was looking to run for governor in New Mexico. When the conversation turned to me, I gave him twenty details about my day at work and nothing about Adam. I didn’t have the guts.
It was only when he gave me the perfect opening that I knew I had to stop being a chicken. Juan Carlos asked, “So how was it dealing with the White House Press Corps?”
“Fine. They were nice today. We’ll see how it is tomorrow.” With a deep breath, I then plunged into the uncharted waters of our relationship. “By the way, that reminds me of something I keep forgetting to tell you.” Was that simply a white lie or bald-faced deception? I could feel the shame build inside me, so it had to be the latter.
“What are you forgetting to tell me, mi reina?”
Ugh. How could I be his queen when I was such a liar? I felt doubly bad, but I continued, “So did I ever mention I dated a British guy for a while in high school?”
“I can’t remember.” He chuckled. “All those gringos sound the same to me anyway.”
“Very funny.” I laughed, which put me more at ease. “Well, this guy happens to be Adam Kincaid…with the BBC.”
“The name sounds familiar. I think I’ve seen him before.” His voice rose in disbelief. “You went out with him in high school?”
“Yeah…” With another deep breath of determination, I divulged the pertinent information rapid fire. “He was at my school for a year while his dad was working in Houston. We never kept in touch after he went back to England. I saw him today at the White House for the first time in over fifteen years.”
“Must not have been a very serious relationship if you haven’t talked to him since high school.”
That threw me off. A serious relationship? In a way, Adam and I hadn’t been serious at all; it wasn’t like we’d been planning on getting married or anything. Yet the relationship itself was significant. As Lisa had said, Adam and I had been tight. Completely perplexed, I tried responding with simple facts. “We were young, and we didn’t date for that long. His sister and I still send Christmas cards, though.”
“So did you talk to him today?”
“Not really. I was busy.”
“Did you see that article in the Wall Street Journal about the demise of the British Labor Party?”
“No,” I answered, wondering what the hell he was talking about. As I collected my thoughts, Juan Carlos continued on about the article and how he thought he should find some consulting gigs in London. It took me a moment to realize he’d completely moved off the topic of Adam. How had that happened? Somehow I’d managed to make him think that Adam was some insignificant guy I had dated a few times as a teenager. I hadn’t done it intentionally, though I supposed a lot of people wouldn’t take a typical high school relationship seriously anyway. But what Adam and I’d had was anything but typical.
As Juan Carlos went on about UK politics, I considered bringing Adam up again, but it felt so clumsy to interrupt. Plus, I’d only cause unnecessary suspicion. I told myself I’d correct the record the next time I saw him in person. What a liar I was.
While I was lost in my thoughts, Juan Carlos said, “Preciosa, why so quiet?”
“Oh, no good reason.” I loved it when he called me “precious one” in Spanish.
“Am I boring you?”
“No, not at all.”
“Maybe we should talk about something else? Something more interesting.”
“Yeah? Like what?” I smiled, realizing the conversation was heading to its usual, nightly destination.
“We could talk about you taking off your panties.”
When Juan Carlos began speaking like a smoldering Latin lover, I forgot about everything, including pesky high school boyfriends. All I could think of was what naughty thing he might say next. I urged him on.
“That’s a new topic. Are my panties interesting?” I chuckled.
“Of course. Take them off, though. I like what’s underneath better.”
Shimmying off my underwear, I said, “Done.”
“I bet you look beautiful.”
“I wish you were here.”
“I wish I was there, too, but I can imagine you lying on your bed, naked and waiting for me. Waiting for me to do things to you.”
“Yeah?” I asked in anticipation.
“Desnudate mi reina. Quiero verte desnuda.”
Of course I obliged and wiggled off my panties. What woman wouldn’t? Phone sex with Juan Carlos was great, and it was downright awesome when he spoke Spanish.
Chapter Three
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, I was determined to remain focused on the two most important things in my life: my boyfriend and my career. Those were solid. I should nurture and enjoy them. Because my job was so all-encompassing, keeping busy with work was easy. And to make sure Juan Carlos didn’t leave my mind, I’d occasionally look at his photo or send him a short text. All in all during that morning, I did pretty well at concentrating on what really mattered—until I caught a glimpse of Adam as he walked into the brie
fing room.
The same simple question from the day before came to mind: Why? Why was he in my life again? Was he just passing through? Or was there a reason?
I sneered, a little annoyed with myself for even wondering that. Since I was young, I’d hated the saying that everything happened for a reason—like there was some invisible metaphysical hand maneuvering us through life. If fate existed, it sucked. When I was sixteen, my mom, my sister, and I had been in a horrible car accident. My mom and I had lived. Lauren hadn’t. There was no good karmic reason for that.
While I believed in an afterlife that had to be better than a mortal one, I didn’t believe God called anyone home early or designed our daily life. Humans had free will, which left our lives up to chance. In my mind, the world was random. Otherwise bad things would never happen to good people, and innocent little girls would never be killed by drunk drivers.
I snuck another look at Adam, whose head was down as he flipped through his reporter’s notebook. He was doing his job, just like I was doing mine. See. No reason, I told myself. There’d been no cosmic realignment that brought Adam back into my life. I simply needed to have that coffee with him like I’d told Lisa I would. Then I could live in the present when I saw him every day, rather than plunging back into a past that was long gone. I vowed to myself I would talk to him that day.
As usual during the briefing, I ended up fielding some questions from Univision’s Antonio De La Fuente. Matt always handed the podium over to me whenever we dealt with the Spanish-speaking press. You could say we were pandering to Latinos whenever I answered questions in Spanish, but I liked to think it was better for everyone if we were accurate and effective in all our communications.
Personally, I liked talking with Antonio because he was friends with Juan Carlos. So when he came up to me after the briefing, I was happy to answer his follow-up questions. He was still a Latin flirt, of course, and he couldn’t help but end our conversation with a little wink.
Continuing to smile as he walked away, I looked over to see who was next in line to speak with me. My grin froze when I saw it was Adam, and the surprise caused me to softly exhale. Every sane woman thought he was attractive, but did they also have a physical reaction to him? He stirred something in me. Was it my body remembering what we used to do together, or was it that he’d filled out since he was seventeen and I appreciated the difference? Whatever it was, it felt dangerous.
Disclosure of the Heart (The Heart Series) Page 2