His eyes are on the computer but he's not here. He's off somewhere else, stuck in his head.
"Good morning." There's no enthusiasm in his voice.
"Good morning." I focus all my attention on fixing my coffee.
But he's no more here when we get to work. I try not to let it bother me.
The two hours go slowly. When we're done, Nick nods a curt goodbye.
I have to do something to bring him back.
I stare into his eyes. "I was so sore this morning I could barely make it through my yoga."
Nothing. Not even a hint of a smile.
I keep going. "Did you—"
"Not now, Lizzy. I'm not in the mood."
"Okay. Maybe we can talk later. That theater that did The Matrix is doing the second one, The Matrix Reloaded, on Wednesday. We could go."
"I'll be busy all week."
"Oh. We could always watch the DVD at your place."
His eyes meet mine. It's like he's staring through me.
Then his eyes go back to his computer. "We'll talk later."
"Yeah, sure."
It's hard to concentrate. All morning, I keep one eye on Nick's office. I need some sign he's okay.
I leave for lunch. My spicy Chinese food is excellent comfort but it does nothing to clear my head.
I take a long walk. It's a nice day. Blue sky. Crisp spring air.
But it feels ugly. The whole world is ugly when Nick is upset.
The elevator is slow. At least I'm riding alone. I check my hair and makeup in the reflective walls. All good.
Finally, the doors ding open. I head straight for my desk, but something stops me.
Nick is at David's workstation, an angry look plastered on his face. "If you don't want to work, you shouldn't be here."
"But, sir—"
"I don't pay you to gossip. Any of you. I don't care what Gizmodo says about the sale. Until it's final, you're an Odyssey employee. Get back to work or hand in your resignation."
"Of course, Mr. Marlowe."
Nick turns to Gabriel. "You too."
Jasmine practically jumps out of her desk. "Mr. Marlowe! I need to speak with you."
He glares at her. "Not now."
"Yes, now."
He ignores Jasmine to stare down the programming team. "This goes for everyone here. If you don't want to work, I expect your resignation by the end of the day, and I expect your desk cleared by tomorrow morning."
He storms past Jasmine. Past me.
Our eyes connect. He looks away like he's embarrassed by his outburst. Then he disappears into his office.
The door slams shut.
The room drops to a hush. Nick is a force of nature, but it's not enough to scare me off.
I move towards his desk.
Jasmine grabs my wrist and pulls me aside. "Miss Wilder, that's not a good idea."
"Do you have a better one?"
"Nick is resilient. He'll be okay."
"'Okay' is relative."
Jasmine leans in to whisper. "You know what it's like with family, the smallest things become so big. When it's already something big... He needs space."
"You loved Shepard, right?"
"Of course, but—"
"Would you have left him alone like this?"
"Nick isn't Shepard. You need to let him calm down."
"No, I need to help him calm down."
"Oh." She nods like she's giving me her blessing. "Be careful. He'll blow a gasket if people start gossiping about you two, and nothing will talk him down." She looks me in the eyes. "This will get out at some point. Tech is still a sexist industry. People will be impressed by Nick's conquest. They'll call you a slut."
"I don't care. I can't let him sit there in pain all by himself." I turn, march to Nick's office, and knock on the door.
"It's Lizzy." I don't wait for a response. I turn the knob. Thankfully, it's not locked.
Nick rises from his seat on the couch. "Go back to work, Miss Wilder."
I press the door closed and turn the lock. "No."
He stares me down.
It's difficult to do anything but melt. Somehow, I hold strong. "You're upset. I want you to feel better."
"Go back to your desk."
This isn't working. I need to get more aggressive. I reach around my back, unzip my dress, and push it off my shoulders.
It falls to my feet.
Nick's eyes go wide. I'm not wearing particularly sexy lingerie today, but he stares at me like I'm in some fantastically expensive silk and lace bra and panty set.
He wants me. It's written all over his face.
But he doesn't move.
I go to unhook my bra. He grabs my arms and pulls them over my head.
"Stop it." He squeezes my wrists. "It's not the time."
"You're hurting. You can use me to feel better."
"I'm not doing that again."
"Why? I liked it. A lot. We'll both feel better." And he'll be here, mine, even if only for fifteen minutes.
"I'm not abusing our relationship like that."
"It's not abuse. I want you to do it." I stare into his eyes. "Please. I want to make you feel better. It makes me feel good."
He releases my arms. "Put your dress back on."
His look is serious. He's not going to budge, and with his history, I know better than to push him.
I slide back into my dress. "This sale is killing you."
He says nothing.
"What if I could help?"
"No."
"Hypothetically."
"The only thing keeping me sane is knowing you're okay." He shakes his head. "Promise you won't get involved."
I bite my lip. "I need you, and you're slipping away."
His eyes go to the window. "Promise."
"Tell me how to get you back and I'll promise."
"Lizzy, no." He raises his voice. "I won't forgive myself if anything happens to you. Promise."
He's practically screaming. I'm sure someone heard.
I stare into those deep brown eyes. All I see is pain. "I have to help."
"You want to help?"
"Yes."
"Then go home."
"What?"
"Go home and don't come back in for the rest of the week. Take a break. Take your sister to a spa. Take a flight to Paris. I'll pay. I don't want you to see me like this."
"But this is what people who care about each other do. They see each other when they're hurting, help each other when they're hurting."
His eyes cloud with frustration. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes."
"Then trust that I need you to leave. I need to know you're okay somewhere else." He reaches for my hand and runs his fingertips over my palm.
The simple touch sends warmth through my body. I move closer. Wrap my arms around his waist.
He brings his fingers to my chin, tilting me so we're eye to eye. "I'll take you out Saturday night. Until then, be somewhere else. Anywhere as long as you're enjoying yourself." He brushes his thumb against my lower lip. "I'll have a credit card sent to your apartment."
"I can't take your money."
"Then don't. But I want you to have the card."
There's so much need in his eyes. I nod.
He leans down to kiss me. He's here. I can feel all of his attention, all of his affection. I melt into his arms.
I need him like this.
I need him more than I realized.
He pulls back and returns to his desk. Already, he's slipping away. Warmth flees my body. I'm cold. Empty.
It's like my insides are torn out.
I want to honor his wishes. I really do.
But I can't watch Nick slip away without acting.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Between midterms and the last bits of wedding planning, Kat has no time for a spa day much less a spa week. I'm not feeling very international. I ignore Nick's credit card and use some of the cash I made in the poker tournament to take the
train to D.C.
The difference in climate means the cherry blossoms bloom a little earlier here. Most are still white but a few stray trees are a beautiful shade of pink.
I've never been one for history or civics. Touring monuments and museums makes little impression. I take the train home on Friday morning and spend the day watching my favorite sci-fi films.
Nick's impulse was right. It's much harder to survive this in my apartment with my thoughts surrounding me.
I call Sarah.
"Hey, sweet thang," she answers.
"Can we go out tonight?"
"I'm off in two hours. We'll eat, we'll dance, we'll find a nice guy to get your mind off things."
"No guy."
"Things serious with the hot boss?"
"You could say that."
"You little slut! Why didn't you tell me?"
"Maybe I didn't want to get called a slut."
"It's a compliment. You want me to act like Kat." She adopts a prim and proper voice. "Oh my goodness, Elizabeth, you need to be careful. Are you using contraceptives? Are you sure this man is really marriage material?"
"Don't make fun of Kat. She's sweet. And she gets laid more than you do."
"Does not."
"You should see her with Blake. He worships the ground she walks on. And he looks at her like he's thinking about throwing her on the bed and planting his face between her legs." I go to my closet and try to pick out my cutest dress. "You know what, this line of conversation is disgusting. I'm totally done."
"You're not going to abandon me for an engagement, are you?"
"Never." I pick a purple mini-dress and find gray tights to compliment it. "Meet you at Pixie Dust?"
"See you then."
The phone clicks off.
I check the saved text message just to make sure it's still there.
Tonight, 10 PM. The restaurant is a good ways from any club Sarah frequents. I'll have to leave by nine if I want to take the subway. Nine-thirty if I'm willing to take a cab.
I play with my phone, contemplating the merits of calling Shepard and demanding an explanation now. Of calling Nick and begging him to share his feelings with me. The former is too aggressive, the latter too desperate.
He wants me to stay out of this.
But I can't.
Dinner is pizza on the way to the club—a loud, throbbing dive where the bouncers don't check ID.
I down a double-shot rum and diet and follow Sarah onto the dance floor. There's no mood lighting here. It's dark and dim and sweaty.
For half an hour, I dance with her. We've done this a million times and we fall into a seamless rhythm. It's easy and fun, but it attracts the attention of too many guys. One pair moves in to dance with us.
Sarah looks at me as if to ask if it's okay. I nod yeah. It can't be that bad. And it's dancing. Nothing in my relationship with Nick precludes dancing with a stranger.
The guy slides his hands around my waist. They drift to my lower back. I grab them and put them back in place.
The song passes, my hips swaying a foot away from his. He pouts over the distance, but his hands stay put.
The next song is faster. The guy isn't so bad really. Decent height, nice button-up shirt and designer jeans, pretty blue eyes and messy blond hair. Not my type, but anyone can see he's attractive.
My body is magnetically repulsed. I don't want anyone touching me besides Nick ever again.
Fuck it. I nod a goodbye and break to the bar. After two more rum and diets, my head is fuzzy and the room is spinning.
Sarah plops on the seat next to me. "Babe, what's wrong? Talk to me."
I scan the room. We're not in the nicest club in the world, but I should be having fun. Most nights, I'd kill to dance with my friend with no trouble from the bouncers.
I look cute. I have a drink. My back feels fine.
But I'm still heavy all over. I'm still cold all over. It still feels like my insides are ripped out, like nothing will ever be okay.
I close my eyes, willing myself to shake it off.
All I see is Nick. The frustration in his eyes. The slumping of his shoulders. Even over the music, I hear his voice in my head. It's angry. Hurt. Defeated.
I can help him.
How can I do anything besides help him?
"Lizzy!" Sarah hits me in a half-playful, half-wake the fuck up gesture. "You okay? Did you leave your drink unattended?"
"No. It's nothing like that."
"Don't tell me you're thinking about the hot boss."
I nod.
"But the blond was panty-melting."
"You know it's possible to feel something for a man besides desire to fuck."
"Possible, but not for you." She looks me in the eyes. "Right?"
God, the room is spinning. I kick back the last sip of my drink. It's not enough. I plop an ice cube in my mouth and suck hard.
Sarah snaps her fingers. "Answer me or I'm assessing you too drunk to stay out."
"I'm thinking." I'm dizzy, but I know it's not from the drinks.
"Oh fuck." She covers her mouth. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"
A dive bar after three drinks is not the most romantic place for a conversation like this.
I've been avoiding the question, even in my head.
I know the answer.
I love Nick.
I'm madly in love with him.
So madly in love with him I can't bear to see him hurting.
I nod a yes. "I am."
"Fuck. Love sucks. It makes you its bitch."
That sounds right.
"Lizzy."
My eyes go to the clock. It's a little after nine. There's still time to get to the hotel.
"Lizzy!!!"
"What?"
"Do you love this guy, like crazy, can't breathe in love with him?"
"I have to go."
"No fucking way, girlie. You're drunk and miserable. You're not leaving my sight."
"What if I swear to go straight home?"
Sarah cocks an eyebrow. "I won't believe you."
I go for another ice cube. Sarah takes my drink away.
She leans in close. "Love can be nice... if he's worth all the pain. Can you see yourself with him for a long time?"
My heartbeat picks up. Yes. I see us in that gorgeous apartment of his in ten years, rings around our fingers. The rest of it is fuzzy. I've never thought about my future beyond a career, but I know I want Nick in it.
I want him happy.
I push off my seat, tugging at my purse to find my phone. "I have to call him. I have to ask him something."
Sarah's expression gets serious. "If you're not back in five minutes, I'm calling the cops."
"Okay." I march to the back door, to the alley reserved for smokers.
Outside, there are two people humping against the wall. I turn my back to them so as not to ruin their desperate fun.
My hands are shaky, more from the drinks than from my racing nerves. I dial Nick and hold the phone to my ear.
Five rings and I get voicemail.
I call again. Voicemail.
Okay. Third time's a charm.
Ring. Ring. Ring—
"Lizzy, what's wrong?" His voice is equal parts concerned and tired.
"I have to ask you something."
"Are you drunk?"
"Yes, but that's not important." I dig my fingers into the back of the phone. "You told me once... about your company. That if you lost it, it would be like losing a limb. Do you still feel like that?"
"Where are you? I'll pick you up."
"Just answer the question. Yes or no. You've been miserable all week. You're like a different person. You're not here."
"Yes." He pauses. "Baby, tell me where you are. I'll come get you."
The softness is his voice is almost impossible to resist. "No. I'm with my friend. I'll be fine."
But he won't. Not if he loses the company. I take a deep breath, looking around the alley in a
n attempt to sober up. I can make out the tile walls of the building opposite me. The sighs of the couple next to me. They are not at all bothered by my presence.
I exhale into the receiver. "Nick, do you trust me?"
"Lizzy..."
"Do you?"
"Of course."
"That's all I need to know. I'll see you soon." I hang up the phone before he can object.
I look up directions to the hotel. The subway is a mess. There's no time. I have to take a cab.
Fuck.
I hightail it to the street and throw my arm into the air. How the hell do people hail these things?
Somehow, a cab stops in front of me. I take a deep breath as I slide inside.
The cabbie takes the address and the car pulls onto the street.
I close my eyes. I can do this. For Nick, I can do this.
Once I'm calm enough to breath evenly, I send a text to Sarah.
Lizzy: Sorry, but I have to take care of something. Take the blond and his friend home. I bet they'll be into a threesome. I promise I'll call if I need you.
Sarah: I'm going to rat on you to your big sister.
Lizzy: No, you're not.
Sarah: Fuck you. I might. Call me when you get home.
Lizzy: Use a condom.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
My cell buzzes frantically the entire ride to the restaurant.
Pressing "ignore" and counting the seconds until the next call is enough to keep my attention off the possibility of a crash.
When the cab arrives, I pay and turn off my phone.
At ten on a Friday night, the restaurant is crowded. New Yorkers love eating late.
Still, I spot Shepard in a booth in the back of the room. His bright blue tie draws my attention to his eyes. He looks so much like Nick.
He's just as handsome, just as strong and in control.
It's not smart being here drunk, but it's better than leaving Nick to disappear into his pain.
I walk through the restaurant. Shepard rises and shakes my hand.
"Thanks for coming. Do you prefer Miss Wilder or Lizzy?" He motions for me to sit.
I do. "Lizzy."
"Can I get you a drink or something to eat?"
"No thank you. I'm not in the mood."
Shepard slides back into his seat. He's nursing a soda in a large glass. No alcohol, most likely. He must hate it that Nick forced him into rehab. More that it worked.
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