“You walked here?” I nodded to the empty parking lot. “How did you know where I was?”
“Well, I didn’t think you’d tell me you were at the beach and go to some random place where I couldn’t find you. I just came to where we went last night.” Hmm, he’s on to me.
“Well played, Cavanaugh.” I hoisted the case and headed across the parking lot.
“Please, Secret Goddess of the Guitar, let me,” Bo murmured with a slightly less-than-teasing tone as he took the guitar from me.
Bo held my hand on the ten minute walk back to my apartment. We were quiet for most of it; a peaceful quiet that was a respite for the mind and soul. I received a text from Monica saying she was walking over to pick up her car from my place. I texted her back that I wasn’t home, but told her to use her key to enter my apartment if I wasn’t back by the time she arrived.
She waited on my steps, her wicked Cheshire grin partially hidden behind her coffee cup.
“Morning, Monica.” Bo didn’t miss a beat as we approached her.
“Bo,” Monica chirped cordially.
“OK, ladies, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll call you later.” Ignoring Monica’s watchful eye, Bo cradled my neck and planted a pillow-soft kiss on my expectant lips.
Neither Monica nor I moved a muscle as we watched him drive away. I slowly turned around, well aware that my facial expression was fair game for Monica’s scrutiny.
“How ya feeling this morning, Mon?” A girl could try.
“Shut the hell up and get upstairs. Nice guitar.” Monica shook her head and gave an exaggerated eye roll as we headed upstairs.
When we entered my apartment, I set the guitar by the couch and sat down. Monica stared at me expectantly, tapping her foot. I smiled a little before speaking.
“What?” I jested.
“Screw you. Where were you? It’s not even seven-thirty!” She sat across from me on the couch, her eyes brimming with excitement.
“Playing my guitar . . . on the beach,” I said with a shrug.
Monica shook her head in an apparent mix of wonder and disbelief.
“What!” My eyes bulged.
“Damn it, November, I have known you for eight years and I have never once heard you play that guitar. I didn’t even know you still had it. Now, after another hot night with ‘Cavanaugh the Casanova’, you’re all ‘hot girl playing the guitar on the beach’?” Her glare begged me to retort.
“First of all, Monica, it wasn’t that kind of ‘hot night’.” I cocked my eyebrow mockingly. “We slept together - as in sleep. Second of all,” I exhaled dreamily, “yea, I’m all ‘hot girl playing the guitar on the beach,’ and I don’t know what to do with that.”
It was true; the first thought I had that morning had been to go play the guitar. A night sleeping in bed with Bo and I woke up with that on my mind.
“What else is going on up there?” Monica nodded to my head.
“I love him.” Shock didn’t overtake me as I thought it might.
“You love him.” She nodded like we were talking about the weather.
“Monica, I’m in love with this man and I have nothing snarky to cloak it in! Help!”
“Ha! Ember, that really is love!”
We burst into a fit of laughter, before I got dressed for work. As we walked down to our cars, Monica turned to me.
“You know what you have to do at work today, right?”
I don’t have to tell my boss anything - yet.
“What?”
“You’ve got to call Adrian, before he calls us.”
All blood and feeling left my face. “Nice buzz-kill, Mon.”
“Well, he knows damn well that it’s been about twenty four hours since you learned of his involvement. Wait. Did Bo see him yesterday in Concord?” Man, she’s good.
“Yea, for some contract stuff. But he did tell Adrian about me and you learning about him. He said Adrian seemed ‘pleased’ to be talking about us, whatever that means.
“Hmmm.” She seemed to be working something out in her head. “Let’s call him. By let’s, I mean you.” She winked at me as she got in her car and drove away.
* * *
“Adrian Turner, please.” I held my voice steady on the phone. Monica watched me. She looked like she was boiling with excitement.
“May I tell him who’s calling?” the unsuspecting secretary responded.
“Of course, November Harris from The Hope Foundation.”
“Seriously?” Monica whispered. “As opposed to the November Harris from the ‘Girls You Sexed Up foundation’?” I threw my pen at her.
“Just one moment, Ms. Harris.” I was clicked to hold.
I mouthed to Monica that I was on hold but in an instant, I wasn’t.
“Adrian Turner here.” His voice hadn’t changed at all. It purred through the phone and headed straight for the recesses of my brain. No! You don’t live there anymore, Turner
“Adrian, hi!”
“November? How are you?” He did his best to sound surprised.
“Oh, listen to you, acting all surprised that it’s me when your secretary took my name,” I teased while Monica shot me a ‘thumbs up’.
“Witty as ever, I see.” Adrian’s voice retained its purr.
“Listen, Adrian-” I was ready to attack, but he cut me off.
“I know, I know. I should have called you when I first started discussing you guys with DROP, but I knew you’d probably avoid me or tell me to screw off.” His playful defensiveness brightened the conversation.
“Yes, Adrian, you should have called. We’re adults. You made it weird by being all sneaky.” My voice was intentionally flat.
“Anyway,” I continued, “I just wanted to connect with you and clear that up before Monica and I meet with all of you.”
“Actually Ember, I’m heading down to Barnstable today - didn’t Spencer tell you?”
Suddenly I was on an out-of-control carousel. I needed air. I no longer had a few days to prepare to meet Adrian in Concord; I had mere hours. If he was coming all the way to Barnstable, he’d want to see me for sure. Shit! And, no, “Spencer” hadn’t said anything to me about this. The look on my face drew question from Monica’s eyes. I covered the phone and whispered that Adrian was coming here today. Her face flushed the same color I suspected mine was.
Didn’t Spencer tell you?
“No. I haven’t seen Mr. Cavanaugh since our meeting yesterday, and I haven’t checked my e-mail. You were my first order of business,” I lied through the phone with confidence.
“First order of business, was I? Good to hear. I’ll be in town this afternoon to meet with your lawyer and check out some office prospects. I’d love to get together and catch up; tell Monica I say hi.”
“Sure, that sounds great. I will. Bye, Adrian.” I stared at the phone for a few seconds after hanging up, collecting what little thoughts I had.
“So?!” Monica nearly screamed.
“Adrian says hi,” I teased ; she threw my pen back at me.
“Apparently he’s coming here to meet with our lawyer today and to look at some potential office spaces. He’d just fucking love to get together and ‘catch up’. He asked if ‘Spencer’ told me he was coming.”
The bottom of my stomach slipped away as I repeated the words. I began to question if this wasn’t the real reason Bo drove back to Barnstable last night and met me at my apartment at nearly midnight; he wanted some alone time with me before Adrian got to town. Bo seemed so threatened by Adrian. I wondered why Bo wouldn’t just tell me that Adrian was planning on coming.
“Maybe he didn’t want Adrian in your head. He just wanted to enjoy time with you,” Monica suggested after I shared my thoughts with her. It seemed reasonable.
“I guess. I wonder what shit Adrian is pulling.”
“You should call Bo,” Monica said.
“Call Bo about what?” Bo’s voice rounded the corner before he did, and he leaned against my office door. His eyes fel
l on my still-flushed face and filled with apprehension.
“Uh, well, I just got off the phone with Adrian. He says he’s coming to town today and wondered if you told me. I told him I hadn’t seen you since our meeting here yesterday, and hadn’t checked my email yet today.” I focused my eyes on his.
“Why didn’t you tell me he was coming, Spencer?” The cool accusation caused Monica to shift in her seat.
Bo lifted his chin and confidently retorted, “November, check your email. You will find one sent yesterday evening, informing you of Mr. Turner’s intended travels. It was sent to you, Monica, Carrie, and your lawyer.” His voice was stained with equal parts command and irritation.
“I see.”
“I prefer to keep work at work, November.”
He had a point; not once had we discussed work in our private time. Adrian, however, wasn’t “work.” I knew it, and so did Bo. Accusing him of withholding information clearly hurt him. Still, I was beginning to think I didn’t care for Spencer, the alter ego to my beloved Bo.
“Well, I’m outta here.” Monica gave no further explanation as she slid past Bo and down to her office.
I stared at her empty chair a moment before returning my stare to Bo, who remained standing with his hands in his pockets.
“You’re awfully formal this morning,” I accused as I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs.
“I told you, November, I prefer to keep work at work.”
“Well, in that case, won’t you have a seat?” I threw a screw you eyebrow in his direction while I gestured with my hand to an empty seat across from my desk.
While I had been the one hell-bent on keeping my relationship with Bo professional as far as work was concerned, I was caught off guard by his distant language. The walls inside me began their ascent. Bo sat stone-still, never breaking our apparent staring contest. He opened his mouth to speak, but I was having none of that. I got up and shut the door to my office before I continued.
“I know, Mr. Cavanaugh, that you prefer to keep work at work, as do I. However, I take it rather personally when something like Adrian Turner coming to town warrants nothing from you other than a group email.” I sat down, retained my crossed arms and legs position and continued.
“A group email covers things like meeting times, Spencer, not information like Adrian.”
“Please stop calling me Spencer, Ember,” he charged through clenched teeth.
“That’s your work alias, isn’t it? And, are we not at work?”
Check your e-mail my ass.
“It’s your tone I don’t particularly care for, Ms. Harris.”
Now I didn’t care for his tone, and I was about to go for the kill.
“Last night, after you spoke with Adrian and knew of his plans to travel here tomorrow, you came to my house. We went for a walk on the damn beach at midnight. On that beach I cried about my feelings for you. On that beach you asked me about Adrian, Bo- you brought it up. I told you all there was to tell about him, and still you weren’t satisfied enough with my story to give me the decency of letting me know he was coming to town?” My interrogation rivaled anything I’d seen on Law & Order. Push those tears back. Now is not the time.
“You knew that Monica and I had no idea he was working for you. He is clearly up to something, and even you called him a smug bastard.” My jaw was painfully tight.
Bo broke under my intense visual scrutiny. He threw an exaggerated breath to the floor as his hands held his head. When he sat up his face was different, it was Bo - not Spencer. I suppressed my petty guilt at my uncompromising tone because I hadn’t yet heard what he had to say.
“November, I’m sorry,” he acknowledged, “I drove all the way back here with the intention of telling you about Adrian in person. He asked how you were doing. It killed me to tell him that you seemed happy when I couldn’t tell him that I felt I had a part in that. He smiled and wondered, out loud, if you were involved with anyone worthy of you. I just had to shrug.”
His honestly paralyzed me. Adrian was fishing for information, the way many people do, but it was to the wrong person, and no one could say a word.
“He lit up about seeing you again and it gnawed at my insides. I drove all the way back here to -”
“Pee on my leg.” I cut him off. While I knew he was working for an apology, the barbarism of this whole thing was suffocating.
“Jesus, Ember, give me a break!” He ran an exasperated hand through his hair. “It’s not like that. Once you opened up to me about your parents, Adrian, and your feelings for me, I couldn’t ruin a perfectly good night. I wanted to talk to you about it this morning, but when I saw you in the sand with that guitar . . . the rest of the world stopped. I knew in that moment that Adrian Turner, Josh and Monica, work; none of it mattered.” He reached across the desk and put out his hand. I surrendered, setting my cold hand into his sweaty palm. You make him sweat.
“Ember, please, don’t be upset with me. I’ll fire Turner if it means we can forget about all of this,” he pleaded. Pleaded.
I wanted to weep in response to his honesty. Instead, I took a deep breath.
“Bo, it does matter. All of it matters, that’s the point. We just have to navigate it. We can’t blow past the storm in favor of calmer waters. And, please don’t fire Adrian. He’s good at what he does; he’ll figure out why you fired him and probably sue your ass off.” I smirked and inhaled again, knowing I needed to respond to his bearing-of-the-soul here in my office.
“Look, I’m sorry for being so taciturn in regards to Adrian. We were young and it was painful when it ended. I wouldn’t feel the same now, but my 21-year-old self still feels its rawness. So, yeah, it pissed me off that I wasn’t given a heads up. I could have shared the full emotional bloodbath with you, but I didn’t want that in your head. I don’t want your ex-girlfriends in my head.” Ouch. That was the first time I actually considered ex-girlfriends.
“November, any ex-girlfriend I have pales in comparison to you. They’re irrelevant.” He dismissed them figuratively with his hand. Guess I’m his girlfriend.
“Why does Adrian matter?” I relaxed back in my chair, pulling my hand from his.
Bo sighed, “Because he looked a little too satisfied to be talking about you, November. I think his twenty-one year old and his current self still remember you fondly. That’s why it matters.”
“I’ll have no way of knowing if what you say is true until I see him tonight - he wants to ‘catch up.’ You can’t be there. If you are, he’ll know something’s up.”
Bo’s face fell ten stories.
“Weren’t you going to meet Josh tonight?” Nice distraction.
“Josh is an asshole. He can wait.”
I stood up and crossed over to Bo; he stood to meet me in the center of the office. I reached for his hands - the only peace offering I had at the moment.
“I need to get some work done; I have to help Monica plan this trip to Concord. I’ll call you tonight after I meet with Adrian.”
“Are you upset with me?” Bo gave my hands a tender squeeze and just barely caught my eyes.
“I’m not, I promise. I just want to get through today and tonight. I’ll call you after I deal with Adrian. To be honest, I don’t want to catch up with him but I have no real reason to not want to besides you.” I drew the corner of my mouth up sweetly to reinforce that I really wasn’t mad.
“OK. Talk to you tonight. Please be careful.” He knit his eyebrows together working out God-knows-what in his head.
“I always am.”
Bo leaned in and gave a quick, sweet kiss to my neck before heading out as he shouted good-bye to Monica.
I turned my attention to my work and prepared for tonight’s meeting with Adrian. My work email held the information about Adrian’s travel plans, as Bo promised.
A new email came in just as I was heading out for lunch - it was from Adrian.
Hey Ember,
I’m looking forward to tonight. Let’s
meet around 7. Where should we meet?
Talk to you soon,
Adrian
I responded immediately.
Hi Adrian,
You caught me just as I was heading out for lunch.
Let’s meet at Finnegan’s - you’ll find the address online.
See you at 7.
Ember
I was thoroughly satisfied with the brusqueness in my email, yet my insides started to twist with uncertainty. I wasn’t worried that I would run full-speed in to Adrian’s arms. I was worried that he might expect me to, being that he’s a “smug bastard” and all. Bo’s depiction of Adrian kept a smile fresh on my lips for the rest of the day.
Chapter Twelve
“How am I even supposed to dress for something like this, Monica?” I spewed panic.
It was 6:30pm. I shuddered at the thought that Adrian was in Barnstable, looking forward to “catching up.” Monica was lounging on my bed as I rifled through my closet. She hadn’t spoken about Josh since last night; she was in her “not talking about it right now” phase.
“Hmmm, wear those dark skinny jeans there and that black fitted tee.” Monica pointed and smiled. “Oh! Those impossible nude heels, too. There, that’ll do the trick.”
“What trick, Monica?” I bristled at my own irritation. “Sorry, what trick?”
“Oh, come on, Ember. You want to look sexy and confident, without being irreverent. You haven’t seen the boy in four years; you’re even hotter than you were then. Hey, maybe he got fat!” Monica bounced at the thought.
“I highly doubt Mr. Lacrosse got fat, Monica, but, thanks for trying. OK, I’ve got to get going if I’m going to show up first.” I grabbed my clutch and headed for the door.
“OK,” Monica said as she followed me down to the street, “give Josh the middle finger for me.”
“Will do. You OK tonight?” I knew she was using humor to mask her still-fresh pain.
“Yea. Just call me when you get home, alright?” She gave me an encouraging smile.
Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue) Page 11