by Anya Sharpe
“No, not really. I’m simply not up for dealing with all this…this…shit that’s hit the fan that was my life.”
“Where’d you go the other day? I was worried about you,” he says. There’s a quiet gentleness, a caring, a softness in his eyes which almost sets the water works flowing again. But, I manage to keep the tears at bay by looking away and blinking hard.
“I had to get out of here. Everything…it was too much. I ended up at home in bed with the covers pulled over my head. Until Derrick came barging in yelling at me like a lunatic. As if this was all my fault.”
A flash of anger glints in Evan’s eyes at the mention of Derrick for a split second or two, but I caught it.
“I’m sorry you had to deal with him. I’m sure it wasn’t pleasant.” He studies me for a few moments. “You up for getting some work done? I brought coffee.” He rises. “Join me when you’re ready.”
I only nod in answer.
****
A few minutes before noon there’s a tap on Evan’s open door.
“Erynne, are you ready for lunch?” Jamie pokes his head through the doorway.
“Jamie?”
“You’re surprised? I told you I was coming to get you. You can’t brush me off that easily.” He enters the office, the picture of a polished, professional attorney—regally handsome in a tailored dark gray suit, deep purple shirt fastened with cufflinks, and a brightly patterned Jerry Garcia tie. The guy loves his Grateful Dead.
I shake my head. “I don’t think…”
“Hi.” Jamie holds out a hand to Evan. “We haven’t met. I’m Jamison Reed.” He fails to mention he’s Derrick’s boss, which makes me wonder how much he knows.
“Evan Giamatti, nice to meet you.” He stands to greet Jamie. After they shake hands, Evan’s quizzical expression says “who is this guy, and do you want me to get rid of him?”
“Jamie’s…uh, an old…a good friend,” I stammer because this is awkward as hell. “He heard about things and wanted to take me to lunch today.” Evan’s eyebrow quirks up. I’d like to know what he’s thinking, but don’t dwell on it. Now that Jamie’s shown up, I should get this over with.
During the ride to the restaurant we make small talk, while my brain swirls with doubt over what to say to Jamie. How much did Derrick tell him? I’m sure he’s had at least one conversation with Derrick. I doubt Jamie would have called me if he hadn’t. After all, the guy is Derrick’s boss and friend. That’s where his loyalty rightfully belongs. Isn’t it?
An uneasy silence falls between us after we settle at a table and order our sushi. As far as I’m concerned, Jamie can start the conversation. I wish he’d hurry up before I jump right out of my skin with anxiousness. I play with the paper straw wrapper, idly folding it into various shapes.
Jamie stills my hands with his. “What’s going on, Erynne? You need to get things off your chest.” His tone is so sympathetic I almost choke. Instead, I blow out a lungful of air.
“What’s he told you?” I slide a wary glance up to him.
“Derrick said he screwed up. Monumentally. He didn’t say how or why. I couldn’t get a lot out of him. In words, anyway. He’s been walking around the office like an angry zombie. He’s snapping at the receptionists, his assistant, Morgan…”
My head snaps up at the mention of her name.
“What?” Jamie’s lips form a grim, thin line. “Why did you have such a visceral reaction when I mentioned Morgan?”
Damned attorneys.
“It’s…nothing.” A sip of water gives me something to do, and avoid answering his question.
Our sushi arrives, and Jamie begins to eat, but I only pick at mine. My appetite—if I even had one—has turned to dust. Even though I am hurt and angry, telling Jamie everything seems wrong. Hell, I doubt I know everything. The pounding in my head returns, so I fish around in my purse for a pain reliever.
“You should eat more if you’re going to take those,” he says.
I force down another bite or two of what I would normally consider fantastic sushi.
“Please. Trust me, Erynne. Tell me what happened. I want to help, support you and Derrick.”
“I don’t think we’re going to get through this, Jamie.” And that’s the truth right there. Even if Derrick begged, I’m not sure I can easily forgive and forget. Or if he wants me to, for that matter.
“Erynne…”
“He’s having an affair,” I blurt out, my face flushing. “I saw them together. On our fucking anniversary. After he canceled our dinner plans to ‘work on the case’ ” I use air-quotes. “They were kissing, Jamie. I mean really kissing. Not a ‘hi, nice to see you’ peck-on-the-cheek. More like tongue-down-the-throat. At Malone’s.” I’m shaking with the effort to keep yet another onslaught of tears at bay. I hadn’t intended to tell him all of this. The lump in my throat is enormous, and I pray to every god there might be in this universe that I don’t lose my lunch right here and now. “When he canceled again, Evan and Maya took me out for dinner to keep me company.”
“Jesus Christ. You’re kidding.” He knew damned well I wasn’t. I shake my head sadly.
“I wish I were, Jamie.”
“Holy…I am so sorry. What the hell is the asshole thinking? Do you know her?” His lips form a grim, tight line, and the grip on his chopsticks is strong enough I think he might snap them in two.
The stricken look on my face must have spoken volumes because I’m certain Jamie paled.
“You do, don’t you?” The lightbulb flicks on above his head as he figures it out.
Why am I the one laden with guilt? I didn’t ask for this.
“Don’t make me say it. Please,” I squeak. “I want to leave now, Jamie. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
He nods and tosses a bunch of cash on the table. Then, he places a hand on my back and escorts me out of the restaurant. Daring to take a quick glance at Jamie while he drives, I watch as his jaw rhythmically clenches and unclenches. No doubt he is ticked off. Welcome to the club. My stomach churns. I hope I can keep down the two and a half pieces of sushi I ate—but it’s not looking good.
In front of the office building, Jamie’s car comes to a stop. Before I open the door, he clears his throat.
“Erynne, I wish I could say something to right things. I’ve considered both of you good friends for so long.”
“I know. Thanks for lunch.” I slide out of the car and offer a pathetic little wave as I turn toward the building.
Evan is working on the last bites of a deli sandwich when I step into his office.
“Back so soon? That was a quick lunch.” He checks his watch and studies me.
“Yeah. I wasn’t hungry.” I sit and shuffle aimlessly through the contracts we’re working on. Evan places his hand on top of mine, with a reassuring squeeze.
“Who is he?”
I swallow hard. God, why is this so difficult?
“Derrick’s boss.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows lift in surprise. “What did he want?”
“Derrick wouldn’t tell him what was going on. He’s…worried about both of us, I guess.”
“Did you?”
“Um, yeah. I did. It just came out. I feel like a traitor or something. Isn’t that crazy?” My eyes are filling with unshed tears. I’m getting pretty tired of always being on the verge of crying. Evan snorts.
“I don’t think anyone would call you a traitor,” he says.
His phone rings.
“Yes. She is.” He pauses, studying me. “Probably not, but I’ll ask. Hold on a second.” Evan covers the mouthpiece with his hand.
“Derrick’s in the lobby. He wants to come up.”
My mouth goes instantly dry.
“Oh. Uh. No, he can’t come up. I can’t talk to him here, Evan. Please, say no.” Panic is rising in me like a tsunami.
He nods and rests a calming hand on my shoulder. “Ms. Sommers is unavailable for the rest of the afternoon, Elmer. Please tell Mr. Sommers she’
ll get back to him another—more convenient—time. Thanks, Elmer.”
He’s so damned tactful it almost makes me smile. Almost. “Thank you, Evan,” I say after he hangs up the phone.
“No problem.” He stares at me for a moment. “Would you like some coffee or something?”
I shake my head. “Let’s get back to work. I need to forget about everything.”
Fortunately, I’m able to lose myself in contracts this afternoon. A lot of work had piled up the few days I was out. Before long, it’s almost five-thirty.
“I like seeing that beautiful smile of yours again. It’s been missing for a few days.”
“I guess so, huh? It was good to concentrate on something other than my mess of a life.”
“Ready to call it a day?”
“Yeah. I’m pretty tired. I want to go take a shower and lose myself in a bottle of wine before crashing.”
Evan stares at me.
“What?”
“I drove in today. Would you mind if I took you home? To make sure you’re safe.” His expression is both serious and worried. Why is he being so nice to me? I’m merely his colleague.
“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Although, in the back of my mind, I am concerned Derrick could be waiting at the apartment.
“Most likely, yes. But I’ll rest a whole lot easier this evening knowing you got home all right.” I can almost read his mind. He’s worried about Derrick, too. “Please. Let me do this for you.”
“Yeah. Sure. Thanks.”
Chapter Eleven
Evan
When that slick-looking lawyer came in to take her to lunch, it was all I could do to be pleasant to the guy. It was clear Erynne wasn’t thrilled about going with him. She was uneasy in his presence. Of course, I had no idea at the time he was douche-bag’s boss. And friend. If I’d known that, I would have made up something about a lunch meeting. The guy probably gave her a bunch of crap about how sorry dickhead was for his transgressions and how she should give him a second chance.
Next time, I’m speaking up. If there is a next time.
God, I hate seeing her this way. My gut twists as I tell myself it’s none of my business, but I can’t help it.
There’s something about her I can’t shake…
Oh, and apparently, my dick is in charge of my brain.
What kind of trouble am I asking for by offering to take her home? On some level, I’m only trying to be a nice guy. I truly do want to make sure she’s safe. At the same time, my pants strain at the thought of being alone with her. That would be the asshole part of me. The one I refuse to pay attention to.
So, we get into the car, and I drive to her apartment, silently cursing myself the whole way.
“Thanks for the ride, Evan.” Erynne gifts me with one of those brilliant smiles that’s been missing since her world imploded. She’s so goddamned gorgeous when she smiles—or any time, to be honest. Something squeezes my heart—or my gut, not sure which. Maybe both.
I’m playing with fire.
My dick is in the control tower again, because I blurt out, “I’m coming up with you. You know…to check things out.”
What the hell is my problem, anyway?
“You don’t need to. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The sparkle in her blue eyes sends an electric jolt through my soul—and a few other places.
“I insist.”
I’m an idiot.
She pushes open the door to her apartment, and we go in. The place is neat as a pin, the décor suiting her personality. I wonder if dickhead had any input or left it all up to her. Either way, the open plan is spacious, stylish and airy, flowing toward a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river in the distance.
She spins around in a circle.
“See? No bogeyman here.”
The apartment is quiet, so yeah, nothing to worry about. For some reason, I sense a prickle of uneasiness in my spine.
“Hey, mind if I use the bathroom?” Where’d that come from?
“Sure. Down the hall. First door on your left.” She points the way.
The door clicks shut behind me, and I prepare to get down to the task at hand. You know, since I’m in here and all.
Then, the shouting begins.
I almost zip my cock in my rush to put things back together so I can find out what is happening.
“You had no fucking business telling Jamie I’m having an affair with Morgan.”
If Derrick gets any louder or angrier, he’s gonna burst a blood vessel. Not that I would care.
Like a flash, I whip open the bathroom door, race into the living room, where Derrick has Erynne pinned against the wall. He’s shaking her so hard, her body bangs into it, his fingers digging into her shoulders.
“Well, you are!” She whimpers, but manages to gather some courage. “I saw you kissing her. Why?”
“You don’t know what I had to give up for you. No idea!”
He slaps her in the face, leaving a red handprint behind. The guy’s out of control.
I grab Derrick by the collar and yank him off her so forcefully he careens into the kitchen island hard enough to rattle the potted plants.
“Back off! Keep your hands off Erynne.” Every instinct tells me to pound him into the ground, but I rein in the urge as I approach him with measured steps. He’s not a small guy, but I’m bigger. I’m ready to feed this asshole his balls and throw him out with the trash. No one puts their hands on a woman in my presence.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Naturally, Derrick wasn’t expecting me. Why would he? A sneer grows on his face. “Let me guess. You’ve got a thing going on with Mr. Wonderful? Sweet. Just sweet, Erynne. You’re accusing me of cheating on you, while you’re getting some of him on the side. You bitch!”
“No, it’s not like that Derrick.” A flood of tears run down her panicked face.
He flies at me, but I’m stronger and faster, so I pin his arm behind him hard, bringing him to his knees, then shove his whole body down with my leg. I catch a whiff of whiskey on his breath, which accounts for his untethered anger.
“Stop! Stop!” Erynne is hysterical.
“Erynne, calm down.” I speak to her as calmly as I can through gritted teeth while preventing dickhead from attempting to pound the shit out of me. “Erynne, you should sit down.”
“All right, just stop. Let him go, Evan. Please.” She sits on the edge of the sofa, shaking uncontrollably. Another swath of anger rolls through me when I spot the pink handprint he left on her face.
The fucking bastard hit her. I want to jam his teeth down to his spleen.
Instead, I tell him, “I’m gonna let you up. Nice and easy. You try anything, and you’ll be right back under my foot. Got it?”
He swears and struggles against me. I apply a little more pressure on his arm, and wouldn’t mind hearing it snap. “Got it, asshole?”
“Fine. Let go.” He grunts, out of breath.
“I’m serious. You make a move, and you’ll be sorry.”
I step away from him. His face is purple with rage, and some amount of embarrassment.
He drills me with a nasty look.
“You’re fucking my wife, aren’t you? I knew you wanted her the first time I met you, asshole.”
“Derrick! Stop!” Erynne’s on her feet, and in his face in a flash.
“You’re sleeping with this jerk.” I’m surprised to see hurt mixed in with his anger at his belief she betrayed him.
“No, I’m not.” She’s more pissed off than scared now. “He gave me a ride home. Don’t twist things to make me the bad person here. You’re the one who’s been cheating on me with Morgan. How long has that been going on? All those late nights? Telling me you’re working? My birthday? Our anniversary? You lying sonofabitch.” She’s breaking down.
It’s twisted, but I find myself smiling. I’m proud of her.
“Get. Out.”
For a moment, he looks like he’s about t
o grab her again, so I edge closer to them, hoping he takes the warning.
“I believe she asked you to leave,” I say in a stern monotone.
“It’s my fucking house, asshole,” he snarls. “Maybe you should be the one getting tossed out on your ass.”
“Is that a threat, Mr. Sommers?”
“Derrick, please. Just leave.” Her breath catches, and her hand moves to the redness on her cheek, which makes him cringe a little. “Just leave.”
“Erynne…I’m so sorry…”
“No. Go. Please.” In spite of her tears, her voice sounds stronger.
His fiery gaze bounces between the two of us. “Fine. For now. We’ll be discussing this real soon. Without him.” He pokes a finger in my direction and slams out of the apartment.
Erynne wavers and I fear she might collapse to the floor. Instinct kicks in, and I gather her into my arms, running fingers through her soft, soft hair. She doesn’t pull away, nor does she return the embrace. She sobs into my chest, her arms hanging limp by her side.
And that’s fine with me.
****
“All done. Anything else I can do for ya?” The locksmith has a deep, stereotypical Brooklyn accent and a sizable butt crack. Not that I was looking, but, hey—you couldn’t not notice the guy’s hairy canyon on display.
“I think that’s it. Thanks for coming out so quickly.” Truth is, I have some connections.
“Sure thing. The little lady gonna be all right?”
His concern is touching. I told him her ex had tried to bust in on her. Not exactly the truth, but not exactly a lie, either.
“Yeah. She was shaken up a bit, she’ll be fine.”
“Well, good luck. Here’s the new keys.”
He picks up his tools and leaves as Erynne emerges from the bathroom wrapped in a silky, pale pink robe that clings to her body. She’s certainly not wearing anything underneath. Stiff nipples poke at the thin material, beckoning me, demanding attention. To force my gaze up to her eyes takes monumental effort. Thank God, I’m standing on the other side of her small dining table, where the goddamned carnival-size tent forming in my pants isn’t visible.
Dammit. Put some clothes on, woman.
“Who was here?” Her hair is piled carelessly on top of her head, still damp from the bath I ordered her to take while I stood guard.