Cityscape Affair Series: The Complete Box Set

by Hawkins, Jessica

  “These two are looking to buy a house,” Mack said.

  Bill perked up, launching into his favorite topic as of late. I let him talk about neighborhoods, comps, and interest rates, nodding at all the right times. Davena, a natural know-it-all, especially when it came to buying and selling real estate, interjected when she disagreed.

  “Go easy on him,” Mack said to her, most likely noticing Bill’s frustrated sighs with each interruption. “They’re new at this.”

  “Which is exactly why they need our guidance,” she pointed out. “So they don’t make the mistakes we did.”

  “Mistakes?” Mack asked, leaning in to peck her on the lips between bites of his cacio e pepe. “I’d say we did all right in the end.”

  Her shoulders eased as she wiped the corner of his mouth with her thumb. “Oh, I suppose.”

  I glanced over at Bill as he checked his phone and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, leaning over to read a text from his boss.

  “They want me back at the office.”

  “But it’s Friday night,” I said.

  “I know—it’s ridiculous. I’m sorry. I’ll stay through dessert and make it up to you tomorrow. I’ll come help out at the animal shelter.”

  “Really?” I’d been volunteering there for years, and Bill had only tagged along a few times. “I’d like that,” I said, “but I’m not worried about myself.” I took his phone, set it on the dinner table, and laced our fingers the way Mack and Davena did. “I just don’t want you to burn out.”

  Bill and I each looked at our hands. As with sex, it wasn’t like me to initiate intimacy. It wasn’t that I never did it or didn’t want to feel close to Bill—physical touch just wasn’t how I expressed love. Affection didn’t come naturally like it did for the couple across the table from us.

  “All my hard work will pay off when we buy our new home,” Bill said, squeezing my hand. “Just stay focused on the peace and quiet we’ll get in the suburbs. It’ll be so nice to finally get out of the city.”

  My palm began to sweat. I took my hand back as a busser cleared our empty dishes. Peace and quiet. It would be hard for me to adjust to that after a decade living in or near fast-paced Chicago—which I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave behind yet. It’d been our plan for a while, though. Bill had been saying for years that once he was settled at a private practice, we’d start looking for a home to raise a family. Back then, that life had sounded far off. I thought I’d be more on board when the time came. And the time was here.

  Was I ready? Was I on board?

  As my thirtieth birthday loomed in less than a month, I couldn’t envision for myself the things I was supposed to—a house, children, and an existence free of surprises. Lucy made no secret she was ready for that. Gretchen valued her single life too much. I landed somewhere in the middle, so maybe I was just transitioning. Why not try to get excited about what was ahead of us?

  Bill worked hard and deserved a spacious home in a calm neighborhood like he wanted. Picturing that life didn’t exactly send my heart racing, but maybe that was the point. Settling down was just that—building a life on a firm, solid foundation. Wasn’t that one of the things I loved most about Bill, the fact that he brought a sense of normalcy back to my life that my parents had taken away years ago?

  Maybe I didn’t feel ready, but I’d get there soon enough.

  3

  Lucy and Andrew’s pristine River North apartment proved the perfect backdrop for their upscale friends. Snow-white plush carpet spanned the living room where guests congregated. Large windows framed Chicago’s dotted cityscape and starless sky while dim lighting illuminated the overstuffed cream leather couches, a glowing fireplace, and abstract art. As I crossed the living room to where Gretchen stood alone at a makeshift bar, I idly wondered how Lucy seemed to repel mess.

  My heels steadied as I stepped from carpet to white oak hardwood. Gretchen set her elbows on the bar to smile at a cute, young bartender. “Cosmo, please,” she said.

  “You should try the pomegranate martini,” he said.

  She bit her lip. “How come?”

  With a shrug, he grabbed a bottle of triple sec. “Pretty girls always love pomegranate.”

  Chardonnay isn’t complex enough for you.

  Ever since the ballet, the man from the theater’s warm presence had stuck to my skin like static cling. What had he seen in my eyes that had made him approach me?

  “I’ll take a Merlot,” I told the bartender.

  Gretchen whirled around. “You’re here,” she exclaimed, pulling me into a hug. “Thank God. This crowd is beyond boring.”

  It was easy to go unnoticed amongst the high-society, supposedly interesting social circle Andrew had brought Lucy into. Since arriving a few minutes earlier, I’d overheard tidbits here and there such as investment portfolio advice, private school laments, market projections, and vacation home upkeep.

  I didn’t fit in here. So where did I belong? I stopped the thought in its tracks. It was that kind of thinking that got people into trouble. That had put me in the orbit of a mystery stranger who’d seemed to cut through my defenses with a single look.

  “Lucy’s come a long way from a few years ago,” I said.

  “We all have.” Gretchen accepted her pomegranate martini from the bartender. “Remember that first shitty apartment the three of us shared after college?”

  “I wish I could forget it,” I said as I got my wine next. “I still don’t know how I survived stumbling up five flights of stairs drunk at three a.m. Or the rat poison we had to put out every few weeks. Or the moldy shower.”

  “But there were more good times than bad,” Gretchen said.

  I smiled to myself. “We’d meet at home after work, change outfits, and stay out until the early morning hours without even realizing it.” Responsibility had been just another word in the dictionary. Where had the time gone? Things were different now, there was no doubt. But something in particular felt amiss. With the onset of a new season, change seemed imminent, although I couldn’t identify why that might be.

  “I love this,” Gretchen said, admiring my very fitted white dress that hugged my slight curves and dipped just off my shoulders. “Where’s Bill?”

  “He’s in New York for work.”

  “Damn. Why didn’t I think of that excuse?” She laughed as I sipped my Merlot. “Lucy shot down all my attempts to get out of this.”

  “What is this anyway?” I asked, glancing around the room.

  “No idea.”

  “I’ve never known Lucy to throw a party for no reason,” I said. “It’s always something—housewarming, job promotion, election night. She didn’t even send a formal invitation.”

  “How long do you think we have to stay?” Gretchen tapped her black strappy heel on the floor. “I’ve been here twenty minutes and haven’t even seen Lucy yet.”

  I craned my neck but only spotted Andrew talking to a group of his friends. “Should we go find her?”

  As the words left my mouth, Lucy appeared from the hallway leading to the master bedroom. She looked over the crowd as best she could at her height until she spotted Gretchen and me. With her chin raised, she made a beeline for us, smiling politely at her guests but not stopping for anyone.

  “Where have you been?” Gretchen asked when she neared.

  Lucy inhaled deeply through her nose. “I was waiting for you both to get here. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

  Gretchen and I both leaned in. “To know what?” I asked.

  Lucy took Gretchen’s martini from her and sipped.

  “Hey!” Gretchen complained.

  Lucy’s face turned several shades of red as she watched us over the rim, her eyes sparkling. She raised the glass to us—and nearly blinded me with the rock on her finger.

  Gretchen and I gasped at the same moment. “Andrew proposed?” I asked.

  “You have no idea how hard it’s been to keep it to myself,
” she said with a squeal, “but I wanted to announce it in front of all our friends.”

  “So this is an engagement party?” Gretchen asked.

  “Um, no,” Lucy said. “This is just to celebrate the engagement announcement.”

  Lucy and I each set our drinks on the bar. She wiggled her fingers as I took her hand and admired the three oval-cut diamonds, centered on a smooth platinum band. I was certain I’d seen some version of this ring before on the “Dream Wedding” collage she’d made in college. Lucy could’ve designed it herself.

  “Tell us the story,” Gretchen said, nearly vibrating with excitement. “How’d he do it?”

  “You know how Andrew and I set aside Sundays for each other, right?” Lucy asked. “Well, last weekend, he was acting strange all afternoon and then said we were going to a movie. Normally we stay in on Sunday nights, but there was some superhero blockbuster he said everyone had been talking about at work.”

  Gretchen twisted her lips. “How’d he get you to an action movie?”

  “He promised me tiramisu at Bruna’s afterward.” She waved her hand, her gaze catching on the glint of diamonds. “So he takes me out of the way to this small theater in Lincoln Square, that’s totally not our regular place, and when we arrive, he waltzes right in without paying or anything. I’m like, ‘Andrew, what is going on? We’re nowhere near Bruna’s!’ But he won’t tell me.” She put her hand over her heart, sighing. “The theater was empty except for an attendant holding a tray of two champagne flutes. Instantly, the screen lights up, and I recognize the first bars of ‘Moon River.’”

  “Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” I said, nearly swooning. “Your favorite movie.”

  She nodded. “The clerk led us to a row in the center. On my seat was that famous little blue bag. I begin to cry right away. Andrew pulled out the box, told me how much he loved me, and asked me to marry him.”

  A wave of emotion surprised me. I wasn’t easily moved, but the ring and the proposal were so Lucy. It showed just how well Andrew knew her, and I wanted that for my friend.

  I took my Merlot from the bar, glancing at my own ring. The gold and diamond solitaire stone was an heirloom Bill had inherited from his grandmother. Family was important to Bill—as was saving money. Since his grandmother had passed before we’d met, I couldn’t say it held much sentimental value to me aside from representing our love. Bill’s proposal had happened at one of his family reunions with everyone looking on, waiting for the magic word from me.

  Yes.

  More distracted by the crowd than excited about the proposal, I’d had to say it once more, with enthusiasm, for the people in the back.

  Yes!

  “You’ll be my bridesmaids, right?” Lucy asked, taking each of our free hands. “My sister’s around here somewhere, and she agreed to be maid of honor. Andrew and I have already started making plans.”

  “Yeah, aren’t his parents going on some huge trip soon?” Gretchen asked.

  “The timing isn’t ideal.” Lucy’s smile faltered. “They’ve been working with a travel agent on their trip around the world for years, and they leave in fall, so either we have the wedding before then or we’ll have to wait over a year until they come home.”

  “Fall? We have our work cut out for us,” Gretchen said to me. “And, yes. Of course we’ll be there for you, Luce.”

  “I can’t believe I’ll be Lucy Greene soon.” She sighed longingly. “I’ve wanted this for so long, to be a wife and a mother.”

  I tried for my best supportive smile. I’d never aspired to be either of those things the way I’d focused on my career. Early in our marriage, Bill had gotten on my case frequently about changing my last name, but he rarely brought it up anymore. With distance, I could admit—I didn’t have that same desire as Lucy to belong to Bill. I told anyone who asked about my surname that I was a modern woman without the need to follow antiquated traditions, but the truth was—ridiculous as it sounded—the designation didn’t fit me. Olivia Wilson had always felt like some other woman trying to overshadow my identity.

  “I better go make the announcement before someone notices my ring.” Lucy bit her bottom lip and backed away as she said, “Wish me luck.”

  “Can you believe it?” I asked Gretchen when we were alone again.

  “Um, I definitely can,” Gretchen said under her breath. “Lucy has wanted this as long as I’ve known her.”

  I frowned as Gretchen nearly chugged the rest of her martini. If I didn’t know Gretchen as well as I did, I’d almost think she was jealous of Lucy’s announcement. Gretchen thrived on meeting men and socializing, though—she wasn’t interested in settling down.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  She looked into her empty drink. “Nothing.”

  “Liar,” I said. “Spill it.”

  After a light sigh, she looked up again. “I got a voicemail from Greg the other night.”

  “What?” I asked. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I didn’t know how to feel about it. I still don’t. He wants me to call him.”

  I’d introduced Gretchen to her current ex after he and I had become fast friends at Notre Dame. During our first class of Introductory Biology, we were the only people who seemed to notice how crazy the professor was. We’d looked at each other across the room and made the same face. Greg, Lucy, and I would discuss lectures over cold pizza in the dining hall or stay up late drinking Kahlua hot chocolates under the fleece Fighting Irish blanket my dad had sent me.

  Thinking Greg was the perfect guy, I’d set him up with Gretchen years later and they’d hit it off immediately—until he’d mercilessly dumped her two days before graduation.

  He’d accepted a job in Japan, an offer we’d heard nothing about, and was moving to start a new life. It’d been obvious to everyone but him and Gretchen that he’d been terrified of how intense things had become with her. Regardless, he’d gotten on the plane and none of us had heard from him since. Until now.

  “Is Greg in town or did he call from Japan?” I asked.

  “Don’t know,” she said. “He didn’t say. But the number was local.”

  I widened my eyes. “Aren’t you curious?” I asked. “What if he’s in town?”

  She shook her head vigorously, blonde curls bouncing over her shoulders. “Nope,” she said with finality. “That part of my life is done.”

  “Wow.” I lifted the wineglass to my mouth. “I can’t believe, after all this time—” I started and promptly spilled wine down my front.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Gretchen said, taking my drink from me. “Put club soda on that. Now.”

  “But Lucy’s about to make her announcement—”

  “That dress is too sexy to get ruined,” she said. “And too white.”

  I cursed my clumsiness and hurried into Lucy’s kitchen to search her refrigerator, finding only Perrier. I poured some onto a dishtowel and pressed it against the impurity on my breast. At a noise behind me, I turned.

  My lips parted. Hooded golden eyes, darkened with hunger, stared back at me. A hot thrill pulsed somewhere deep in me. My body remembered him first with the impulse to arch toward him. I froze, back in the theater, mesmerized by the handsome, mysterious stranger, under his spell again as if no time had passed since that night.

  When we’d met eyes across a crowded room.

  When he’d suggested ordering me something flavorful.

  When I’d momentarily lost all sense of my surroundings.

  I’d almost convinced myself it’d all been a dream.

  He flattened his hands on the surface of the kitchen island, the only thing separating us. “You disappeared on me.”

  I hadn’t disappeared so much as run away. Standing in front of him again, I was hit with the same dueling urges as I’d had during our first encounter.

  Go to him.

  Stay away.

  “Tell me your name.” His thick voice was my desire manifested.

  My draw to him was so st
rong, it seemed the only thing to do was back away from it. So I did, retreating one step. “I . . .”

  He straightened up. “Don’t run again. What’s your fucking name?” he repeated. It didn’t occur to me to question the intensity of his question or the urgency in his voice—not malicious but pleading.

  “Olivia,” I said, hardly recognizing my own voice.

  “Olivia,” he said with reverence, momentarily satisfied.

  He rounded the island toward me, his eyes never leaving mine as he took the towel I’d been holding—clutching. The hair on my arm rose over me as his skin brushed mine, the look in his eyes growing hungrier.

  “Olivia,” he said softly. “I’m desperate to know you.”

  My lids fluttered. A man like this wasn’t desperate for anything, but in that moment, I held his full attention. And his golden-brown gaze, fringed by long, unblinking lashes that softened strong, carved-from-marble features.

  He raised the dishrag as if to press it against my breast. I swallowed, urging myself to protest such brazenness despite my body’s urge to move against him.

  “Red wine,” he noted.

  Merlot, I almost said. Like you wanted. Like I wanted.

  Boisterous laughter came from the next room. I half-leaped back as Lucy’s boyfriend—now fiancé—waltzed into the kitchen with a leftover smile on his face.

  “Liv! Where’ve you been?” Andrew asked, rounding the island. As he spotted the man, Andrew laughed, shaking his head. “Aha. David. Of course,” he said, popping a few mini cupcakes into a red cocktail napkin. “I should’ve known you’d be the one keeping her from the party. Always one with the ladies.”

  David, I thought. A common name—nothing out of the ordinary. But now, I repeated it to myself behind sealed lips, as though I’d never heard that name in my life.

  “Actually, she spilled wine. I was just getting her a towel,” David said, pushing up the sleeves of his black V-neck sweater. He watched me from under his eyelashes. “We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting yet. But I’ll certainly take an introduction.”

  His face gave everything away, even though he casually rolled the cuffs of the white button down under his sweater. I glared at him, willing him to turn down the intensity in his gaze.