“David—” I whispered.
“Sleep,” he grunted in my ear, and his breathing evened, so I did as he said, shut my eyes, and drifted, safe back in his embrace.
15
The perfect antidote to a mild hangover? A Chicago-style hot dog loaded with toppings. Serena and I each scarfed one during our lunch break, and mine tasted even more delicious because of my late night workout.
That morning, I’d woken up to an empty bed and a note on David’s pillow. He’d left early for a full day at work, but tonight, he was taking me out for dinner to talk. I was to be ready by seven so he could “pick me up” for our date at his apartment later, just like he’d promised.
As Serena and I walked off the elevator and into Chicago Metropolitan Magazine’s lobby, the receptionist brightened. “Someone got a delivery,” Jenny sang, holding out a long, rectangular, glossy-white box with a red ribbon fastened to the top.
Serena scurried over to investigate. “It’s for you, Olivia.”
Who’d sent it? A remorseful husband or a new lover? Both pairs of eyes watched me until Serena asked, “Well? It’s not going to open itself!”
I walked to Jenny’s desk, tugged one end of the ribbon, and lifted the lid to reveal twelve perfectly formed, long-stemmed roses. The best roses, I was sure, in the whole city of Chicago, because their sender wouldn’t accept otherwise.
“What’s the card say?” Jenny asked.
I picked up an envelope addressed me and read it aloud. “Looking forward to our date tonight.”
Love, David
“Wow.” Serena nudged me with her elbow. “I didn’t realize Bill was so romantic.”
I didn’t want to lie anymore. It was exhausting, and David had made it clear early on how much he hated pretending. In that moment, my chest swelled with love for him, and I wanted the world to know it.
I shrugged and picked up the box. “They’re not from Bill,” I said, leaving the girls open-mouthed behind me.
In my office, I buried my nose in the bouquet, smiling as its perfume filled my nostrils.
Within seconds of putting down the box, Serena entered the room. “Thought you might need this,” she said, placing a vase full of water on my desk.
“Thanks,” I said and set to work filling it.
“They’re beautiful . . .”
I looked her up and down as I arranged the stems in the vase and waited for the question I knew was coming.
“Who are they from?” she asked.
I laughed. “You are so not subtle.”
“We’re, like, dying to know. What’s going on?” She lowered her voice and leaned over the desk. “Are you having an affair?”
“Do you think I’d tell you guys if I was?” I rolled my eyes. “Blabbermouths.”
“Come on,” she pleaded.
“I’m not ready to talk about the state of my love life, but when I am, Serena, you’ll be the first to know.” I changed the topic to something I’d been avoiding thinking about. David and I had booked flights for tomorrow to spend some time with my dad. I had no idea where David and I stood, or if he’d still want to come, but I was planning on going regardless. “I told you I’m working remotely the rest of the week, right?”
“Yep,” she said. “From Dallas.”
“You know what would be even more helpful than a vase and idle gossip?”
Her dimples deepened with a smile. “I’ll put together everything you’ll need for the rest of the week.”
I smiled at her. “Thank you.”
I stayed a little late at work to make sure everything would be in order while I was away, then headed to David’s apartment to get ready for our date.
I chose a tight, black dress with a sweetheart neckline that David had liked on the hanger. He hadn’t seen it on me since he’d taken a business call while I’d been in the dressing room. In the mirror, I turned. Three thick, vertical straps ran from the nape of my neck to my mid-back. Sexy enough for a first date. Even though we were far beyond that, my nerves buzzed. And as always when I thought of David, a quiver started between my legs.
I wasn’t sure what was in store for David and me tonight. After our last talk in my office, surely he had concerns and would lead the conversation. But tonight, I had to lay it all on the line. To show David my confidence in us, even if I had to slightly fake it until my head could catch up with my heart. He needed to know I was willing to fight for us. That I wasn’t going to back out. And that I loved him.
I fixed my hair into a soft chignon, leaving some pieces free to frame my face, and smoothed on red lipstick. I had a feeling asking David’s forgiveness would go down a little easier when the request came from a crimson mouth.
When the front door opened, I grabbed my clutch, draped a black cashmere coat with leather trim over my arm, and walked out of the bedroom.
From where I stood at the mouth of the hallway, I could see through the living room, past a marble countertop that doubled as a breakfast bar, and into the kitchen. David leaned a hip on the counter, staring off into space, a sweating beer bottle in one hand.
He remained as imposing as ever, even when confined by walls, and looked distinguished and sexy in a black suit. He scrubbed the beginnings of his five o’clock shadow, then ran a hand through disheveled hair that begged for my fingers to play in it.
He took a pull from his beer, looking deep in thought. His grim expression only amplified his dark, severe features. It made him even more devastatingly handsome. I wouldn’t expect anything less, though. I’d been a fool to believe that getting space from him might give me any clarity when just looking at him made me breathless. I was suddenly nervous, and it took me a moment to build up the courage to step into the room.
His head snapped in my direction, and he took a deep breath, staring as I advanced. “Olivia,” he said, letting my name roll off his tongue the way I loved. Only, it was different now that I’d tasted that tongue and inhaled my own name from his mouth. Or maybe it was something on his end that made it sound different, an acknowledgement of our time together. It was sweeter.
Though my instinct was to touch him, his unreadable mood dissuaded me, so I stopped some feet away. His eyes never left me for a moment.
“Thank you for the beautiful roses,” I said.
“I bet that got the girls talking.”
“It did,” I said with a shy smile. “I loved them.”
“Good.”
“Are you ready, or—”
“I’m ready.”
“Okay.” I tucked some hair behind my ear and waited for him to make a move.
He turned his body to me and stepped forward, reaching out to run his thumb over my cheek. “You’re absolutely stunning,” he said. “But you’ll freeze.”
“You’ll keep me warm,” I said. “Won’t you?”
He nodded and left the bottle on the counter to take my coat from me. I let him wrap me in it, and I tied it closed as we made our way out of the apartment.
In the car, I wasn’t sure what to make of his mood. Last night, he’d objected to me climbing into his bed, but it hadn’t taken him seconds to give in. Fucking me didn’t mean he’d forgotten, though.
“I can’t be in a relationship with someone who won’t talk to me,” he’d said. “I can’t always be the one doing all the work.”
Desperate to cut through the silence, I asked, “Did you have a good day?”
“Not particularly.”
I didn’t want to stare at him as he drove in the dark, so I focused my gaze ahead of us. “Gretchen’s was interesting last night.”
“How so?”
“We gossiped, mostly about you.” I smiled. “We had dinner and drinks, then went out. But Gretchen had Greg there, and it was weird to have our roles reversed. Usually I’m the one with someone by my side.”
“Someone meaning a man.”
I nodded and glanced at my hands. “I missed you.”
He slid his hand along the curve of the steering
wheel. “Can’t say that doesn’t make me a little happy to hear.”
“I saw Brian, too,” I added. “Just so you know.”
“Brian?” he repeated. “Ayers?”
“He’d invited you and me to this art thing at a bar, so I took the girls instead. He and I talked for a while.”
“I see.” David looked out his window. “How’re Greg and Gretchen getting on?”
“Really well.”
“Do you think they’re a good match?” he asked.
I frowned. Yes. Does he not think so? They definitely had been in college. “I think so,” I said.
“And what about us?” he asked. “Are we a good match?”
I was thankful he couldn’t see my face. The tension in the car thickened as the question hung in the air. “Of course we are,” I said softly. I continued to look at anything but him while he stared out the windshield. He hadn’t looked at me once since the apartment.
Thankfully, we arrived at the restaurant within minutes.
Inside, at the hostess stand, he said, “Reservation for Dylan, two.”
As the hostess led us to our table, David’s hand covered mine, warm and protective.
The dim corner where she sat David and me was almost as dark as the night outside with only a couple sconces on the wall and a flickering candle in the middle of the table.
As I untied my coat, David’s hands rested on my shoulders from behind. His fingers brushed the back of my neck. I paused, waiting as he seemed to hesitate. He removed the coat, handed it to the hostess, and pulled out my chair for me.
He surveyed our surroundings as he rounded the table to his seat. “Everyone here is looking at you,” he remarked with a frown, scanning the room behind me as he scooted his chair under the table.
I followed his gaze. I didn’t see anyone looking at me, but I did catch a pair of big, bright female eyes focused on him. I pursed my lips and stared at the woman until she noticed and sheepishly glanced away.
David ordered a bottle of something before I even noticed the waiter. I didn’t catch the order because he’d made it in French.
I folded my hands in my lap. David’s unreadable eyes fixed on me.
If his intent was to make me uncomfortable, it was working. I knew I needed to tell him I’d gotten his point. The moment he’d left my office the day before, I’d wanted to call him back and promise him I’d try harder. But his stoicism tonight made me self-conscious and a little flustered. “Are you having second thoughts?” I asked finally.
“Me?”
I nodded hesitantly, put off by his clipped tone.
He dropped his forehead in his hands and sighed irritably. “You’re the one hitting the brakes, Olivia. Not me.”
“You just seem . . . distant.”
He glanced up at me. “Can you blame me?”
The waiter appeared, and David gestured at me. The man poured me a taste from the wine bottle. Without removing my eyes from David, I swirled, sniffed, and took an uninspired sip of red wine. When I nodded, the waiter filled our glasses without a word and walked away.
“I spoke to Andrew,” David said. “Apparently, you and Dani had a confrontation? He wouldn’t tell me any more. Care to explain?”
Heat crept up my neck. “Bill’s concerned about your past. He thinks you’re using me. He said you slept with Dani and then never called her again.”
David suddenly looked as red as I felt, but it wasn’t because he was embarrassed like me. It was an anger that hit me hard, like the night of the masquerade ball, when he’d seen me dancing with Bill. Now that he was feet away, though, it was more palpable.
“I told you exactly what happened between Dani and me. A kiss that I stopped,” David said. “But you believed Bill instead?”
“At first, I questioned whether it could be true,” I said, hoping honesty would be the fastest way to fix this. “You had her hoodie in your car, and plenty of opportunities to sleep with her. And you would’ve been within your right to.” I set my elbows on the table. “But I always knew in my gut that it wasn’t true, David. Bill lied. Dani confirmed the truth.”
“You should have come to me,” he said, fuming. “No one else. Haven’t I told you repeatedly that I won’t lie to you? Under any circumstances? If I said I didn’t touch her, I didn’t. I don’t like having to fucking repeat myself.”
Oddly, his anger comforted me, an improvement from his indifferent silent treatment. “I’m sorry I doubted you,” I said, nodding. “It’s partly why I pulled away yesterday.”
“Why can’t you trust me?”
“I do.”
“You don’t. It took all this investigative work before you could finally come to me? That’s bullshit, Olivia. I should be the first person you come to. This is a bullshit relationship.”
My heart dropped. That stung. I’d had a setback, yes, but I’d made a lot of progress with him over so little time. “It was Gretchen’s idea to call Dani, not mine,” I said. “I told her I didn’t need that because I believed you.”
“Next time, you come to me. Understand?” Finally, his expression softened. “You got your answer from Dani. So why are you still holding back? What happened on the call?”
“Dani called Gretchen a slut, and she blames me for you and her not working out. She said you’re going to throw me out like trash.”
He stared at me a moment. When the waiter approached, David clipped, “We’re not ready,” and the man quickly rerouted away from the table.
David’s narrowed eyes never left me. “And?”
“I called her a judgmental bitch and told her you loved me in a way Bill never could.”
After a beat, David asked, “Do you believe that? Or were you just saying it to hurt her?”
I picked up my water glass, thankful for how it cooled my suddenly sweaty palm. David had proved enough times that he was in this for good. He’d been chipping away at the walls around my heart before I’d even known it was happening, and it was working. But that brought on new fears and complications. He could spend the time breaking down those walls, but what would it cost me to pick up a hammer and help him? If I fell, he’d catch me, but was I even capable of giving complete, all-in, head-over-heels unconditional love? The kind I’d seen as an affliction of my mother’s? It wouldn’t be easy after a lifetime of trying to limit myself.
It started with telling him I loved him. He knew, of course, but he deserved to hear it. Then what would come next? David said he’d marry me. And I knew better than anyone—with marriage came certain expectations. Ones I wasn’t sure I could deliver.
As I tried to come up with the words, a dull, angry buzzing filled my ears. “Yes, I believe what I said to Dani. I believe that you love me, and I believe in us.”
“You can’t just tell me. You have to show me,” he said. “Months ago, I promised I’d leave you alone if you said it and meant it—if you truly wanted that. Now, I need the opposite. I need more than promises. You’re not all in with me yet, and I don’t know how to get you there. But the deeper I get in this, and the more I risk my heart getting broken.”
As the vibrating started again, I rubbed my temples and looked around. “I’m trying,” I said. “I came to your bed last night because I couldn’t spend a night away from you—”
“After you told me you needed space.”
“What is that noise?” I asked as the buzzing continued. “Is it your phone?”
He took his cell from his jacket, cleared a call, and set it on the table. “Olivia, do you know how it felt to spend those two days with you and then have you withdraw again? I can’t make this better if you won’t tell me what’s on your mind. Even—especially—the ugly shit you don’t want anyone to see. Remember the bath? You and me? Remember how nice you felt after opening up? Remember—”
“I told you,” I snapped, clasping my hand over my heart. “I’m empty inside! I’m trying, but I warned you, David. What if I just can’t give you what you need? I don’t know what you wa
nt from me.”
“Everything,” he shot back, and his fist hit the table. “I want it all. Don’t say you’re empty. That’s an excuse, and you know it. I’ve seen the way you can love me. I feel it in your touch, in the way you give yourself over. Just admit that you’re fucking afraid and that I’m not worth taking the risk for.”
“Goddamn it,” I hissed to myself, pressing my palms against my forehead. “Answer your phone. It’s driving me crazy.”
“We’re not finished.”
“Someone obviously needs to get ahold of you.”
David looked at me for a long moment before answering the call and holding his phone to his ear. “Now is not a good—whoa, Jessa. Slow down. What’s wrong?” At his sister’s name, I stilled. “The ER?” he asked. “Why?” David’s face fell as he listened. “All right, I’m coming now.”
He hung up and motioned to the waiter.
“David, what’s wrong?” I asked.
“That was my sister.” He slipped his phone into his suit jacket. “Alex is in the hospital—emergency appendectomy.”
“Surgery?” Before I could stop it, my stomach roiled with visions of scalpels, blood, and doctors in latex gloves. “Oh, God. Is he all right?”
“I have no idea. I could barely understand her through her crying.” He stood. “I have to get over there.”
“You go ahead,” I said. “I can finish up here.”
He handed a credit card to the waiter for the wine and demanded my coat. No doubt because of David’s tone, the waiter jogged off with the card.
I was about to offer to go with him when he cut me off. “I’ll get you a cab home.”
“I—home?” Our argument seemed unimportant right then, but would he feel that way, too? “You mean . . . should I go—back to your apartment?”
“Where else?” he asked with a funny look. He took my coat and the bill from the waiter, signed it, and strode to the exit, pausing only long enough to hold the door for me. He handed the valet his ticket and moved to the curb to search for a cab.
“I can get my own cab,” I said. “Alex needs you.”
Cityscape Affair Series: The Complete Box Set Page 72