Cityscape Affair Series: The Complete Box Set

by Hawkins, Jessica

  I stared at him. “You’ve spent enough money on me. I can just wear my coat at work.”

  “Do it, don’t argue,” he said. “We’ve got enough to fight about. Have you changed your mind about this evening?”

  I bristled. “No.”

  “Then we’re at an impasse.”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “I’m going, you’re not . . . and that’s where we are.”

  He glared at me as he took another bite, chewing slowly. He swallowed and sighed. “Look, I’m uncomfortable with you being alone with him. He put his hands on you once, he could do it again.”

  “I get that,” I said, “but it was out of character for Bill. I’ve been involved with this man for years. Don’t you think I know him? There’s never been a problem.”

  “I get that,” he echoed, his frustration visibly mounting, “but things are different now. You can’t know where his head’s at.” David stood up quickly and stalked over to a closed door I hadn’t noticed before. After a moment he returned with a folded men’s undershirt. “Put this on. It’s not a fair fight with your tits in my face.”

  “Well, in that case—”

  “Olivia,” he commanded, his eyes narrowing.

  I gulped, accepted the shirt, and pulled it over my head. “How come you always call me by my full name?”

  He brushed off his hands and sat. “What else would I call you?”

  “Uh, Liv,” I said.

  “Olivia is beautiful, and it suits you perfectly.”

  I wasn’t sure what answer I’d expected, but I was coming to find that when it came to me, David gave thought to every little detail. “Oh.”

  His eyes scanned my face. “You’re cute when you blush, you know that?” he murmured, but he still looked annoyed. “To me, you are always Olivia.” He took another mouthful of burrito and chewed quickly. “When I met you in Andrew’s kitchen, and I asked you your name, you said, in your sexy, husky voice, ‘Olivia.’ I’ll never forget it.”

  I sighed like a wilting flower, powerless to the love that coursed through me. I was quickly becoming the kind of girl I’d always despised: one who couldn’t stop staring at her boyfriend with starry eyes—even when we were in the middle of a fight.

  Fuck. We were definitely still in the middle of a fight. “You didn’t ask for my name,” I reminded him. “You demanded. Like you’re doing now.”

  “This is serious shit,” he said. “People have been murdered over situations like this.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “Infidelity.”

  “Yes, and obviously, having you there would only raise the tension,” I said. “If anything would set Bill off, it’d be that.”

  “Wouldn’t matter,” he stated. “I’d be there.”

  I dropped my forehead into my open hand. Bringing David was not an option. It wasn’t right. But I hated that he thought I wasn’t on his side. Of all the things he’d said the night before, that had struck me the hardest.

  I exhaled finally and looked back at him. “What if you drive Gretchen and me but stay downstairs? That way you’ll be there if anything goes wrong.”

  “Fuck,” he said to himself. “Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn? Don’t you trust me?”

  “Don’t you trust me?” I said. “Bill’s not the monster you think he is. Sweetie, I wouldn’t go there if I thought it was an issue. Nor would I take Gretchen there if I thought he was capable of hurting her.”

  David grumbled his defeat to himself through another bite, and I smiled triumphantly.

  “Tell Gretchen not to worry about the car,” he said. “I’ll get something, and we can pick her up on the way.”

  “Thank you,” I said, balling up my trash. “Can you walk me out? I need my coat. And as much as I would love to wear this all day . . .” I peeled off his cologne-scented undershirt and handed it to him. “I’d look a little silly.”

  He walked to his desk and picked up the phone. “Olivia’s coat,” was all he said.

  As we waited by the door, he leaned in to give me a sweet kiss. “See?” he said. “No fighting.”

  “No fighting,” I repeated with a smile.

  He cracked the door a sliver to accept my coat and held it open so I could slip into it. I watched him concentrate on each button as he dressed me. When he finished, he pulled gently on the lapels and kissed me again.

  “Thank you for understanding,” I told him. “I owe you one.”

  I turned away and pulled open the door, but he slammed it shut with one hand. “Owe me?” he purred into my ear, molding his hand to my backside.

  My insides turned instantly to jelly with his hot breath on my neck. “Yes,” I breathed. “Whatever you want, I’m yours.”

  “If I didn’t have so much to do, I’d take you up against this door right now,” he said. “I haven’t nearly made up for the time we lost last week, so you’d better be ready to spread those long legs for me tonight.” He opened the door, tapped me on the ass, and pushed me out into the foyer in a daze. I blinked for a moment until I noticed the receptionist studiously avoiding my gaze. I gave her a quick wave and rushed to the elevator.

  On my way to the boutique, I tried not to read into the fact that David had an account there, so I was glad to see they carried men’s clothing, too. For some reason, that led to me wondering whether or not he’d had sex on his desk before, and the thought made my lip curl.

  After browsing the selection, I interrupted two salesgirls in the middle of a conversation to ask for a fitting room. One turned to me, a pretty blonde, young but with an unfortunate frown. She pointed across the store. “Dressing room’s over there.” She returned to her co-worker to pick up their conversation.

  “I’ll need to wear it out of the store,” I told her.

  “Sure,” she said, “but we only take American Express.”

  “That’s fine. My boyfriend called ahead.”

  She turned back to me slowly. “Oh. You’re David’s girlfriend?”

  “Yes,” I said, finding her tone a little too familiar. “Are you a friend of his?”

  “Er.” She bit her lip. “He usually works with me when he shops.”

  Awesome, I thought wryly. So he had a regular girl. Why didn’t that surprise me? “How about that dressing room?” I asked.

  “Right.” She shot a look at the other saleswoman as she rounded the counter and led me to the back of the store. “Have you been dating long?” she asked nonchalantly.

  “Not very.”

  She gave me a quick, tight smile, showed me into the room, and shut the door behind me. I stood there a moment with the blouse in my hand, seething. Obviously “working” with David involved more than just shopping. It occurred to me that I might be destined to a lifetime of uncomfortable encounters with David’s women. Instead of dwelling on it, I decided to honor the promises I’d made to be more open and ask him directly.

  Me: Curious . . . how many of the women at this boutique have you “worked with”?

  David: Two, if you count yourself.

  I gave myself a moment to fume. I appreciated his honesty, and the answer wasn’t surprising—it had been written all over her face—but that didn’t mean I had to like it.

  Me: Why would you send me here then?

  David: Why else? Good service.

  I had to resist the urge to throw my phone at the wall. “Good service”? Is he teasing me?

  When I’d taken a deep breath, I responded.

  Me: You are walking a seriously thin line with that comment.

  David: Just being honest, my sweet. Don’t ask if you don’t want to know the answer.

  I could’ve stopped to consider if he was right or wrong, but I just wanted to be angry. Before I could respond, though, he sent another message.

  David: Look, I wouldn’t send you if there was anything to worry about. That shit’s so done, it can only be funny.

  Funny—that was an odd way of looking at it. Once a playboy, David could now only f
ind hilarity in the mere thought of wanting another woman. All right. This way of looking at it was getting better.

  I inhaled deeply. I had a choice—chastise him for a past that couldn’t be changed and was likely to come up often, or accept that it happened, and in the end, he’d chosen me. I twisted my lips in thought right as a knock came on the dressing room door.

  “Do you need anything?” the salesgirl asked.

  I opened the door and forced a smile. “Yes. Lingerie. Bring the best stuff you have. Anything you think David would like . . . since you’ve worked with him before.”

  “Cer-certainly,” she stammered, reddening.

  I laughed to myself when she’d left. Just because I was going to take the high road didn’t mean I couldn’t have a little fun.

  As I stood at the register in my new blouse, I studied the girl. All the women I knew of in David’s past were beautiful, unsurprisingly. He could have any girl he wanted on her knees in a snap. So I decided I’d take it as a compliment that he’d picked me.

  “Mr. Dylan called again,” she said as she packaged my purchases. “He wanted me to include this.” She showed me a small box with a ribbon around it. “He says you’re not to open it until tonight, though.”

  “Did you pick it out?” I asked.

  “No.” She shook her head emphatically. “He knew exactly what he wanted, and we had it.”

  I gave her a once-over and decided that was okay. “All right. Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”

  “Sure,” she said. “Maybe we’ll see you again.”

  “Maybe not,” I muttered under my breath, but held my smile in place.

  * * *

  In the passenger’s seat of David’s rental SUV, I bit my thumbnail and stared out the window. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Bill at all. Just the idea had my stomach in knots, and I was beginning to regret my chicken tacos at lunch.

  “So, why exactly am I carrying big boxes while David gets to hang by the car?” Gretchen asked from the backseat.

  “I don’t want to be disrespectful to Bill,” I explained to her for the second time.

  “Who cares?” she asked.

  David snickered. “Gretchen, remind me to buy you a drink sometime.”

  “You guys, seriously,” I said, exasperated. “I’m still married to the man, for Christ’s sake. I don’t want to hurt him.”

  “I’m just teasing,” she said, rubbing my shoulder. “It’s very mature of you.”

  “Anyway,” I added, nodding at David as I addressed Gretchen, “you’ve seen these two together. They aren’t exactly friendly.”

  “I promised to behave,” David stated, his eyes focused out the windshield.

  “My answer is still no—you’re staying downstairs.”

  “Don’t worry, David,” Gretchen said. “I can handle Bill. I took a kickboxing class in college.”

  She was trying to be funny, but David’s jaw tightened, and I groaned. “Don’t needle him, Gretch. We’ll be in and out in under twenty minutes, I guarantee.”

  “I don’t want either of you girls in there alone, all right?” David asked. “Just stick together.”

  “Sir, yes, sir,” Gretchen said and saluted. With our answering silence, she added, “Oh, come on, you two. Lighten up.”

  Since David had been in the car since we’d picked her up, I hadn’t gotten to fill her in on how deeply rooted this argument ran. It wasn’t her fault we were so tense, so I turned in my seat and smiled at her. “How are things with Greg?”

  “I think I’m finally ready to seal the deal,” she said. “God knows my vagina is ready.”

  “Good God,” David said, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “You haven’t slept together yet?”

  “Not since he returned into my life,” she said. “I want to make sure he’s serious before I give it up.”

  “You must be going crazy,” I said.

  She sighed. “Last night he brushed against my boob, and I almost climaxed.”

  David chuckled to himself.

  “This is fun, both of us being in new relationships,” I said. “Are you guys doing anything for Thanksgiving?”

  Gretchen rolled her eyes. “You know how I feel about holidays. They always sucked at our house.”

  “Mine, too. High expectations, emotions running wild, plus too much alcohol—a bad combination,” I said. “David and I have no plans beyond Thursday.”

  “Why don’t we skip the fanfare and just go somewhere for the extended weekend?” David suggested.

  “I love that idea,” Gretchen said. “Like where? Lake Geneva?”

  David tapped his chin. “I was thinking somewhere warm, actually.”

  She groaned. “That sounds heavenly. I’m already sick of winter, and it’s just starting.”

  “Brian’s parents own a beach house near Miami,” David said. “I’ll bet they’d let us use it.”

  “Will he be there?” Gretchen asked.

  “Probably. He’s single, so I doubt he has plans,” David said. “Obviously, we’d invite him since it’s his house.”

  Gretchen grumbled under her breath.

  “Don’t like Miami?” David asked.

  “Um, love Miami,” she said. “Don’t like Brian.”

  “Really?” David frowned into the rearview mirror. “Why not?”

  “No reason, really,” she said. “Just that he acts like he’s God’s gift to women. And he wears way too much cologne. Liv, did I tell you he got huffy when I sent my steak back on our only date, even though I was very clear that I wanted it rare? He’s a bit arrogant, if you ask me. Thinks he’s all that because he’s hot, but, really, he needs to get over himself.”

  “All right,” David said slowly, casting me a sidelong, semi-freaked out look. “We can go somewhere else that’s Brian-free.”

  Realizing David was serious about leaving town, I turned to him. “We already told Jessa we’d spend Thanksgiving dinner at her house,” I reminded him. “It takes a lot of planning, so I don’t want to cancel on her.”

  “So we’ll go to her place for dinner, then leave Friday morning.” He grinned at me. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  Giddy was not a word I’d typically have used to describe David, but in that moment, that’s what he was. “Okay,” I agreed, a sucker for anything that made him smile that way. I turned back to Gretchen. “And Miami’s a great idea. You can play nice with Brian for a few days.”

  “Fine,” she relented. “I’ve pretty much learned to tune out his flapping anyway.”

  David laughed in a loud burst. “He does flap. I’ll call him up and let you guys know what he says.”

  “We can work that out later,” I said out the window as we pulled up to the curb of the building I’d called home for years. “We’re here.”

  21

  David parked his car outside my old apartment. Just before I shut the car door to go upstairs and knock on Bill’s door, David stopped me. “Make it quick,” he ordered, his giddiness over Miami long gone. “Or I’ll come up.”

  “Don’t you dare,” I warned him. “We had a deal. Gretchen and I can handle getting my things. You stay here.”

  He only grunted.

  Gretchen and I climbed the stairs of the complex, and I held my breath as I knocked. After an unusually long time, Bill opened the door and peered out. He looked at Gretchen and then back at me. “What’s she doing here?”

  “Gretchen’s here to help,” I said. “Don’t take this out on her.”

  “It’s fine, Liv,” Gretchen said, irritation threading her tone. “Let’s just get your stuff.”

  Bill had stacked large and small boxes in the kitchen. I peeked into one. My razor and a tub of exfoliating sugar scrub had been thrown on a pile of my work attire. “Really, Bill?”

  He shrugged and flopped into a dining room chair. “Just trying to help.”

  Gretchen and I lifted one box together and carried it downstairs, where David took it from us.

 
“So far so good,” Gretchen told him.

  The next two were lighter so we each took one. On our next trip, before I could walk out of the kitchen, Bill asked, “Liv, can we talk alone a minute?”

  Gretchen returned the glare he directed at her. “No,” she answered for me.

  “It’s okay,” I told her. “Go ahead.”

  “But . . .” She jerked her head in the direction of the front door. “We’re not supposed to.”

  “I won’t be long,” I said.

  She left reluctantly. I set down the box again and walked over to take the chair next to his. “How are you?” I asked.

  “All right,” he said. “Taking things day by day. You?”

  “The same,” I lied. I was far better than all right, but he didn’t need to know that.

  He dropped his gaze to the floor. “Is he treating you well?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I should’ve said this sooner, but I’m sorry he and I got into it.” Bill cleared his throat and glanced at my arm, even though clothing covered the fading bruises. “And I’m sorry if I . . . you know, hurt you.”

  I nodded. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

  “I did. I wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me,” he said and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I can’t, though . . . I never could. Hurt you or get to you in any way.”

  It was my turn to look at the ground. After the Herculean feat it’d taken David to break through to me, I didn’t blame Bill. “It’s okay,” I said about the bruises. “It wasn’t too bad.”

  His shoulders began to quake, and he wiped his eyes. “I still don’t get what I should’ve done differently.”

  “Bill,” I said affectionately. “Don’t torture yourself. I’m to blame, too. There’s a lot we both could’ve done differently. I know it hurts to hear it, but believe me, this is for the best.”

  He nodded and lifted his head. “I wish I’d seen it coming, though.”

  I resisted from hugging him for comfort, knowing that would only make things worse for all of us. “That’s my fault, and I’m sorry.”