by Devney Perry
Last Sunday, when he’d asked me to dinner, there had been no hope in his voice. He’d still made a convincing pitch, swearing the breadsticks at this little hole-in-the-wall eatery were the best he’d ever tasted. The breadstick ploy had won me over. The shock on his face when I’d agreed had been an added bonus.
So here we were, eating pasta and drinking red wine. The breadsticks had long since been devoured. And like our Sunday-morning coffee breaks, we talked about nothing serious.
Maybe that was why Landon and I’d developed this friendship. Because nothing about him was overly serious, except his job. But personality wise, he was one of the most laid-back people I’d ever met.
And after everything that had happened with Dakota, I’d needed some light. Being around Landon was refreshing. Light. Casual.
Empty.
This dinner date had confirmed the feeling I’d had for a string of Sundays. Landon McClellan was a good guy—I was better at spotting the nice ones now—but he wasn’t for me.
There was no all-consuming, steal-my-heart desperation. There were no skipped heartbeats or full-body shudders. There wasn’t the potential for love.
Still, I owed Landon a debt.
I was lonely and sad. I was missing a piece of my heart. And for the first time in my life, a man’s attention hadn’t filled that void. I hadn’t jumped at the opportunity for another relationship. I was going through a hard time, a man had come along, and I hadn’t fallen in love with him.
Maybe my feelings weren’t as broken as I’d once thought. I’d told Aubrey I couldn’t trust my feelings for Dakota.
I didn’t then. I did now.
I was in love with Dakota Magee. I loved him with all-consuming, steal-my-heart desperation. My curse was falling in love with men who couldn’t love me in return.
“See that man over there?” Landon leaned across the table to whisper, nodding to the man sitting alone three tables over.
I glanced over quickly. “Yes. What about him?”
“He’s going to ask the waitress out.”
“He is? How do you know?”
Landon shrugged. “Just a theory. I’m guessing he comes in here a lot. Alone. He always sits in her section. And he’s working up the courage to ask her out.”
“Interesting.” I spotted the waitress a few tables over, clearing away some platters. “Do you think he’ll ask her tonight?”
“I’d put money on it.”
I smiled. “How much?”
“Winner buys dinner?”
I held my hand out across the table. “You’re on.”
We spent the rest of the meal watching the man, carefully so he wouldn’t catch us staring. Although I’d bet Landon the opposite, I was secretly hoping the man would ask the waitress out.
He had a kind face and looked at her with such adoration. She looked frazzled as she rushed around, her hair falling out of her ponytail. She looked like she could use someone to sweep her off her feet.
By the time our pasta was gone and we’d each had a tiramisu, the man still hadn’t worked up the courage. I was beginning to lose hope.
“Will you excuse me?” I set my napkin on the table as I stood from my seat.
“Where are you going?” Landon asked when I took a step across the restaurant and not toward the restrooms at the back.
I just winked and strutted over to the man’s table.
“Sir?” I greeted the man.
“Uh, yes?”
“Can I offer you a piece of unsolicited advice?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. “Ask her. I’ll buy your dinner if she says no. But I don’t think she will.”
“I, uh . . .” He blinked at me then turned over his shoulder to make sure the waitress hadn’t overheard.
“Just ask her. You got this.” I winked at him too, turned toward the restrooms and walked out of the room. After reapplying some lip gloss and washing my hands, I came back to my table.
Landon was grinning, even though he was shaking his head at me. “Did you forget which side of the bet you took?”
“No. And it looks like I came back just in time.” I slid back into my seat, turned and didn’t even try to hide it as I watched the man flag down the waitress, stand from his seat and introduce himself.
After their handshake, the words coffee and tomorrow morning drifted over.
She blushed, straightening the apron on her waist. Then she nodded, smiling as she rattled off her phone number.
“What did you say to him?” Landon asked.
“Just offered up some advice.” Advice that Dakota had given me not that long ago.
“You realize I’m not going to let you buy me dinner. I don’t care if we made a bet. This was a date, and I’m a gentleman.”
“Fair enough.”
I hadn’t let Landon buy me a thing over the last two months. Never coffee. Never a muffin or bagel. I’d drawn that line so he’d know our Sunday meetings weren’t dates.
Except this was a date. The first. And the last.
Later tonight, when we left the restaurant, I’d have to draw another line. I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation, but I hoped I’d be able to let him down easily.
The waitress came over, her smile brighter than it had been all night, and delivered our check. True to his word, Landon paid for our meal then escorted me outside.
“Care to take a walk?” he asked.
“Sure.” It was dark and the idea of being out in the open still made me nervous. But we were in a quiet neighborhood—the Italian place was a small, local establishment—and I felt safe with Landon.
We set out at an easy pace, enjoying the warm fall evening. Though I made sure to button my wool coat and tuck my hands into its pockets.
“So . . . not to put you on the spot or anything.” Landon looked down at me with a side smile. “But to put you on the spot, what are the chances I’m getting a second date?”
“Not great.”
“I expected that.” His smile stayed in place. “We’re missing something.”
“You think so too?”
“Yep.” Landon held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re an amazing woman. But we’re missing—”
“Passion.”
He nodded. “That’s a good word for it.”
“We might not be couple material, but I could use a good friend. Interested?”
“Definitely,” Landon said without pause.
We continued walking and after a few blocks he looked to me and hummed. He opened his mouth, but before he said anything, he shook his head and turned his attention forward again.
“What?” I pressed.
“Nothing.”
I nudged his elbow with mine. “Tell me.”
“I think it’ll come out wrong.”
“Uh, okay.” I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant.
“It’s just . . . I was thinking about my ideal woman.”
“Which I am not.”
“No. Sorry.” He chuckled. “But I was just thinking that if a gorgeous, intelligent woman like you isn’t my type, who is?”
“It seems like it should be easier, doesn’t it? Finding the right person to love?”
“You said it.”
“This is probably weird post-date conversation,” I said. “But we are friends now. So I’m curious. When you think of your ideal woman, what’s she like?”
“You’re right. This is weird post-date conversation.” He laughed. “But we are friends.”
“Yes, we are.”
“I, uh . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating. Then he said, “I don’t want you to take this personally.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Okay. Well, I think I need a woman who isn’t as easygoing as you.”
I stopped dead on the sidewalk. “You think I am easygoing?”
He stopped and turned. “Yeah. You’re chill.”
“Wait.” I took my phone from my purse and opened up the camera. “Say it aga
in, this time so I can record it. No one, and I mean no one in the history of my life, has ever called me chill. Chilly maybe. But not chill.”
“Nah.” Landon grinned, turned the phone so he was in the video recording, then said, “Sofia Kendrick. You are chill.”
I smiled as I hit end on the recording. “I think our definitions of chill are different.”
“Maybe.” He nodded and we resumed walking, both with easy smiles. “Maybe chill isn’t the right term. But I like ruffling a woman’s feathers. I want someone who will meet me head-on in a debate. Someone who will get fired up on occasion. Someone stubborn and iron-willed. A challenge. Again, no offense. But I think tonight’s bet was the first time we took an opposing stance on something. And you ended up taking my side anyway.”
I understood now what he meant by chill. Though I think he mistook me for easygoing when really, it was just a mutual lack of passion for one another.
“So you want a woman who will keep you on your toes.”
“Exactly.”
My sister’s face popped into my mind.
I looked up at Landon’s profile, studying the straight bridge of his nose. He’d give Aubrey a run for her money, that was for sure.
“You should ask my sister out.”
“Your sister?” he asked skeptically. “Wouldn’t that be strange?”
“For me? Not at all. And if you want a challenging woman, there isn’t anyone I’ve met in Manhattan who’d be more of a challenge than Aubrey.”
I hid a smile at the thought of him asking her relentlessly out on dates. She’d make Officer McClellan run a gauntlet of obstacles just to get through the front door at Kendrick Enterprises.
But he’d chase her. Persistently.
Besides Landon, I couldn’t think of a man who’d chased me—not that I would have made any of them chase far. One of many problems in all of my past relationships had been effort, or lack thereof.
My ideal man would pursue me with wild abandon. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. There would be no obstacle, no family issue, no distance, nothing that would keep him away.
“Think about it,” I told Landon. “You have her number. And not that you need it, but you have my blessing.”
“Thank you.”
“I think I’d better wish you luck too. Aubrey’s one of a kind.”
He chuckled again and didn’t say much else on the rest of our walk. Had I sparked an interest? Had I planted the seed? I crossed my fingers, hoping a nice man like Landon could bust his way past all of Aubrey’s roadblocks.
After a few more blocks, I texted Glen and he came to pick me up. Standing by the door of the car, I stood on my toes and placed a kiss on Landon’s cheek. “Thanks for dinner.”
“You’re welcome. How about coffee one of these days?”
“I’d like that.” I waved good night and got into the car, destination home.
The streets were quiet for a change, traffic was light, and not a single taxi blared their horn on the drive back to SoHo. When I got out of the car, it was almost peaceful. The leaves from the trees around my street had begun to fall, dotting the sidewalk with lemon yellows and cherry reds.
I nodded to my doorman as he opened the door for me. Then I went to the elevator, making my way up to my empty penthouse.
This was the worst part of the night. The part when I’d walk through my front door and wonder what Dakota was doing. I’d picture the two of us together against the entryway wall. I’d remember how it had felt to take him on my couch. I’d slide into bed and think of how cold it was without him beneath my sheets.
I hadn’t heard from Dakota since our fight. The day I’d hung up on him, I’d made the decision not to call him again. If he had something to say, he could reach out.
He hadn’t.
And the wound he’d inflicted just festered. He’d come to New York, he’d been right here when I’d needed him most, and he’d let me down. He hadn’t cared enough about me, even as a friend, to come over.
That broke me.
Because I would move mountains for him if he was hurting or in trouble.
Once again, I’d thrown myself completely into a lopsided relationship.
I went in search of a distraction. As I walked down the hallway into my kitchen, my only company was the click of my heels on the marble floor. Next to a stack of mail, Carrie had left me a stack of papers to review.
Over the last month, I’d been looking at new buildings in the city. As much as I loved SoHo, I was ready for a change. So I’d asked Carrie to start getting details on options. I wanted to live closer to the studio. Mostly, I wanted a fresh start.
That’s what this year had become for me. Moving would bring it full circle. It would be my chance to put the old Sofia, the one I’d been running from since New Year’s, finally in the past.
Though there were still pieces of that Sofia inside me. The good qualities, the ones that reporter had refused to see, had been there all along.
I was stylish.
I was charming.
I was witty and smart.
The personal changes I’d made this year had made those qualities shine a little brighter.
As I thumbed through the papers, my fingers paused on the item on the bottom. It was a letter, addressed to me. The return address had a name I recognized. One I’d thought often about over the last ten months.
One that made me cringe.
Anne Asher.
The reporter from NY Scene.
I hesitated over the envelope. Daniel had been working with various publications throughout the city to feature the studio. This was most likely a notice that we’d been chosen for an article.
But why would it be sent here, to my penthouse? Curiosity won out and I carefully tore it open, nervous that I’d find another condemning exposé inside. Instead, there was a simple note card, white with pale blue lines. It was the kind children used when making flash cards to study multiplication tables.
The back was blank. Her clean, tiny and concise handwriting only took up four lines on the front.
Ms. Kendrick,
I am rarely proved wrong.
Congratulations on your success.
AA
“What the hell?” I turned the card over, making sure I hadn’t missed something. Then I read it again before diving back into the envelope, but there was no more.
Was this a joke? Was she genuine?
I’d probably never know. I had no plans to become friends with a woman who’d single-handedly turned my world upside down.
Still, the corners of my mouth turned up as I read it again.
This felt a bit like revenge, sweet in its satisfaction. But more, it felt a lot like pride.
Anne Asher might have been the catalyst, but I’d done the work. I’d proved to her, and to myself, there was more to Sofia Kendrick than had met her eye.
I collected the envelope and card, then walked to the trash can, depositing both inside. Then I swept up the spec sheets on the apartments Carrie had laid out for my review, taking them into the living room.
I’d just gotten comfortable when my phone rang.
An unfamiliar number lit up, but it came with the area code for Montana.
“Hello,” I answered.
“Sofia? This is Xavier Magee.”
My heart leapt into my throat. His introduction was hoarse and sullen. Nothing about his tone conveyed this was just a friendly call. My mind immediately went to the worst, that something had happened to Dakota, and my throat closed so I was unable to speak.
“Are you there?”
I nodded, clearing away the lump as best I could. “I’m here.”
“I, uh, I don’t know if you heard. Dakota’s dad passed away earlier this week.”
“Oh my god.” The world tipped sideways, and I planted a hand on the couch to keep from falling over.
How was I just finding out about this? Why hadn’t Thea or Logan told me?
Probably because the last ti
me I’d talked to Logan I’d told him in no uncertain terms I didn’t want to hear about Dakota. That topic was off limits.
Still, his father had died. I’d deserved to know.
“Why didn’t anyone call me?”
“No one is handling this well, Dakota included. He told us all there’d been a family situation and he went home. None of us here knew. Dakota called me only a day ago and told me about Joseph. His family, my family, didn’t want me at the funeral. He went against them and invited me along anyway. We buried my brother this afternoon.”
“I’m so sorry, Xavier.” I closed my eyes, dropping my forehead into a hand. “How did he die?”
“Heart attack. No one saw it coming.”
“And Dakota? How is he?”
“Not good. He won’t admit it, but he’s really having a hard time. He and his dad didn’t have the best relationship these last five years. Now he doesn’t have the chance to fix it.”
My eyes flooded, my heart shattering for Dakota. “What can I do?”
“Feel like taking a trip to Montana?”
The smart answer was no. I was still hurt and angry at Dakota. We were broken.
But I loved him. With every beat of my heart, I loved him.
“I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“What are you doing here?” Thea asked as I walked in the back door of the bar.
“I need to work.”
“Dakota—”
I held up a hand. “I need to work.”
She opened her mouth to protest again but closed it with a nod. “Okay.”
“Thanks.”
She gave me a sad smile. “I’ve got some office stuff to do today. I’m here if you need me.”
“I’m fine.”
She knew I was lying. But she kept quiet as she walked over, squeezed my arm for a long moment, then slipped past me and down the hallway toward her office.
I walked over to the sink, washed my hands and emptied the dishwasher. Thea had already done the morning tasks to get the place opened, so I found some cleaning supplies and decided the liquor shelves all needed a thorough dusting, even though I’d done it last week.
Later, I’d empty and clean out all of the drawers and cabinets. Then I’d dust all of the frames along the walls. I didn’t care what kind of work had to be done, I’d invent tasks if needed. I just wanted to stay busy. I wanted to stay away from home.