“The tea set is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Patrika pulls back, and I swear there are tears in the corners of her eyes. “It was just like the one we lost when we moved uptown.”
Maren steps in to explain because a gift like that would never have been on my radar. Hell, no gift was on my radar. I dropped the ball on that. Thank fuck Maren was there to pick it up.
“I saw it at an antique store in Tribeca, and I thought you’d love it, Patrika.” Maren smiles. “It had the silver design on the cups, so it seemed perfect for your silver wedding anniversary.”
Patrika shifts on her feet until she’s facing Maren. “I’ll treasure that forever. We’ve never received a more thoughtful gift.”
Home fucking run.
Everything in this moment is perfect, from the way Fletcher is staring into the night sky, the joy in Patrika’s expression, and the heart eyes Earl is shooting in my direction as he gazes at me.
I am going to represent Fletcher Newman.
I feel it, and it’s all thanks to Maren.
Chapter 35
Maren
“I don’t think there are enough words in the dictionary to thank you for what you’ve done, Maren,” Keats says as we exit Howerton House.
“There are two.” I laugh. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” he repeats. “From the bottom of my grateful heart.”
“You found nine words.” I steady myself as we approach the steps to descend to the sidewalk.
“Can I take you home?”
I glance at him. I wondered if he would offer me an invitation to have a nightcap at his place, but I like that he’s not making assumptions. I’m all for ending this night with a goodbye in front of my building.
I smile. “Sure.”
Keats gestures toward the concrete steps. “Hold onto me.”
I take a step toward him, but I’m stopped almost immediately. I let out a loud yelp as I feel my ankle twist in my shoe. “Ouch. Oh fuck. What the hell?”
Keats reaches his arm out to give me something to grab onto.
“If you were paying for swearing, you’d owe a fucking huge amount of cash.”
I wince. “That’s going to cost you.”
He drops to one knee to get a better look at my foot. Patting his shoulder, he looks up. “Hold onto me, Maren. Take your weight off that ankle.”
I do as I’m told even though people have gathered around us with their cell phones in hand. If they think they’re about to witness a romantic marriage proposal, they’re wrong.
“Well, well…” Keats stops to shake his head before he locks eyes with me again. “I’ve never seen this before.”
I furrow my brow. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Your heel broke off your shoe.” He produces my broken heel in his palm. “I think you need a new pair.”
“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath. “These are so comfortable. They’re my favorite shoes.”
I attempt to step forward to remove my shoe, but the pain shoots me back a full step. I whimper.
“You twisted your ankle when your heel broke free.” He moves to stand, edging his palm over my arm until we’re holding hands. “You can’t walk on that, Maren. You need to ice it.”
I shake my head as I try and shake off the pain in my foot. “I’m fine.”
To prove my point, I attempt to march forward on my uneven shoes. I stumble into his arms.
Before I know what’s happening, he scoops me up and into his arms like I’m a bride.
I slap him on the shoulder. “Keats, put me down.”
“You can’t walk.” His breath grazes over my cheek. “I’m going to carry you.”
“To a cab?”
“My driver is waiting for us,” he says as he starts in the direction of the steps.
“You’re going to carry me down all those steps?”
He stops to look directly into my eyes. “I’d carry you down a thousand flights of steps if it meant you wouldn’t be in pain.”
Emotions I haven’t felt before rush through me. I’m speechless. I stare at him. “Keats…”
“Let me do this for you, Maren,” he says, oblivious to the people watching us as he starts to descend the steps.
Settling my arm over his shoulder, I reach down with my free hand to hold the bottom of my dress in place to cover my ass. “Thank you.”
His lips curve up into a wicked smile. “You’re welcome.”
***
Once we’re in the lobby of my building and I’m settled on a cream-colored bench, Keats smiles at Ricky.
“I like that guy,” he says to me.
I do too. I like everyone who works in this building. They’ve been good to me. This didn’t feel like my home when my parents first handed me the keys, but I’ve come to love it here.
Keats reaches to move my foot into his lap.
I resist with a slap on his forearm. “You can go. I can make it upstairs on my own.”
He didn’t offer to carry me into the elevator. I think he felt my body tense up as he entered the lobby, and Ricky asked if he should call an ambulance.
I assured him that I didn’t need that, so he directed Keats to set me down on this bench.
I know I can limp to the elevator and then again to my apartment door.
“I’d like to have a look.” Keats raises a brow. “Humor me, Maren, and then I’ll take off.”
I give in and let him carefully cradle my sore foot in his palm. He rests it on his thighs. I tense again, but this time it’s because this feels more intimate than when he was carrying me in his arms.
He tenderly touches my ankle. “How’s the pain level on a scale of one to ten?”
“Four hundred and seventy-two?” I chuckle. “It really hurts.”
He rubs it softly. “I’m going to pull off your shoe.”
I nod. “Be careful.”
He is. He slowly removes my broken shoe. His hands move gently over the swollen skin of my ankle. “You might have sprained it.”
I sigh. “I’m ashamed to admit this has happened to me before. It will feel a lot better by morning.”
He tilts his head. “Have many heels have you broken?”
“This is the third.”
He rests my foot in his lap. “I hope I’m around the next time it happens.”
I hope for that too. I hope he’s around every time it happens.
“I should go up now.” I point to the elevator. “Thank you for helping me, Keats.”
He leans closer to me, his eyes gliding over my face. “Anytime, Maren.”
I stay in that moment, soaking in how handsome he looks. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes I haven’t noticed before.
As he moves even closer, my body is drawn to him. We both lean in until our lips are mere inches apart.
His tongue skims over his bottom lip.
I watch the movement, mesmerized by how naturally sexy he is.
He tilts his head a touch. It’s a silent invitation to kiss him. Just as I close my eyes, the sound of someone clearing their throat pulls us apart.
“Maren?” Arietta stands next to us with Dudley on a leash at her side. “What’s wrong? Ricky called to tell me you were hurt.”
Ricky stands a foot behind my roommate.
“I’m fine,” I whisper, disappointed that the moment with Keats is lost.
Keats smiles at my roommate. “Hey, you must be Arietta.”
“That’s me,” she affirms with a nod of her head.
“I’m Keats.” His hand drops to my ankle. “Stellar recommendation on the pizza the other night. Thanks for that.”
Her eyes travel over my face before they hone in on Keats. “You’re welcome. What exactly happened to Maren?”
I notice the tremor in her hand as she grips Dudley’s leash tightly. I reach out to touch her. “The heel of my shoe broke. I twisted my ankle. Keats carried me home.”
She lets out a deep breath. “He carried you home?”
“Down a flight of stairs to his car and then inside to this bench.” I grin.
With the slightest smile on her face, she looks at my boss. “Thank you for taking care of her.”
“It was my pleasure,” he says in a low tone.
I glance at him. He tilts his chin in my direction. “Rest well, Maren. Thank you for tonight.”
I slide my foot from his lap and reach to Arietta for support as I stand. “Goodnight, Keats.”
He rakes a hand through his hair. “If you need anything, call me.”
I need him. I need to kiss and touch him, but I watch as he walks out of the lobby toward his waiting car and driver.
“Let’s get you upstairs.” Arietta wraps an arm around my waist. “Lean on me, Maren.”
I do, but as we near the elevator, I take one last look over my shoulder, wishing that Arietta hadn’t hurried to the lobby so that kiss with my boss would be a memory instead of a moment stolen away from us.
Chapter 36
Maren
“I wish Mr. Calvetti was more like your boss.” Arietta places a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in my lap. “If I twisted my ankle, he’d tell me to suck it up, and then he’d want me to book him a table at Nova. His grandmother owns the best restaurant in the city. Why the hell does he eat dinner at Nova when he could be eating spaghetti with his grandma?”
I can’t hold back a laugh.
My boss is a lot different than Arietta’s.
Keats sent me a text message early this morning asking how my ankle was feeling. I responded quickly, telling him that it was much better and that I’d be at work on time tomorrow with flats on my feet.
He replied that he was heading home. He’d spent the night with another client. This time it’s a hockey player who was arrested for being drunk in public. Keats went to see about bailing him out and then took the player home to his wife and kids.
I secretly hoped he’d bring up what happened in the lobby.
Maybe the almost kiss meant almost nothing to him.
It kept me awake.
I was close, but yet so far, to tasting my boss’s lips last night.
“Are you daydreaming?” Arietta takes off her glasses, looks at the lenses, and then puts them back on.
“About how great this breakfast looks?” I quip. “Who wouldn’t daydream about it?”
She sits down on the corner of the coffee table next to me. She adjusts the waistband of her red sweatpants. “I didn’t get a chance to ask how dinner went. Did you have fun?”
I abbreviate the evening for her. “It was good. Keats thinks he’ll sign Fletcher Newman to a contract soon.”
She silently skims her fingertip over the logo on the front of the white T-shirt she’s wearing. “Did I interrupt something in the lobby, Maren? I thought you two were talking, but I think you might have been leaning in to kiss him.”
Innocence has always been wrapped around Arietta like a blanket. I know she has some experience with men. She admitted one night that she’d lost her virginity to her high school boyfriend before graduation.
There wasn’t any fondness in her tone when she spoke of him, and when I asked how many men she’d slept with in college, she shut me down with the middle finger.
It was all in jest, but there was something about how she avoided the question that made me wonder if her past lovers are few.
“I think we were about to.”
She jumps to her feet. “I fucked that up, didn’t I?”
I can’t help but laugh. “You didn’t.”
I don’t want to blame her for my missed opportunity. Maybe it was fate’s way of stepping in to wave a bright red warning flag. I kissed a co-worker once, and I not only lost my heart but my job too.
I’m not a proponent of believing that history always repeats itself. My last roommate couldn’t pick up after herself, and she constantly left the apartment door unlocked whenever she left.
Maybe my luck is changing.
I couldn’t ask for a better roommate than Arietta, and I doubt that I could find a boss I want to kiss as much as Keats.
“You should try and kiss him again tomorrow,” she states with a grin.
I slide some eggs onto my fork. “As soon as I get to the office?”
“The early bird gets the first kiss.”
“No.” I shake my head. “The early bird gets the worm.”
“Mr. Morgan is not a worm, Maren.” She winks. “You’ll know when the time is right.”
I hope I will. My track record of reading the subtle nuances of men isn’t that great. I thought my ex was about to propose the day he broke up with me.
“I’m taking Dudley for a walk. Text me if you want me to pick up anything.”
I shake my head. “Thank you, but I’m good.”
“And I can help you get into work tomorrow if you need me to.” She tugs on her ponytail. “I can be a few minutes late.”
“You’re not worried that Mr. Calvetti will find out and get mad?”
Her hands fall to her hips. “What’s the worst thing he can do?”
I swat my hand against my hip. “Spank you.”
Her eyes widen before she lets out a giggle. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”
“I’ll eat my breakfast.” I tug on her hand. “You’re the best, Arietta.”
Her cheeks blush. “You stay on the couch and relax.”
I raise my hand in the air as if I’m taking a solemn oath. “I promise I will.”
She leans down to plant a kiss on my forehead. “See you in a bit. Have fun daydreaming about kissing Keats.”
Chapter 37
Keats
I rest my head against the door of my townhouse. I’ve missed this place since I haven’t been here for more than thirty minutes in the past week.
I had to rush to a police station in Brooklyn last night when one of my clients was arrested for being drunk in public.
His image can be repaired, but this reaches much deeper than that. He’s been in a tailspin since his mom died last year. Vodka was his crutch until last night when he took a walk across the Brooklyn Bridge in tears.
The paparazzi wasted no time in uploading images and videos of his despair and arrest.
I called in a few favors to get an attorney on the case, and once bail was set, I handled that too.
We spent the next few hours talking about our plan forward with his wife while his kids slept. Hockey can wait. Rehab can’t. He’s headed to the best program in the state. Grief counseling is a part of the healing process for him, and when he’s ready, his teammates and his millions of fans will be ready to welcome him back.
Just as I’m about to plug my key into the lock on my door, it swings open.
I’m greeted with a scream from my niece. “Surprise!”
I shove my keys into my pocket so I can take her in my arms. She plants a kiss on my cheek. “I missed you, Keats.”
Are there sweeter words than that?
Maybe hearing Maren say them would be even better.
I hold tightly to Stevie as I step over the threshold and into my home.
“You’re strangling him, Stevie.” Berk laughs from where he’s standing.
I notice the paint spots on his jeans and T-shirt immediately. “What are you up to?”
“We painted the laundry room.” Stevie jumps down. “Look at the paint on my shirt.”
I glance down at the white splatter on the front of her pink T-shirt. “Daddy says this is what painters look like.”
Wondering whether the paint is dry, I steal a look at my clothes. I’m dressed down in a navy blue sweater and jeans today. I had just enough time to fit in a quick shower before my phone rang last night with word of the arrest. I threw on the first things I could find in my closet.
I exhale when I notice my clothes are fine.
“I cooked bacon and made some heart-shaped pancakes.” Berk jerks a thumb toward my kitchen. “I saved some in the oven. There’s a smoothie i
n the fridge too.”
I lean a shoulder against the doorjamb. “Thank you.”
I don’t have to ask why they’re here. I noticed the date thirty minutes ago when I was on the subway platform. I called my brother to tell him I loved him. I left it at that. I didn’t fear that I’d wake him up even though it’s not even eight a.m. yet. I had no idea he took the call from my place.
Layna would have celebrated her birthday today. His townhouse is filled with memories that suffocate him on this day and the anniversary of her death.
My home is his refuge on those days. Keeping his hands busy is the solace he needs to escape his grief.
“We baked a cake for later.” Stevie claps her hands together. “It’s chocolate. That was mommy’s favorite. Today is her birthday.”
Sadness doesn’t pepper her words. She remembers her mom fondly, but the grief she feels can’t compare to what her dad experiences.
Stevie’s comes in waves that roll over her less frequently now. My brother is still drowning. His daughter, his work, and his family and friends are his life preservers.
“I’m going to shower and change.” I rake a hand through my hair. “It’s been a long few days.”
Stevie stands in front of me with an expectant look on her face. “Was your trip nice?”
Berk explained my absence to Stevie. He told her I had important work to get done.
“It was good.” I straighten. “You’ll be here when I come back down, won’t you?”
She shuffles from one of her paint-stained pink socks to the other. “I’m not going home yet.”
Usually, I’d play this game with her for as long as she wants, but I’m worn out. “Look in the front pocket of my carry-on.”
Her smile brightens her entire face. “Why?”
We do this same song and dance every time I leave New York. “I might have picked you up something while I was away.”
She dances in place before she drops to her knees. She slides open the zipper and yanks out a stuffed dog that bears a striking resemblance to Dudley.
“Keats!” She jumps back to her feet to wrap her arms around my waist. “I love him.”
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