Someone Like You

by Brittney Sahin

  My chest constricts. I need to let the memories go. For now at least. I’ll get Lily back. I will. I won’t let Cindy steal her from me.

  But I wonder if I’ll ever marry again. If I can ever find someone who wants to share their mornings with me. If I can ever trust again…

  “You okay?” Grace turns off the water and rests her hip against the counter, looking at me.

  I toss the toothbrush I used in her trash and nod. “I was going to ask you the same thing. You shouldn’t be having nightmares. Not like that, at least.”

  Her eyes flash shut for a moment, and I can see the tension rising back up inside her as her shoulders slouch. She’s fighting something. I just have no idea what it is.

  “Let’s get coffee.” She brushes past me in a hurry.

  I hang my head for a moment, trying to let go of my own problems, then I meet her in the kitchen.

  “So you really think this will all be done and decorated in the next week or two?” She turns on the single server brewer and faces me as the water heats in the machine.

  Part of me wants to drag this job out longer because I know once I’m done, I’ll probably never see her again, but that’d be ridiculous. “I think so.”

  “Well, there’s something I’d like to show you today if you’re up for it.”

  “Sure. What is it?” Before she can answer, it dawns on me that I’m supposed to meet Bella today. “Shit,” I mutter. “I can’t.”

  “Oh, right. Brunch.” Her shoulders sag, disappointment flashing in her eyes. “Another time.”

  “Sure.” But I hate disappointing her. “I guess I should head back to my place and clean up. We’re having breakfast at some place near Central Park. I still don’t know my way around this city. I can navigate the hills of Afghanistan better than the streets of Manhattan.”

  She chuckles. “Well, you still want coffee, at least?”

  I want to say yes, but if I stay with her much longer, I’ll probably ditch the meeting. “I should get going.”

  Her forehead creases as she nods. “Okay.”

  Something hurts in my gut—something is off. “But if you want to talk about that nightmare…” I leave my sentence hanging, waiting to see how she’ll respond.

  “I’m fine. Really. It’s not a big deal.”

  I come toward her, and she startles a little and steps back. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Be so afraid of letting someone in.” I want to kiss her again. To take away whatever pain is eating at her and let this woman breathe—make her feel good. I can’t handle seeing anyone hurting.

  “How could I let you in? You’re practically a stranger.” Her fingers press against her lips as if she’s remembering our kiss, and I stop in front of her when she’s back up against the counter where we were last night.

  “Sometimes it’s easier to open up to someone who doesn’t know you well.” I’m staring at her mouth, at her fingers there. Her nails have cream polish on them, so light I can barely see the color. “I could be that someone for you if you need me to be.”

  I see her tense and her hand falls from her mouth, brushing against my chest. I angle my head and study her, unable to control the impulse to just absorb every part of her into my mind. I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve never been so drawn to someone. I don’t remember ever feeling this way about Cindy, and it’s confusing.

  “Why do you want to be?”

  I’d almost swear there was a crack in her voice. Raw, visceral pain curves around her words as she says them. I touch her arm, wrapping my hand around her bicep, and she looks down for a moment before catching my eyes again. “I think you could use a friend.”

  “I have friends.” Her lips draw tight.

  “A friend who hasn’t had a chance to see the you that you’ve been pretending to be for however long.”

  “What makes you think I’ve been pretending?”

  I squint one eye at her. “I’m a human lie detector. I was always good at reading people in the military.” I just couldn’t read my wife.

  She smiles a little. “What about your plans?”

  She’s giving in to the idea of me. It’s what I want, but I’m also worried. I don’t want to add any more pain to this woman since I can’t ever be the kind of man she’ll need.

  “Bella can go. She can fill me in on the details of their meeting.”

  “Details?”

  I release my hand from her arm and step back. “We need an investment in the business so we can keep it running, and I need to be able to afford a lawyer to go to bat with my ex.” The truth pours from my mouth so fast and easy with her. Maybe I’m right. Maybe it’s easier to talk to a stranger. A stranger I’ve had my mouth on.

  “Oh.” She turns away and presses her palms to the counter as if she’s trying to decide what to do.

  Before I change my mind, I pull my phone from my pocket and scroll to the last text I got from Bella.

  I can’t make it. Make the deal without me. You’ve got this. I’ll be in touch later. And don’t take more than we need.

  I re-read my text then send it. “What’d you want to show me? My day is officially free.” Although originally the day was meant for Lily…

  Grace looks over her shoulder at me as I tuck my phone back into my pocket and ignore the vibration from a text.

  “Are you sure?”

  “On one condition.” I smile. “Since I’ll be going in my clothes from last night—without a shave and a shower—you go as is too.”

  She chuckles. “In my PJs?”

  I tilt my head and glance at the silk bottoms, and there’s another stir in my pants at the thought of peeling them down and pressing my mouth to her center.

  “Ahem.” She chuckles.

  I raise a brow as I find her eyes again. “Fine. You can change. But where are we going?”

  A smile lights her cheek. “It’s a surprise.”

  10

  Grace

  “You have a Bugatti. A two-toned Bugatti. It looks like a demon race car from hell.”

  “You say it as if I don’t know.” I laugh. “My dad got it for me when he promoted me to vice president two years ago. This isn’t exactly me.”

  “Huh.” He fastens his seat belt. “Nice gift, though.”

  Noah eyes me as I attempt to back out of my parking space. I probably look like a teen taking her first driver’s ed course. I suck at driving. It’s pathetic. I’ve barely ever had to drive.

  The odometer reads less than three hundred miles, and I think those miles are from when Corbin test-drove it around town one wild Saturday night. Another night he ended up in jail.

  “You want me to drive?”

  I put the brake on and switch to park. “That’d be great. You know how?”

  “It’s like driving a Toyota.” He smirks and hops out of the passenger side, wasting no time.

  Once we’ve swapped seats, his hands stretch across the leather wheel before gripping it. “Always wanted to drive one of these.” He reaches for the stick. “You buckled?” He shoots me a teasing smile.

  “Don’t go speeding in this bad boy. My brother Cade might have a lot of judges up his sleeves to get you out of a ticket, but I can’t save us if we wrap around a pole.”

  He laughs a little, but I’m not kidding.

  “Trust me, I can handle her.”

  “Her? You’ve decided it’s a her?”

  He shifts into reverse. “Oh, hell yeah.”

  My head jerks back against the seat as he tears around a corner, winding through the parking garage, then he slows down a little and steals a glimpse of me. I’m bracing against my thighs, hanging on for dear life.

  The car slows even more. “Just testing her out. Seeing what she can do. I’ll be good.”

  I relax when he pulls out into traffic. “We have a bit of a drive. Is that okay?”

  “We can drive all day.” He smiles and shifts gears, changing lanes with ease as though
he was made to drive this car.

  “Okay. Well, we’re going to the Hamptons.”

  He peers over at me. “What’s in the Hamptons?”

  I relax, memories floating to my mind…times from my childhood when I wasn’t abroad at school. “My home.”

  “You have another place?”

  “Yeah, but I rarely go there. But I’d like you to see it.”

  He fiddles with the music while driving and puts on the XM radio. “What would you like to listen to?”

  I reach for the controls to help, and his fingers caress my hand as he pulls back. It’s like a tiny zap, the cliché electric buzz passing between us—the moment when you know somewhere deep inside yourself that you feel something unexplainable.

  This is the first time I’ve experienced the moment.

  And I notice his shoulders arching back against the seat. He swallows while focusing on the road, his hand resting on the stick. He’s uncomfortable, isn’t he? Not with the car, but because I think he feels something too, and he doesn’t want to, or he’s afraid to.

  He doesn’t want me to be a rebound. Jesus, he said those words to me the other night, but it feels like forever ago.

  My phone rings and I dig inside my purse. “I could have sworn I turned that thing off.” I roll my eyes at Patrick’s number. The man’s persistent, I’ll give him that much.

  “Not going to answer?”

  “No.” This time I do power off my phone and toss it into my bag on the floor by my feet, then I turn on the EDM station. I’m not sure if he likes electronic dance music, and I wonder if I should switch to country. I have the feeling Noah’s not the kind of guy who would want someone doing something for his benefit, though.

  But I reach again for the controls and switch it to something I know we both like. Bluesy jazz music filters through the speakers, through my blood, and warms my body almost instantly.

  “Can’t go wrong with this,” he says after a few moments and taps his hand against the wheel in time with the bass.

  “Figured it could be our common ground. I’m not a country fan, and I don’t take you for a techno kind of guy.”

  “I don’t discriminate against good music.”

  “Good to know.” I smile.

  “You ever think about playing again? Or…do you still jam out? Maybe at night and in your underwear?”

  My cheeks warm at his words, and I notice his hand tightening around the wheel.

  “I only play naked,” I lie. The only thing that’s gone near my instruments is dust.

  Noah glances at me, and his blue eyes deepen as his pupils expand. I want to shut my eyes and remember the feel of his hands on my body last night, the touch of his tongue in my mouth.

  He stayed with me when I was afraid.

  And he’s here with me now.

  “How long were you in the military?” I have a sudden desire, a burning need to know more about him.

  “Twelve years. I was supposed to be in for four.”

  “Why only four?”

  He drags in a slow breath—and I want to be that breath. I want to be so close to his mouth. I’m losing my mind because I’m jealous of air.

  “I didn’t have the money to go to school, and the military can assist with that.”

  “Oh.” I’m being nosy, but I press for more. “And what’d you want to go to school for?”

  “Architecture.” He clears his throat. “My father was a carpenter. I was sort of his apprentice when I was a kid, absorbing everything he could teach me. I was his shadow.”

  I can picture him as a kid, working with his hands, wanting to be like his father. I was always in my father’s shadow, hidden by it—and its vortex. Never alongside him.

  “What made you stay in the service longer?”

  He shifts gears as we head toward the Long Island Expressway, and we pick up speed. “I got addicted to it. Became a SEAL, and once I was in that deep, there was no turning back.”

  “Until now?”

  He swipes a hand down his jaw. I’m curious if he’ll keep up with whatever dose of truth serum he seems to have in him when he’s around me. Or maybe he’s always like this—strictly honest to the core.

  “Your ex?” I prompt, hating myself for pushing but unable to stop myself.

  “I was torn over whether or not to re-enlist when she dropped the bombshell on me that we were getting a divorce and she was moving to New York.” His words are weighted down by gravity, but not quite as heavy as I’d expect.

  Is he truly over her, or does he still have feelings for her?

  I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t worry about this. “I’m sorry.”

  He briefly catches my eyes, and his brows pull together. “I’m not. Not anymore. I don’t think we were ever right for each other. We’d been together since high school, so…” He looks away. “But having my daughter in the middle of all this—that’s what’s rough. I thought we were being civil, but I guess not.”

  I can’t imagine, so I don’t say anything. What can I possibly say? This man, who served our country for twelve years in one of the most lethal jobs on the planet, has a tender heart like none other I’ve witnessed.

  “Was your sister already here in New York?” Since he’s not speaking and I’m completely clueless as to what to say about his daughter, I decide to do what’s natural—change the subject.

  “Yeah, luckily for me, and she was starting up her design business.”

  “She’s got a real eye. So do you. Did you ever finish school?”

  “No.”

  “Do you still want to?” I look back at him.

  “Maybe. But I’m happy with what I’m doing right now. And my job brought me to you.”

  I blink a few times as if I didn’t hear him right, but he doesn’t look my way. I wonder if he doesn’t even realize he said it, so I let it go. His words fall down the annoying cracks between the gear shift and the seat where things go to die, never to be found again.

  Minutes pass.

  “So you have brothers. You said something about your brother and a judge. How many do you have?”

  I straighten in my seat, my shoulders tensing at the mere thought of Cade. His words from our call last night echo in my head. “A younger brother, Corbin. And an older brother, Cade. Cade’s engaged, but Corbin will probably never settle down. Well, not until my father forces his hand like I think he’s trying to do with me.”

  “With you?”

  Shit, I didn’t mean to… “He kind of looks at marriage like a business deal. What would be the most profitable for our family and what would help propel us further socially.”

  “And how do you feel about that?” he asks.

  “It’s like my music. It’s a waste for me to try to think about anything that makes me happy. I don’t control my fate. He does.”

  And we both stay quiet again.

  The silence wraps us up in some sort of bubble where I can barely hear the falsetto of the singer on the radio. Then Noah’s hand moves from the stick shift to my bare thigh, and my breath catches at his touch.

  “Nobody controls you but you.” His voice is so firm, so resolute; it’s almost as if I can believe him, embrace his words as the gospel truth.

  “I guess you caught me in a lie, huh?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I look at him, but his eyes are on the road. “When you asked me that night we met at the bar if I had everything I wanted in life…well, I don’t.”

  Not even close.

  “For someone afraid of the water, why do you have a home on the ocean?”

  I lean against the side of my car and look beyond the house at the beach. My own private beach. “It was my grandmother’s place. She left it to me when she passed away eight years ago.”

  I take in a lungful of salty air and close my eyes. Memories from the stories she’d tell me by the campfire dance to my mind. Cade never wanted to come here. He wasn’t close to her; their personalities clashed.

  H
ell, none of my family really liked her, which is why they basically kept her out at this house and away from the city in her later years. But Corbin and I adored her. She was truth bottled up into one tiny woman. An amazing spirit and nothing like my father.

  “This is the reason I brought you here.” I push off the car and approach him. He’s looking at the Cape home, observing the structure, probably noting the work it needs. “My apartment was a test run.” I spread my palms open. “This is the real job. I want it fixed up.”

  “To sell?” He turns and faces me.

  “God, no.”

  “But the water…” He comes in front of me, his face tight with concern.

  “Just because I don’t plan on going swimming doesn’t mean I can’t lie on the beach and get a tan.” I chuckle. “I have a fear, but it’s not that bad. I won’t start shaking or something.” I slap his chest. God, it’s so hard, like pure steel carved beneath his T-shirt.

  “Are you serious about the job?” He looks back at the home, the color of blue cotton candy. It probably needs an exterior face lift as well.

  “Of course. It’ll probably take a lot of time and work, though. Is that okay?”

  More time with him. I try to convince myself this was always the plan, to hire someone for my apartment then have them work here, but honestly, until Noah, I didn’t know when I’d come back here again.

  “Bella should come.”

  I clasp my hands, and we walk side by side down the path toward the front door. I hang back inside the kitchen and allow Noah to get the lay of the house.

  “I have someone take care of the place for me, which is why it doesn’t look like a haunted mansion,” I call as he comes down the main staircase at the center of the house.

  “It’s big. Depending on what you want, it could definitely take months.” He scratches his jaw, the dark stubble there. “Six bedrooms, seven bathrooms—the main living room and kitchen alone are a lot of work.”

  “But you’re up for it?” I pop onto a bar stool at the kitchen island, which doubles as a breakfast bar.

  “You shitting me? Bella is going to flip.”

  “Should we talk money?”