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by Deborah Bladon


  "Zoe." I have to stop myself from embracing her as I near the spot where she's standing. She's wearing a large white sweater, jeans and a colorful scarf around her neck. Her face is bare of make-up and if it's possible, she's more stunning than the first night I saw her.

  She covers her mouth with her fingers as her eyes dart across my chest. "I'm sorry to just show up here. I don't have your number."

  Fuck. What? How have I not asked for her number yet?

  I dive my hand into the front pocket of my jeans and pull out my smartphone. I push it towards her. "Put your number in here for me."

  She glances at Albert and then back at me. "You don't have to give it to me. I mean I know you must be careful about who has it."

  "Zoe." I tap the top of my phone. "Put your number in there for me and then text yourself so you have it."

  She runs her finger over the screen before she opens my contact list. I look at Albert. "Did you find her downstairs?"

  He hands me a tall paper cup. "She was in front of the building, sir. I invited her up because I thought you'd want to see her. Do you want me to run back down to get another drink?"

  "No." I shake my head slightly when Zoe hands me back the phone. "Zoe can have mine."

  I push the paper cup into her hands before she can offer any words of resistance. I watch as her dark brown eyes fall to the cup before she pulls it up to her mouth. She tentatively takes a small sip.

  "This is cocoa," she says quietly. "You were going to drink this?"

  "It's my new favorite beverage." I reach to take the cup from her hands before I take a swallow and give it back to her. "We can share if that's okay with you."

  Her tongue darts over her bottom lip as she pulls her gaze back to my face. "I'd love to share with you."

  ***

  "Albert can get you another one of those." I motion towards the cup she just threw into the trash. "I wouldn’t mind sharing another with you."

  "I've had my fill of cocoa for the day." She moves closer to the large canvas that I've spent the last few hours working on. "This is really beautiful."

  "Coming from someone who doesn't like art, I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not," I tease. "I'm going to pretend that it is."

  "It is." She pushes her hand against my arm. "I love it."

  "Tell me what you like about it?" I don't move. I don't want to lose the sensation of her skin touching mine even if it's something as genuinely innocent as a friendly tap on the arm.

  "It's vibrant." She tilts her head slightly as if she's trying to soak in the painting from another angle. "It tells a story, doesn't it?"

  I nod. "In a way every painting has its own unique story to tell."

  "What's the story of this one?" she asks as she moves closer. I feel bereft when her hand drops from my arm back to her side.

  "It's not really my story to tell." I move so I'm standing right next to her now. "When I paint, I feel things that I have to express on the canvas but when someone looks at my work, the story that they take away from the finished piece is what really counts."

  Her eyes dart from the painting to my face. "I have to decide the story myself?"

  "In a way you do." I nod as I look into her eyes. "If a painting is right for you, it will touch you inside."

  "Inside of here?" She pulls both of her hands to her chest. "I'll feel something for it here?"

  "Exactly." I reach past her to point at the lower right corner of the canvas. "I name each piece when I'm done. I paint the name right in this spot but many people who purchase my work don't see what I see within the brush strokes."

  "What's this one called?"

  I stare down at her. There's no way that she can know that she's inspired me to paint this. "I haven't chosen a name for it yet. I won't until it's done."

  "It's not done?" Her brows rise. "It looks done to me."

  "That's why I'm the artist and you're the lawyer." I push against her shoulder with my bicep.

  "I will be a lawyer one day." She pulls her eyes from the panting to my face. "I'm going to be such a good lawyer."

  "I have no doubt that you're going to be the best at whatever you do."

  Chapter 15

  Zoe

  I've been at his studio for close to two hours now and still haven't brought up the reason for my visit. I should. I want to but I'm enjoying listening to him explain the intricacies of every painting that's hanging on the wall.

  "I'm going for lunch soon, sir." Albert suddenly appears next to us. "Can I get you or Zoe anything?"

  Beck is just about to open his mouth to speak before I interrupt him. "I'm going to take Beck to lunch."

  "You are?" His eyes dart from my face to Albert's. "I guess that you don't have to get me anything, Albert. I already have plans."

  I smile at the playful lilt in his voice. He's charming. I'm well aware that he probably knows it but there are flashes of a man who is just naturally charismatic. I saw that just now and it's endearing in a way that surpasses the accomplishments and accolades. At a very basic level, he's just a man who knows how to paint. I doubt many people in his world see him that way anymore.

  "I'm sorry if I made an assumption," I whisper when I think that Albert is far enough from us that he can't hear me. "I should have asked if you are free."

  "Do I look like I have a lot to do today?" He throws his arms out to his sides. "You can take me to lunch today or any day. I'd never refuse that."

  Again, it's the charm but I take something more from the words. I can tell that he likes hanging out with me. I saw it yesterday when we rode the train to Brooklyn and I see it again now. He's the most unlikely friend I'm ever going to have. I already know that and I'm also smart enough to know that this friendship may be fleeting and short lived. I'm filling a gap for him. I'm certain that it has to do with the fact that his girlfriend married his best friend. I don't care right now though. All I do care about is that my newest friend wants to go to lunch with me.

  "What do you want to eat?" I ask without thinking as he pulls a t-shirt onto his body. "I don't know this area so I can't suggest a place."

  "I know the perfect spot for us to have lunch." He grabs my hand as he walks swiftly towards the reception area to where I left my coat. "Put on your coat, I'll grab my stuff and we can head out."

  ***

  I can't do it. My feet are stuck in place. Beck's at least ten feet in front of me now. I can tell by his stride that he hasn't realized I'm not beside him anymore. Why would he? He's busily eating the hot dog that he bought when we exited the taxi. I'm still holding tightly to mine as I stare at the horizon and the man standing not more than twenty feet away from me who resembles Tim.

  Even if I never seen his face again, I'll be haunted by his words for the rest of my life. I can't be this happy. I can't enjoy life. It's not fair if I do. That man's face and this place are reminders of that. I don't know what I was thinking. I don't deserve moments like this. This can't be my life.

  If I turn back towards the street it won't take me more than a few seconds to hail a taxi. I can be in one and on my way back to my apartment before he even notices that I've left. I'll block his number and ignore his calls and soon he'll realize that I'm not whole in the way he thinks I am. He'll give up because men like him don't waste time being friends with women like me.

  "Zoe?" he calls to me from where he's standing on a paved path. "What's wrong?"

  Nothing. Everything. All of it is wrong.

  I thought I'd have more time to know him before I had to face this. I thought I was stronger. I'm not. The pounding of my heart is telling me I'm a fool for even thinking that.

  "Zoe?" He's running now, not at full speed but more of a slow jog. "Are you okay?"

  I nod briskly. I can't tell him. I barely know him. We just exchanged phone numbers only a few hours ago.

  "I'm fine," I say with a weak smile when he finally reaches me.

  "You disappeared." He nods towards the still untouched hot dog in my hand
. "Are you not hungry?"

  I look down at it. When he bought it for me it felt like one of those New York moments you see in the movies or on one of those detective dramas on television. The vendor had a thick accent and when Beck tipped him well, the man patted him on the back saying he was one of the good ones.

  "I'm hungry," I confess. I take a tentative bite of the end of the bun to secure the words in truth.

  It doesn't work. Skepticism grips his expression. He doesn't believe me. I don’t blame him.

  "Let's go sit in the park." He motions toward the path that he just returned from. "There are a few benches down there. We can see the George Washington Bridge from there."

  "The bridge," I repeat back slowly. "I can't see the bridge."

  "It's there." He moves his hand towards the path as he smiles down at me. "If we go down close to the water you'll see it better. It's not that far."

  "No." I look down at the hotdog still mostly untouched in my hand. "I don't want to see the bridge."

  "You're not scared of water are you?" He playfully pushes his hand into my side. "Are you afraid you'll drown if we get too close?"

  The hotdog drops from my hand onto the pavement and I gasp as I watch it fall.

  "It's okay." He reaches for my shoulder. "I can get you another one."

  "I need to go." I turn quickly on my heel towards the street. "I need to get a taxi."

  "Zoe." He's in front of me now, his frame blocking my path. "You can't go. What's going on?"

  I'm panicked. I feel it. I have to get away from him and from this place. "I need to go home, Beck."

  His hands jump to my face and I close my eyes to ward off the vulnerability I'm feeling. I didn't want it to be like this. I have to calm down before I say another word to him.

  "Zoe," he whispers my name against my forehead. "Open your eyes."

  I pull in such a heavy breath that it hurts. I open my eyes slowly to find his brilliant blue irises staring directly into me.

  "Tell me what is going on." He leans back only slightly. I can still smell his skin and almost taste his breath. "You're freaking out. Please tell me why."

  I pull my gaze over his shoulder to the taxis that are racing past us on the street. All I want is to get into one and go home. I don't want to think about bridges and drowning and friendship. I can't.

  I stare at him silently trying to make him see that I can't do this. I can't show him the darkest parts of me on this busy Manhattan sidewalk with the Hudson River just a pathway behind us.

  "You're not going to tell me what's going on, are you?" The resignation that is woven into that question is palpable. It's there in his expression too.

  "I can't," I offer back feeling both foolish and relieved at the same time.

  His hands drop from my face to the front of my coat. He pulls the belt tighter around my waist. "It's getting colder out. Let me take you home."

  Chapter 16

  Beck

  My life has been easy for the most part. I don’t have a burden that I carry around with me the way some people do. The way Zoe does. I've never seen such a look of anguish and dread on a person's face before.

  When I first realized she wasn't on the path beside me, I worried, for only a brief moment that she was concerned that I was taking her into a deserted part of the city. I wouldn't blame her for being wary. We've known each other less than a month. My public persona may offer her some reassurance that I'm not a threat to her, but she's right to be careful around me. I'd expect that she would be around any man she'd just met. It's wise.

  When I walked back up to where she was standing near the hot dog vendor I saw something else. She wasn't a woman who wanted to protect herself from potential physical harm by a stranger. It was a woman who wanted to protect herself emotionally. She was on the brink of tears. I was terrified that she might bolt into traffic just to escape the suggestion of going down by the river.

  Her insistence that she take a taxi home alone had stung. I wanted to offer her comfort on the way there. I wanted to reassure her that whatever it was, I could help her. I know that I can. I know that because I want to help her. I want to erase that pain so she can live the life she should be living, free of the baggage that she's obviously carrying around with her.

  I stare at the screen of my smartphone. The unyielding temptation I feel to call her and ask how she is hasn't lessened since I arrived at my studio more than two hours ago.

  I'd thrown my phone on the couch and had started on a new canvas. I needed to express the pain I felt when I looked into her eyes. I had to get it out so it wouldn't fester and control me. I can't repeat what happened with Liz. When she was hurt in the accident, I took that pain on myself. I felt every ache she did. I ignored her tortured cries about losing Mark and had instead bottled up the jealousy within me. It took a toll on me and I know now, it's the main reason I fell into Alexa's arms. I needed comfort and she was there to offer it.

  She was filling a void that only I could fill. I tried to replace the love that I wasn't getting in return from Liz by sleeping with Alexa. I used her. I hadn't realized it at the time. I see it very clearly now.

  I scrub my hand over my forehead before I pick my phone back up. I race my thumb over the screen and stare at the text that Zoe sent to herself from my phone.

  The Yankee loves cocoa.

  Four words. They'd mean nothing to anyone but the two of us. I need that. I want that. I crave to have that kind of intimacy that surpasses what happens in bed.

  I hit reply before typing out a simple reply.

  I want you to be okay. Please tell me you are.

  ***

  "Have you met someone?"

  My head pops up from where it's been buried in the newspaper. I've been sitting in the corner of this coffee shop since dawn broke. I'd fallen asleep on the couch in my studio and when I'd finally woken just after six, I immediately checked my phone. There was dozens of new text messages but not one from Zoe. Nothing. I'd dragged myself down to the lobby to get a coffee and now I don't have the energy to go back up to my studio.

  "Clive." I motion towards one of the two empty chairs at the table. "What are you doing here?"

  "Jax told me that you're using your studio again." He unbuttons his suit jacket before sitting across from me. "I was hoping to catch you there on my way to work."

  Clive Parker is my first cousin on my mother's side. Our relationship has never been close but since I've been back in New York, we've hung out a few times. He's a tech genius and his company is breaking ground with new developments all the time. The man has a brilliant mind.

  "I'm trying to get back into it," I offer. I don't like talking about my creative process with Clive mainly because it's a foreign concept to him, just as tech stuff is foreign to me.

  "That's because you met someone." It's not a question. It's a statement.

  "Why would you say that?"

  "You've been avoiding work for years, Brighton." He leans back to cross his legs. "Someone has lit a fuse under you."

  I can't talk to Jax about this. If I do, he'll tell Ivy and I'll be bombarded with questions about how I feel about Zoe. I can't even answer those questions myself yet.

  "What's her name?" He presses as he opens the plastic tab on the lid of the paper cup he brought to the table with him.

  "You're not going to tell Jax about this conversation." My tone is clear and decisive. "My brother can't know about this."

  "Sure." He dips his chin towards me. "What's going on?"

  "I met someone," I begin before I stop to take a sip of coffee. "Her name is Zoe."

  "Zoe," he repeats it back. "It's different. I like it."

  "She just moved to Manhattan. She's going to go to law school, does some volunteer work. She's gorgeous."

  "This is what you didn't want me telling your brother?" He chuckles softly. "That you finally met the perfect woman?"

  "Something happened yesterday." I stare down at my smartphone. "She froze up over somethi
ng when we were out for lunch?"

  "What was it?"

  I know that Clive doesn’t know her and yet I feel a sense of betrayal telling him about this. I doubt that Zoe shares many details of her life with anyone. I can't keep this inside of me though. I need someone else's perspective and my cousin is, by far, the most logical person I know.

  "I took her for a hotdog. I wanted her to have an authentic New York experience."

  He nods with a slight grin on his face. "Romantic, Brighton. You're a true romantic."

  I can't help but crack a smile. "I wasn't going for that. We agreed to be friends for now and..."

  "Friends?" He leans forward a touch. "She told you she just wants to your friend?"

  I'm so far into this now that I don't see any reason not to be completely honest. "I did it. I told her we should be friends."

  "Why?"

  "That's the thing, Clive." I race my index finger over the edge of my smartphone's case. "I could tell when we met that there was something holding her back. She's guarded and wary."

  "You wanted to ease her into a relationship with you." His tone is thoughtful. "That's smart."

  "I did it as much for myself as for her." I'm not about to dive into the sordid details of my past relationships with Liz and Alexa. That's not going to add anything to what's going on with me and Zoe.

  "What happened yesterday?" He tilts his chin towards me.

  "I wanted to take her down to the Hudson so she could see the river. I thought it would give her a different perspective on the city."

  "Did she accuse you of being a cheap date?" The chuckle that accompanies the question is unmistakable.

  "She wouldn't even leave the sidewalk to walk towards it. She couldn’t move. I swear she looked like I'd asked her to commit a felony."

  I'm surprised by the lack of any readable reaction on his face. "You must have asked her about it, right?"

  I nod slowly. "I tried but she wanted out of there. She was in a cab and on her way home before I could get a word in."

  "Where do things stand now?" He motions towards my smartphone. "How is she when you talk to her on the phone?"

 

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