“So how did you… go to college? Who paid for it?” Her throat could have been stuffed with cotton.
“I worked for two years to save up enough so I could go to community college, because I didn’t want to take on student debt. In my second year, I was offered a full scholarship to transfer to Princeton, and I worked part-time to cover my living costs.”
Shadows darkened his irises and his hand moved to her head. He began stroking her hair, attention still miles away.
Finally realizing what he was doing with her hair, Alex withdrew his hand. “Sorry. I didn’t notice that I was… doing… whatever I was doing.”
Kat hoped her face didn’t convey her disappointment. His touch had gotten her so excited, but now she felt like a fool for overestimating the importance of a casual touch.
“It’s okay,” Kat assured him, awkwardly. “I didn’t mind.”
Alex’s right eye twitched. “I think I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”
He tossed the burnt cigarette butt into a bin and pried another one from his pocket. Chain smoker, huh?
Turning right, he lengthened his stride. Kat didn’t know where they were heading, but she followed him, because she wanted to stay around him. She felt intimate walking around with him at night, talking.
Drawing her hands back, Kat visually catalogued his side profile. “Do you smoke only when you’re stressed or is it all the time?”
“I’ve never analyzed. Most time I don’t even realize what I’m smoking.” Alex stopped.
“So you smoke other stuff?” She was whipping out her notebook and pen already, ready to take notes. Wow, talk about twenty-four-seven job obsession.
“Other stuff?” Tapping the cigarette in his hand, he let the ashes float away with the breeze. “Like what?”
“Joints, perhaps?”
“That’s twice you’ve asked me about my recreational drug use.” The LSD thing earlier. He must be meaning that. “My answer remains a firm no.”
“Would that answer change if I said that this conversation was off the record? Which it is, by the way.” Kat tested the waters.
“No, it wouldn’t.” He looked at her like she’d insulted him.
Okay, point taken. Alex didn’t do drugs.
“Pity. I’d thought I could get something useful for my friend who works for the Globe.” She pretend-sulked.
“I’m sure there are enough pop stars getting high in NYC clubs to keep tabloids busy. They don’t need me.”
He put out the second cigarette by crushing it under his shoes, then produced a third one.
“You can’t have three in a row! You’ll turn into a chimney,” Kat exclaimed. Being the health freak that she was, she just couldn’t let this slide.
He smirked. “I don’t think that’s possible, darling.”
Darling. That did a number on her heart. Alex was acting so different tonight. The superficial politeness was gone now and between the cracks in his guarded armor, she glimpsed a different man.
And she liked this man.
“Trust me. It’s entirely possible, the rate at which you’re going,” she retorted.
The big white letters printed on black and flight of stairs going down said they’d reached the subway station. It was time for her to go.
Shaking his head, Alex flicked the lighter and a flame leapt up, but then unexpectedly, he killed it and tossed the cigarette away.
“Yeah, you’re right. It’s late.” A beat passed. Kat knew what was coming next. “Thank you for what you did today. You didn’t have to. You went out of your way, writing an article and all. I’m really—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You saved me and almost lost your chance at becoming mayor because of it,” Kat interjected.
He rubbed his palms together. “But just to be clear, I’m never saving you again. I can’t handle a repetition of this.” There was a glint of humor in his broodiness.
“Good. I’m never bailing you out after a fiasco like this again, either. I had to take the day off.” Burying her fingers in her hair, Kat combed through her hair, frizzed by the humidity.
Then they both looked at each other and then a smile split their lips. A moment of understanding passed.
“You’re lucky you saved a reporter. Imagine if you’d saved a teacher or a front-end developer. She wouldn’t be able to help you get out of this.”
“True.”
Making eye contact, Kat gave his upper arm a sympathetic squeeze. “Although things look really bad now, I’m sure that in a while, it’ll all go back to being like it was.”
“I hope so.” In the distance, the sky was pitch black. Alex’s hand dove into his pocket, and he retrieved his phone. “Can I have your number? If I need to call you in the future.”
“Of course.” Kat fed her number into his phone. She had his already, so it was only fair to exchange. And she was kinda hoping that he’d call her and ask her out for coffee sometime. Unlikely, but hey, it could happen.
When he got back to the main screen of his phone, Kat spotted his screensaver and her reporter’s brain went into overdrive.
It was a photo of a woman holding a baby and smiling.
Wrapped in a slightly out-of-fashion dress, the woman on the screen wasn’t young—mid-thirties, likely—but she was graceful with a nurturing aura around her. The woman’s eye color was the same as Alex’s—an endless dark brown.
Since she knew that Alex wasn’t married or in a domestic relationship, what was a picture like this doing in his phone?
“Who’s she?” Kat questioned, leaning closer to Alex.
“Guess,” Alex challenged.
“Your lover and the mother of your secret child?”
A full-bodied, spontaneous laugh ripped out of his throat. “You have a colorful imagination; I’ll give you that.” He waited for the hiccups of laughter to subside before continuing. “She’s my mother. Was my mother.”
A gasp wrestled out of Kat. “I thought you didn’t have parents.”
“She died when I was four.” That faraway look again, along with the same melancholic tone.
Reexamining the photo, she could see vague similarities between the baby and Alex. He wasn’t the cutest kid she’d seen, but he had a certain sense of purpose about him—as if he knew he was going to become someone important when he grew up. That was a weird thing to say about a baby.
“How did she die?” Rolling up the sleeves of her T-shirt, Kat fanned herself. It was really humid today.
“Road accident. Hit by a truck. She was dead before the paramedics got to her.” Alex’s narration was unemotional, distant.
“I’m sorry,” was all she could say.
They stood in silence. His expression become darker and darker. He looked her way a few times, like he was trying to say something, but held his tongue.
Clamping her lips, Kat hummed, hoping that would get him talking. She was curious to know more about him and all that curiosity wasn’t professionally motivated.
“Do you—” Alex hesitated. “No, it’s nothing.”
Lingering for a minute, Kat waited for him to do something. And he did—taking up the cigarette he’d abandoned earlier.
Smoke funneled out through the ‘o’ his mouth formed.
Exasperated, she stamped her foot. “Oh, come on. Talk about it instead of smoking it out. Whatever’s bothering you.”
His irises shifted uncertainly, then the tiredness of the day must have overtaken him, because he looked like he was considering telling her about what was bothering him. And from someone as tight-lipped and guarded as him, that would be nothing short of a miracle.
“Do you want to go to the Empire State Building?” he asked, out of the blue, drawing two tickets from his pocket.
Her eyes widened. “Right now?”
“The observation deck is open until two am. It’s only twelve. We could make it.” He fingered the tickets. “They expire tonight.”
It was late at night and she should be gett
ing sleep so she didn’t faint at work tomorrow, but for some inexplicable reason, she wanted to spend more time with Alex. Hang around him and talk about… well, anything. Just hear his voice. Let her blood remain heated for a few more hours.
Sure, she barely knew Alex, but her heart said yes. And she always listened to her heart. Because it was never wrong.
Her response surprised even her. “Let’s go.”
An hour later, Kat found herself drinking in an ocean of buildings and lights, which enveloped her vantage point in the observatory from all sides. From the hundred and eighth floor of the Empire State Building, the world looked like a galaxy of bright stars. All hers.
Around her, the observation deck was empty except for Alex.
Striking a Titanic-esque pose, Kat spread her arms to her sides and pushed her chest out, shutting her eyes. But it was sticky, humid air that clung to her skin, not romantic sea breeze.
So much for that.
“I’m curious. Why did you have two tickets?” she said, walking over to Alex, who was clutching the metal grille.
He’d been gazing at the night sky intently, but her voice shook him out of his trance. “Sorry, did you say something?”
“I asked why you had two tickets.” This time, she was louder.
“Oh.” The lines on his face deepened. “I’d planned to come here with someone a year ago, but she couldn’t come. I’ve been carrying these tickets around since then. It’s stupid of me to hold onto them, but I have a hard time getting rid of things.”
Being a reporter, Kat hated unfinished stories, so she had to continue probing. “Who was she? Your girlfriend?”
Amusement crossed Alex’s features. “No, somebody who helped me when I was younger. A sort of motherly figure, I’d say. We lost contact with each other once I… graduated from high school.” That pause fell at an interesting place. Was he omitting something? “But I found her through one of my Facebook contacts a year ago.”
Kat urged him to go on with a slight nod. “So you contacted her and asked to meet her?”
“When I called her, she told me she had cancer and that she’d never been up on the Empire State Building. I thought I’d take her there.” Exhaling into the space between them, Alex started strolling around the observation deck. Kat remained close behind. “But her health was far worse than I thought. She died not long after I bought the tickets.”
Kat’s heart flipped in sympathy when she saw the misery on his face. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” There was no emotion in his voice. “I’m glad I could talk to her before she died, even if she kept mentioning that she’d have liked to see me married.”
Kat giggled. “I’m wondering about that, too. Why aren’t you married?”
Alex’s bachelor status was odd, considering how accomplished he was. And he was past forty. This was the age by which most men had three kids and a divorce.
“What makes you think I’m not married?” He ran a hand across his chiseled jaw.
“You’re married?” A gasp floated out of her throat.
Imagining him having a nice sweet wife… she didn’t know why that thought made her veins freeze to ice. Maybe because she’d been having inappropriate feelings around him all day long and it almost made her feel like an adulteress.
Upset, she snapped into her reporter mode. “What’s your wife’s name? Profession? Education? Religious affiliation? Alma mater?”
He laughed, then angled his brow. His grin was so charmingly boyish that she had to blink to make sure it was still him. Was he capable of being that playful?
“Got you there, didn’t I?” He clasped his hand together. For a moment, she was struck.
“So you’re not married,” Kat said, more than a little relieved.
He contemplated for a breath. “No, but I came close to getting married once.”
“How close?” The thudding of her heart was irrational. Why was she so curious about his personal life anyway?
“All the way to the altar.” His back faced her now, his front looking out at the cityscape.
“Then what happened? You changed your mind? Decided it was a bad idea?”
“She didn’t turn up.”
“You got jilted?” Drawing a ragged breath, Kat felt her cheeks go hot. “That’s awful.”
A runaway bride, no parents… that was one unlucky life he had.
Alex’s shrug was nonchalant, but the anger hardening his jaw gave his true feelings away. “No big deal. The affair only set me back by a few thousand dollars. But it was a lesson learnt. No more expensive weddings for me.” Sarcasm chomped through the words.
“You paid for the wedding?” Kat wiped droplets of sweat off her nose.
“She wasn’t earning at that point. But looking back, I think it’s sad that all I remember about that wedding is the cost.”
“Well, the wedding didn’t actually happen, so you have nothing else to remember.” Biting the inside of her cheek, Kat
“True, but I can’t even remember her birthday and I’m generally good with details like that,” The navy blue jacket hanging on him came off. “I’m getting old.”
Kat snorted. “You’re not old. You’re only forty-six. Forties is the prime of life.”
“I thought thirties was the prime of life.” He switched to a whisper.
She shook her head in an emphatic no. “Thirties are when you’re stuck with making the transition from being an irresponsible twenty-something to having kids, paying mortgage, getting married and fighting for a middle-management position.”
Making a small, funny gesture, Alex came around to her side. “Are you married, Kat?”
“Nope. Neither do I have kids or a middle-management position. I haven’t trapped myself in the thirties cycle yet.”
“Are you planning to trap yourself someday?” She could be wrong, but Kat detected hope in his voice.
“Do I look like that type of woman? The type to get married and have kids?” she snarled.
“I didn’t know there was a ‘type’ of woman who wanted to get married and have kids.” His hand met the curve of his hip.
Immediately she felt defensive. “So you assume that’s what every woman wants? Marriage and kids?”
She’d been on the receiving end of so many ‘How can you not want marriage and kids’ and ‘You’ll die lonely’ lectures and if he gave her another one of those, she was going to blow. Sometimes, she felt like she was fighting a lifelong battle against the expectations of society by avoiding marriage and kids.
“No, I assume you don’t need to be a certain ‘type’ of woman to want those things. But I can tell you don’t want all that.”
“Damn right I don’t,” came her vexed drawl.
“And you feel strongly about it,” he added with an approving nod. “Which is admirable.”
Her jaw came unhinged. Collecting herself, Kat locked her fingers around the strap of her bag. “You’re the first person who’s ever said that to me.”
“Said what?” A wedge of light drew a crescent on his stubbly cheekbone.
“That it’s admirable to have the conviction to not want to get married. Most people tell me that by the time I’m thirty-five, I’ll be overtaken by a mysterious, magical need to be a mother and banish the loneliness in my life with a man.” She shut in the cold fury that tried to rise. “Or that I’ll become a lonely old lady with fifty cats and when I die, my corpse will rot for weeks before my cats decide to feast on it and leave nothing to bury.”
His beautiful, gravelly laugh made her body sizzle. “Cats don’t eat human flesh, darling.”
Darling. She could get used to him calling her that. And she absolutely shouldn’t.
“I think it’s pop culture’s fault for glorifying love and togetherness to an unhealthy extent. I mean, people nowadays think it’s abnormal to not want a happily-ever-after. But I’m content with whatever I have. I really don’t feel like I need anything else to be happy and I’m not holding out
for some unrealistic Mr. Right. I know you think I’m saying that because I’m young and I’ll change my mind once I’m older, but I don’t think so.” She could go on and on, but she had to take a breath.
“You’re riled up,” Alex observed.
“I can’t help it. This issue always makes me angry. But why am I taking it out on you? You’re not the one telling me to… do anything.” She was overreacting. So much. Raising her hand to her head, she tried to calm herself down. Which was difficult when she felt so passionately about this.
“Kat—”
“Stop. Don’t ask me that.” She shook her finger at him warningly.
“Ask you what?”
“You were going to ask me who broke my heart and made me stop believing in love, weren’t you?”
“No, I was going to ask you whether you wanted to look through the binoculars.” Alex tapped on the gray, huge thing. “The view’s breathtaking.”
Her face warmed from humiliation. Sighing, Kat bent down. “I think I should do that.”
Give her anger some time to settle.
Through the lens, she grabbed a view of the metropolis spanning over acres.
“This marriage and kids issue is really important to you, isn’t it?” Alex murmured, standing beside her, slipping his hands into his pockets.
“Yeah. And every time I say it to someone, people look at me like I’m a freak. Making personal choices according to what I believe in makes me evil and selfish, apparently. I once wrote a piece for the New York Times magazine on choosing to remain childless. You won’t believe how much hate mail I got for that. I was called everything from a slut to a spawn of Satan. I don’t hate kids. I just don’t want to have any.”
Alex’s hands rested on her back. Because it felt good to have them there, Kat didn’t say anything.
“It’s sad to see that even in the twenty-first century, women can’t make reproductive choices without being judged and criticized. It makes me angry and it makes me sad.” She pulled down her dress that had ridden up.
“And it makes you feel isolated because nobody is on the same page as you?” Alex finished.
“I mean it’s my choice. I’m not telling other people to not have kids. But why am I always being told how to make my choices?” Her voice was hard.
In my Arms Tonight (NYC Singles Book 2) Page 6