SWEAT

by Deborah Bladon

  How can a kiss shared with someone you hate feel so good?

  "You don't have to tell me that," he says quietly. "When I saw you at the gym I couldn't believe my eyes."

  I couldn't either. When I spotted him I was struck by a wave of something so intense that I could only push it into the cluster of hate that I've been carrying in my heart for years. It didn't fit there though. It was so much stronger than that. Desire and need, reckless want.

  "I called your brother after I saw you. I wanted Julian to tell me that you were happy."

  Julian wouldn't know happiness if it slapped him across the face. He's treading water in a relationship with a woman he thinks is perfect for him. She is, on paper. She doesn't challenge him or excite him. I see it whenever I'm in the same room with him and Isadora.

  "What did he say?"

  He turns and stares at me. "He told me that you dumped that tool you were engaged to. I assume that made you happy."

  It did and it didn't. I broke up with Joel, my fiancé, the day before I was set to walk down the aisle. I couldn't commit to a lifetime of uninspired love and mediocre sex. I know now that I hooked up with him to try and drown out the pain I was feeling over my grandma's death. I was using him as a bridge to the other side of my grief.

  When I called to tell him that I wanted to see him so we could talk things over, he already knew. I think he was relieved to hear me say that I didn't love him enough to marry him. He's engaged now to a woman he adores. I saw it for myself when I ran into them last month uptown.

  "He wasn't right for me." Talking about Joel is always hard, even though I know ending our relationship was necessary. My parents saw it differently, shaming me for the expensive dress, venue and gourmet dinner for two hundred guests they'd already paid for.

  I didn't let it go to waste.

  I told the caterers to take the food to a charity that houses the families of ill children. They held a celebratory dinner that night, complete with the wedding cake that I was supposed to cut with my new husband.

  I donated the dress, shipped my engagement ring back to Joel and told my brother to take Isadora to Paris, on what would have been my honeymoon. Julian focused some of his time during the trip on scouting locations for the Bishop Hotel that will open in France next year.

  I paid my parents back every cent they'd invested into my non-wedding. I didn't want the constant reminders that I'd let them down so I evened the score and they dropped the topic.

  "You're not seeing anyone now, are you?" His brows draw together.

  How the hell is that his business? I'm still mad at him. I haven't forgiven him because his kiss made me forget my own name.

  I have every intention of confronting him about the brownstone. I never toured the property when it was for sale. The only images viewable online were two of the red-bricked exterior. I thought about asking my agent to call the listing broker to arrange a private showing but I didn't see the point. To me it would have only been wasting precious time. I wanted it so I made the offer as quickly as I could.

  Smith is my chance to get inside it now. I do want to see the rooms my grandma talked about. It seems fitting to call him out on the house he took from me, inside its walls. It may be bittersweet but I know I'll finally feel a sense of vindication. If I have to play nice tonight to make that happen, I can do it. I know I'll be stronger tomorrow when the kiss and the conversation we had at Easton Pub have both lost their edge.

  I clear my throat to tell him that my dating status isn't his concern when his phone rings.

  He tugs it from the front pocket of his jeans. "I usually mute this fucking thing before I go to bed at eight."

  "You go to bed at eight?" I glance down at the silver watch on my wrist. "It's past your beddy-bye time. I should tell your mom you broke curfew."

  He laughs at the reference to the words he used to say to me when I'd skip my midnight curfew to hang out with my friends. Julian would always be the one who'd track me down and order me home before my parents realized I wasn't in my bedroom. All too often, Smith would still be at our house when I finally walked through the door.

  "Dammit," he mutters under his breath. "I need to take this."

  I nod before turning to the view of Brooklyn. I can't make out anything he says. It shouldn't matter to me if he's talking to another woman but it does. It niggles at me in a way I don't want it to. I've gone from outright hating him a few hours ago to tolerating him.

  In an alternate universe we may have had a chance for something more but nothing can ever happen between the two of us. I let my grandma down because of him. She was one of the few people in my life who believed in me and I didn't pull through when she needed me to.

  "Brynn." His hand lightly brushes my shoulder. "I need to go down to the studio. They're prepping Senator Carney for an interview tonight. I'm the guy he wants to sit across from him."

  I turn and look up at him. "His son killed a woman in cold blood."

  "The fucker did." He nods slowly. "The senator bought his son's freedom and I'm going to do everything in my power to get him to admit to that."

  Smith's known for his hard edge. He pushes the people he interviews. If I was going to admire one thing about him, that might be it. The way he looks in a black T-shirt with the wind gently blowing his air might be another.

  Get a grip, Brynn. Jesus.

  "I'll see you at your place tomorrow night." I take a step back, so he doesn't make the assumption that my lips are looking for any goodbye action.

  "I'll text you my address." His gaze drops to his phone at the sound of a chime. "Shit. My driver's downstairs waiting. I need to go before the Senator changes his mind."

  "Go." I wave my hand as if I'm showing him the direction of the door. "I know where you live."

  "You do?" His lips hint at a smile. "How? Have you been following me?"

  Biggest ego in Manhattan.

  "Don't flatter yourself," I say tightly, not wanting to feed it anymore. The fact that he even has to ask how I know his address irks the hell out of me. Obviously, my pleas to put in a good word with his former fuck buddy, Sigrid, so I could buy the brownstone were so inconsequential to him that he's completely forgotten them. I've been stewing over this for years and it feels like he's left it all behind him. "I saw you going into your building with grocery bags when I was in the neighborhood for work one day."

  The work part is a tiny lie, although I did give my business card to Smith's white-suited neighbor. I have a feeling his townhouse may be a blank canvas, so it didn't hurt to offer up my services in case he ever needs a splash of color.

  "You should have said hi."

  "I'll come by before your curfew." I look at my watch, ignoring his comment. "Say around six?"

  His phone chimes again. He mutters a chorus of curse words before he turns toward the door calling back to me. "I have a feeling tomorrow night is going to be one for the record books."

  "Oh, it will," I whisper as I watch him disappear behind the door. "It's going to be a night neither of us will ever forget. Until tomorrow, jerk."

  Chapter 15

  Brynn

  "You kissed Smith?" Adley's eyes widen. "You're telling me that you made the first move?"

  I shake my head. "It wasn't like that, Ad. I kissed him to prove a point."

  She grins. "What point? That you like him? That you want to get naked and sweaty with him?"

  I can't admit that to her. I haven't fully admitted it to myself yet. That kiss kept me awake all night long. I replayed it in my mind like a lovesick school girl, which is still a part of who I am whenever Smith is within eye shot.

  I want to hate him, but my resolve is fading. The kiss has a lot to do with that. The way he treated me afterward did too. He didn't push me in any way even though I could tell that he was thinking about the chip I'm carrying around on my shoulder.

  "I tried to kiss him when I was seventeen and kind of drunk," I admit softly. We're in one of the exam rooms at the vet cli
nic and the walls are paper thin. I brought Pike in for a check-up on the advice of Dr. Hunt. I was grateful to see Adley's smiling face when I walked into the office.

  "We all try and kiss someone when we're seventeen and kind of drunk. If we're lucky, they kiss us back. I take it Smith wasn't into you back then?"

  I shrug as I pet Pike's head. "He says he regrets not kissing me eight years ago."

  "What was last night's kiss like?"

  I brush my fingers over my lips. "I can still feel it in a way. I know that sounds unbelievable, but I can feel his lips on mine. I've never been kissed like that before. It doesn't matter though. It's not like we can ever be together. Too much has happened between us."

  "Brynn." Her fingertips tap on my shoulders. "I need to say something, but first I want you to know that I love you."

  I pick Pike back up from the exam table and cradle him next to my chest. "Is it about Pike? Did Dr. Hunt tell me to come down here because something's wrong? I know you were still waiting for more tests to come back. Just tell me, Ad. Just say it."

  "He's good." She pets that soft spot on his neck. "This is about you and Smith."

  "What about us?"

  "Dr. Hunt made the entire staff take a course on grief about a year ago. It was tough, but we needed it. We deal with death every day here."

  I nod. "I couldn't do what you do. I'd be in tears every single day, all day long."

  "I cry sometimes. It's impossible not to when you see people in that raw moment of loss."

  I feel tears welling in my eyes as I think about how I'll deal with Pike's death when the time comes. It won't be easy. I don't think I can brace for it, but I'll have Adley to guide me through the grief.

  "One of the things I took away from that course is that heartache set its own timetable. One person can grieve for a month, while another takes years to work through their pain." She stops and looks at the floor. "Do you remember my friend Ellie?"

  "That beautiful redhead we saw at the park with her kids?"

  "Jonas is her son and May is her daughter," she says with a smile. "Ellie lost her sister on the same day that May was born. She still deals with that loss. It's hard for her every year when her sister's birthday comes around."

  I'd be broken if Julian died. We're not as close as we once were, but I depend on him to be there. I know he feels the same way about me.

  "I'm sorry for her loss."

  "I'm sorry for your loss, Brynn." Her voice softens. "I'm sorry your grandma died."

  I nod my head silently as I begin to cry. "She died three years ago, Ad."

  She taps her index finger on my chest. "Your heart doesn't care about that. It still misses her. It's still angry that she died."

  I am still angry. I saw my grandma the day before she died. She was happy and carefree. I remember clearly the last thing she said to me was that she'd see me soon. She passed in her sleep that night from a massive heart attack.

  She'd called me Jane when I left her apartment. Her full-time nurse had given me a sympathetic smile as I walked out. Alzheimer's had just taken hold of my grandma, but she was fighting back. She had more good days than bad right before her death.

  "Anger is a big part of grief for many people." She looks up at the tiled ceiling before her eyes focus back on me. "I've seen family members scream at each other when they lose a pet. I've watched people tell Dr. Hunt to fuck off. I've even had people angry with me because I was in the room when Donovan told them it was time to let go."

  I sit on her words for a minute, absorbing them. "Anger is a part of my grief, but I'm not mourning my Grandma Caroline anymore. I can think about her without crying."

  "Crying is just a small piece of the emotional puzzle we have to put back together after we suffer a loss." She glances up at the large circular clock on the wall. "Dr. Hunt will be in soon to see Pike but I want you to think about something before you see Smith again."

  "I'm seeing him tonight. I'm going over to the brownstone for dinner."

  "You're going to the brownstone for dinner? The one he bought that you wanted?"

  "Yes." I flash a weak smile. I haven't had a chance to explain to Adley about my plans for tonight yet. "I'm going to confront him about it all tonight."

  "Brynn." She sighs heavily, her jaw tightening. "Do you like this guy?"

  "He hurt me," I reply quickly. "I can't like him if he deliberately hurt me."

  "Listen to me, carefully." She steps forward and scoops Pike into her own hands. "I think you're misdirecting the anger you feel about Caroline's death. I don't think you're pissed at Smith because he bought a house you wanted. I think you're mad as hell that Caroline died unexpectedly and you're angry with yourself because you think you let her down in some way. You're associating that with Smith because it's easier to deal with than to face what you really feel."

  "No," I interrupt in a huff. "You're wrong."

  "It's not his fault that she died, Brynn," she says soothingly. "So he bought a house that you wanted? Do you know how shitty you would have felt after she died being in that house all alone? It would have been pure torture for you."

  I've thought about that. I always push those feelings aside and instead dwell on the small amount of time I would have had with my grandma in the house she wanted to live in. I've even tried to convince myself that her heart attack wouldn't have happened if she would have been living in the brownstone. I know it's not true, but the imagined image of her standing at the doorway with Pike in her arms waiting to go in brings me peace.

  "It's a house." She enunciates each word. "It's just a house. Think long and hard about whether you're good with tossing this guy out with the trash over this because if you pin him to the wall tonight over a damn brownstone, you're going to lose any shot you have with him. You're pissed off that she's gone. Don't put that on him."

  "I'm so mad that she died, Adley," I say through a sob.

  "I know you are, sweetie."

  What am I supposed to do with all this anger inside of me?" I almost shout, pounding my fist on my chest. "How do I make it go away?"

  "You already are." She leans forward to brush her hand over my forehead. "You're talking about it to me. Keep doing that. Go see a therapist if you need to but get it all out, Brynn. Let it go. It's time."

  ***

  Can I come over now? I know it's not six yet, but there's something I want to talk to you about.

  I read my text message over once more before I finally hit send. It's just past five o'clock and I'm anxious to see Smith. It has nothing to do with the brownstone and everything to do with the conversation I had this morning with Adley.

  After Dr. Hunt gave me the good news that Pike is well on the road to recovery I took him for a walk in the park by my place before I dropped him off at home.

  I spent the entire afternoon with Sonya Lannen going over my rough ideas for the show suite at The Beryl. She was impressed and told me as much. I was grateful for her kind words and even more thankful that our meeting kept my mind occupied.

  Adley gave me a lot to think about this morning. I want to start fresh with Smith tonight. I want to see if the kiss can lead to more.

  I read his text message the second it arrives on my phone.

  I'm ready if you are, Petal. Head over. I'll be here.

  He doesn't know that I'm already on East Sixty-Fourth Street. I wanted to be nearby if he gave me the good-to-go. I take a deep breath, look down at the short yellow sundress and nude heels I'm wearing and I start toward the brownstone on foot.

  This is it. Tonight I'm going to do my very best to leave the past where it belongs so I can see what the future has in store for me.

  Chapter 16

  Smith

  I worked my arms out like a motherfucker this afternoon. It wasn't at the gym. I left work shortly after noon and headed directly to Park Slope, here in Brooklyn.

  A month ago I went and did the one thing I swear I'd never do again. I bought a brownstone. This one is at least in
half-ass decent shape. The first one I bought three years ago was a massive pile of shit. The woman I bought it from, Sigrid Hull, did nothing to maintain it.

  That's not to say that my great-grandparents did any upkeep either. By the time I got my hands on that building, it had needed a total gut job. It took me a year and a half and a small fortune to restore the place to a fraction of what it once was.

  I didn't need it to be magazine worthy. I needed it be livable and wheelchair accessible.

  It's one of the few brownstones on the Upper East Side that comes with an elevator. It also comes with a boatload of memories for my granddad. His family owned the building before it was sold to Sigrid's parents more than fifty years ago when my great-grandfather's business took a massive hit.

  Today, I started the remodel on the home I'm going to bring my sister and her twins to. Her husband left her without a word and she wants to be in New York where her family is. I'm going to make it happen. I want them here in Brooklyn. I want to jump full force into the role of uncle to those boys.

  My plan is to get Brynn on board for this project. I need her eye for design. I also want to give her a national platform to promote her business. It's the reason I've been pitching the idea to Resa of taking this remodel on air with Brynn at the helm of all the interior design aesthetics. I know we'll make a winning team.

  I step out of the shower and towel-dry my hair before I look in the mirror. My left hand runs over my chest and the spot where I'm thinking of getting inked. I'm taking inspiration from Brynn's tattoo. Family is everything to me too and I'm sure as shit aware of how lucky I am in that department.

  I look down at my phone on the bathroom counter when it chimes, hoping it's another message from Brynn. She texted me right before I hopped in the shower telling me she's on her way.

  It's a text from my younger brother Simon.