by Hayes, Lane
I couldn’t move at first. I was tempted to blame my whirlwind of emotions on the build-up of months’ worth of stress finally resolved, but I knew that wasn’t it. I nuzzled my chin against his and kissed him. I was about to pull away and hopefully leave my turbulent thoughts for later when I could examine them alone, but Wes locked his legs around me and shook his head.
“Are you holding me hostage?” I brushed a bead of sweat from his brow and kissed him again.
“Yes. You feel too good to let go.”
“Mmm. But you promised me champagne and caviar,” I teased. “Sounds decadent.”
“Do you like caviar?”
“I’ve never had it, but it could be my new favorite. I think I might love it.”
Wes chuckled and stared up at me with a dreamy look in his eyes. “I think I might love you.”
His voice was soft but I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t heard him. I bit my lip and cocked my head. “How do you know?”
He seemed to understand my uncertainty without taking offense that I didn’t rush to repeat the words.
“I don’t. It just feels right.”
I think I might love you was hardly the romantic line of the century, but it may as well have been because I couldn’t stop spinning on it. Because fuck…I felt the same way. In fact, I was pretty sure I could lose the I think I might and just flat out admit I was in love. And that alone was monumental. A big fucking deal. I’d never been here before. Sadly, I hadn’t loved the woman I’d asked to marry me, and though I did love Eric, it wasn’t like this. Eric was my friend. Wes was that and more.
Sometimes he felt like part of me, as though he had access to places I was afraid to examine and had done a stellar job avoiding. In some ways, the familiarity frightened me. It was comforting but it didn’t offer space to retreat. I half expected to feel claustrophobic or panicked by unspoken demands I wasn’t ready to meet. Instead, I felt oddly at peace.
* * *
I tried to act normal when we showered and re-dressed for dinner. I tried not to overthink little details like the fact he knew where I kept extra lube and condoms in the adjacent bathroom and that I was a freak about squeezing the toothpaste and rolling it neatly after each use. He knew every dish I owned was white and that the mug rings were always lined up on the right side. And he knew that any deviation was indicative of a bigger issue.
Thankfully, Wes didn’t notice I’d gone quiet. He was telling me about his meeting with a wine distributor who owned a couple of well-respected restaurants in New York, LA, and San Francisco. I nodded as I picked up my suit coat from the floor in the kitchen.
“…They’re going to feature my wines, which is great but—are you ready? The driver will be here in five minutes.”
“Yeah, I’m ready.” I pointed at the bottle of wine I’d set on the island earlier. “I guess we can save it ’til tomorrow. Thank you, by the way.”
“For what?”
“The wine.”
Wes tipped the bottle sideways and smiled. “Excellent year and I can personally vouch for the winery. You didn’t have to buy it, though. I’d give you the super-good-buddy deal, baby.”
“Super-good-buddy deal?” I snorted. “Gee thanks. But I didn’t buy it, you gave it to me.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did and you left a note too.”
“What did I say? Tell me while we walk. The driver is waiting downstairs.”
“I didn’t read it but—it’s in my other pocket.” I shrugged off the new jacket I’d put on and reached for the one I’d worn earlier.
Wes stopped on the top step. “That coat has jizz on it.”
“I’ll lick it off.” I returned his incredulous look with an innocent one. “What?”
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
I pulled out the tiny envelope triumphantly and followed him outside. I didn’t bother opening it until we were in the car.
“It says…Dear Nick, you are the smartest, sexiest man on the planet. I was wondering how you feel about blowjobs in public or in the—”
Wes put his hand over my mouth and shot a meaningful glance at the driver before snagging the envelope from me. “Behave,” he said in a low warning tone.
I clandestinely adjusted my always-hopeful dick as he pulled out his cell and used the light from the display to read the small print.
“Well? Was I close?”
“No. Or maybe. I don’t know what this means. Must be a geek love letter.”
I leaned against his arm to peer at the card and beamed at him. “You’re right. Wow. This is touching. Thank you.”
“What is it?”
“It’s part of the original code I scrapped. How did you—oh, right! The napkins. Very clever, Conrad. You really know how to get a guy, don’t ya? Flowery poems are useless to someone like me, but a complicated equation? I’m speechless.”
“If only,” he snarked before adding, “Don’t get excited. I didn’t write it. You must have another admirer.”
I frowned at the card when he handed it back to me. “That’s weird.”
“It’s just a bottle of wine,” he said as the driver pulled up in front of a small restaurant a mile from my house.
The trees in front of the brick façade building were bedecked in fairy lights lending a festive feel to the boutique businesses lining the street. I exited the car and met Wes on the sidewalk. My earlier exuberant mood was fading. The card in my pocket suddenly weighed a ton, and I didn’t know why. Wes was right. It was a bottle of wine, probably from an engineer involved in the project. It couldn’t be that important. I smiled at Wes when he held the door open for me and firmly told myself to let it go.
The interior of the restaurant was dark. Mini-crystal chandeliers hung over the mahogany and glass bar, casting a dim glow over the well-dressed patrons waiting for their tables. Wes was greeted warmly by the maître d’ who immediately directed a pretty young woman to escort us to our private table for two. I dusted off my high school French to get the gist of their exchange, but the deferential nods and enthusiastic smiles clued me in that Wes was a respected return guest.
We were shown to a table next to an arched window and given leather-bound menus and ice water. There were a handful of other tables in this section all spaced to ensure privacy and quiet. The sommelier appeared almost immediately. He seemed to know Wes well and apparently thought he was a fucking rock star. He shook Wes’s hand profusely before asking a million questions about a new Pinot blend just released at Conrad. I filed most of the conversation about the rainy season and its effect on the varietals under TMI and let my gaze roam. The low ceilings and elegant chandeliers gave the room an intimate vibe. I cocked my head to get a better look at a tasteful oil painting of the Eiffel Tower hanging near the table diagonal to ours. And did a double take.
I recognized the bend of the brunette’s slight shoulders and I had a feeling I’d given her the bag lying on the empty chair between her and her dinner companion. I’d gone over an entire year without running into Lisa. Why now? What was I supposed to say? I had to say something. She wasn’t a random acquaintance. She was the woman I’d asked to spend her life with me. Surely, she realized it was the biggest bullet she’d ever dodged by now, but still…awkward.
I took a deep breath and tuned back into the conversation at my own table.
“…the Krug Grande Cuvée to you right away. Enjoy your evening, gentlemen.”
Wes’s smile was slightly devilish. “We’ll start with champagne and caviar and slowly make our way through seven courses. How do you feel about escargot?”
“No thanks. Um…look, we have a situation.”
Wes let out an amused huff. “What is it? Don’t tell me you don’t like French cuisine.”
“I like it just fine, but…my ex is sitting ten feet away from us. Don’t look! I’m not sure how to handle this. I think they’re eating dessert, so the torture shouldn’t last long. I shouldn’t disturb them though, right? I should wait unt
il they’re leaving. Or I could ignore them. What would you do?” I waved my right hand through the air to clear the numbers popping up in my periphery before they took over and demanded my attention.
Wes leaned in and set his hand over mine. “Relax. And tell me about your day. How was the helicopter ride into the city? Was it windy? I don’t know how you do it so often. An occasional ride is one thing but I like being on the ground as much as possible.”
I stared into his eyes and saw the lifeline there. The key to keeping my thoughts from jumbling and colliding into a nonsensical sphere I didn’t manage well. I sipped my water and nodded in silent gratitude. Then I grasped hold of the lifeline and launched into some of my more memorable flights involving wind, rain and even a flock of seagulls. Everything faded from view but Wes.
Until the champagne arrived. That was probably the moment everything began to unravel. Including me.
Lisa and her date stood to leave just as the bottle was uncorked. The pop of a champagne bottle almost always drew attention and incited random conversation in which complete strangers offered congratulations and assumed you were celebrating a special event. After all, most people didn’t drop a few hundred bucks on bubbly grape juice. So yes, a few of our fellow patrons turned to gawk at us before returning to their meals. Lisa froze next to her chair and stared for a moment, pursing her lips nervously before slowly making her way to our table.
I set my napkin aside and stood to greet her with a smile I hoped didn’t look as strained as it felt.
“Hello, Nick. It’s good to see you,” she said sweetly.
But that was Lisa. She was always sweet. And kind. My former fiancée was a lovely woman with an innate elegance I’d been attracted to when we met almost two years ago. She’d been waiting in the lobby at EN Tech for her father, who at the time was our biggest investor and fan. The chance encounter seemed like providence. Lisa was pretty, single, intelligent and she liked me. I failed to consider the importance of chemistry when I barreled my way into her life and eventually broke her heart. It was history now. She was with someone new and so was I, but I’d always regret hurting her.
“You too. Um, Lisa, this is Wes Conrad.”
She smiled politely and introduced her boyfriend before turning back to Wes. “I think I’ve met you. You look very familiar.”
“I know your father. That may be it,” Wes said casually.
“That’s it. I think I met you at my parents’ house last year. I was sorry to hear about Mike. He was a nice man,” she said. “Give Geordie my best, please.”
“I will. Thank you.”
“It was nice to see you both. Take care of yourself, Nick.” She set her hand on my elbow before turning to leave, trailing her signature Marc Jacob perfume behind her.
I sat again and stared unseeing at the flute of champagne next to my napkin. The bubbles rose like confetti in the narrow glass. I wanted to count them, divide them and then pour them out on the white linen table cloth and see if I got the answers right. But of course, that didn’t make sense. Nothing really did.
“See? That wasn’t so bad,” Wes commented idly as he lifted his glass. “To you. To a new—”
“You know Don Carrigan too?” I pushed the flute back and swallowed hard.
“Yes.”
“How well do you know him? I mean…why didn’t I know that? And how does Lisa know who Mike is or was? I—I don’t get this. No, wait. I do. She was friendly to him at the winery. I forgot they were acquaintances.”
“I think we’ve been over this a few times. The tech industry is a relatively small world. It certainly was when I was part of it.”
“So, you knew who she was when I tried to return the wine last year. You didn’t take it back because of her dad. He must be a customer too.”
“Yes, but…I told you why I didn’t take it back. Don’t be ridiculous.” Wes picked up my glass and handed it to me. “Let’s toast to your success. Congratu—”
“No. I’m sorry, but…I don’t understand.” I shook my head like it might help unscramble my synapses. I didn’t know how to stop the firestorm blazing in my head now.
“Nick. There is nothing to understand. Why do you care that I know Don?”
“It seems like something I should have known!”
“Be quiet,” he said sharply. “And explain yourself.”
“He hates me, Wes. He wants to destroy me. Get it? Don hates that I hurt his daughter. And okay, I’d probably hate me too. He pulled his funding from EN Tech and doesn’t miss an opportunity to let everyone know he thinks I suck. He’s backing Norm now. Of course, I already knew the guy was shady as hell, but you warned me Norm was bad news too. You told me what he did to you. How is it possible that you’re friends with the guy who’s backing him to destroy me?”
“I didn’t know that.”
“How could you not?” I yelled, drawing attention to our corner of the restaurant.
“Lower your voice,” Wes hissed. “Don was a minor investor at Westell years ago, but he had nothing to do with what went down with Norm. He buys wine from me occasionally now. I have no idea or interest in his friendship with Norm. They’re two separate things.”
I stared at him for a long moment. “I don’t believe you.”
Silence.
“Then I think we have a problem.”
“It doesn’t add up.”
“But it’s the truth,” he countered in a low voice. “Let me ask you something. Are you having a belated reaction to running into your ex-girlfriend at a romantic table for two with a man?”
“No. That’s not it at all. I’m—yeah, it was awkward but I don’t care who knows I’m with you. I’m proud of you. I”—I turned toward my fellow diners and announced in a loud voice, “In case anyone is curious, this isn’t a business meeting. We’re together…like boyfriends, two guys who sleep tog—”
“And we’re out of here.” Wes stood and threw a few hundreds on the table then grabbed my arm and headed for the stairs.
He didn’t stop until he pushed open the front door. I lengthened my stride to catch up to him when he turned right on the sidewalk and walked purposefully down the narrow street toward the Bay.
“Wait up!” I yanked at his coat sleeve to slow him down.
He spun around angrily and pushed me against the side of the brick building, stabbing his finger at my chest as he got directly into my face.
“Are you happy now? Did that tantrum make you feel better? Because you’re never really satisfied until you get your way. You don’t care about what anyone else wants. It’s all about Nick all the fucking time!”
“Hey! I just want the truth.”
Something in his eyes hardened. “I told you the truth.”
I was proud of myself that I was able to maintain eye contact under his withering gaze. Even in the lamplight, it was kind of scary. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I sighed and shoved my hands into my pockets for warmth. Then I paced a few feet away and returned to stand in front him.
“Look at it from my side. My ex’s father joined forces with your former business partner. They started a campaign to cast doubt on my company in a bizarre fashion that makes me wonder who the hell I can trust…including you. How convenient is it that one of your employees is banging the reseller involved in this deal? How do I know you aren’t in on this too? How do I know you didn’t take that napkin from the diner and hand it over to Ryan to give to Finn? It’s not enough information to crack a code but it’s enough to make me wonder who’s sending me wine from your winery with code I gave to you if it wasn’t you in the first place!”
Wes shook his head in disbelief.
“So you think I’m out to sabotage you and drive you to the brink of sanity. Is that right? I’m not clear what my motivation is but then again, neither are you. Think!” He pulled me against him and stared into my eyes as though willing me to see beyond the words. “I love you, Nick. I love you. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. Ever.”
&n
bsp; “But—”
“No. There’s no ‘but.’ There’s no room for doubt here. Love isn’t calculated. It isn’t an equation, and it doesn’t always add up the way you think it will. You don’t get to cross out the wrong answers and force the one you want instead. You give and you take what’s given in return and then you trust.”
“Trust what? You? Me? I don’t get it.”
“I know you don’t.” He sighed with something that resembled defeat before stepping away. “We aren’t going to make it, Nicky. Not this way. I’m going home. I—”
“You’re leaving? Now? You can’t just walk away from an argument!”
“This isn’t an argument. This is you accusing me of playing part in some mind-fuck game to bring you down. This is you telling me you don’t trust me. This is you telling me you’re not ready for us. This is you telling me we’re over.”
“No. I don’t want that. I—are you leaving me? Like for good?” My voice cracked. The thundering sound of my heartbeat made it difficult to concentrate. I hadn’t felt this vulnerable or afraid since I was a kid, shaking in the back seat of a battered station wagon, wishing my demons away. Or when I was eighteen and my mother wouldn’t answer the phone when I called. My dad was one thing, but losing her…
Wes lifted his right hand to caress my cheek. The hardness in his eyes cracked and sadness seeped through.
“You break my heart, Nick. You’re perfectly imperfect. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. No one. Not even Mike. I loved him carefully, without any real passion. You…you take my breath away. You’re inside me. I feel everything you do. I don’t just hear your laughter or sense when you’re sad…I feel it. I want to make you happy. I want to fix you. Make you strong when you feel weak. Make you smile when you feel like crying. But I want someone who feels that way about me too. I’m not going through the motions of a one-sided affair again.”
“This isn’t one-sided. I feel the same way you do,” I whispered.
“You might want to, but you don’t really. You’re a mercurial tornado. You think you can will life to be the way you want it to be, but you don’t know how to put anyone else first. There’s no room for me here, baby. Not now. Maybe someday but not now.”