We have a great time despite my mood. Owen’s constant positive attitude keeps me from getting too down, and he keeps me smiling through the whole evening. He even gets a free dessert, just because the waitress likes him.
When we get back to the room, Owen heads straight to bed, and I decide to stay up and read. I know what you’re thinking. You think I’m waiting for Addie. Well, I’m not. Okay, well, I just want to make sure she’s okay. Plus, I like to read before bed. What am I reading? I have no idea. The words are blurred on the page. I hear voices outside the door. I try to make out what they’re saying as I move closer. Then it’s quiet. My heart stops. I just know that he’s kissing her. The same lips that touched mine. Ugh. What is happening to me? I hear voices again and the turn of the knob. I race back to the sofa and resume my act of reading. My heart is beating wildly. I try to concentrate, but having read the same paragraph over and over, I already know that it’s futile. As she sashays through the door, my eyes narrow at her. She flashes a megawatt smile before throwing a little sass my way. “Aww, you didn’t have to wait up for me.”
“Did you have fun, Addie?” I spit the words out like venom. It sounds harsher than I intend. I cringe, but I’m pretty sure my face maintains its cold, blank appearance.
“I did, indeed. We talked for hours. It was effortless. He is so interesting and accomplished. He volunteers at a variety of places. I mean, he is just so…impressive. You probably noticed how comfortable our conversation was since you stalked me.” She cocks her head and smirks.
“Contrary to what you think, I was acting as Owen’s wingman. However, I did see that Grayson was a little confused about personal space and that he was overly touchy. It seemed a little intimate for a first date.” I really need to stop talking.
“Jealous?” I open my mouth to respond, but she immediately continues, “Well, it doesn’t matter. You have made it abundantly clear that I’m your client. My dating life is not your business. And I will be seeing him again once we get back to New York. Goodnight, Jameson. Sleep well.”
She heads to her room and quietly shuts the door. I saw the hurt in her eyes—the tears threatening to spill. The thought that I keep hurting her guts me. I know I won’t be sleeping well again tonight.
Addie
As we head to the airport, and Jameson is back to acting distant. His usual banter with Owen is absent. His jaw is tight. The vein in his head protrudes. Honestly, the stick up his ass is much bigger than normal. This should be a relaxing flight home. Not. Meanwhile, Owen has charmed the flight attendants in first class. He has toured the cockpit and is currently being served a snack before we even leave the ground.
“What?” Owen catches me looking at him.
“Can you at least wait for everyone to board before you ask for a snack?”
He snickers at me. “I can’t help it that I attract hot chicks who want to give me food. Did you see the selfie I posted on Instagram? All my friends are jealous.” I roll my eyes.
Looking at his Instagram, I find that he has over a million followers now. For the love of Jesus. I laugh at some of the pictures from last night. The selfies of him with the waitresses are photobombed by the angry patron sitting nearby. Of course, that angry patron is Jameson. The vein in his neck is bulging. His eyes are narrowed. He looks pained, or perhaps a better term would be constipated. Why does that make me happy? I need to focus on Grayson. He sent me a sweet text this morning wishing me safe travels. I invited him to be my date for the New York book launch. I do like him. I am attracted to him, I think, but I keep comparing him to Jameson, which isn’t fair. Okay, so I’m a little confused. Hopefully, I can get some perspective when we get home and I’m away from him. Spending more time with Grayson is probably the best way to get over my infatuation with my publicist. I need to keep reminding myself that he is a paid employee.
“You’re in a pleasant mood today,” I say to the man in question. “Did something happen to get your boxers extra twisty?” He turns to me, his face inches from mine -my breath hitches.
“Yes, as a matter of fact. My boxers are extra twisty because I have this client whose life is a circus rife with drunken clowns. So much drama, I can’t even keep up with the cast of characters that continue to crawl out of the woodwork.”
“Well, this client sounds lovely.” I continue to smile, knowing that it’s driving him insane. And yes, I know that he’s talking about me. And yes, he is on point about my life being a circus. He puts his earbuds in and goes back to ignoring me.
We land at JFK, where Owen hugs every flight attendant before deplaning. He is totally in his element. A town car is waiting for us, and I realize that I can’t wait to get back to my apartment. I miss the simplicity of my life before the success of my book—how uneventful it was. What I used to think was boring now looks rather appealing.
We pull up to our apartment building and unload our luggage. Jameson and Owen do some weird fist-bump routine before he gives me an abrupt wave with an indication that he will call later to go over our schedule for the week. There’s a tug in my chest as the car drives away. Being with him for the last few weeks has given me an element of comfort. Safety. Something that I haven’t felt in a while, if ever. I shrug it off, knowing that once I get into my routine, I’ll feel better. And hopefully, my daddy drama will subside. My phone rings, and I see that it’s Nina. I smile at the prospect of catching up with my friend.
“Hey!” I say.
“Welcome home! Thought maybe we could have a little girl time. Dinner on Friday?”
“Sounds good. I can’t wait to see you.” We chat a few minutes longer and end our call. I proceed to unpack all of the dirty clothes that Owen and I accumulated. At this point, it will take me weeks to finish doing laundry. My phone pings. I see it’s Grayson. I’ll be honest, I was hoping it was Jameson. I shake my head.
Grayson:
Hope you had a good trip home. Would love to see you. Dinner on Friday?
Me:
The trip was good. Just trying to get back into my routine. I have plans Friday. Can you do Saturday?
Grayson:
Saturday works. 7 okay? I can pick you up.
I ponder that. Do I want him to pick me up, or should I just meet him? I’m waffling. Does he expect me to give up the goods? Do I even want to give up the goods? I am overthinking the question. My phone pings again.
Grayson:
I don’t have to pick you up though. Hope I didn’t scare you off.
Me:
Sorry. Owen needed something. You didn’t scare me off, but let’s just meet there. It will be easier for me. (Yes, I lied. Don’t judge).
Grayson:
Okay. I will text you the address once I make the reservation. Looking forward to it, Addie.
Me:
Me too. See you then.
I put down my phone and smile. Maybe dating Grayson will shift my thoughts away from Jameson. Maybe spending more time with him will give me clarity.
Jameson
I drop my bags on the sofa in my apartment. It has been eight months since I moved in, and I just realize how sterile it is. Sure, there are the basics, but nothing personal. It’s just another area of my life where I can’t commit. Then I think of Addie’s place, where every corner is jam-packed with books, photos, and warmth. Her place is a home. Her place is also a firetrap.
I was such an asshole to Addie today, but honestly, that’s the only way I can keep my distance. The silence is deafening here. I miss Owen. I miss Addie. I miss their banter and Addie antagonizing me. I need to get out of my head. Fortunately, I’m meeting with a new clie
nt on Friday night. Chelsea Morrow is an up-and-coming artist. Her paintings are becoming a hot commodity internationally, and her agent contacted me to help navigate the publicity. I’m looking forward to diving into something new—a distraction from Addie.
As I unpack, my phone rings. It’s Grady. Hopefully, he has some news about Addie’s father.
“What’s the word, Grady?”
“Well, it’s interesting. My guy followed Dorothy into a seedy bar last night, where she met Richard and another man. The meeting was tense. Does the name Wendell Brooks ring a bell?”
“Isn’t he a senator?” My mind is spinning, trying to figure out how any of this could be related to Addie.
“Yeah, and so now the trick is finding out what the three of them are up to and how Senator Brooks fits into the equation.”
What. The. Fuck. Is. Happening? I can’t even wrap my head around the insanity that is unfolding. What is Dorothy’s end game?
“Just keep a tail on her for now. I’m not going to tell Addie anything yet until we know the whole story.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be in touch.” We disconnect, and I’m left with a sinking feeling.
Addie
Friday night arrives, and I head out to meet Nina. We decided on a quaint Italian restaurant in the East Village. I would have been fine with a greasy diner, but I am trying to be open-minded since I don’t like to step out of my comfort zone. I am greeted by a perky blond in a tight dress. I wonder if she can move. I wonder if she enjoys cheeseburgers or simply feasts on a buffet of kale.
“Can I help you?” Her tone is threaded with annoyance.
“Yes, I’m meeting Nina Bryant.” I smile. She nods and proceeds to walk away after she looks me up and down with disgust. I suppose I’m meant to follow her, so I do. A greasy diner would never have been this rude.
Nina is wearing skinny jeans with an off-the-shoulder blouse. She looks gorgeous as usual. I’m grateful that George gave my closet an overhaul, although I did salvage some of my yoga pants and T-shirts by hiding them. Please don’t tell him. Anyway, I picked a blue maxi dress that is both comfortable and functional—very important characteristics, especially since I am planning to carbo-load. Nina practically throws herself at me, and I laugh.
“God, I am so glad to see you. I feel like it’s been years since we’ve seen each other. So, how is everything? I feel like so much has happened, and we haven’t had time to chat, so spill.” She sips her chilled martini.
“Can I get a cocktail before I spill my guts to you?”
Nina waves the waiter over, and while he’s walking toward us, I see a face at the bar. Jameson. With him is a very attractive brunette who’s caressing his arm. She is laughing. He is smiling. My insides twist. For fuck’s sake, now I am jealous with a capital J. I order a double vodka and soda and turn my attention back to Nina. Nina raises her eyebrow and then follows my eyes to the bar. She says to the waiter, “Keep them coming.”
“Alright, what the hell is happening with you and silver fox?” Nina inquires, using the nickname I used to refer to Jameson when I first met him.
“We kissed. It was amazing. He grew more distant, and now I’m going out with Grayson tomorrow night. End of story.” Not quite the fun spiel I had planned, but now my mood has changed. I thank the waiter as he brings my cocktail. I would have hugged him, but I didn’t want to scare him. I chug my drink. Sure, it isn’t ladylike, but I don’t give a crap at this point. “Doesn’t matter anyway, as it appears that he’s already involved with someone. And, as he keeps telling me, I’m just a client.”
She laughs. “You have nothing to worry about there. That’s Chelsea Morrow. She’s an artist and his newest client. Look at his body language. He isn’t comfortable with all the touching. You can tell. Jealous?”
“No. Yes. I don’t fucking know. I’m so confused. Every time I’m with Grayson, I compare him to Jameson, which isn’t fair. Grayson is the whole package. He’s a good kisser, and he’s kind, funny, compassionate, and good-looking. He doesn’t get annoyed with my quirks. Wait, how do you know that is his new client?” My curiosity is piqued.
“Who are you trying to convince? Me or you? How do you feel when he kisses you?” she inquires as she gives me a smile.
“Well, that’s the thing. When Grayson kissed me, I got all tingly, but I think it was because I was picturing Jameson.” I cringe at the admission.
Nina raises her eyebrows and mutters, “Interesting.” She taps her fingers on her chin.
“Anyway, I’m going out with Grayson tomorrow night, so maybe it will be different. I need a little distance from my publicist.” I focus on my almost empty drink.
“Look, Jameson is different with you. Just remember, if you aren’t feeling it with Grayson, then maybe you shouldn’t be going out with him.”
“I hear you, Nina. You never answered me. How do you know that she’s his new client? Also, I would prefer to discuss your love life,” I deflect. The whole issue with Jameson is so frustrating. I haven’t heard from him in several days, unless you count the schedule that his assistant emailed me—which, by the way, I don’t.
“Stop looking over there. Let’s order dinner. The way you’re drinking, you’re gonna need some sustenance to soak up the alcohol. Drunk Addie isn’t to be trusted.” She laughs. “To answer your question, Harrison told me when I spoke with him today.” Now her eyes are glued to the bottom of her empty martini glass. Interesting.
“Does he fit into your love life? I watch you two, you know. The sexual tension radiates off you both. It’s a weird dance. Why aren’t you hitting that?”
“Oh, my God! Did you just grow a penis? I am not hitting anything, least of all, Harrison. That man is infuriating. I mean, if we’re talking about physically hitting, then I’m on board. Otherwise, I will pass.” Her face flushes. “Let’s not talk about men anymore.”
“Agreed. I’m going to hit the head. I’ll be right back.”
Nina laughs, “No more alcohol for you.” I smirk and make my way to the restroom. After checking myself in the mirror and giving myself a much-needed pep talk, I open the door and run into a brick wall, a.k.a. Jameson.
“Hey, Addie. Enjoying your dinner with Nina?”
I sway a little, and he puts his strong hands on my shoulders to steady me.
“Yes, I am. What about you? Enjoying your time with your ‘client’?” I use air quotes when I say, client.
“Yes. Chelsea is a new client. An artist on the rise. She’s getting ready to do an international show.” He says this as if he’s trying to explain himself.
“How wonderful! Is she a sculptor?” I grit my teeth as I ask.
He smirks. “No, she’s a painter. Why do you ask?” Our faces are inches from each other.
“Well, she’s awfully handsy. I just thought maybe she was going to sculpt you.”
He laughs. Like a full-on loud belly laugh. “Jealous, Addie?” He holds my eyes with a penetrating gaze.
“Nope. I have a date with Grayson tomorrow night, so I’m focused on that.” He grimaces. I smirk. Boom! Drop the mic, bitches! I walk away, swaying a little to the right and then to the left. It was my best impression of a pinball machine. Miraculously, I make it back to the table without falling. Instead of feeling smug, I feel empty.
Jameson
I see her as she enters the restaurant. My stomach drops, thinking she might be here to meet Grayson, but I’m relieved to see Nina embrace her. I am waiting for my new client, Chelsea Morrow, who happens to come in while my eyes are still lingering on Addie. As Chelsea walks toward me, I notice how beautiful she is. She’s tall and willowy with long, wavy brown hair. Her short mini dress shows off her toned legs. Totally my type, and yet she does nothing for me.
“Jameson, it is such an extreme pleasure meeting you. Thanks so much for taking me as a client. You came highly recommended.” S
he exaggerates the word “extreme” while she touches my arm and begins to rub it. A little touchy-feely, which is something I dislike in people I’ve just met. I move my arm, hoping it’ll send a subtle message. I’m wrong. She simply moves her hand in tandem.
“Nice to meet you, Chelsea. I got all of the information I need from your agent, so now we can just go over the schedule and how things will work on my end.”
Her smile falters. “Well, we can get to that later. Let’s get to know each other a little better.” She purrs while continuing to rub my arm. I laugh. Not the laugh where you think something is funny, but the kind that says, “Um, no,” and I remove her hand from my arm. I happen to look over and notice Addie watching me. Part of me wants to explain that this is only a client, but then there’s the other part that reminds me that Addie is only supposed to be a client too. I nurse my scotch, periodically peeking at Addie over the rim of my glass. She looks beautiful in her dress. I notice that she’s animated in whatever she’s sharing with Nina. I also notice that she’s taking some rather generous sips of her drink.
“Chelsea, I don’t mix business with pleasure. If that’s what you’re looking for, then we have nothing further to discuss.”
Her smile drops while she regroups.
“Of course, Jameson. I apologize. I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries. Let’s get down to business.”
I start explaining to Chelsea how we’ll move forward with her publicity this week, but I can’t stop myself from continually looking over at Addie. When she gets up to go to the restroom, I excuse myself. As we share our usual snarky banter, there are two reasons why I continue to engage. One, she is under my skin, and two, I’m crazy. I must’ve lost my mind. I just can’t seem to help myself. It’s like an addiction. However, talking to her was a mistake—the realization that she is moving on with that douche left me feeling angry. Yes, I’m aware of my jealousy. It’s irrational and confusing. She deserves someone who will make her happy. That person is not me.
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