The Boyfriend Project

by Farrah Rochon

  Shame burned in his throat.

  If he wrote a list of his regrets, it would stretch from here to the Colorado River. Yet the one thing he should regret—the one thing that should never have happened at all—was the one thing he wouldn’t trade. He’d known from the moment she nearly crashed into him at the coffee station his first day on the job that he should have stayed as far away from her as possible. The attraction had been there from the beginning.

  Attraction wasn’t the right word. It had always been more than just attraction. The potent, all-consuming pull between them was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Pretending he could have ignored it all these weeks was pointless.

  It was inevitable that he would end up exactly where he now found himself, trying to figure out how to convince Samiah that everything between them had not been a lie.

  “Collins? Collins!”

  Startled by his boss’s uncharacteristic bellow, Daniel snapped to attention. Shit. He hadn’t even noticed that Dwyer had joined the meeting.

  “Sorry, sir,” Daniel said. “What was that?”

  “How quickly can you be back here for the in-person debrief? I want you here by tomorrow afternoon, at the latest,” he tacked on, not giving Daniel a chance to respond to his initial question.

  “Well, I guess that means I’ll be there tomorrow,” he replied.

  Dwyer’s curt nod signaled that the matter was settled. Daniel slouched in his chair and listened as the rest of the crew gave a quick rundown of where things stood with their current operations. He knew he was deep in uncharted territory when he couldn’t scrounge up an ounce of pleasure over news that Bryce Stewart’s job had suffered a setback. There was no room for gloating here. They were all on the same team; they all had the same goal. Putting the bad guys away.

  And they all had to make sacrifices in order to get the job done. Daniel just never thought his sacrifice would be so fucking painful.

  Once the meeting wrapped up, he logged off the computer for the last time and packed up the four external hard drives, securing them in the laptop case he would carry with him on the plane. He checked his email and saw that a flight had already been booked for him for ten a.m. tomorrow morning.

  His eyes fell shut.

  Daniel felt raw. It took several tries before he was able to swallow past the knot of thick emotion lodged in his throat. He doubted he’d ever get past the hollowed-out feeling in his chest. The hole there couldn’t possibly be filled.

  He shut the lamp off on the desk and made his way out of the darkened room. He found Quentin in the kitchen sipping on a bottle of chocolate milk, his butt perched against the counter.

  “How’d it go?” Quentin asked. “You the star of FinCEN?”

  Daniel shrugged. “I did my job. That shouldn’t make me a star.”

  “Bullshit. This wasn’t an easy win. You deserve to celebrate it.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not really in the mood for celebrating.”

  Quentin took a sip from the bottle, then said, “I know you’re feeling like shit right now, but you did the right thing.”

  “Of course I did the right thing,” Daniel said. “And we have four people in custody to show for it.”

  “I’m talking about that other thing. The thing you had to do in order to get the job done. She’s going to be pissed at you, but if what you had was real, she’ll eventually forgive you.”

  Daniel leaned against the counter, his limbs suddenly lacking the strength to support him.

  “Go to her,” Quentin said.

  His head popped up. “Are you crazy? She would probably run me through with a knife.”

  “I’m sure she would feel justified in doing so,” Quentin said with a nod. “Just take the stab and keep going. Explain as much as you can without jeopardizing the case. Like I said, if it’s real, you’ll get past this. Remember the story I told you about how my wife and I met? You think it started out all sunshine and roses?”

  “I’m guessing that’s a no?”

  “That’s a hell no.” Quentin glanced down at his chest. “There are a few cuts under these clothes.”

  Daniel managed to crack the first hint of a smile he had been able to muster in the last twenty-four hours. “This is probably a bad idea,” he said.

  “What would be worse? Her slamming the door in your face—after spitting in your face,” Quentin said. “Or you leaving Austin without ever speaking to her? Are you prepared for how shitty that will feel when the numbness wears off in a few days? If you think you hate yourself now, you have no idea what you’re in store for. Go to her,” he repeated.

  He was right. Daniel knew he couldn’t leave without making at least one attempt to talk to Samiah. But, if he did, he would have to give up this twisted sense of comfort he’d found in speculating whether she hated him. Wouldn’t it be easier to always wonder rather than go to her and have it confirmed?

  Fucking coward.

  Exhaling a weary breath, he pushed away from the counter. Quentin did the same.

  “I’ll more than likely be out of here by the time you get back,” he said. He set his drink down and held out a hand.

  Daniel took it and pulled him in for a one-armed hug. “Thanks for the hospitality.”

  “Thanks for introducing me to the Wu-Tang Clan.”

  “It’s a tragedy that you’re just discovering them, but better late than never.”

  Quentin tapped him on the back. “Good luck. You’ve got my number if you’re ever in the San Antonio office.”

  Daniel left him in the same place he usually found him, on the sofa surrounded by documents. He hopped onto the MoPac Expressway to avoid the traffic lights of Lamar Boulevard, but got off at the next exit after crawling for a full twenty minutes in bumper-to-bumper traffic. By the time he made it to Samiah’s, the sun had started to set, reflecting streaks of saffron and magenta off her building’s sleek glass windows.

  He pulled into a nearby spot that had just been vacated, but instead of getting out of the car, he sat behind the wheel for several minutes. An unease he hadn’t felt since those nights he’d spent trekking through the archipelagos of Indonesia washed over him.

  Why was he even debating this? The chances that she would even allow the concierge to let him up were practically nil. He turned off the ignition, got out of the car, and headed for the lobby.

  Apprehension and dread mingled in his gut as he waited for her to answer the concierge’s call.

  “Hello?”

  Daniel’s chest clenched at the sound of her voice coming through the speaker.

  “Ms. Brooks, Daniel Collins is here to see you,” the concierge announced.

  A significant pause stretched over the line. Disbelief charged through him when he next heard, “You can let him up.”

  The concierge nodded toward the elevator bank. The tension flooding his veins intensified as the car climbed upward. Daniel was certain he’d find her waiting for him when he got off on her floor, but the hallway was empty. He walked up to her door and rapped on it twice. It opened.

  He swallowed hard, regret residing in his throat like a living thing. He waited for her to invite him in, but after a few exceedingly uncomfortable moments, realized she wouldn’t.

  “I just want a minute to explain myself,” he opened.

  Samiah stood in the middle of the doorway. One brow arched as she stared at him, waiting.

  Daniel coughed, suddenly unsure where to begin.

  “I’m not sure how much you know,” he said.

  “I know you used my credentials to access Trendsetters’ client database, and that you’ve been lying to me about who you really are. That’s really all I need to know,” she said.

  He nodded. She was right. The ancillary details were worthless. What mattered is that he’d lied to her.

  “I didn’t set out to steal your access card from the very beginning,” he said. “The lies…that’s…that’s part of my job. I was lying to everybody.”

 
A muscle jumped in her cheek.

  “Not that you’re like everybody else,” he quickly added.

  Shit. Could he fuck this up any more than he already had?

  “Samiah, please,” Daniel pleaded. “Please believe me when I tell you that I never meant to hurt you.”

  He started to reach for her, but pulled back when she flinched. He shoved his hands in his pockets, but continued to plead.

  “Copying your keycard was a last resort. Even after you were given access to exactly what I needed, I refused to use it. It was only after I got word that the money-laundering ring was preparing to go underground that I realized I had to do something. I hate that it had to come at the expense of your trust.”

  Silence yawned between them, filling the space with an unbearable discomfort as he waited for her to speak. When she did, her voice held not a single drop of emotion.

  “I get it,” she said. “You were just doing your job.”

  “I’m sorry,” Daniel said again.

  “I’m sure you are,” she said. “I’d like you to leave now.”

  Then she shut the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Samiah switched the balloon bouquet to her other hand so that she could hit the elevator button to take her up to postpartum recovery at St. David’s Women’s Center. When the doors opened, she stopped in at the nurses’ station and showed them the name tag that had been printed out for her at the hospital’s security desk, then continued down the sterile hallway, gently knocking on the door when she came to room 228.

  “Come in,” came Bradley’s voice in a loud whisper.

  Samiah walked into the room and instant tears sprang to her eyes. She gasped at the sight of the tiny baby nestled in her brother-in-law’s arms. He put a finger to his lips and gestured his head toward Denise, who was asleep in the bed.

  Ouch. Her big sister was in dire need of a hairbrush and edge cream. Then again, after spending the past nine hours pushing out an eight-pound baby, Denise no doubt cared little about her edges.

  Samiah set the balloons on a nearby credenza and made a beeline for her new niece.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered, scooping the delicate bundle from her brother-in-law’s arms. “Could she be any more precious?”

  Little Aislinn, who was named after Bradley’s late mother, had her father’s green eyes and pert nose, but everything else screamed Brooks.

  If there was anything that could lift her spirits after the abominable mood she’d been in, Samiah had found it in this precious new life that would fill their family with joy for years to come. As she looked upon her niece’s beautiful face, Samiah immediately understood why her sister had endured so much. She’d never said it aloud, but she’d thought Denise and Bradley were crazy for spending the thousands of dollars they’d shelled out for fertility treatments. She’d watched her sister take countless shots and suffer through over a dozen painful procedures to become pregnant, and wondered why.

  She got it now. This baby, this perfect little human she now held, was worth it all.

  “She’s so gorgeous,” Samiah said to her brother-in-law, who looked almost as ragged as her sister. His red hair stuck up in various spots, and it looked as if he hadn’t slept in at least twenty-four hours.

  The baby stirred, and then, a second later, started bellowing.

  “Oh, shit. What’s wrong?” Samiah asked.

  “That’s the call of the hungry.”

  She turned to find Denise pushing herself up on her elbows, her fatigue still evident from the deep shadows under her eyes. She held her arms out.

  “Bring my love to me,” she said.

  Samiah carried the baby to her sister’s waiting arms and felt her tears returning as she watched her cradle the nursing baby against her breast. The love on Denise’s face was unlike anything Samiah had ever seen.

  Bradley came up behind Samiah, clamping a hand on her shoulder. “I’m going to go downstairs and get something to eat,” he said. “Either of you want anything?” After they both declined, he gave out kisses, first to Samiah, then Denise, then to the top of his newborn’s head.

  Once alone, Samiah turned her attention back to her sister and niece.

  “She really is the most gorgeous baby I’ve ever seen in all my life,” Samiah said.

  “I wholeheartedly agree.” Denise smiled down at the baby.

  Perching on the edge of the bed, Samiah patted her knee. “How are you feeling?”

  “Sore. But it’s that good kind of sore. The kind of sore you don’t mind.” She looked up at her. “How about you?”

  “Sore sorta fits,” Samiah said with a laugh. “But not the good kind.”

  “I’m sorry, honey,” Denise said.

  Samiah waved off her concern. “I’ll be fine.” She started to rise, but her sister grabbed her wrist.

  “No, no, no,” Denise said. “You still owe me the whole story about what happened. And I don’t want to hear any of that ‘I can’t talk about it’ crap.”

  “I thought you learned everything you needed to know from Twitter?”

  Her sister gave her the stink eye. “You know Twitter doesn’t tell the whole story.”

  It had been a week since federal agents stormed the offices of Trendsetters. Samiah had gone upstairs by the time the local reporters from several news stations arrived, but there had been ample activity for them to capture and upload to their Twitter feeds.

  She’d managed to fend off Denise’s incessant questions by telling her that employees had been asked not to discuss it, but Samiah knew that excuse would eventually crumble under the pressure of her nosy sister’s badgering.

  “Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything. I want to know all the dirt.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Dammit, she’d come here to escape thoughts of what happened last week.

  “Everything,” Denise reiterated. “And I’ll know if you’re leaving anything out.”

  Samiah dropped her head back and released an exaggerated sigh. Yet once she began her narrative, she found herself sharing everything, including the romance she’d started with Daniel.

  “Are you shitting me?”

  “Hey, watch that language in front of my niece.”

  Denise covered the baby’s ear. “I can’t believe you were dating a hot federal agent and you didn’t tell me!” she hissed. “How could you keep that from me?”

  “I didn’t tell anyone,” Samiah said with a shrug. “Well, except for Taylor and London, but only because I felt guilty about reneging on the boyfriend project thing we have going on.”

  Denise flapped her fingers toward the credenza that held the flowers and balloon bouquets. “Grab my phone.”

  Samiah retrieved the phone and settled back on the side of the bed. Still cradling the baby, Denise one-handedly scrolled. After a minute she turned the screen to face Samiah.

  “Which one is he?”

  Samiah stared at the cadre of men and women gathered together, all with determined looks on their faces. She winced at the stab of pain that pierced her chest at the sight of Daniel.

  “The one not wearing a blue jacket,” she said.

  “I was hoping you would say that. He is sooo damn fine. What is he? Black and what?”

  “Korean,” Samiah said.

  “I seriously cannot believe you didn’t tell me about him, especially after how worried I’ve been about you after that mess with that Craig character.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s probably because of what happened with Craig that kept me quiet when it came to Daniel.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter anymore. He’s no longer in Austin. I guess he’s off saving the world.”

  She was about to add “like he did when he was a Marine,” but she had no idea if Daniel had even been in the military or if it was part of the persona that had been created for him. Was the adorable story about how his parents met true, or had he made that up? She found
herself questioning every single thing he’d ever told her. Not knowing if it had all been a lie was the most difficult part in all of this.

  And yet she no longer blamed him.

  Did his betrayal still hurt? Of course it did.

  Was she still angry? Hell yes, she was still angry.

  But this past week had given her time to work through all that had happened, and after considering things from his perspective, she found she could no longer fault him for simply doing his job. She argued with herself that he never should have allowed their relationship to flourish, but he had tried to put the brakes on it.

  She remembered how he’d pulled away after that very first kiss. But then he’d come back to her, almost apologetically, as if it pained him to do so, as if he knew they shouldn’t be together, but he couldn’t help himself. Hadn’t she felt the same way? Hadn’t she tried to fight her feelings for him because she didn’t want anything—not even a relationship—to get in the way of her finally achieving her goals when it came to her app? And hadn’t she failed miserably?

  How could she fault Daniel for not being able to pull away when she hadn’t been able to do so either?

  No, she no longer blamed him for the sore heart she’d been tending to this week. Eventually, once she had a bit more distance from the raw pain that thoughts of his betrayal continued to heap upon her, she might find a way to even forgive him.

  And, just maybe, once the hurt subsided and she could fix herself a cup of coffee at the office without her soul wincing, maybe then she would be able to look back on these last two months and actually smile.

  She wasn’t there yet.

  For now, she would continue her steadfast effort to put Daniel and everything about him out of her head. She was content to find her joy in this new, precious baby girl that had entered their lives.

  * * *

  Daniel sensed the moment she spotted him. Her steps halted midstride, and her shoulders stiffened.

  He had been standing in her condo building’s lobby for over two hours. The afternoon security guard, whom he’d never met before, recognized him from the news coverage of the Trendsetters bust. He’d spent over an hour asking Daniel about everything under the sun when it came to his undercover work. Thanks to easily uploadable cell phone pictures and searchable hashtags, it would be a while before he could go out in the field again. The takedown had happened so quickly that he forgot to assume the guise of the clueless coworker. Now his face was everywhere.