The Boyfriend Project

by Farrah Rochon

  His relief had been immediate when the evening security guard took over. This one, who had been on duty several times when he’d previously visited, kept his eyes on his paperback novel and allowed Daniel to wait in peace for Samiah to get home.

  Now, he wondered if he should have come here at all. Now that she stood only a few yards away, it felt as if he was forcing this meeting. She didn’t owe him anything, not even her time.

  But he had to see her. He needed at least one more chance to explain himself.

  The past week had been the hardest of his life. He no longer questioned whether she hated him. How could she not hate him after the way he’d betrayed her trust? But maybe if he knew the extent to which she hated him, he could gauge whether he had any chance whatsoever of earning her forgiveness. Not that he deserved it.

  He’d spent the past week toiling over what he would have done differently if given the chance. The hard truth was that there was little he would change. Except for one crucial thing.

  If wishes were being granted, he wished he had never left her bed the night he stole her access card. If he could rewrite the past, he would have come clean to her as he held her in his arms. He would have told her the real reason he’d taken the job at Trendsetters and would have tried his hardest to impart just how important it was to access that database.

  And he would have asked her permission to use her credentials to infiltrate the security system.

  There was a possibility she would have turned him down. Maybe she would have even gone to the powers that be at Trendsetters and clued them in to what he was doing, but it would have been better than him going behind her back. With that one decision, he’d shattered her trust in him. He wouldn’t get it back. He didn’t have a right to it.

  Still, he hoped for the chance to tell her how sorry he was. If that’s all she granted him, that would be enough.

  Daniel stood with his hands in his pockets, waiting for her to make her next move. She’d entered the building from the side door near the garage, and had been on her way to the alcove that held the mailboxes when she’d spotted him. Her steps had immediately halted. Puzzlement shrouded her expression, as if he was the last person she’d ever expect to find here.

  And why should she expect to see him? He hadn’t contacted her since she’d asked him to leave last week. He’d wanted to—had erased no less than a hundred text messages before he could send them. It hadn’t felt right to contact her via text. Even a phone call seemed too impersonal. He had no idea what state she was in, and the last thing he wanted to do was cause more pain.

  Instead, he’d waited until he could get a day off and booked a flight to Austin. He was scheduled to fly out on a six a.m. flight back to Virginia in the morning. Even if the only thing this trip accomplished was giving him these few moments with her, it would have been worth it. Just seeing her face again, breathing the same air she breathed, made him whole.

  Daniel walked to where she still stood, just to the right of a round glass table that held a large vase filled with fresh flowers.

  “Uh, hi,” he said.

  Silence followed his ungraceful greeting. It was awkward and tense and so incredibly uncomfortable it made his skin itch, but his comfort wasn’t important right now.

  Finally, she responded. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d gone back to DC.”

  “Virginia,” he said. “Vienna, just outside of DC. That’s where I’ve been since…well, since the day after I last saw you. The debrief after months-long operations takes some time.”

  “Are you back in Austin?”

  “Just for today,” he answered. “Just for right now. I have to fly back tomorrow.”

  “Tying up loose ends, I assume? Like the apartment you share with your ‘friend’s brother’?”

  Damn, even her air quotes seemed angry. Daniel swallowed hard. There had been so many lies.

  “I moved out of the apartment last week. And my roommate, well, I guess you figured out that Quentin isn’t exactly what I presented him to be.”

  “Is he your partner at whatever place you work up there in Virginia?”

  He shook his head. “Quentin is with DHS, Department of Homeland Security. I’m an agent at FinCEN.”

  “Fin what?”

  He looked over both shoulders and stuffed his hands farther into his pockets. “The Financial Crimes Enforcement Network,” he said in a slightly lower voice. “It’s a division of the Treasury Department.”

  She nodded again, but didn’t speak. Tension-filled seconds continued to tick away as they maintained this awkward tableau. What should he do? Should he move toward her? Should he offer to relieve her of the shopping bag she held? Should he accept that this is how things would end and say goodbye?

  No, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t leave without clarifying any misconceptions she might have about the operation he’d conducted here. At the very least, he had to make sure she understood that he hadn’t set out to use her.

  “Samiah, can we…can we go up to your place?” He raised his hands. “I just want twenty minutes to explain to you what happened.”

  “I don’t need you to explain anything. I already know what happened,” she said. She clasped both hands around the shopping bag’s handle and sent it on a gentle sway. The crinkle of the plastic hitting her thighs was the only sound in the lobby.

  “Not all of it. It wasn’t all a lie,” he whispered past the emotion clogging his throat. “I need you to know that, Samiah. Please,” he pleaded. “Give me twenty minutes.”

  She pressed her lips together, her expression evolving from pensive to conflicted to, thankfully, one of acquiescence.

  “No,” she answered.

  Daniel’s head jerked back. “No?”

  “No,” she repeated. Then she turned on her heel and left him standing in the middle of the lobby.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Samiah gathered the collection of blue Post-its outlining the procedure for data integration for the Android version of her app—one of the last steps before beta testing—and placed them in order on her kitchen island. She’d glimpsed only the tiniest pinprick of light at the end of the tunnel, but when she considered how long she’d been on this journey, it felt as if achieving her dream of building Just Friends was finally within her reach.

  Her decision to use one of the many vacation days she’d accumulated was the best thing she could have done. Apart from a quick visit to Denise’s early this morning to welcome Baby Aislinn home, Samiah had sequestered herself in her condo and disconnected herself from all social media.

  She’d made a concerted effort to expunge thoughts of everything but her app from her mind. It had worked for the most part.

  If only her brain would refrain from its constant, annoying attempts to continue the conversation in the lobby downstairs last night, that would be great. But her brain was having none of that. It insisted on asking questions she didn’t have the mental bandwidth to properly examine right now.

  What if she’d allowed Daniel to continue with his explanation last night? Would he have revealed that he’d been under duress and had no choice but to lie to her? Would he have apologized?

  Does it even matter?

  “You know it does,” Samiah acknowledged.

  After giving herself a few hours to wrestle with her thoughts, she’d finally reached a place where she could accept that things were possibly not as they seemed. Until she granted Daniel the opportunity to explain his actions, she would never get answers to the questions that plagued her. Maybe she would give him that chance the next time she saw him.

  If she ever saw him again.

  A sharp ache pierced her chest at the possibility that his shocked, wounded expression just before she left him in the lobby might be the last image she saw of him. He couldn’t disappear forever, could he? In this day and age of zero privacy, she would eventually be able to track him down. But not until she was ready.

  Just as Samiah returned to
the sticky notes lined along her kitchen island, her phone chimed with a text. She’d set it to Do Not Disturb, which meant only texts from the few people saved to her favorites list could get through.

  It was from Taylor.

  Emergency! Need you at botanical gardens at Zilker Park.

  What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Samiah texted back.

  Just get here. Please. came Taylor’s reply.

  “What in the world…”

  What kind of emergency could she have gotten herself into at the botanical gardens of all places?

  Samiah’s stomach pitched as she recalled a conversation she’d had with Taylor a couple of weeks ago. She’d suggested that the serenity of the rose garden would be the perfect spot for Taylor to hold a tai chi class. Had she gone there and hurt herself doing tai chi?

  “Shit,” Samiah said.

  She changed out of her shorts and into a pair of jeans, but didn’t bother to change out of her ratty Rice University T-shirt. If Taylor was spread out on the ground with a sprained back, she wouldn’t care about Samiah’s clothes.

  She grabbed her keys and locked the door behind her, pulling up London’s number as she made her way to the elevator. She pressed her name, but ended the call before it could ring. Taylor would have tried contacting London first, especially if she was hurt. London must be in surgery.

  Samiah rushed to the parking garage and got into her car, thankful she was only a few minutes from the park. It was just after three p.m., so traffic on Barton Springs Road should still be relatively light. She considered dialing 911 but thought better of it. She wasn’t sure what type of emergency situation she was facing.

  She turned into the entrance and wound her way up the drive, paying the two-dollar entrance fee and ducking into the first parking space. There were only three other cars parked. That’s probably why Taylor had contacted her; there was no one around to hear her yelling for help.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” Samiah mumbled as she walked past the welcome center.

  I’m here, she texted. Where are you?

  Japanese Gardens. Look for the Post-its.

  Samiah stopped short.

  Post-its?

  She stared at the message for a heartbeat before swiping her finger across the touchscreen and calling Taylor’s number.

  She answered on the first ring.

  “Go to the first post at the start of the trail, just behind the welcome center. Follow the Post-its,” Taylor said. Then she hung up.

  What in the hell was going on? If Taylor had pulled her away from her app for some kind of game, she just might have to fight her in the middle of this damn park.

  Okay, so that was a lie. Taylor was in much better shape than her. Samiah knew her friend would kick her ass if they went head to head. Still, she would cuss her out over this.

  She walked up to the first post. It contained a small plaque with an arrow pointing to the Isamu Taniguchi Japanese Garden. There was a yellow Post-it Note just below the plaque.

  I tried to explain.

  Samiah immediately recognized that handwriting, and her heart began to thump harder within her chest. She walked another few yards until she came to the next Post-it stuck to the stone gate at the entrance of the Japanese gardens.

  I never meant to lie.

  She continued walking, snatching another sticky note from the smooth trunk of a slender tree that stood just to the left of the trail and then from another tree on her right.

  If I could do it all again.

  I would do things differently.

  She reached the entryway of the Ten Wa Jin Teahouse. The stone-and-bamboo structure stood as the centerpiece of the serene gardens, the view of the Austin skyline from its rear window one of the best in the city. London and Taylor stood side by side just inside the tiny building.

  London handed her one note:

  I’m sorry.

  Taylor handed her another:

  Please forgive me.

  “You?” Samiah said, after taking the Post-it from her. She turned to London. “And you?”

  “Before you start, let me explain my role in this little exercise that could get us all arrested for vandalism,” London said.

  Taylor rolled her eyes. “I told you a few sticky notes do not count as vandalism—”

  “Zip it,” London said, making a cutting motion across her neck. She returned her attention to Samiah. “You should know me well enough by now to know that I was ready to kick Mr. Cute Dimples over there to the curb on your behalf.”

  Samiah looked to where London pointed. That’s when she noticed Daniel standing in the far corner of the teahouse. Her pulse quickened at the sight of him.

  “But then I listened to what he had to say,” London continued. “And, well, I’m out here in the wilderness putting damn sticky notes on trees and shit. That should tell you something.”

  Taylor gestured between herself and London. “Samesies.” She lifted her palms in the air. “I understand why you banished him to the doghouse, and if that’s where you want him to stay, just say the word. But…”

  “But what?” Samiah asked, folding her arms over her chest.

  “But maybe you should listen to his side of things. Really listen,” London said. “Never has the saying ‘stuck between a rock and a hard place’ described a situation so well. He didn’t have a choice.”

  “He did have a choice,” Samiah said. “He could have told me the truth.”

  “Yes, I could have,” Daniel said. He took a step forward. “I should have.” He took another. And another. He walked toward them, his hands in his pockets. He stopped a few feet away. “Can I please have those twenty minutes, Samiah? That’s all I’m asking for.”

  “Give him the twenty minutes,” London said.

  “Yes, give him the twenty minutes. We’ll be right over there.” Taylor nudged her chin toward a bench a few steps away.

  “No, we won’t. We’ll go look at the roses or the koi pond or something. But we will be close,” London stressed.

  “Thanks, ladies,” Daniel said. “I appreciate your help.”

  London arched a brow. “You better not make me regret this, Dimples.” She pointed two fingers at her eyes and then at Daniel’s, as if to say I’m watching you. “Remember what I told you.” Then she and Taylor left, taking the trail Samiah had just descended.

  Once they were alone, Samiah turned to face him and gave him three slow claps.

  “I’m not sure what you said to get those two to agree to help you, but you deserve applause.”

  “Desperate measures,” he said.

  She nodded, and then walked over to the rear of the teahouse and sat on its stone ledge. She crossed her legs and folded her hands on her knee.

  “You asked for twenty minutes,” she said. “So start explaining.”

  * * *

  Daniel wiped his sweating palms on the sides of his jeans, the lump in his throat increasing by several degrees. He walked over to where Samiah sat and gestured to the empty space next to her.

  “Can I?”

  She scooted over a few inches. More inches than necessary.

  He settled in next to her and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his thighs and clamping his hands together. “By now you know that I wasn’t your regular Trendsetters hire,” he started.

  “Understatement, but go on,” she said. She held a hand up. “No, actually, instead of going through this long, drawn-out explanation, why don’t I just ask you some questions about what I don’t understand? I don’t want this to take up too much of your time. I’m sure you have other things you need to take care of before you leave.”

  “We can take as much time as necessary, Samiah. I was supposed to fly back this morning, but I canceled my flight.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” he repeated. “Because I couldn’t go back without at least trying to explain things to you. This is the reason I’m here.”

  Her forehead furrowed. “Wait a minute. You mean you flew all
the way from DC just for this? Just to talk to me?”

  “I couldn’t do it over the phone,” Daniel said. He took another deep breath. “We don’t have to go through it all step-by-step if you’re not up for it. You’ve probably learned the basics over this past week, that I’m a government agent who came to Austin as part of a joint mission to break up a money-laundering ring.”

  “That’s pretty much all I need to know,” she said.

  “No.” He shook his head. “What you need to know—what I need you to know—is that it wasn’t all a lie. It wasn’t some calculated plan that I formulated from the very beginning.” He gestured between them. “This—me and you, our relationship—it was never supposed to happen.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest again.

  “So why did it? Why didn’t you pull away? You could have politely put the brakes on this thing between us when you realized it was getting out of hand.”

  “How?” he asked. “How was I supposed to do that, Samiah?” Daniel stood and began to pace the length of the small teahouse. “Do you have any idea how hard I tried to fight what I felt for you? I knew better. Getting involved with someone while working undercover, that’s how you end a career.” He stopped in front of her, his chest aching with the need for her to understand. “But it didn’t matter. I fell so fucking hard for you that none of it mattered. I couldn’t stay away.”

  “So you lied to me instead.” The tinge of hurt in her voice crushed him.

  Daniel closed his eyes as shame seeped into his bones.

  “Yes,” he said. He looked to her again, struggling to find a way to convey the breadth of his regret. “It was wrong to lie to you, and I’m sorry. I should have done things differently. I could have asked my supervisor to pull me from the case. But that meant I would have had to give you up, and I couldn’t make myself do that.