Sweet Fate, Page 3

  Three

  “Thank fuck it’s finally stopped raining. I’d forgotten what the sun looked like.” Amy threw back the last of her Diet Coke and stepped away from the window to toss the can in my recycling bin. Then she perched on the corner of my desk, a habit she was wont to do when she intruded on my lunch hour as she was doing now.

  Honestly, I didn’t mind all that much. Though I was the head of the London office, I mainly took care of the finances, a rather isolated job. Amelia Rahim—Amy—managed our sales division. She was bullheaded, cold-hearted, and churlish. We got along splendidly.

  “I didn’t take you as one who complained about dreary weather. Isn’t grey your favorite color? You sure wear it often enough.” I grabbed the stack of month-end reports that were stacked precariously near her bottom and moved them to a safer location on my desk before returning my focus to my screen.

  “Grey, charcoal, nickel, jet—all shades of black, really. I like my outside to match my in.” She picked up the Granny Smith sitting next to my computer and bounced it up and down in the palm of her hand. “And I do love it when the sky takes on my moods, but I’d prefer to do without the wet. My hair frizzes.” She caught the apple, brought it to her mouth, and took a crisp bite.

  “I was planning on eating that,” I grumbled.

  “You were taking too long to get to it.”

  “I suppose you need to eat healthy more than I do, at your age.” Amy was the one employee on the management team older than me. Though it was only by three days, I didn’t often let her forget it.

  “You’re a real barrel of laughs today, Locke. Considering you’ve been moody as all get out for the past several months, I have to ask what’s up. Has the sun gotten to you too?”

  I looked up from my work to gaze out the window at the clear sky. Frankly, I hadn’t noticed the weather was any different today from any other day. Since I’d returned from the States this summer, it had seemed that it didn’t matter if the sun was shining or not. Every day of the past three and a half months had been dreary and bland.

  I was well aware of the problem. It was Audrey. She’d ruined me when I’d seen her again. I’d been reminded that she was the brightest light in existence. Everything else was dull in comparison.

  Amy’s remark was the first indication that anyone else had picked up on my sullenness, though. I’d been too self-absorbed to think about my mood’s effect on others.

  And was I feeling less solemn today?

  I did a quick body scan, and yes, indeed, my chest felt less tight. The corners of my mouth were relaxed instead of turned down. My shoulders didn’t feel weighed down with an unbearable heaviness.

  Why I was feeling better, I had no idea. Maybe the sun actually had made a difference.

  I turned my attention back to my computer. “It’s our numbers,” I said, an answer that sounded as good as any other. “As of right now, this quarter is up twenty-two percent from last.”

  “We are? Damn. I had no idea. And here you were so certain that the new French location would put a dent in business.”

  “It was a reasonable assumption,” I said defensively. We’d had three rather large international clients that had taken their business to Weston’s Paris office since it was more central to their headquarters. But after I’d complained about it thoroughly a number of times, Amy had decided to do something about it and found us a number of good-paying clients to take their place. “It’s all your doing, really. You deserve the congratulations.”

  “Not just my doing. If you hadn’t moaned so loudly about the situation, I would have continued the method that has worked well for me so far in life—doing as little as possible.”

  I looked up to see if she was serious before breaking into laughter. Amy was a workaholic like no other. She ate, slept, and breathed Reach, Inc. She had practically no social life or hobbies, unless crushing the competition counted. She often claimed she’d never married because she believed in monogamy, and she was already married to her job.

  “See what I mean? A couple of days ago, I don’t think you would have caught the joke.”

  “What a shame that would have been.” I finished entering the numbers on the report. The totals wouldn’t be accurate until we got confirmation that the deposits had gone through, but I liked to have an estimate as soon as the quarter was finished. “There we are. Twenty-two point three percent growth, to be more specific.”

  “We’re a good team, Dylan. We should celebrate. It’s been awhile since we’ve done that—just you and I.” Her meaning was clear, but she crossed one leg over the other to enunciate her point.

  I couldn’t help watching. The woman had long limbs that she kept well-toned. I’d had them wrapped around me on more than one occasion. Apparently, she was offering to wrap them around me again.

  While I didn’t generally like the idea of sex with coworkers, Amy’s commitment to no-commitment was as steadfast as mine. We were the perfect pair, only in it for the benefits. Often, it was easier to turn to her than go to a pub and try to hit on a stranger.

  It had been awhile since I’d last hooked up with anyone. Not since before Audrey. I hadn’t been interested, and it hadn’t crossed my mind to think that maybe sleeping with another woman would be helpful. Perhaps it would help get me over my fixation on the girl.

  And yet…

  I paused too long with a response. “Think about it,” Amy said, jumping down from my desk. “I’m here all afternoon. You can tell me if you’re interested at the end of the day.”

  “I’ll do that.” Was I stupid for not jumping on her offer right away? We’d always had an uncomplicated arrangement in the past. Finish up in the office, leave together, and then... “Oh, Amy!” I called before she’d made it out of my office. “I just remembered. I’m meeting with that Lieber guy this afternoon. So you may be here all afternoon, but I won’t.”

  “The car manufacturer? You’ve already met with him twice. He’s not coming to the office?” Amy’s tone said she was as annoyed with Hans Lieber as I was. The man brought prospects of a huge addition to the firm’s accounts—which was fantastic. But his insistence on continuing to meet with an owner of Reach was beyond irritating. I was not the person who closed the sales. That was Amy’s job.

  That didn’t mean I couldn’t do it. It meant I didn’t want to.

  But I would. “He only has a limited time in his schedule to meet so he asked if I could come to his hotel. He’s staying at the Corinthia.”

  Amy cringed. “How pompous.”

  “Yes. Very.”

  “But also, seems the man has money he wants to spend. Want me to come with? I could rearrange my afternoon.”

  I considered. “No, not this time. I think he’s right on the verge of signing on, and I don’t want to give him any reason to change his mind.”

  “Because meeting me might just be the best reason to run,” she said. I rushed to amend what I’d said, but she put up a hand to halt me. “No worries. I’m joking. I get it. Take the meeting, and then text me and let me know if you’d like that celebratory dinner. My house. I’ll even order takeout.”

  I laughed and agreed to text her later. I’d even think more about actually saying yes to her offer. After all, it would probably be good for me to have a little fun, reason to celebrate or not.

  Four hours later, I walked out of the Corinthia Hotel with another reason to celebrate—Hans Lieber had only wanted to meet to tell me he officially wanted to hire Reach for his international campaigns. The contracts had to be written up and there would be more negotiating of fine details, but the deal felt solid. Irritating as the man might be, he had a reputation of integrity, and a handshake was as reliable as any signed paper.

  It was definitely a win that made me feel good. There was practically a spring in my step as I walked toward Whitehall to hail a cab. At the corner, something came over me—a strange sense of whimsy that made me change my mind about the car. The weather was so nice, the temperature unusually
warm for the first of October, that I decided to walk through the park instead. Then I could jump on the underground at St. James’s Park Station.

  The detour was the perfect choice. The trees were beautifully clothed in autumn colors. Red, yellow, and orange leaves dressed the walkways as well. I listened for them to crunch under my feet, but they were still too rain-soaked from the previous week’s weather. Instead the air was filled with the sound of birds and kids. Most of the deck chairs were occupied. The sunshine had obviously called more than just me to the outdoors. And why wouldn’t it? St. James’s Park was magnificent. I’d forgotten how much so. How long had it been since I’d strolled through its gardens? How long since I’d strolled through any gardens at all?

  I couldn’t remember.

  I lingered on my way, breathing the fresh air, and wished there was someone to share the experience with.

  No, that was a lie. I didn’t wish for someone—I wished for Audrey, as I’d wished for her so often over the last several months, and even before the wedding, since the week we spent together in New York. Nothing had changed in my philosophies because of her. I still believed love was miserable and ended in arguments with overpriced solicitors. I still held that I’d rather live alone than mess with that bullshit again.

  But I also yearned for her. I wished for her companionship. I wanted her to talk to, to hold at night. I dreamed her everywhere around me. I thought I saw her every time there was a crowd—on the underground, at the market. Over there, watching the mallards at the edge of the lake.

  I stopped short and stared.

  My imagination was getting the best of me because the profile of that woman really did look like Audrey. From the high cheekbones to the point of her chin to the amber color of her hair. Even the boots she wore looked identical to the ones Audrey had worn in New York. I needed to get closer to really tell. I took a step toward her. Then another tentative step.

  Suddenly, the woman turned in my direction, and I quickly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring. I hadn’t just been staring, either—I’d been creeping up on her. What the bloody hell was that about? My obsession was going too far, stalking strangers in the park. Audrey was not in Westminster. She was somewhere far away. Boston, maybe. Definitely not here.

  I resumed my walk, leaving behind the stupid fantasies of my deluded mind.

  But then a familiar voice called after me. “Dylan? Dylan Locke? Is that you?”

  I turned slowly, cautiously.

  And there she was—my angel, my light, my Audrey.

  “It is you!” she exclaimed with a clap before bounding toward me. She wrapped me up in a ferocious hug. “I can’t believe it! I mean, I can because that’s the way it is between us. But I didn’t know when it would happen, and I’m so happy that it’s happened today, of all days!”

  My heart was pounding like a bass drum, and though I hated it when she let go of me, I was relieved she wouldn’t hear it trying to escape from my chest. I had so many questions, and I meant to ask every single one of them as soon as the air returned to my lungs.

  “Audrey—what are you doing here? Are you on vacation?” I tried to ignore what it meant that she hadn’t contacted me about her visit.

  “No, I live here! Isn’t it crazy? I thought about calling you, but I was an idiot and lost my phone right when I got here and when I got the new one, a bunch of the contacts didn’t transfer over, including yours, and then I thought maybe that was best because I didn’t want to be weird, reaching out uninvited, and I figured if we were meant to see each other we would, and look! We did!” She was excited, her words bubbling out of her so rapidly I had a hard time keeping up.

  In fact, I was still stuck on the first part of her monologue. “Did you say you live here?”

  “I did! I got a job! Today was my first day, which was an experience that I can’t even begin to describe, and then it’s the first day it’s been sunny since I moved here, so I came to the park on a whim, and here you are! It’s kismet!”

  I felt lightheaded.

  And happy. Really fucking happy.

  “Yes, kismet.” I almost believed it myself.

  “Then it’s settled. We’ll have dinner.” There she was with that fierce confidence I adored so much. “Are you free tonight?”

  I already had my phone out of my pocket so I could shoot a quick text to Amy.

  DYLAN: I’m going to have to pass on your offer. Something else has come up.

  I hit SEND and looked up to Audrey with a smile. “I’m completely free. Let’s do it.”

  Four

  I didn’t believe this changed things.

  Audrey was in town—living here—and I was elated, but I didn’t think that I’d suddenly become the right man for her. I didn’t instantaneously believe that love was the answer or that I should give a committed relationship another try. I wasn’t that naïve.

  I simply wanted right then to spend time with her, in whatever way possible. It was selfish and greedy, one of those live-in-the-moment moments. There wasn’t thought of repercussions or what happens next or what living near her might mean. Nothing mattered but being in her presence now.

  “Where shall we go?” she asked, her eyes wide and sparkling as though I might suggest we dine at the palace. “You know the area better than I do.”

  I really didn’t. As most who lived in London, I didn’t make it out to the touristy spots all that often.

  But I wasn’t completely ignorant of the area. “There are a lot of nice restaurants around here because of the museum and Buckingham. The Blue Boar is nice. Or the Roux at Parliament Square.” I’d taken clients to both on an occasion or two.

  She frowned and looked down at her denim dress and striped tights. “I’m not fit for fancy. Is eating at St. James’s Café a cliché?”

  I tilted my head, giving serious thought to the question. “I wouldn’t say it’s cliché to eat at the park café when you’re already in the park, but I wouldn’t recommend that particular park café. Not anymore. It used to be rather nice. Now it’s cafeteria style.”

  “Ew. No, thanks.”

  I was out of alternatives. “We could walk and find something?”

  She agreed, and we headed toward my initial destination—the park underground stop. I wanted to stare at her as we walked, to catalog every feature and compare it to what I had stored in memory. Somehow I kept my wits about me and focused on the brilliant streaks of pink and orange as the sun set instead, but I listened intently to the melody of her voice as it swirled around me like a crisp autumn leaf caught on the wind.

  “I really didn’t think this day could get any more beautiful or surreal. It was already mindblowing to get to go into areas of the museum that were for authorized personnel only. I got to look at a Bellini under a microscope. An actual Bellini! I really have to learn to stop putting limits on what the universe has in store for me.”

  She was like a missionary for the romantics. She proclaimed her gospel every chance she got, and her enthusiasm for her religion was nearly contagious.

  I bet she made lots of converts.

  I almost wished I could be one of them.

  “So you said you worked your first day today? Where are you employed? What happened to Boston?” Not that I wanted her to be in Boston. I didn’t want her anywhere else but here.

  “Boston turned out to be a bust.” She rolled her eyes indicating how dreadful she considered the situation. “They were interested in me, but it was basically an unpaid internship. There was a daily stipend, but it was so small it wouldn’t have even covered my coffee requirements. So it worked out when they didn’t offer. I was pretty bummed about it at first. I didn’t have any real attachments to the city, it’s just...Sabrina had left the Boston area to come home and take care of me when Dad died and I had this idea that, if I lived there as an adult, it would somehow bring everything full-circle. It would make her feel like everything was worth it.”

  That made me frown. “Do you worry sh
e doesn’t think her life has been worth it?” I’d only met Sabrina a handful of times now, but she had always struck me as someone quite content with the road she’d taken.

  She slowed her stride to think about it. “I guess sometimes I do, but I know she’d never say that. She’s only ever said she would have done anything for me, and I believe her. Maybe I wanted it for me. So that I could stop feeling guilty about everything she’s sacrificed. But c’est la vie. And like I said, I had no idea there were better opportunities in store.”

  I glanced over at her and our eyes caught. There was still a very real pull between us. There was no denying it. Her body gravitated toward mine as we walked. Her fingers brushed against mine more than once, each time shocking me with an intensity that sent my heart racing. The tension trapped in our gaze alone was nearly unbearable.

  I couldn’t stand it. I looked away.

  “The job you have now is a good one, then?” I asked, trying to find more solid ground.

  “Well…it can be.” She stuck her hands into the front pockets of her dress, making her look even younger than she was. “It’s another internship, but this time it’s paid, and when it’s over, if they like me, I’ll get to stay. I haven’t even told you where the job is—The National Gallery! Can you believe it? I can barely believe it myself and I was there all day! The freaking National Gallery in London. Oh, and the project they have me working on is amazing. It’s called Christmas through Art. I’m supposed to catalog and put in chronological order all of the pieces the museum has that might fit into that display. It’s quite a task. It will go up the beginning of December, and they’ll want me until it goes back down. Beginning of January at least.”

  The beginning of January, was that all? Not even four months away.