Sweet Fate, Page 7

  “Glad to hear it.” She stood up and pulled her phone from her pocket. “I’ve got to be getting back now. Oh, I almost forgot the other reason I came over—want to join me and a few friends for a drink later? We’re meeting at a pub down by the park at six.”

  The pub that Lawrence works at? I had no right to wonder.

  “I don’t know…” I shouldn’t say yes to her invitation. It would only encourage the strange obsession I had for the girl.

  “Nope. You can’t say no. You left me early on Saturday, and now you owe me a night.”

  “You’re saying I owe you for leaving early when I’d only come as a favor in the first place?” I shouldn’t tease her. It wasn’t good for my head.

  “Yep. That’s exactly what I’m saying.” She reached out and pulled on my tie. That wasn’t good for my head either. Nor the situation in my trousers.

  She had to get out of here. She had to leave, before I did something foolish like pull her into my lap.

  “I’ll go,” I said, anything to get her out of my office before she looked down at my growing problem.

  “Yay! I can’t wait!” She bent down to press a quick peck on my cheek—a habit that was surely meant to drive me mad. “I’ll text you the address. Gotta go. See you then!”

  I called after her. “Audrey, Jana doesn’t hold a candle to you. You’re the one, it seems, who’s very persuasive.”

  She shrugged innocently. “Why do you think I had to come in person? I knew you’d have a harder time turning me down.” She waved, opening her hand and closing it the way Aaron had when he was little. Then she disappeared down the hall.

  My sigh was audible in the now quiet room.

  Maybe she didn’t mean to have me wrapped around her little finger, but I was. I so very much was.

  It only took half an hour to decide that twenty-somethings were too loud.

  The pub was full of them, baby-faced Millennials with more energy at dinnertime than I had at six in the morning. The most raucous sat at our table. I couldn’t name them all, even after being introduced. Dena, I remembered, from meeting her at Saturday’s event. The rest I gave descriptors to in my head like they were Stieg Larsson novels in order to keep them straight. The Boy with the Nose Ring. The Girl with the Hyena Laugh. The Girl with the Cat Hair. The Girl without a Uterus—I’d learned that within moments of meeting her. Twenty-somethings were also very open, it appeared.

  Then there was me—The Man Who Didn’t Fit In.

  It didn’t take a genius to see that I was out of place and sinking quickly. I didn’t share their exuberance, I didn’t like their music, I definitely didn’t know their lingo. In many ways it felt like the conversation with my son, except worse, because I didn’t have authority over any of them and because I loved my son.

  The only one I cared for at this gathering was Audrey.

  At first, I tried to connect—I really did. I inquired about their jobs—they all worked together at the museum. I asked about their hobbies. I answered every question about the advertising business and squashed every ridiculous notion they had about PR people. I didn’t know how to keep any conversation going, though. Every one crashed and burned after only a handful of volleys.

  After one particular exchange that ended with The Girl with the Cat Hair telling me to “check my privilege,” I resolved to keep my mouth shut except to give short, polite answers when addressed and to drink my wine.

  Audrey attempted to make the whole thing bearable. “You aren’t having any fun,” she said with a pout, while the others argued about the ending to the latest comic book turned movie.

  “I’m fine,” I reassured her. “I never have fun.”

  She smiled, keeping her gaze steady on me. “That’s not true. We’ve had fun together.”

  Yes. Yes, we had.

  Dena pulled at Audrey’s arm, demanding her attention. “Remember when Trevor told Jana that he couldn’t get it up? When he was talking about mounting the Manet? Did you see Jana’s face?”

  Trevor. That was The Boy with the Nose Ring’s name.

  Audrey broke into laughter with the others. “She went five shades of red, didn’t she?” With her focus still on the others, she rested her hand on my lower thigh as though it would have no effect on me. As though I wasn’t a functional man made of flesh and blood and sexual desire.

  Or maybe as though I was exactly that.

  I remembered her words when we’d parted that first night—I’m not going to pretend I don’t want to sleep with you… Did she still mean that? It was pathetic how much I wanted her to mean it, even if it could never go anywhere. At least, then, she’d be as miserable as I was fighting my lust in her company.

  As miserable as I was right now, trying to ignore the casual sweep of her thumb back and forth over my leg. My cock twitched, wondering if it should get involved.

  The answer was no, it shouldn’t.

  I went to the bar to order another glass of wine.

  “At least the fundraiser went well,” The Girl without a Uterus was saying when I returned. “I heard Mr. Cavendish say they raised enough to hire two employees full-time after Christmas. Trevor’s guaranteed one of them. Must be nice having a set of balls.”

  Trevor glared at her. “It’s based on seniority. You know that.”

  “It should be based on talent,” someone else said, I didn’t pay attention who. I was too consumed with wanting to be sure that Audrey had the other job, the job I’d paid for her to have.

  “Who’s getting the other position?” After so long remaining silent, it felt like all eyes were on me.

  Dena answered first. “Don’t know yet. Audrey and I are the only other two interns. We were hired at the same time, so it’s up in the air, for now. Me and my girl are going to have to duke it out, and by duke it out I mean sit back quietly with our hands tied while someone else decides our fate.”

  Fan-fucking-tastic. I’d given over a check, felt used in the process, and the money might not even go to the woman I meant it for.

  I looked over at her, at Audrey, and found her staring into her beer mug. The pressure to perform must feel overwhelming.

  “I’m sure you’ll get it,” I said quietly when the others had moved on to a new topic. She would, too, even if I had to contact that Jana and threaten to cancel my check.

  “Thank you for the vote of confidence.” She gave me a smile that quickly vanished. “I’m still not sure I want to stay in London, though.”

  It felt like I’d been socked in the gut. Like all the air inside me had been knocked out of my lungs, like I couldn’t get a breath in. I’d assumed a job offer would be all she’d need after stating she was mainly focused on her career at this time in her life.

  But she’d also said she wanted to settle down. With The One.

  It was impossible to know what to wish for now. I wanted her here, because I was obviously enjoying being tortured with her presence. But was I so much of a sadist that I wanted to watch her fall into the arms of another man?

  Thinking about it made me uncomfortable. Being near her made me antsy. I excused myself and took my wine to wander around the pub. When I found an unused billiards table, I took off my jacket, racked up, and practiced sinking shots.

  This was better than being with Audrey and her friends. Reading the table, calculating sides, these things took logic and focus and skill. I didn’t have to think about what I wanted or what she wanted. There were no feelings in pool.

  I wished there were no feelings in my life.

  Blue stripe to the left side pocket.

  But I really didn’t, did I? Because I liked the feeling I’d had when Audrey showed up at my office. I liked the feeling I’d had when she encouraged my son. I especially liked the feeling I had when she kissed my cheek or placed her hand on my thigh.

  She made me feel good in so many ways.

  Yellow stripe to the left side pocket.

  But she’d also made me feel bad. She had the power to do it again,
and I knew it. Which was why I’d decided to stay away from her.

  So why was it I’d agreed to come out with her tonight?

  Green to the corner.

  The ball sank cleanly in the pocket.

  “That was crazy! How did you do that?”

  I didn’t need to look up to know the praise came from Audrey, but I did anyway. Because I liked looking at her. “How did I do what?”

  “Shoot the ball like that. So it would swerve to go into the pocket.”

  A complicated question, trying to reduce years of skill into a simple instructional paragraph. I doubted my usual “geometry” explanation would work on an artist. I ran my hand through my hair before I made the attempt.

  “It’s all in how you hit the cue ball. If you give it spin on the left, it’s going to move right. And vice versa. Then add speed and pressure, and of course, the distance between the cue ball and the other ball has to be taken into consideration.” I lined up my next shot. “Red, corner pocket,” I announced before squirting the ball and sinking it in.

  “That! How did you do that? And how did you make sure the cue ball didn’t follow it in?”

  I chalked up while I studied her. “Have you never played pool?”

  “A bit. It didn’t look exactly like this. The balls were bigger.” She giggled at the word balls. “Sorry. I have the maturity level of a middle-schooler.”

  The maturity level of my son. This was why she got on with him so well.

  Speaking of low maturity levels… “Where are the others?”

  “They all left. It’s just you and me now.”

  Time for me to be leaving too, in other words. If I knew what was good for me.

  “So you going to teach me how to hit the ball like that?”

  Or I could do that.

  I cleared my throat. “We can do this another time. If you’d rather be going.” God, I was obvious. Practically begging her to validate my being here.

  “Nope. I wouldn’t rather.” She stepped closer and pulled on the knot in my tie, loosening it from my neck. “I’m sorry they’re so obnoxious. I like them. I mean, they’re my only friends here, really. Besides you. But they’re kind of shallow.”

  “No, no. I wouldn’t say that.” Only because I was polite.

  “They are. You don’t have to defend them. I’m saying it because I want you to know that I hope you don’t see me as that shallow. The gossip and unwinding is fun on occasion, but it gets old. And I want more from my personal relationships than that.”

  I wanted more details. I wanted to know exactly what she wanted from her relationships, and then I wanted to be the one to give her those things.

  But she was standing too near to me, and I couldn’t think right. So all I said was, “Okay.”

  She smiled softly. A beat passed, where we just stared at each other. The air crackled around us.

  “Like pool!” she exclaimed suddenly, pulling my tie from my neck and breaking the tension with her exuberance. She wadded up my tie and dropped it in my hand. “Teach me how to do that shot.”

  It was a terrible idea, and I knew it. I didn’t have to play through the possibilities of what might occur if I stayed to know that all of them would end in me kissing the fuck out of her, if I had my way. Friends. Sure, we could be friends, but I wanted to be a certain kind of friend. The kind allowed to touch her and caress her and make her come.

  I think it would just make things complicated.

  That’s what she’d said that first night in London. It played over and over in my head, a taunting reminder why I couldn’t have the things I wanted. Because I was a decent man. Because I’d lived long enough to know those complications weren’t simply excused.

  I was wiser and more experienced, and I knew. That was why I should go.

  And yet I couldn’t help myself where Audrey was concerned.

  I stuffed the tie in my trouser pocket and picked up the white cue ball, memorizing approximately where it sat on the current table. “Here’s what you see when you’re aiming. Pretend there are eight points around the circle and one in the middle.” I pointed at the top point and then circled clockwise as I named the positions. “Straight follow-through, follow-through with squirt to the left, squirt to the left where the ball stops, squirt to the left and the ball drops back.” I repeated the positions on the other side. “Hit straight in the center for no sidespin and no follow.”

  Her eyes glazed over. “I didn’t get a single word you just said.”

  I chuckled. I’d never been the best of teachers. “It will be easier if I show you.” I placed the cue ball back where it had been. “Come here,” I said, tugging her in front of me. “What shot would you take?”

  I could smell her, the faint whiff of apple in her hair, the sweet natural musk of her body. While she studied the table, I closed my eyes and breathed her in.

  “I’d probably go for the orange, because that’s close to a straight shot. But I wouldn’t know how to hit it so that the white ball wouldn’t follow.”

  I opened my eyes and surveyed her options. It was a solid choice. I handed her the stick. “Let’s line it up.”

  She bent over the table. I wrapped my arms around her so I could help guide the tip.

  Or maybe I simply wanted the excuse to touch her. Certainly if Trevor, The Boy with the Nose Ring, had asked me to teach him, I wouldn’t have used this hands-on technique.

  “You want it to swerve to the right, and you don’t want the cue to follow.” My mouth was at her ear. I could feel her breaths become shallow, matching up with mine. Was her heart racing like mine was too? “To get the squirt right, we’re going to hit the left side of the cue. Because we want it to draw back when it hits the orange, we’re going to aim down.”

  “So I’m going to hit the tip on the lower, left side of the white ball.” Her tongue swept over her lower lip, and my dick went stiff.

  “That’s correct.” I closed my eyes again, and a memory overtook me. Not a memory, actually, but I suddenly remembered what it felt like to believe in wishes. Remembered what it felt like to put my intentions out into the universe and believe there was a possibility they would come true.

  I wished right then that this moment would never end, that I could hold Audrey in my arms indefinitely.

  When I opened my eyes, she was looking, not at the ball, but back at me. Her face was within centimeters from mine. Her lips were right there, begging to be plumped and bruised with my kiss. I just had to lean forward. She just had to stretch back.

  I didn’t breathe.

  “Why did you leave on Saturday?” she whispered, her gaze never leaving my mouth.

  “Why did you invite me tonight?”

  “I asked first.”

  Her tiger eyes were heavy and dilated, her body soft in mine. She wore her desire openly. Blatantly. I would only have to close my pelvis against her ass, and she’d know how much I wanted her as well. I didn’t even have to answer the question. I could just kiss her, and I was certain she’d be mine with no resistance.

  But mine for how long?

  Mine for a night, and then what? At what point would she remember the things she planned for her life were incongruent with the things ahead in mine? If I was this attached to her now, how attached would I be to her then?

  I’d lived through heartache before. I wasn’t subjecting either of us to that pain.

  I stood back, letting go of her, the pool shot long forgotten. “I left so that I wouldn’t be a third wheel,” I lied, and yet, hadn’t that been true too? “Your friend, Percy, had arrived. You’ve clearly indicated you’re looking for a romantic relationship right now. I didn’t want to stand in the way of an opportunity.”

  She straightened but didn’t look at me. “Oh. That was very thoughtful.”

  I didn’t imagine how disappointed she sounded. How hurt.

  I hated myself in the moment. Not for what I’d done, because it was better to let her go like this. Better to encourage her on the r
oad to whatever happiness existed on her path—hopefully there was more for her than there had been for me.

  No, I hated myself for being the one who had to teach her this lesson, that life wasn’t all roses and rainbows. That it was unwise to indulge every passing fancy. That sometimes it was better to be injured in the battle instead of killed in the war.

  She dropped the cue stick and turned toward me, an overly bright grin on her face. “I really should go out with him. I’ve been procrastinating for no reason at all. In fact, l would like to call it a night, if that’s okay with you. Maybe I can stop by his place and see him before it gets too late.”

  I already had second thoughts, already regretted sending her into the arms of a man who was most likely better suited to her than I ever could be. Already regretted not taking one more kiss.

  She was good enough to hurry and be gone before I had a chance to do anything about it.

  Seven

  AUDREY: Percy is a terrible kisser.

  I was in my kitchen, heating up the casserole my housekeeper had left in the freezer for me when my phone buzzed with the text. After three days of not hearing from Audrey—three days of managing not to reach out myself—that was the last message I’d expected to receive.

  I didn’t want to know the details.

  But I also did. Especially if they were terrible.

  Except, what if there was more than just kissing? The thought of Audrey in any man’s arms was near impossible to bear. I didn’t want to know. I Did. Not. Want. To. Know.

  DYLAN: You kissed Percy?

  I had no will, obviously. No restraint in the least.

  AUDREY: Yes, and it was the worst. I can’t possibly go out with him.

  I leaned against the counter and gave in. I would need to know everything about how Percy was not the right man for her after all.