Cole, Page 3

  I shrugged, hitting the elevator button. “My nickname for him.”

  “Does he know he has a nickname?”

  “He will.”

  When we walked through the lobby, he came out of his office and held the door for us. “Ladies, you have a safe night now.”

  “Thanks, Ken.”

  He paused, and then a grin spread over his face as well. He nodded again. “Miss Addison. Ms. Clarke.”

  Sia stepped outside and shoved her hands in her coat. “Why does he use my last name, but your first name?”

  I stepped out behind her, and the door closed. Shrugging, I nudged her shoulder with mine. “I get the special nickname. You know, because I’m special.” I winked, and she rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t get a big head because the doorman likes you. You’re the one who lives here.”

  “How can I not? He’s adorable. And besides,” I continued as we began walking side by side, “Ken and I have this connection. It was instant, and it was glorious. You’ve got competition.”

  Sia leveled me with a hard look. “I do, huh?”

  I nodded. “He’s going to be my best friend. At the rate our relationship is moving, I’m sure it’ll take two days. I’ll need that best friend bracelet back. I’ll have to get it enlarged for Ken. I think he has bigger wrists than you.”

  “Stop.” She tilted her head back and laughed. “You think you’re so funny.”

  “On occasion.”

  She continued to laugh, but threw an arm around my shoulder and hugged me tight to her side. “I’ve missed this.”

  “Acting like you’re my boyfriend?” I gave her arm a pointed look.

  She squeezed me. “No, this. You. You’re joking, and you’re smiling, and you’re…the old you.” She grew somber. “Maybe moving out was just what you needed.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.”

  I could feel Sia watching me from the corner of her eye, making sure I was okay with what she said, and I was. Surprisingly. My chest felt lighter. My shoulders didn’t feel an invisible weight on them. And she was right. I’d always been able to laugh or joke for a moment—many of our nights together had been spent that way—but this was different. I wasn’t on a break, or hiding from Liam’s ghost. I felt free.

  My stomach rumbled again, this time louder.

  Sia heard it. “We awakened the beast.” An overhang stuck out from the restaurant’s front door, and she slowed. “And we’re here. I’m hungry now, too.”

  Dark red fabric covered the overhang, and as we swept inside, past the black windows that faced the streets, I could see that black and red was the theme inside as well. Large black leather booths lined the auburn walls, carefully spaced to allow privacy. It was cozy and warm, but I felt an underlying tension in the room. A hostess led us to a back booth, and I remembered coming to this place once before with Sia. It had been a weekday during the noon hour, and the feeling had been markedly different. The entire room had been lit up and every table busy. The tension wasn’t there then, not like it was now.

  Sia slid into our booth. “We’re going to drink. Just warning you now.”

  The hostess waited, holding my menu as I slid in across from Sia. Then she placed the menu in front of me and asked, “Would you like to order a beverage right away?”

  “Hell, yes, she will.” Sia moaned, opening up the drink menu. “A glass of chardonnay for me, and a water too. Addison, please order some alcohol with me. I don’t want to be the only one boozing it up, and we deserve it after today.” She gave me the drink menu and turned to the hostess. “She just moved in down the street. I’m thinking we’ll need to buy a bottle to take home, too.”

  “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

  By the time I’d picked my glass of Merlot, Sia was fast friends with the hostess, and two bottles were coming with us, on the house.

  I waited till she left and raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t take that long to order.”

  Sia shrugged. “She’s a model. I’ve seen her at the Gala for a few events. Trust me.” She leaned forward and dropped her voice. “The free wine is because of the connections I can give her, not how long it took you to order.”

  “You’re a fast worker.”

  “No, no.” Propping her elbow on the table, an action Sia would normally frown upon, she twirled her wrist in the air and pointed at the hostess returning from the bar. “She’s the fast worker. She recognized me, too. That’s how this world works. Connections. Networking. Get to know people, and they might do you a favor later on. This is her favor to me, and she’s smart, because if a photographer or painter needs a model, I’ll have her in mind. Everything that goes around, comes around.”

  When the hostess came back over with a server right behind her, I sat back and watched my friend work. Sia was sparkling, sophisticated, and mesmerizing. The hostess didn’t blink an eye as she charmed Sia right back. By the time the two bottles had been set up on the table, chilling in ice buckets, and our glasses set before us, the ladies had exchanged cards. As the hostess and server left, Sia sat back and sipped her chardonnay.

  She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “We should come here more often. Forget noon lunch. Late-night dinner is the way to go.”

  I shook my head. “You amaze me, and you always exhaust me. I couldn’t do that, flip it on like you just did.”

  “You get used to it. It makes life fun and interesting.” She set her glass down, resting her fingers on the base. She toyed with it, biting down on her lip before asking, “I know my job isn’t your style, but what are you going to do now?”

  I sat back and tensed.

  “You moved to Chicago because of his job, and I know you had a column in an online magazine, but what now? You haven’t written anything for a while.”

  I hadn’t realized she was checking.

  “I subscribed to your column. I haven’t gotten any alerts.” She leaned forward. “I’m not trying to be a pushy best friend, but I am trying to be encouraging at the pace you need. I feel like you need it now. Moving out was a good thing. Writing is a good thing, too. Are you going to start doing that again?”

  Was I going to start writing? Even just thinking about it, some of the heaviness returned to my chest. I shook my head, letting out a breath of air. I read, and I went on walks, and I watched movies. I did anything to clear my mind, and that meant no writing. “I don’t know. Maybe. One thing at a time right now. Moving is a big deal. I already feel like I’ve betrayed Liam once.”

  “Oh.” She straightened back in her seat. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I don’t think of it from your perspective. I know moving is a big deal. And you don’t have to write. I mean, you’re set with money, so that’s good. You don’t have to worry. But I think it’ll help you, even if you just do it for yourself. You’re right. One thing at a time.” She paused and then looked deeply into my eyes. “For what it’s worth, Liam was a really great guy. He loved you more than anything. I know he’d be proud that you’re moving forward.”

  My throat closed up. I could feel the tears coming, so I looked down. I didn’t want to cry, not again. Reaching for my wine, I murmured, hoarsely, “Thank you.” The mere mention of him, the thought that I might be betraying him—my insides burned. The hole that had been in my chest since Liam died opened wide again. I groaned and took a few sips of my wine more quickly than normal. Fuck it. I threw the whole glass back, and when I set it down, Sia had a stupid grin on her face.

  She beamed at me. “There she is. I love this Addison. Let’s get drunk tonight!”

  I managed a smile. “Sounds good to me.”

  She was waving the server down for a second glass before the words left me.

  The next glass went down faster than the first, and so did the third. I paused on the fourth and let the food soak up the first three. The meal was delicious, but that could’ve been the wine talking. Everything about the restaurant was fun. Late night dinner might be my new favorite way of eating, too.

  Today had been a h
ard day—hard but satisfying. It was time to relax and let some tension go, and so we did. A couple hours later we were in the process of having our food boxed up, as well as the two bottles of wine, when a group of men entered the restaurant.

  They came in suddenly and walked straight through toward the back. The atmosphere around us shifted. Their presence brought the undercurrent of tension I’d been feeling to the forefront. Everyone could sense it now, even Sia. I was intrigued by the pack of visitors, and I heard her swift intake of breath.

  The men were all tall, all over six feet, with broad shoulders. They looked muscular, like they could’ve been MMA fighters, and most had hard jawlines. It wasn’t necessarily their appearances that drew them attention, it was how they walked, their strong and confident presence together. They seemed to have one mission, and they didn’t waver from it. None of them smiled. None of them looked around the restaurant, but they were clearly familiar with it. The hostess and server quieted, but didn’t approach them. They seemed used to their presence as well.

  The men didn’t walk past our booth—we were too far in the corner—but they came toward us, then turned left. As they did, I watched them. The guy in the middle was different. He was startlingly beautiful. His hair was dark, almost black, and cut short. He had chiseled cheekbones and dark eyes that weren’t like the others’. The other men had dead eyes. They were there to take orders, and this was the guy who gave them. He was the leader.

  Authority and confidence emanated from him, along with an aura of danger.

  I could find no outward indication to prove my gut feeling, but I was sure of it. The others were well above six feet, whereas this guy was either six feet or an inch above. He moved with a grace the others didn’t have. He was lean, with broad shoulders and a slender waist, but he wasn’t skinny. The others walked, but he stalked in a sensual way. He moved like a predator.

  I licked my lips, then realized what I had done and pulled my gaze away. When the group reached the rear of the restaurant, instead of pushing through the door into the kitchen, they turned. I hadn’t noticed before, but I saw a set of stairs. I counted as eight of them went up, leaving two behind. They took position with their backs to the stairs and hands folded in front. They were the guard dogs.

  I realized I wasn’t the only one caught in some kind of spell. The hostess and server had gone quietly back to their work, but Sia’s mouth was hanging open. She still stared at where they’d disappeared.

  I waited for her to snap out of it, thankful for the time to compose myself. That man, whoever he was, he’d affected me in a way no other had—since Liam. And at the thought of him, a bucket of ice crashed over me.

  “Addison.” Sia finally managed, her eyes still locked on the two guys standing at the stairs. “Oh my—did you see that?”

  I coughed, clearing my throat. “What do you mean?”

  “That guy.” She leaned forward. “He was gorgeous!”

  The image of him flashed in my head. A different burning flared up. “He was. Yes.” I could admit that much. “He was also scary looking.”

  “Negative,” Sia declared with a quick head shake. “He was absolutely breathtaking. Forget your building manager. I want to know who that guy is and how can I be his wife.”

  A genuine laugh came from me. This was vintage Sia. She had a new project, and it wasn’t me. Thankfully. I had no doubt she’d hunt the guy down, find out who he was, and do as she’d promised, or at the very least have a hot fling.

  “Seriously.” She fanned herself. “I’ve never seen that man before, and I know almost everyone around here. Who could he be?”

  “I have no clue.”

  “I suppose not.” She skimmed over my face. “Oh, babe. You look a little flushed. The wine must be hitting you, huh?”

  I nodded, but it wasn’t the wine. “Yes, let’s go, please.”

  Sia laughed, sliding out of the booth. I followed suit, and we walked back to my new home, armed with our food and two bottles of wine. No one had better mess with us. Our wobbly knees would be the death of them. I was grateful when Sia threw her arm around my shoulders again. It made me feel steady. She transferred her food to me so she only had to hold the wine and rested her head against mine.

  We went home that way, and when we entered my apartment I remembered: I had no clue where anything was.

  The next month was glorious.

  I woke up every morning to bustling traffic and pedestrians darting back and forth on the streets below. The view took my breath away, and it never stopped. And it was quiet. That had been my only concern, having a resident below and above me, but I shouldn’t have worried at all. I heard nothing to even indicate that I had neighbors.

  However, I’d seen one a couple times when I went to the gym. She looked to be in her early thirties, and as soon as I entered to hit the treadmill, she grabbed her towel and bottle of water and left. I thought it was me, but the fourth time I arrived, she was just starting, and she stayed the whole hour. I saw her a few other times after that, but she kept her head down and focused on her workout until she left.

  In a way, it was a nice break from all the attention I’d received after Liam’s death. So many people had approached me to express their condolences. I knew very few of them. They were the stranger neighbors or Liam’s coworkers. I hadn’t realized how exhausting it had been—the smiles, the warm wishes back to each of them, all people I didn’t know. This woman was frank. She didn’t know me. She didn’t care to know me. I rather liked it.

  Once I realized that Monday, Wednesday, and Friday she went to the gym at eleven in the morning, and her Tuesday/Thursday/Saturday schedule was five in the afternoon, I adjusted my routine and went at a different time. Since then we’d passed once in the lobby. I was leaving the elevator, and she was getting on. She gave me her first smile, and I grinned back.

  I felt like she was thanking me for leaving her alone.

  I didn’t meet another resident until my fifth week living here. I’d started a routine where I grabbed the mail as soon as it came, which was around eleven in the morning. I went to the pool area to open it with a cup of coffee. After that, I’d either go upstairs to read a book, or I’d work out. It depended on whether not-so-friendly neighbor was using the gym or not. In addition to the normal television and movies I watched, I became a CNN addict. There was a restlessness in me, like life was passing me by, and I didn’t want to miss a thing.

  Yet when I thought about finding a job or writing a piece, emotions surged up in me. I didn’t want to feel those emotions; I didn’t even want to name them. I just didn’t want them, so I’d go back to doing something that numbed me. Anything.

  But everything was different in the mornings. It was a fresh start. Those feelings were pushed all the way down, and this morning was the same. I felt somewhat cheerful as I opened a letter from my realtor. My house was still being shown. I figured. Anything pressing would warrant a phone call or an email.

  Then a man entered the pool area behind me.

  I glanced up, startled by his presence, and my elbow hit my coffee. “Oh, no.” I bent quickly to snatch it up.

  “Here.” The guy came over, grabbing a handful of towels on the way. He knelt, blotting the coffee to absorb it. “Sorry about that,” he said as he looked up.

  Young. Tall. And when he looked up at me, close—personal bubble close. He was pretty, or that was how Sia would’ve described him. Tall, dark, and handsome. The cliché fit him perfectly. His body was lean, and judging from the swim trunks and white shirt, swimming was the way he kept himself in shape. He wasn’t gorgeous like the guy from the restaurant. Yes, I am still thinking about him. He didn’t have the same striking, intense eyes or physique. This guy had a rounder face. He was more filled out, but he was still good-looking, and he was waiting for my response.

  I shook my head. “That was my fault.” I frowned at the dirtied towels. “Is that okay? Do I need to let Dorian know it was my fault? They’re stained.”


  He glanced down as if he didn’t know what I was talking about. Seeing the towels, his shoulders shook with laughter. “No. The money this place gets, they can afford a few stained towels. These will get tossed anyway.” He dropped them on a nearby table and held his hand out to me. “I’m Jake Parker. I’m on the seventh floor. You’re the new resident, right?”

  I shook his hand. “I am. Third floor. I’m Addison—” I was about to say my married name, but heard myself saying instead, “—Bowman.” I’d told him my maiden name. Why did I do that—nope. I wasn’t going to analyze it. It was done.

  “Addison Bowman?” He pulled out the chair across from me. “Do you mind?”

  “No. Please, sit.”

  He sat down, and I straightened up. It felt weird to be sitting with another man, even though he was a neighbor.

  “You okay?” His voice was soft and concerned. He hunched forward, so he didn’t appear so tall. His eyes looked into mine, and they were warm, like heated chocolate. “I can go, if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

  “No.” I shook my head, holding a hand out. “Please stay. I mean it.”

  “You sure?”

  “I am.”

  “Good.” He relaxed in his seat, kicking out one of his legs. He didn’t touch me, but six inches to the right and his leg would’ve been pressed right against mine.

  “I’m a lawyer. My firm’s a couple blocks down.” A grin tugged at his lips. “Most of the partners have their own places outside the city, but I’m a workaholic. Figured it was better to be closer to work.”