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“Oh Gretchen, don’t be vulgar!” Lucy cried.
“I’m just stating the obvious,” she said simply. “Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking the exact same thing, Lucille Marie.” Lucy blushed crimson at the suggestion and looked away. “That’s what I thought,” Gretchen said with a nod and we laughed.
When I saw her sharp eyes still concentrated in his direction, my laughter quickly faded. For the first time in a long time, I remembered the excitement that came from being unattached, excitement born of possibility and anticipation. “I’ll have to introduce myself later,” she said, more to herself than to us. Panic descended.
“I met him in the kitchen,” I blurted, “and he seems like a jerk. Andrew practically said he is a playboy. I wouldn’t bother.” My temperature rose, and I wondered how many girls he had suckered in with those eyes; how often he got what he wanted.
Gretchen gave me a curious glance, but it passed and she shrugged. “I’m not looking to marry the guy.”
Lucy waved down a passing tray and handed us each a mini tuna tartare. “It’s true. Andrew says since he’s met him, he’s seen him with a few different women, and they were all striking. Yes, Andrew actually said ‘striking.’”
“No thanks,” Gretchen said, waving the appetizer away. “Are we still on for lunch this week?”
I pivoted slightly so I could see David from the corner of my eye. The bass of his endlessly deep voice vibrated in my ears as he talked animatedly with someone, and I strained to hear.
Lucy’s voice cut unwelcomingly into my stalking attempt. “Olivia! My God, what is with you? You’re acting strange.”
“What? What did I do?” I asked dazedly.
“We’re talking about lunch on Monday. She asked if you’re still coming?”
“Lunch?”
“Yes. Park Grill? Bridal magazine bonanza.”
“Oh, lunch. Shit, I forgot.” I tugged absentmindedly at my right earlobe, my brows furrowed, still trying to hear while answer Lucy. “That should be fine, yes.”
“K, let’s meet at your office at eleven-thirty and walk together.” Lucy said something else and looked at me.
“Sure, of course,” I replied. “Um, excuse me.” I ducked across the living room, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Was I crazy? Why was I letting him get under my skin?
I was experiencing an overwhelming need to get out of the crowd, and I knew exactly where to do it. I pulled open the sliding glass door to the balcony, took a lungful of fresh air and then coughed as smoke filled my throat. I yanked the heavy door shut behind me when I spotted two lit cigarettes in the corner. One of the smokers I recognized as Andrew’s receptionist and nodded a hello to her. She looked about to say something, but I left for the opposite end of the balcony before she could.
The iron railing felt cool under my palms when I touched it. I shivered and wrapped my arms around my bare skin. In my haste, I hadn’t thought to grab a jacket.
Every time I looked out at the skyline, it was like the first time. Tiny blocks of light scattered randomly into the pattern of buildings, and I wondered about the inhabitants; what they were doing in that very moment. Leaning my stomach over the barrier, I examined the city below. It wasn’t a long drop from the eighth floor, but it was enough to accelerate my heartbeat.
“Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?” my mother screamed. I hid behind the stucco wall and peered through the glass door as my father raised his hands in exasperation.
“Leanore, you’re being ridiculous. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? Like you don’t trust me!”
“How can I trust you when you’re flirting with every woman in the hotel lobby! And in front of your daughter!”
“Don’t you bring Olivia into this,” he said, sticking his finger in her face. “This is your problem and you’re ruining our vacation. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I turned away from the door and looked over the railing that hit right below my eyes. My fingers grasped the bars of the balcony, and I pulled on them as I lifted myself onto the balls of my feet. I wondered what it might be like to fly. Had anyone ever tried? Perhaps it was possible and nobody knew it. We’d learned about evolution in school. Maybe we had wings that would know the difference between flying and falling.
“Olivia.” I jumped at the voice behind me. “Come in here and fix your hair,” my dad boomed. “I’ll take you out for a milkshake but not until you brush those tangles out.”
For no reason at all, I turned and looked over my shoulder to find the man filling the doorway, his hands fixed against the jamb and his head slightly cocked as he watched me. David. He appeared roguishly sexy in dark jeans and an open black pea coat.
I nervously checked the smokers, who had stopped talking to gawk at him. He stepped out onto the concrete and stuck his hands in his pockets before gaiting over. As he neared, I turned my attention back to the skyline. My mouth dried and my heart thumped, but I wouldn’t let him know the effect he had on me. He came close enough that I caught a whiff of something familiar. It wasn’t natural, but it wasn’t cologne.
“You’re married,” he said to my back.
“Mhm.” I drew a breath. “Happily,” I added airily. I glanced back again and his face was solemn. Marveling at the believability of his act, I twisted to face him. Squaring my shoulders, I lifted my hands to the railing behind me in an attempt to appear casual. “And you’re quite the Don Juan.”
He seemed taken aback by my tone, but then an ever so slight smile touched his lips. “You look cold, take my jacket.”
“I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head definitively as he moved to take it off. Never mind that I was wearing a coat of goosebumps. He paused a moment, silent, before shrugging it back on.
“Actually, I don’t have much time for gallivanting,” he said finally.
I scoffed to myself. Yeah, right. And who says ‘gallivanting’? In an effort to show my indifference, I shrugged. “It’s not really my business.”
“I suppose it’s not, but . . .”
From my gut, I yearned for him to finish his sentence, but he looked as though he thought better of it and shook his head. “I have to run.”
My heart fell a millimeter before I stopped it. I glimpsed over his shoulder again at the women in the corner. They had resumed their conversation but Andrew’s secretary – I searched to remember her name - glanced at us warily.
“I’d like to see you again.”
My eyes whipped back to his and my jaw fell. “What?” I exclaimed. Lowering my voice to a whisper, I motioned at the others on the balcony. “There are plenty of women here – single women,” I hissed, although I had no idea. “If you’re looking for company, I’m sure they would be much obliged.” With the change of his expression, I regretted my tone.
“I didn’t mean anything romantic,” he said, “just a casual thing. You’re clearly spoken for. But believe me when I say, if that weren’t the case, we’d be having a different conversation.” His words burned into me. The intensity between us had never left, but it grew thicker in that moment. The truth was that I wanted to see him again. The thought of this being our last meeting sent a wave of dread through me, and I gripped the railing. “I should warn you Olivia, I don’t really take rejection well. I can be very persistent.”
I looked him over, inhaling that intoxicating scent. I wasn’t sure if he meant it as a threat, but his words thrilled me more than anything. “A conversation,” I repeated blankly, as though it were a new concept.
“No funny business, I promise,” he said, offering his palms.
Without warning, emotions that I’d been purposefully suppressing for years surfaced, threatening to fight back. Something was tugging at the locked door behind my ribcage. I’d never encountered an intensity like this, and my response was foreign to me.
If I could anticipate our meeting, at least I could manage it, I reasoned. Overcoming him would pose a challenge, a challenge tha
t would earn me a gold medal in my Olympic games of self-domination. The image had me lift my chin in anticipated glory, and I quickly swallowed the rising pang of guilt like a pesky pill.
“Tomorrow night,” I relented, knowing Bill would be leaving for New York in the morning to prepare for his latest round of depositions.
His broad chest visibly puffed as his lips crooked into a smile. “Come to Jerome’s on North Halsted at nine o’clock. I look forward to it, Olivia.” I flushed at the way he drew out my name. He turned away and for the first time, I could exhale.
“Having fun, David?” The secretary was loud, but I couldn’t hear David’s mumbled response. “Care for a smoke?” she held out a pack, and I cringed. He said something else, and I could tell by the way he bowed his head that he had declined. I was glad when he left and after a few moments, I followed, making a point not to look over at the smokers.
“So if you put the money in a Roth, it will grow tax free,” Andrew was saying to Gretchen when I walked up.
“And that’s better?”
“Well, yes, in your case - ”
