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“I couldn’t. He had a chance to explain at Arlington and he didn’t take it. That’s a pretty strong signal. I’d be an idiot not to get the message.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, but what was the message? Anyway, it’s up to you. I’m meeting Brandon at the club around nine. You could come and confront him and then at least you’d know…”
I sighed and drank the rest of my beer. I couldn’t imagine confronting Beckett. It wasn’t like me to do something so ballsy. I was the type to slink away and lick my wounds in private, to put on a brave face when in public, and not admit I had been hurt.
Going to the club with Miranda and Brandon would be really ballsy of me. What would I say to Beckett?
I could imagine him seeing me with them and leaving. That would hurt even worse than if I never saw him again. But Brandon said Beckett really liked me. He had a girlfriend who died? He had survivor’s guilt? There were reasons he couldn’t see me?
Then I thought back to my oath to seize life by the balls for a change. Carpe diem.
Going to the club on Saturday night would be ballsy, that was for sure. If Brandon was telling the truth, I figured I deserved to know what those reasons were.
I’d demand that Beckett tell me and if it didn’t satisfy me, then I’d leave for good.
On Saturday, after dithering for hours trying to talk myself out of and into going with Leah, I got dressed in my tiny one-bedroom apartment in The New Yorker, standing in front of my mirror, adjusting my dress, which was far too revealing of my ample boobage.
Leah sat on the bed and watched. She had dressed and came over to my apartment so we could take the train together.
“We won’t be leaving together,” she said and cocked her head to the side to examine me in her critical way. “Not if you wear that dress.”
I frowned at her. “A dress isn’t going to win a man’s heart.” I adjusted the bodice once more.
“It can do wonders,” she said and twirled a lock of her hair. “Brandon said that he couldn’t get my dress off his mind after we met. You might be surprised at how memorable a revealing neckline can be to a boob man.”
I laughed and adjusted my bra so that I wasn’t spilling out. “I think men are far more interested in what’s underneath,” I said wryly. “Or at least, that was always my experience…”
“That too, but men are visual. They like to look almost as much as they like to touch.”
I nodded, remembering how Beckett liked to sit on the edge of the bed and just look at me in my lace bra, thong and heels. I’d make sure to wear some high heels, on the off chance that things worked out between us.
I had my doubts. Brandon seemed so certain that Beckett really liked me and had been moping around since he got back from North Carolina. I hoped he was right.
He s
aid that Beckett hadn’t been with any one woman more than once in the past three years – not since Sue died. Beckett was with me for ten glorious days in Topsail Beach. He stayed an extra week to be with me.
That had to mean something…
Finally, I was ready. After a last minute brush of my hair and reapplication of my lip gloss, we collected our bags and left for the train. The sun had set and the lights were bright as we walked to take the train to Hell’s Kitchen. From there, we’d go to The Irish Club where Brandon and Beckett were having dinner and would stay for drinks. Brandon told Leah that Beckett’s uncle owned the restaurant and nightclub, famous among the Irish crowd. I was nervous, and not entirely certain the night wouldn’t end in disaster, but Brandon had been adamant that Beckett had reasons for not revealing how he got the letters. Reasons to do with his work in Afghanistan.
The only thing I could think was that they were black ops reasons. Dan had been involved in classified actions. I knew not to ask about them.
Maybe it was the same with Beckett.
I had no idea what to expect as we finally arrived at our stop and walked the remaining couple of blocks to the restaurant, which was really nice, the front of the old red brick. Even at nine, the street was busy and people strolled hand in hand along the walk, enjoying the warm night, the antique street lamps hanging outside the restaurant adding a nice atmosphere.
“I’m nervous,” I said as we stood at the entry.
“Carpe diem, sister,” she said and grabbed my arm. “Your very words.”
“Famous last words, more like it,” I said with a laugh that I didn’t feel.
“Come in,” she said and pulled me towards the door. “Give the man a chance. He really likes you, Mira. Trust me.”
I allowed Leah to pull me inside the darkened interior. A hostess greeted us and we said we were meeting friends in the nightclub. She pointed the way to the bar and we went through a doorway. Once inside, I spotted Brandon and Beckett immediately. At that moment, I felt like a total idiot for coming. I almost turned away, deciding to run instead of facing Beckett. but it was too late. Beckett looked so handsome in a dark suit, white shirt and grey tie. My heart did a flip, and my gut felt tight as I saw him with a pretty cocktail waitress leaning over him, smiling at him. He seemed distracted and didn’t see us at the door.
“Come on, sister,” Leah said and pulled my hand, squeezing it to encourage me. “Carpe diem.”
