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A cool breeze sweeps past us. Letting out a shudder, Lex warns me he’s about to place his arm around me to keep me warm. Good friends would do just that. I laugh at his pathetic excuse but allow him to do it anyway, enjoying how nice it feels.
“So, anything exciting this week?”
“Exciting, no. Busy, yes…” he hesitates, but I’m unsure why. “I’m flying back to London on Monday. I’ll be there for two weeks, then back here to work on the opening of the new office.”
It makes sense now. The last time he told me he was going to London I acted like a spoiled brat and ran off on him.
“Are you angry with me?”
“No. I’m sorry I behaved like a petulant child the last time you had to leave. I completely understand your work commitments. There’s always email, texting, Facebook, Skype, and tweeting. I’m sure we can find ways to talk to each other.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t have time for social media.”
“Well, then, we can stick to good old-fashioned texting.”
“Sounds good.”
I don’t want to end the night, but it’s late, and I’m exhausted after last night. The crowds slowly disperse leaving us almost alone to admire the beautiful sight in front of us. The skyscrapers are lit up, and I’ve never felt so much at home, here, in this big city.
But maybe it isn’t the city.
Maybe it’s the person beside me.
“Where do you stay when you’re here?”
“The Waldorf, my home away from home. When the head chef knows exactly what you eat, you know you have it good.”
“Or a lot of money,” I add.
“Yes, that, too. Are you free tomorrow for lunch?”
This night is going so well, and I don’t want to ruin it. I can lie, but what kind of friendship am I trying to build based on lies and deceit? It’s now or never.
“I don’t want to fight, Lex,” I tread cautiously. “But I’m having brunch with Samantha.”
“Samantha. Right.” His expression tightens, the sudden crossing of arms a dead giveaway he isn’t pleased. “Can I ask why?”
“Business. Confidential matters. Legal… if you can read between the lines.”
“Right.”
“But I’m free tomorrow night?”
With a promising smile, he drops his hands back into his pockets. “Sounds perfect.”
“It’s a date. No, sorry, that’s the wrong term to use… a friendly catch-up involving something delicious to eat.”
Unable to disguise a mischievous grin spreading all over his beautiful face, he drops his head, letting out small a laugh. I can tell he wants to say something until it finally clicks, and my laughter consumes me.
“Okay, I know. I walked right into that one.” I smack my forehead, shaking my head, embarrassed. “Nice to see I’m not the only one with the dirty mind, Mr. Edwards.”
We stand and walk to the street lined with cabs. I don’t want to say goodbye, but I have to, learning to restrain myself. If we are going t
o be friends, I have to obey my own rules.
Rule number one—avoid all physical contact.
“Thank you, Charlotte. For tonight.” He leans in and kisses my cheek softly.
