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I was dressed in my pajamas when I plonked myself on the couch, armed with my bowl of popcorn and a rolling pin. It was my safety blanket, plus it would hurt anyone who came near me. I grabbed my cell, now fully charged, and decided to text Alex to say thank you.
It wasn’t the rolling pin that accompanied me to bed that night. It was his hockey jersey. I held onto it tight, inhaling his scent.
Fact—he was married.
But was he happy?
The short conversations we had around this topic indicated that he wasn’t, but he was bound to her, in sickness and in health, ‘til death do they part and forsaking all others.
I was holding a match, lighting up the kerosene, playing with fire.
So what? We fuck once and that ruins his marriage? I wasn’t tha
t type of girl, and what about Adriana? She was my best friend and would never forgive me. These thoughts needed to leave my head. Immature, teenage dreams over someone I couldn’t have.
I tossed and turned that night, replaying everything in my mind, falling asleep at the break of dawn.
LEX
Present
I sit at the table trying to concentrate on the business meeting.
It’s impossible.
I need to take care of things, and my mind has questions that require answering. How the fuck did this happen? Out of all the places in the world, she’s here, in New York City, eating Japanese with her, whatever the fuck he is. I have to wrap up the meeting. I need answers now.
“Mr. Klein, the numbers you have shown meet our profit expectations. Have your business plan ready for me before I leave on Monday.”
“Of course, Mr. Edwards. It was a pleasure doing business with you again,” Klein responds.
We all stand, shaking each other’s hands. I sign the check and grab my phone, immediately dialing Kate’s number, asking her to meet me at the hotel.
Outside the restaurant, I’m greeted by the warm breeze. How long has she been in Manhattan? She was all dressed up—fucking hot, actually. I wonder what her profession is? Fuck, I need answers. My mind is scattered, and I’m unable to process anything in my normally controlled fashion.
I hail a cab, not being bothered to call my driver to come pick me up. The cab pulls into the traffic, only to be met with red lights as soon as we turn the corner. Pulling out my phone, I scroll through my contacts until I find his number. Bryce Callahan was recommended by a close business associate and came at a high price. I never asked questions about his background, knowing that his line of work wasn’t exactly legal.
“Bryce, it’s Edwards. I need you to look into someone for me.”
“Yes, Mr. Edwards.”
“Charlotte Olivia Mason. She resides here in Manhattan, I assume,” I tell him, only realizing this mission could be a needle in a haystack. She could reside in Brooklyn, Long Island, and the possibilities are endless with a state this large.
Bryce asks a few more questions, including her date of birth. I answer everything I can, desperate for anything on her.
“I need this information today. Anything you can get,” I demand, not willing to waste any time.
“Yes, Mr. Edwards. I’ll call you as soon as I find something.”
I end the call, my mind still reeling from the events. Charlotte was angry, and I understand that I left without giving her an explanation, but then again it was nine years ago. I thought she’d be happy to see me, like two long-lost friends, except we weren’t two long-lost friends. I promised her things. I promised her a future, and then I had no choice but to walk away, or at least I thought so at the time.
It’s just after two when I arrive back at the Waldorf. The cab ride didn’t take as long as I expected. Kate’s already in the suite typing away on her laptop. As soon as I walk in, she stands to greet me. “Good afternoon, sir.”
“Kate, nice of you to be early,” I sarcastically respond, considering I’m the one who’s actually late.
So, I sound like a prick, but I’m fucking going crazy.
This isn’t like me.
