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6
Six hourslater Nina pressed the buzzer on the intercom in her apartment and waited for Jack to make his way upstairs. He’d given her no instructions for their date, no guidelines in terms of apparel. She’d spent twenty minutes standing in front of her closet before she decided to put her money where her mouth was and dress however she damn well pleased. If she and Jack were going to start again, they would both have to open up about who they reallywere.
And Nina was someone who sometimes liked to wear pants andflats.
She looked down at her outfit as his footsteps sounded on the stairs. She’d chosen a pair of tailored navy cigarette pants and comfortable pointed toe flats. She’d gotten the ivory blouse on sale at Bergdorf thanks to Julia who’d plucked it off the clearance rack for her before it made it onto the floor. The silk was light and sensual against her skin, the lace trim of her matching bra barelyvisible.
She tried to remember if she’d ever worn pants around Jack, then reminded herself that it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t play Trilby to his Svengali, and there was no evidence that’s what he wanted anyway. It was true that he’d been exacting in his expectations, but in hindsight she wondered if it had been a kind of game: how long will it take for Nina to assertherself?
He’d found out — and so hadshe.
This was different. She’d agreed to see him again on the basis of his promise to be more open and the promise she’d made with herself to be morehonest.
He appeared a little at a time as he climbed the stairs, the top of his head appearing first, the silver at his temples catching the light as his face came intoview.
“Hello,” she said as he approached thedoor.
He looked into her eyes and smiled. “Hello.” His gaze combed her from head to toe before returning to her face. “You lookbeautiful.”
She could see he meant it by the shine in his eyes, by the smile that could never lie. “Thankyou.”
“May I comein?”
The request took her by surprise. Jack had always come to the door when he’d picked her up and dropped her off, but he’d never gotten more than a glimpse of her apartment from the doorway, had never shown an interest in having more than aglimpse.
She hadn’t minded back then. The apartment had been a work in progress, the furnishings sparse. She hadn’t been eager to show it off to a man who lived at the Mandarin Oriental in a penthouse that offered views of the Chrysler Building, Central Park, and the Statue ofLiberty.
Now it suddenly mattered that he see her home. It was a new kind of intimacy, and she tried not to be nervous as she stepped back to let himin.
He seemed to occupy every square inch of space as he entered the living room. It wasn’t just his size, although he was over six feet tall and carrying the lean muscle of a tennis player. It was the larger-than-life aura that was uniquelyJack’s.
He stopped in the middle of the room and turned to take it all in. “This is nice,” he pronounced. “Warm.”
She closed the door. “Thankyou.”
He walked to the bookshelf she’d pulled off the curb on trash day three months earlier. She’d spent an entire weekend with the windows open, painting the bookcase a deep blue-gray in the middle of the living room, newspaper placed under it in order to protect the old woodfloors.
She hadn’t really felt at home in the apartment until the paint had dried and she’d unpacked the books she’d brought with her from Larchmont, adding them to the ones she’d picked up since moving toBrooklyn.
He scanned the shelves without speaking. She remembered this about Jack — the silence that was only uncomfortable because she was waiting for his touch. It was strangely soothing to be back in the cocoon ofit.
His hair was cut short. It curled at the back of his neck, making him seem almost boyish until she came to the broad shoulders pulling at the wool of hiscoat.
He bent to study the spines on the lower shelves, then straightened and moved around her sofa, stopping at the end table near the window. His fingers grazed the patterned pot holding one of her succulents, and he leaned down to study the photograph of thesari.
“This is nice,” he murmured. “From yourgallery?”
“Yes.”
FromLiam.
She pushed away the reminder. She wouldn’t be able to start over with Jack if she kept thinking of Liam. They’d been intertwined in her mind for nearly year, but Liam wasgone.
It was time to let himgo.
Jack’s eyes swept the room, resting on a toy mouse in the middle of the floor. “Where is yourcat?”
“Probably hiding under the bed. She’s a bitskittish.”
