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I can hear his breathing and the shuffling of papers. He stalls for a bit before answering, “I’ll give you her number, just don’t pressure her, OK?”
“That’s the last thing I want to do,” I assure him. The last thing I want is to hurt her.
Dennis gives me her number, which I’ve memorized already, and warns me once more before hanging up. I don’t waste another second. The phone rings a couple of times, each like a blow to the head until I hear her soft voice.
“It’s me,” I say, and her breath catches in her throat. Whatever I planned to tell her, escapes my mind.
“What do you want, Brian?” her voice is calm, but she says my name in a whisper.
“To see you. To talk. I am sorry for everything, Carol. Please give me a chance to help, to soften the pain I’ve caused.” No, this sounds all wrong. I should have started with the business deal.
“I don’t want any favors from you, Brian.” She answers as I expected but the way she rolls my name on her tongue sends a shiver down my spine.
“It’s not a favor. Just?—let’s just meet over dinner and I’ll explain everything. Tonight.”
There’s a long pause on the other side of the line, her breathing heavy and her voice raspy when she replies, “Alright. Let’s meet tonight.”
Chapter Nine
Carol
Thetaxistopsinfront of the restaurant Brian suggested. It’s one of the oldest in the East Village, but the brick and glass exterior make it appear far more impressive than its reputation.
I open the door and savor the chilly air. This is not supposed to make me so emotional, but I can’t help myself. From the moment he called me, I’ve been in a daze. Not that it took me by surprise. I had about five minutes to prepare for it.
Rose was with Dennis when Brian asked for my number and was frantically texting me the whole time. Dennis was not sure he was doing the right thing after having witnessed my reaction at the party, but when Rose asked me, I agreed. And then he called me. Immediately.
And damn it, it felt good.
I head to the entrance and stop to observe my reflection in the glass door. The black dress I chose is very simple and modest, with the hem just above my knees, despite Rose urging me to pick something sexier. I’m don’t want to look desperate, or even interested. If we are going to play this game, it will be on my terms only.
With a last self-assurance that my actions are justified, I push open the heavy door.
A heavy smell of wood and something sweet fills my nostrils the moment I walk inside. As much as I was impressed with the building, the interior looks even more extravagant. There’s a burgundy carpet covering most of the dark hardwood floors, up to the end of the hallway where the archway to the main hall is. And on the ceiling, there’s an equally long metal structure that acts both as an art piece and a light fixture.
“I’m here— there’s a reservation for Mr. Knight.” I hesitantly tell the hostess, more off balance than I thought I was.
She’s dressed all in black with her hair pulled into a slicked-back bun. The austere hairstyle contrasts with her warm smile. She scrolls through the names on her device and nods. “He’s waiting for you,” she informs me.
No surprise there. I’m late again but this time on purpose.
The hostess gestures toward the long aisle and escorts me to Brian’s table.
He’s wearing a white dress shirt and a dark gray jacket, no tie. His hair is combed back but his curls are starting to jut in every direction regardless. He’s completely lost in thought. He’s been here for at least half an hour but there’s nothing in front of him, not even a drink.
I did make him doubt that I would keep our date tonight, didn’t I? My plan is working but my stubborn heart feels sorry for him, longing to make all his worries fade away.
This isn’t real, I repeat silently, clenching my fists, urging myself to get a grip. I have no reason to feel things.
But then he sees me and that damn smile across his face makes me weak at the knees. He jumps to his feet and comes to my side, sending the hostess away.
“Carol,” his voice is barely a whisper, but I’m completely enticed too; all I manage to do is nod.
His hand grazes over my shoulder as he pulls my chair and waits for me to sit.
“There’s no need?—”
“There is,” he says in a raspy voice.
