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“Daniel,” I say.
“I’m not what you’re looking for, Daniel.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that.”
He bites his lip, and I know he’s searching for a better way to let me down.
“One meal. At best we fall in love and run off into the sunset together—”
“That’s highly unlikely,” he says with a soft grin.
“Well then, let me distract you for one night.”
“Distract me from what?”
“Whatever’s always bothering you, Jasper.” I’ve studied him enough to pick up on his ever-present melancholy. There’s sudden interest in his eyes, but fear, too. I wonder if I should say more, or if less would win him over.
“One meal,” he says reluctantly.
“I’ll give you a call,” I reply, concealing my triumphant smile before departing.
Jasper
“I BELIEVE YOURbrother and his assistant mentioned going to Club Bale tonight,”Daniel had said once the office party came to a close. He’d overhead them discussing it in passing earlier, so he’d said. This was his way of getting rid of me. Of getting me out of the house so he could devote his attention to his mistress.Work.I immediately regretted the thought, because the only adulterer in our relationship was me.
I took the bait willingly. Of course I did. Cole’s neglected arousal consumed my every thought since he and Leland had left Parker, Mitchell, & Ward. Lust might cool off, might take a back seat, but it didn’t diminish completely until spent. It hung right below the surface, where even a tame image, or an innocent touch from a stranger reminded you that sooner or later it’d need to be addressed.
So, showered and encased in the tightest jeans I could find, and letting my hair have a mind of its own—the way Cole liked it, I left home with the intention of intruding on their party without a care for how it’d look. I was past caring. At least where Leland was concerned.
Didn’t matter if they were having sex or not. I hated how close they were. I didn’t enjoy being reminded of how available, how craveable Cole was, because I didn’t want anyone having him but me. Nothing had changed in that aspect.
The gray sky had finally opened up after days of looming menacingly, bringing more snow. The cabbie’s windshield wipers were no match for the thick flurries rushing groundward, and that, coupled with the police activity on the bridge, made traffic into Brooklyn slow for this time of night.
“There’s an accident up ahead,” the driver said, and I cleared the condensation fogging my window to get a better view.
Police cars and fire flares sealed off the far right lane, their sirens silent but flashing blue and red in the night.
It’d have been much easier for me to hang at home for a few hours then go straight to the club, but I needed to see Sofia first. I needed to say the words I’d never spoken out loud before making the decision I’d already made from the moment my eyes locked with Cole’s at that estate.
Took a couple hours to pull onto her street, and due to the tightly packed cars parallel parked along the curb, I was left having to exit at the corner. I paid the driver, yelling for him to keep the change as I slammed the back door and eyed the long row of nearly identical homes.
Sofia’s brownstone stood out. It was the only one with the three-headed, whimsical light post in the front yard, and the dancing Santa in the living room window on the parlor floor.
I avoided the black ice on the uneven pavement as I walked the short distance to her place. The curtain twitched at the garden-floor apartment she rented to old lady Tilder, and the muted bark of a small dog could be heard from within. I hurried up the stoop and jogged up the sandstone steps before she could investigate me further, or call the cops, which she was famous for doing.
It wasn’t extremely late, but I knew her boys were in bed, so I shot her a text saying:I’m here,rather than ring the bell, then turned my back to the door so I could take in the beauty of the snowscaped park across the street and the couple shivering on the bench, smiling with their palms out and up, catching the gargantuan flakes.
People moved with purpose in the city, like they had somewhere to be since yesterday. At least that was the case the closer you ventured to lower Manhattan. The Brooklyn temperament was different. More relaxed, as if everyone here was already where they needed to be. It was what Sofia loved most about it. There was community here, she’d said. Something she wanted for her kids.
The front door opened, and with mother-mode engaged, Sofia waved me in and helped me out of my cold, wet things, even rubbing her warm hands over mine. She eyed my attire, the nearly sheer black V-neck that clung to my chest, the way my jeans strangled me, and the fancy shoes I kicked out of, but she didn’t address any of it. Probably momentarily more concerned with our impending discussion about my past. About Cole.
“Come,” she whispered, tightening the sash on her pink, fleece robe, “I’ve got a fire going in the living room.” The rest of the house was silent and dark.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” I started, feeling terrible about disturbing her when clearly she’d been ready to call it a night.
“Don’t be silly,” she said, falling onto the sofa and handing me one of two mugs she had situated on the coffee table. “I was about to binge-watchGrey’s Anatomy. Hubby had the boys out all day, tiring them out. Little did he know he’d be out for the count, too. I love it when that happens,” she said secretly.
I mirrored her position at the other end of the couch. My back to the arm, one leg bent and resting on the cushion, and started on my coffee. “Mmmm. How did you know I’d need this?”
