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“Fair question … to which I would say you can control things like divorce. Nobody has to stay married to anyone if they don’t want to. My reference was more along the lines of not being able to control the way other people respond, other people’s actions,” he says.
“Do you believe in marriage?” It’s a bizarre question to ask someone you hardly know, but given the topic of conversation and his profession, surely it’s not completely out of line.
“Most days, no,” he answers without hesitation.
“What do you believe on the other days?” I’m overwhelmed with the urge to pick his brain, to peel back his mysterious layers.
I was wrong about him the night we met. He wasn’t some married man from the suburbs taking part in his secret double life. He wasn’t a liar. He was exactly who he said he was.
A rarity.
There aren’t enough people like him in this world.
Cainan’s phone buzzes on the table. Glancing down, he exhales. “I’m sorry. I have to take this. I’ll be right back.”
Cainan swipes his phone and hauls himself outside, pacing in front of the shop windows as he talks to the mystery caller. He rakes a hand through his dark, sandy blond hair, his back toward me. I take the opportunity to drink him in. Shamelessly..
He’s tall, but not too tall. Wields a runner’s build. Broad-shouldered. Chiseled features that belong on billboards. Cainan James is sexy in every sense of the word—but his beauty is merely a bonus, second to the rest of his charms. It’s his intelligence, his soul, the unshakable tranquility he exudes that does all the heavy lifting.
And then there’s the way he looks at me—as if I’m the only person in the room.
Grant did that on our first date, and while it sent the butterflies in my middle into a feeding frenzy, it was nothing compared to the chaotic flurry I experience when Cainan does it.
I watch as he ends his call, slides his phone into a side pocket, and returns inside.
I shift my thoughts back to neutral, clear my throat, and sip my latte.
It’s self-indulgent, maybe even masochistic to fantasize about a man I can’t have.
“Brie, I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to cut this short.” He glances at his half-empty coffee and grimaces. “I’ve got an emergency client mediation to attend. Anyway, it was great seeing you. Truly. Now that we’re neighbors, don’t be a stranger.”
With that, he’s gone.
I finish my drink, forcing myself to deny whatever it is I’m feeling with each and every swallow.
When I’m done, I pass a book display by the cash register. This month’s pick is Paolo Coelho’s The Alchemist.
On a whim, I buy a copy. Then I make my way back to Maya’s apartment, losing myself between the pages of a novel about a man inflicted with a reoccurring dream and his search for its meaning. But every few chapters, my mind tiptoes to Cainan, a man who seems so quietly sure of himself, of who he is, and what he wants.
Someday he’s going to set his sights on someone and never look back. She’ll get lost in the depth of his eyes, find herself intoxicated with the velvet in his tone and the way he smells like pure masculinity with a touch of sandalwood. He’ll woo her with his intelligence and charm her with his peaceful confidence.
I don’t even know this woman, but I’d give anything to be her.
26
Cainan
“What the hell happened with Grant and Brie? I just saw he changed his status from engaged to single? Did you know about this?” Claire greets me Saturday morning with a barrage of questions.
“Hello to you too.” I shut her apartment door behind me.
“Seriously, when did that happen?”
“Over a week ago.”
“When were you going to tell me?” She plops down on her mid-century modern sectional and hugs a pillow. “They were so cute together.”
“Brie changed her mind. It happens.”
She nibbles a painted thumbnail. “I guess …”
“He’ll get over it. In fact, he’s already planning a guys’ weekend in Vegas.”
“Of course he is.” Claire rolls her eyes. “Sounds like his comment at brunch that weekend had some truth behind it after all. Brie must’ve been having second thoughts, and Grant must’ve been aware of that.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket with a text. The number on the screen is unfamiliar.
602-555-9945: HI! IT’S BRIE. HOPE YOU DON’T MIND ME TEXTING YOU … GRANT GAVE ME YOUR NUMBER. ANYWAY, JUST WANTED TO SAY IT WAS NICE CHATTING WITH YOU THE OTHER DAY. LOVED THE COFFEE SHOP. WILL DEFINITELY BE BACK. ALSO, I GRABBED THIS BOOK WHILE I WAS THERE. SO GOOD! IF YOU EVER WANT TO BORROW IT, LMK!
A photo comes through of a book with a bright orange cover.
The Alchemist.
I’ve seen it before, but I’ve never read it.
“What’re you grinning about over there?” Claire interrupts my moment.
