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“Perhaps Ms. Kasan should return to New York once the contracts are signed to oversee her design being implemented.”
Uncle Bill blinks in surprise, steepling his hands in front of his chin and tapping his fingers against his mouth. “Ms. Kasan has been absent from her home for three months. I would imagine she might want to remain here in Chicago for a hot minute now that she has returned.”
His tone is almost reproaching. Right. I should be thinking about Ani’s wellbeing, and not my own. My hand clenches into a fist at the reminder that I’m nothing to Ani. A fling while she worked out of state for a few months. It’s a painful reminder, and I nod sharply, sitting back in my chair to run through the rest of our agenda.
Chapter Twenty-Five
David
My phone buzzes. Max again. Seriously, the man is relentless. I’ve been back from Chicago for two weeks and he’s tried to set me up on seven dates so far. I have no idea why he thinks I need to fuck my way out of my funk, but that’s not it.
Drumming my fingers on the arm of the couch, I stare at my phone. Fuck it. I can’t sit here any longer, seeing Ani everywhere. I can’t even use my rooftop terrace. That used to be my favorite spot in this place, and now I’m contemplating moving, so I don’t have to see memories of Ani every-fucking-where. Of course, I got as far as pulling up a realtor’s website when I knew I wouldn’t be moving. If I moved, I’d never see memories of Ani every-fucking-where. Damn it, Max.
Snatching up my phone, I click away from my lock screen. I don’t want to look at our smiling Empire State Building selfie right now. Max has sent through a picture, and a time. I study the image. The woman looks nothing like Ani. She’s clearly a supermodel. Her short hair is platinum blonde, and her tits are very clearly fake. Fuck it. I can’t sit here, wallowing about Ani going back to Chicago. I shoot Max a thumbs up and he texts back a venue. I head to the shower. I need to shave before this fucking date.
Lillian, the supermodel, is waiting for me at the restaurant, fake tits on display, fake colored hair slicked back, a face full of makeup. I’m definitely as far from Ani as it is possible to get. She reaches for me, and I automatically turn my head to avoid a kiss. Shit. That wasn’t smooth.
“Shall we?” I smile, gesturing to where the hostess is waiting for us with a beaming smile. Lillian moves off, and my hand immediately drops to her lower back to guide her in. She’s too tall. This gesture isn’t as comfortable as it was with Ani. Clenching my hand in a fist, I drop it away from her, trailing both Lillian and the server into the main restaurant.
We are seated quickly and furnished with drinks. Like the restaurant I took Ani to on her first night in New York, this place doesn’t offer a menu. It’s chef’s choice. I wave away the wine as Lillian accepts it with a condescending arched eyebrow.
“I’ll have a whiskey. Top shelf.”
“Of course, Mr. Brooks Westerhaven.”
The wine vanishes, rapidly replaced with a glass of whiskey as the first course appears. I open my mouth to draw Lillian into conversation, but she’s brandishing her phone. Ah. Social media. Either Instagram or TikTok would be my guess. She’s so busy with her socials, that she barely picks at the first three, delicious courses. Ani would be moaning with delight over this meal. Lillian hasn’t had a chance to savor it. She’s too busy taking photos of her meal and deciding the best filters and hashtags to use. I take another large slug of whiskey.
“How’s the fish?” I ask, toying with my fork. Lillian glances up from her phone, blinking at me. She lets out a tinkling laugh, drawing appreciative eyes our way. I stare at her. I didn’t say anything remotely funny, but that’s not why she laughed. She’s preening at the attention directed toward our table. Ani’s fidgeting as she tried to ignore everyone looking at us floats through my head. Her discomfort at the attention.
Fuck this. I can’t sit here for another hour wishing that the woman sitting across from me is Ani.
“Excuse me,” I say abruptly. She glances up as I shove out of my chair but smiles and returns her attention to the phone. I stare at her in shock. Shit. She must assume I’m going to use the restroom. Whatever. Leaving her there, I stalk out of the restaurant, stopping at the hostess’ station to leave my credit card details for the meal. As I walk out of the building, I call Antonio.
He doesn’t mention my lack of a companion as I slide into the backseat and pull up Max’s number.
“Yo, man. How’s Lillian? Smoking hot, huh?”
“She’s Instagramming. Or TikToking. I’m not sure which.”
Max chuckles and I roll my eyes.
“So, you made a phone call? Smooth.”
He snorts as I turn my attention to the window. “I’m not at the restaurant.”
“Where the fuck are you?” he chokes.
“My car. Heading home. Don’t set me up again.”
Max curses and the line cuts out. He’s probably off to meet Lillian, apologize for my exit, and sleep with her himself. Whatever, I don’t fucking give a shit.
The second I’m through my bedroom door, I strip down to my boxer briefs and drop onto the bed. It feels fucking empty without Ani in it. Snatching out my phone, I pull up the pictureof Ani and me, staring at it broodingly. I went and fucking fell in love with her, didn’t I? Dropping the phone beside me, I groan as I scrub my face and hair with my hands. Of course, I went and fell in love with her. It’s fuckingAni. How could Inotfall in love with her? I’d have to be unable to feel anything for that to be the case.
My hand finds my phone again and before I know what I’m doing, Timmy is answering. “David. I would have thought you would be out on a date.”
I scowl at my ceiling but get to the point. “Why did you let Angie leave England?”
There’s silence on the other end of the phone, and Timmy finally huffs out a sigh. “Because I’m a fucking idiot. It didn’t occur to me that I loved her until she drove away. Why do you ask?”
