Never Say Never, page 7
“This one.” I point to the chocolate cake crumbs remaining on my plate.
“You haven’t tried the others,” she says. Her face is tired and worried. I’m not sure why she’s stressing out about her wedding. She’s known she was going to marry Charlie since forever. But Nina’s a planner with a slight control freak streak, and this should have been expected. She should be back to her old self the second she returns from their Paris honeymoon.
I fork up a couple more samples. None of them compare to the chocolate raspberry combination.
My phone vibrates in my lap, and I sneak another peek. I’m fully expecting it to be from Cory. He’s been texting me since his plane landed that afternoon, and he wants to see me tonight.
I don’t know if I’m ready.
Then again, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.
I don’t want to seem desperate.
Shit, I don’t want to be desperate.
It’s Theo.
Tonight. I want to see you tonight.
“Who are you texting?” Nina’s elbow jackknifes into my ribcage. “You’ve been on another planet all day today. I swear I’m going to grab that thing out of your hand, chuck it into the street, and pray to God a cab runs over it.”
Charlie has his arm on her lower back, rubbing circles with his palm. He leans forward and flashes me a wide-eyed look, his lips pursed. He’s trying not to laugh.
“Your cousin,” I say, “has been texting me all afternoon.”
Her demeanor shifts and a wicked grin spreads across her face. She so wants this to work out. “You’re going to see him, right?”
“I’m not throwing myself at him.” I take a sip of pink champagne from a flute in front of my place setting. “I’ll meet him, not tonight though.”
Nina tut-tuts me. “I’m telling you, Sky, he’s perfect for you. Perfect.”
“If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. Relax.” My words go over like a lead balloon. I should know better than to tell a high-strung bridezilla to relax just weeks before her big day. “Let’s focus on the cake, okay?”
I place a hand on her shoulder and take a tiny sip of bubbly while simultaneously re-reading my text from Theo. He went from non-committal the day before to practically demanding my attention.
We are sort of friends now.
And he’s new around here.
He’s lonely.
And I offered.
I text him back.
You’re in luck. It just so happens that I’m available tonight.
I fire off a text to Cory.
Can’t meet you tonight. Something came up. Tomorrow?
He responds immediately.
I thought you just said you were available tonight?
Shit!
I re-read my message, and my cheeks burn when I see I accidentally sent Cory’s message to Theo.
That wasn’t for you. Sorry. I will see you tonight.
Shit, shit, shit. Now he’s going to think I like him.
“Skylar, did you vote yet?” Nina slides me a slip of paper with ten different cake flavors listed. I’m supposed to rank them all 1-10 and deposit my ballot in the voting box centered on the table. It’s shaped like a three tiered wedding cake, though it’s made out of cardboard and paper mache.
I fill in the numbers quickly, fold the paper, and drop it in the wedding cake ballot box. By the time I’m done, Nina is saying goodbye to her co-workers and Charlie is gathering their jackets.
He’s such a good guy, and Nina is beyond lucky.
“So are you meeting up with Cory tonight?” Nina asks when she returns.
“Tomorrow.”
She grabs at the air, feigning like she wants to wring my neck, but she’s playing.
“Charlie, get this girl a massage and a margarita,” I instruct. “And a Xanax while you’re at it.”
I sit back, observing as he takes her aside, lifting his hands to the sides of her face and whispering something. He deposits a single kiss on her lips and she smiles.
I want that.
Nina hugs me goodbye, and I wave to Charlie as I flit out the door. By the time I reach for my phone, it’s already ringing.
“My, my, aren’t we a little impatient?” I say to Theo. There’s a lilt in my tone, and I don’t know if it was put there by Theo or Cory.
“Someone’s in a much better mood,” he snorts.
“I’m leaving Sweet Delilah’s,” I ignore his remark. “Where are you?”
“Meet me outside my hotel.”
***
“Wanna grab dinner?” His almond-shaped eyes are especially bright today, and the second I approach him I almost forget to breathe. He’s too handsome for his own good, and I woefully despise the fact that I’m attracted to his polished exterior.
My belly is full of cake and champagne, and it aches. If I have to eat another bite of anything, I’m going to hurl. “I’m not hungry, but I’d be happy to accompany you in your quest for food.”
“Hot dog cart it is,” he says. I follow him to a Nathan’s cart up ahead with a line three people long. “Sure you don’t want anything?”
“Positive.” It smells delicious, but I’m truly not hungry. My ability to resist fatty, greasy goodness has been honed and perfected over the years. If I had a superpower, that would be it.
Five minutes later he’s shoving a ketchup and mustard glazed hot dog into his mouth, his jaw firming and flexing with each bite. I stare at the hollow of his cheek, watching him eat. There’s something interesting about a well-dressed man in a three-piece suit that costs more than my rent shoving a Nathan’s hot dog down his gullet like he’s an ordinary guy.
“What’d you do today?” I ask him as he swallows his final bite. He pulls a bottled water from under his arm and offers me a drink.
“No, thank you.”
“I don’t have germs,” he says.
“I’m not thirsty.”
He cocks his head to the side and shrugs before taking a drink. He’s treating me like an old friend, but I promptly remind myself we only met last week.
“I sat in my hotel room and sketched out some ideas.” He caps his water. “Made some phone calls to my branding guy. Spoke with my PR people.”
We start to walk, heading north to Central Park. There’s something about its lush green serenity that attracts New Yorkers like magnets.
“What kinds of ideas?” Theo is an intellectual. He’s driven. He’s a thinker. I like that about him. My hair blows into my face, tangling my ironed waves, but I don’t try to fix them. Something about Theo makes me feel at ease, like I don’t need to impress him. I keep building walls and he keeps shattering them like an iron fist to glass. “Product ideas?”
“Right,” he says as we amble. “Sometimes the mood strikes me, and I grab a pen and paper and brainstorm. Today I was thinking about…”
His voice trails off until it halts entirely.
“Never mind.” His lips form a hard line and he shoves his hands into his pockets as we press on.
“What? You can tell me. Are you embarrassed?”
He laughs. Embarrassment likely isn’t a word in his vocabulary. You don’t get to the top by caring what other people think of you.
“Is it top secret?” I ask. That seems more logical.
He nods. “Something like that.”
“I don’t know anything about protein or supplements or chemistry or any of that,” I assure him. “It’s not like I’d know what to do with your ideas anyway.”
He’s quiet, lost in thought perhaps?
“Did someone steal one of your ideas?” I glance up at him. His jaw is set and his eyes are focused up ahead. His nostrils flare as he breaths. “Is that what your lawsuit is about?”
“I can’t discuss it, Skylar. I’m sorry. I’m legally bound.” His words are choppy and hurried, and his voice is low, carrying with it an undercurrent of a million things he can’t tell me.
I drop it. My dad was involved in a lawsuit when I was little, and Mom and I knew never to bring it up around him. It sent his blood pressure into a tizzy and his personality into a monstrosity of anger and short exchanges.
That was before he left us and started a new life with his gorgeous, pencil-thin, twenty-six-year-old secretary. I told my mom he was going through a mid-life crisis, but she was convinced that all men, if given an ounce of power and money, became shallow and were easily lured away to greener pastures.
We enter the park and find an empty park bench beneath the cover of an ancient shade tree. It’s a golden oak. My mom used to have these lists of which types of trees looked best with certain types of architecture, and once she let me design the landscaping for one of her clients.
“Oaks are classic, Whitney,” she’d said. “They’re strong and dependable. They grow mighty and tall and last for decades. I like to place them in houses with big lots that need lots of shade.”
Her client loved my designs, and we never told him a fourteen-year-old girl placed and picked out everything.
“How’s work?” He switches the focus onto me, and his eyes land on my hands as they fidget in my lap. “You having a good week?”
The way he asks makes me feel like he genuinely cares. I lift a shoulder. “Yeah, it’s not bad. I’ve landed a few new clients this week. Addison’s really starting to take me under her wing.”
“She’s a good girl, that Addison.”
“Yeah, she’s great. I’m lucky to work for her.” A breeze rustles the leaves above us. Spring is my favorite time of year. Growing up with harsh Iowa winters always gave me a deep appreciation for the warmth and green spring brings.
“Did you always want to be a real estate agent?”
I shake my head. I wanted to be a makeup artist, but my mom refused to support me, saying it wasn’t a real career. Forget about the brochures from top makeup artistry schools and all the research I did showing people who flew all over the country to do makeup for celebrities and magazines and photo shoots.
I was good at it, too.
Makeup was the only thing that made me feel halfway beautiful when I couldn’t fit into the trendy clothes and shoes all the other girls were wearing. I’d spend hours holed up in my room every night, practicing the styles I’d see on music videos and in magazines until I could replicate them with absolute perfection.
“Not always,” I answer. “My mom wanted me to go to school for something practical, so I studied Marketing and Public Relations. Somehow I ended up working as Addison’s assistant, and when she opened her new firm, she offered me this job.”
I strategically neglect to mention I had to beg for my job because Addison didn’t want to see me fall flat on my face and get hurt. She protects me for some reason; like I’m the little sister she never had.
“Did you always want to be a….” I stop and think. “What are you exactly?”
“A chemical engineer,” he answers. “Not always. I had a mentor growing up, a father figure I guess you could call him. He worked in the medical industry and had a chemistry background. He’d take me to work with him sometimes, let me experiment in the lab. It came natural to me. Everything clicked. Suddenly there was no other path. He paid for my schooling, treated me like a son.”
“That’s wonderful.” My heart warms. “Everyone should be so lucky to have someone as special as that in their lives. You still keep in touch with him?”
“No.” Theo stands up and stretches. His head jerks in my direction. “Not because of anything he did.”
I follow his lead and we walk some more. His pace is slow as if he doesn’t want to be anywhere else but in the park with me.
“You never did tell me where you’re from,” I say, bumping into him with my shoulder. “Everywhere is a little nondescript.”
His lip curls up at the corner, as if he likes how I’m not afraid to call him out. “My father was in the military. We moved around a lot. We settled along the East Coast when I was in junior high. I guess you could say I’m mostly a New Englander.”
“Minus the accent.”
“Right. Minus the accent.”
“You could’ve said you were from Nebraska and I wouldn’t have thought twice.”
“Never lived there.” He shakes his head. “That I can recall.”
“Where’d you go to school?”
“U-Mass Amherst,” he says. “It was my mentor’s alma mater and he was paying for it, so there’s where I went.”
“Respectable.” My phone buzzes in my pocket. I would bet money it’s Cory, but I ignore it. I don’t want to be rude to Theo, and I’m surprisingly enjoying our time together.
“You can get it,” he says.
“It can wait,” I say.
What is happening?
Not a single thought of Cory has entered my mind, and just hours ago I was getting giddy at the thought of meeting him soon.
“So tell me about your family.” My guard is melting with every step we take. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
His face grows solemn, his eyes becoming downcast. “No siblings. We grew up poor. Moved a lot. Wilder was the closest thing I had to a brother until I met my mentor. I had a family for a few good years, so at least I got to experience a sliver of normalcy.”
I’m sad for him, though I doubt he’s the kind of man who wants an ounce of my pity. Perhaps we’re more alike than I thought.
Poor to rich.
Pudgy to slim.
Being judged our entire lives until we wised up enough to take control over our external situations.
For a moment, I consider telling him about me.
About Whitney.
“So who’d you cancel on tonight?” he asks. “Who did I trump?”
“It’s not like that.” I’m blushing. I know what this appears to be, and I don’t know how to talk myself out of it eloquently. Besides, he’s so smart he’ll see right through my bullshit.
“Yeah? What’s it like then? You’re not going out with that dick from last weekend, are you?”
“No. God no.”
“So it’s someone new?”
I nod. “My roommate’s cousin. It’s a blind date kind of thing. Her idea.”
“So you’ll go out with someone you’ve never met, but you won’t let me take you out?” He turns to look at me, patiently waiting for my answer so he can rip it to shreds like a dog and a leather shoe. “But whoever this guy is, the one you’ll go on a date with, you cancelled on him so you could see me.”
“I have my reasons.” Coy seems to be the best avenue for me to take.
“I have a weakness for girls who play hard to get.”
My heart thuds, pounding against my rib cage. Our conversation is taking a sharp left turn, detouring to a point of no return. “I’m not playing hard to get, Theo. I’m not playing…anything.”
His hand grabs the crook of my elbow as he leads me aside. A group of mothers jogging by in matching Lululemon outfits pull my attention away until his hand lightly guides my face toward his.
I don’t know what’s happening. All I know is every part of me is pulsating, and I have no control over any of it.
“What do you see when you look at me?” His eyes focus into mine, holding them hostage and refusing to let go. I’ve never noticed the burst of white that shoots out from his pupils, dissolving into the pool of teal in his irises.
“Someone who could hurt me.” I try to swallow but my mouth is dry. Soft prickles line my belly. My entire being is electric. I’m terrified of the things he’s capable of making me feel.
His head dips down, his eyes leaving mine long enough for me to miss them before returning. “How can you be so sure when you won’t even give me a chance?”
“I’ve dated guys like you before. It never ends well for me.”
“Guys like me?”
“Yeah.” I hold firm in my opinion. “Successful, rich, good-looking. World at your fingertips. Could have any girl you want.”
Theo’s hand is still cupping the side of my cheek. He hasn’t released me, and he doesn’t look like he will anytime soon. The attention swells the outer layer of my ego, but he’s not what I want. Not on paper. He’s exactly the kind of guy I used to fall for hook, line, and sinker, and he’s exactly the kind of guy who can bleed me dry of what little hope and optimism remains deep down in my soul.
“You don’t know me at all.” Theo’s words slice through my opinion like a hot knife through butter. Maybe I should’ve stayed mum and kept my opinion to myself.
But he asked.
“I-I don’t mean to offend you, It’s just,” I say, tripping over my words, “there are things about me, about my past…and I need to be careful.”
Everything about Theo has the potential to be very dangerous for me, for my heart in particular.
“Everything about you is complicated, Skylar,” Theo says in an intoxicatingly charming manner. He gifts me with a single kiss, running his lips across mine and making them tingle in the process. My body fires on all cylinders. I forget to breathe. I don’t resist. Before he pulls his mouth from mine, I feel his lips curl. Kissing me makes him smile. He rubs his thumb along my chin before letting go, and a gush of fresh air replaces the spot where his palm had been keeping my chin warm. “But it’s kind of your thing. And I don’t mind it. My whole life has been hard, and I’m not afraid to work my ass off to get what I want.”
He’s softening my resolve faster than I can process it.
“And I want you.”
I’m sitting at a café in Midtown, waiting for Cory to arrive. Normally my foot would be twitching and my stomach would be in knots, but today I’m abnormally mellow. My nerves have packed up and gone to the Hamptons for the weekend.
There’s a sentimental smile on my lip-glossed lips and I’m replaying my previous evening with Theo over and over in my head.
