I pull out my wallet, punch in a number of a local florist, and ask for a bouquet of gardenias. Her favorite.
“The message, sir?” the attendant asks.
“Wish I were there. Love, Aaric.”
“Erick?”
“Double A, R, I, C. Aaric.”
“Got it.”
“Love, Aaric,” I repeat.
Yeah. That’s not how I planned to tell her I loved her, but I go with it anyway. Today I bury someone else I never got the chance to love.
Seems stupid the way we hold back on these things now.
Bryn lost her parents—the same day I lost my little girl.
I recite my credit card number, hang up, slip the card back into my wallet, and grab my leather jacket. Much like the one Bryn gave me once.
Bryn
Instead of taking me to reception, the number on Aaric’s card takes me straight to a direct line that I’d never had access to before. I rush on to say, “Hello. I was calling to schedule an appointment with Mr. Christos.”
“Who’s calling? And would this be the youngest or eldest?”
“Eldest. Aaric. And it’s Bryn Kelly.”
“Ah, yes, Miss Kelly. He asked me to shuffle his schedule around if you called. If you can be here at 6, I’ll get you in before he leaves the office.”
Whoa.
He did?
My heart skips a little.
“I appreciate it. Truly. Thank you!”
Noticing it’s 4:51 p.m. already, I lay out my outfit with care, do my hair, apply makeup—not a lot, but enough to make me look polished—and add my faux diamond studs from Macy’s.
“Are you still up for doing some dog runs?” I ask Sara after a brief knock on her bedroom door.
She’s watching TV, still in pajamas. On a Monday.
Rolling to her stomach with a groan, she lifts her head to shoot me an are-you-kidding look. “Anything to get me out of the apartment!”
“Okay—” I cross the room and hand her an address. “Mrs. Wellington is first. Her dog’s name is Natchez. He’s my favorite. A friendly little Husky. Take him to Washington Square Park, he likes it there. I’ll call to let her know you’re coming.”
“Yes, boss.” She leaps off the bed.
“I’m not your boss. Yet.” I wink.
“Trifle details.” She sticks her tongue out and jogs over to her small bathroom.
After a quick call to Mrs. Wellington, I head for Brooklyn.
I wring my hands the entire train ride.
Today is the day I’m going to make my pitch, and I want him to go for it.
After I step off the train and walk three blocks to my destination, I check my briefcase to make sure I have everything I need.
The warehouse is just short of huge and simple on the outside. So simple, all red brick, that I find it difficult to locate the door.
I reach out to pull open the inconspicuous door when it opens on its own and a group of three young, sharp men dressed in business suits step out. One gives me a once over, mumbles something under his breath that makes the other men cackle and slap his back.
Well. I suppose I chose the right outfit.
I step in and stare in mounting amazement. Wow!! Aaric has really done well for himself. The warehouse looks unremarkable on the outside, but the moment you step inside, the edgy, state-of-the-art interior catches you off guard.
Flat TVs line the red brick walls, industrial beams grace the ceilings, and polished cement covers the floor. Yet it is the cleanliness, the equipment, the size, the museum-like quality of every finish inside that makes me realize…never doubt again.
I follow the signs and head to the first-floor bathroom to freshen up.
“I’m telling you, not even his mother could love him. He’s fucking intolerable and I’m over this,” one employee is telling another by the sink.
“You are not over this, you just started this job.”
“He calls at 5 a.m.! He has no respect for my personal time or anyone else’s.”
“He pays you for every hour of your day, especially overtime hours. Plus that’s in our contracts—oh.”
They quiet when they spot me. I’m hurrying to make my appointment on time so I keep dabbing a cool, moist tissue down the back of my neck and between my breasts.
They leave. I quickly head to the stall to pee when I hear footsteps and the sound of the bathroom door slamming and frantic kissing follows.
I’m just about to head out to wash my hands when I realize a couple is making out near the bathroom sink.
Oh brother. I peer through the gap in the bathroom stall and can make out a pair of women’s heels digging into a partly bared male ass as he starts pounding her. He’s got a great ass. So great she seems to be enjoying digging into it with her slim, inked ankles and those heels.
“Oooooh. God yes. Did you lock the door?” the woman asks on a hushed moan.
“Of course, baby.” A gruff male response, buried in her neck.
I shut my eyes with a little bit of longing because I don’t even know how long it’s been since I had sex, then I lean my forehead on the back of the door and suppress the urge to bang myself against it. Ugh. Really?
I suffer through their entire fuck and their joint orgasm.
Minutes and minutes of sighs and groans.
After they’re done, I peer under the stall and watch a pair of women’s heels and men’s shiny gray designer shoes leave.
I step outside, fix my hair, and exhale before I leave and hurry up the stairs onto the second floor—straight to the biggest doors I can find—and direct myself to the busy PA sitting behind a Mac computer.
“I’m here to see Mr. Christos. I’m Bryn Kelly.”
“Your appointment was at six.”
We stare at one another.
“Yes.” I widen my eyes when I realize that it’s 6:21 p.m.
“Mr. Christos hates when an appointment is late,” his assistant snaps.
“I’m here now. Do you suppose you could fit me in? I’m…an old acquaintance.”
“He’s heading out of the office. Sorry.” The phone rings. The woman looks close to a panic attack as she picks up. “Yes, Mr. Christos? Aha. Yes, I’ll bring it over. I’ll do that as well.” She hangs up and hurries to do his bidding.
“I’ll bring him that.” I take the folders she has gathered.
“You’ll get me fired.”
“Or promoted.”
I head toward the doors.
“Miss Kelly, truly—” she objects as she chases me.
I ignore her pleas and head inside to find Christos bent over his desk, signing documents.
“Thanks,” he says without looking up as he hears me come in. “And if Miss Kelly deigns herself to—”
“She’s deigned to appear, sir, and she’s truly sorry she’s late.”
His eyebrows lift for a fraction of a second. His lips part. He quickly rises to his full composure.
Our eyes hold, and his eyebrows lift a fraction more as I gape at him. Like a fool. An utter and complete fool. He’s in a black suit, no tie, his hair slicked back to reveal his hot-as-sin features.
He seems to recover quickly. But I take longer. Forcing myself to move and step deeper into his office.
There’s silence. He looks as intimidating as he looked at his place. He also looks vexed, his irritation evident as he takes me in without the barest hint of a smile.
His brows slant low over his eyes in a frown. “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, lips pursed, irritated and just a hint amused. “And you are?”
“I’m your next appointment. The wicked Miss Kelly.”
His lips curve, but he shakes it off. He glances past my shoulders, a stern look on his features. “Make sure this doesn’t happen again.” He hands the papers to his assistant, who crept up behind me while I ogled him, then he shoots me a glance. “Lips, I leave in…ten minutes. I’m wrapping up.”
Why am I licking my lips because he called me lips?
“Oh. Well then, I’ll walk you to the train,” I say, licking my lips yet again.
“Gym, you mean.”
“Exactly. I was heading there myself.”
He rakes his eyes down my body as if determining whether I work out or not. “Right.” He smiles.