“I think it’s a marvelous idea. You’re only here a couple of days. I’m sure your schedule is packed. I could fit into it rather seamlessly.”
“You don’t seem to be giving me much choice.”
“There’s always a choice. I want you to make the right one.”
“Rather ominous,” I chided.
He laughed and reached across the table, snagging my hand in his. “Why can’t I want to spend time with you?”
“You can.” I slipped my fingers out from his. “Maybe I don’t want to spend time with you.”
“No lies between us anymore. You’re enjoying yourself. We’ve always had fun together. Why don’t we continue? I could take you to dinner tonight.”
I shook my head. “I’m going with the publisher.”
He arched an eyebrow, as if to say, I am the publisher. “No one would object to me tagging along.”
“I would.”
“What about your release day party tomorrow? I could escort you. Amy could even come with. Bring her strapping new artist along.”
“Why are you pushing this?” I asked suspiciously. “I said no.”
“You haven’t actually.”
“I just did then.”
He sighed and nodded. “All right. But I want you to know that I missed you this last year. You weren’t the only one who was upset by what happened. You’re a breath of fresh air, and losing your presence was a blow. You can’t fault me for wanting to have you back in my life.”
Despite myself, I was moved by what he’d said. I hadn’t thought anyone in their circle had feelings. Or that they would miss me. I had believed that it was all a game. One they had played many times before and would continue to play for all eternity. I was a pawn, and they had moved the pieces how they saw fit. No matter who got hurt.
But Lewis hadn’t made it seem like that. He’d made it seem like real lives were involved and real feelings were injured. Not just my own.
I blinked down at my cup and tried to banish these unwanted feelings. I didn’t want to feel bad for Lewis Warren. How could you feel bad for someone who had everything?
Because…he hadn’t actually placed the bet. Yes, he’d been there that day. But it had been between Katherine and Penn. And the wager had been in their favor. Lewis hadn’t been an unwilling participant, but he hadn’t really had a stake in the matter in the same way. And we had become friends.
No.
We hadn’t been friends. Christ. A few minutes in his presence, and already, he was twisting my thoughts. Bringing down barriers I’d put up for my own security. Lewis was an Upper East Side prick. He’d known about the bet. He’d done nothing. He deserved nothing from me.
“Is that all?” I finally asked.
He sighed and nodded.
“Good. Then, I need to get back.”
I stood, and he followed suit. He cleared the table for us and then we walked out into the November chill.
“I don’t want to blindside you again. I will be at your party whether I escort you or not,” Lewis let me know.
“Okay.”
I could probably avoid him at the party. There were going to be enough people. Hopefully.
We stood on the sidewalk, watching the madness of New York City zip by before us. Then, he turned and held out his hand. I stared down at it in surprise. A handshake. Huh.
I removed my hand from my coat pocket and shook.
“It’s been a pleasure, Natalie. I’m glad that you’ve found success.”
“Thank you.”
“If you change your mind about…anything, you have my number.”
It seemed doubtful, but I nodded anyway. “Thank you for lunch.”
He smiled brightly. “Anytime. Now, I suppose, I should get back to work as well.”
“Good idea.”
He hailed a cab, which pulled up right away in front of us. He opened the back door and then held it for me. “You first.”
“Oh, thank you.”
I slid into the backseat of the cab, and he closed the door behind me. A sad smile graced his features, as if this whole encounter hadn’t gone as planned. And for a second, it was like I could see how much he had planned all of this. He’d been excited to see me. He’d been expecting anger but thought that he could break through it. He’d been wrong.
The car pulled away from the sidewalk, and I leaned back in confusion. Lewis wasn’t what I’d been expecting either.
Natalie
4
“Natalie!” Amy yelled as she entered the hotel room that Warren had put us up in.
“In here,” I called back.
My fingers were flying across my keyboard. They were hardly keeping up with my brain, which was spitting ideas at me faster than I’d seen in a year. Everything was coming together. The entire year of a dry spell had ended.
Words.
Beautiful words.
They had finally returned to me.
I almost wanted to cry with relief.
I’d thought I was broken. For so long, I’d believed that I didn’t have it in me anymore to write a novel. My whole life, I’d wanted to be a writer. And, now that I was finally being published, I couldn’t write a damn thing. How cruel!