“Lust,” I hiss to myself again, but the train is already whooshing into the station, making it impossible for anyone else to eavesdrop on my insanity.
Too bad I can hear all the miserable thoughts racing through my head loud and clear.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sam
She’s late.
Jess is never late, but I try not to worry. Wrangling a cat carrier on the subway is a new experience for her and who knows how Handsome is weathering the journey. She might have needed to stop for water, or…cat treats or something.
Do they even have cat treats?
I know they have dog treats, but I’m not sure about cats.
I kill ten minutes researching cat treats and ordering some low-calorie delicacies from the local organic pet food co-op to be delivered to Jess’s apartment tomorrow—Handsome’s a good-looking guy, but he’s definitely toting around a few extra pounds—then resume pacing the hall in front of Jess’s apartment. Evie offered to let me keep her key after she hurried over to let me and the delivery guys in during a break between her classes, but I declined.
When I get a key to Jess’s apartment, I want it to be because Jess wants me to have one. Besides, waiting outside adds to the surprise, and I’ll be able to get an up-close-and-personal look at her face as she opens the door to find a stackable washer-dryer where their ancient dishwasher used to be.
The only place to hook up the new appliance was the kitchen, so I ended up buying a smaller dishwasher to install next to the washer-dryer, too. It’s a little more crowded in there than it used to be, but Evie assured me it doesn’t look weird. And that even if it did, the joy of not having to descend into the basement of horrors to do laundry makes up for a few too many appliances in a small space.
She was so grateful that she gave me a big hug before she ran back to class. It made me hopeful Jess will be similarly pleased and inclined to listen to my confession with an open mind.
Or just an open heart…
If she’s mad at me, I can work with that. I can reason her out of that with radical honesty and heartfelt explanations.
But if she hates me…
My cell buzzes in my back pocket, jolting me from my dark thoughts. It’s Jess, asking me to meet her at the dive bar around the corner.
I reply that I’ll be right there and hurry down the stairs, wondering what’s up. Was the journey from Brooklyn so horrendous that she needs a beer? Or maybe she just needs help carrying Handsome up five flights of stairs.
He’s not a light cat and she’s probably exhausted from lugging him this far.
Feeling shitty that I didn’t insist on going with her, just for brute-strength reasons alone—my soreness is gone and I’m fine to lift a crate with a cat inside—I cross the street and step into the sour-smelling bar. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but when they do, I’m pleasantly surprised. It’s a dive, no doubt, but an inviting dive, with vintage dart boards on the wall in the corner, a couple of pinball machines, and an ancient bar carved from what looks like one massive hunk of wood that lends the place an old-world charm.
And at six on a Wednesday, it’s nearly deserted. Aside from the bartender, bouncer, and two old men playing cards at the bar, Jess and I have the place to ourselves.
I spot Jess in a booth in the back, near an open window that lets in a shaft of early evening sunlight. It catches her hair, bringing out a subtle red tint I’ve never noticed before. Even in a t-shirt and jeans and almost no makeup, she’s beautiful, so beautiful I don’t notice that she’s alone until I slide into the booth across from her.
“Where’s Handsome?” I ask.
“Something came up and I’m going back to get him later,” she says, her voice crisp and…distant in a way that makes the hairs at the back of my neck prickle. “But I have a more important question.” She pulls a piece of paper out of her bag, pushing it slowly across the table. “Where is Hyrule Manor? I was able to get an aerial shot and access to the plans from the restoration work you did on the solarium last year, but no physical address.”
My stomach bottoms out as I glance down at the drone shot of the Tudor mansion I bought with my first big windfall two years ago.
Fuck. She knows. She knows and I’m…fucked.
“That’s quite a feat,” she continues as my throat squeezes so tight it feels like my windpipe is going to collapse. “But if you have enough money, I suppose anything’s possible, even hiding the location of your secret lair from the entire world.” A hard smile curves her lips as she pulls another paper from her bag and passes it over beside the first. “But it’s not so easy to hide your connection to your company. It took some digging.” She tips her head to one side. “Okay, a lot of digging and I probably wouldn’t have gotten to the truth if I didn’t know to look for a guy from New Jersey instead of someone in the UK, but I have hard evidence now. All I have to do is leak these to the press and your days of being the mysterious, anonymous billionaire behind the Paradisus company are over. Forever.”
“Please,” I start, but I don’t know where to go from there.
I don’t know what to say, what to think, how to explain all of this to her so it makes sense. I’m good in a crisis and usually think fast on my feet, but this is coming out of nowhere.
Just yesterday we were cuddling in bed, then giggling as we tossed pieces of cereal at each other across the table, wowing Evie with our ability to catch them in our mouths almost every time. She held my hand as we walked down the street to the subway and kissed me goodbye like she couldn’t get enough of me, ofus, together. And now…
Now, she hates me.