“That’s weird.” My heart races as I take a sip of coffee that now, I clearly don’t need. Hashtag wide awake and wounded.
“I just meant no rush. I love having you here. Knowing you’ll be here while I’m out doing my thing.”
“Your thing,” I repeat. He’s right, constantly being out of the house is his thing. The exact opposite thing ofmything. Realization washes over me. I set my mug down, and wipe my lips with my napkin. “It’s cool, Raiden. I’m going to head home.”
“Don’t feel like you have to.”
“I don’t.” My words are sharper than I intend. “I want to go home. To be home. It’s my day off.”
He narrows his eyes at me, and after a moment merely nods. “I understand.”
But does he? Does he get that we are fundamentally different? That this would’ve been a perfect breakfast had he just joined me? I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s not like this relationship is carved in stone. Nothing good lasts forever and it was fun while it did.
I skip over to him, pretending that this is par for the course, that my heart isn’t breaking over him choosing to schmooze with associates over connecting with me. Damn, I can be so dramatic. I place a kiss on his cheek. “Text me,” I say and start to pull away, but Raiden gently takes my arm.
His blue eyes search mine and for a moment I’m sure he’s going to tell me to stay, that he’ll cancel his brunch. I lift my chin a little higher. Raiden licks his full lips. “Come with me?”
I lean up and press my lips against his, soft and gently. It lasts only a second. “Just text me when you have some time.” He releases my arm and I head out the door. I don’t let myself cry until twenty minutes later, when I reach my apartment.
10
Raiden
What the hell was I thinking? The look on Mimi’s face nearly broke my heart. But what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t skip out on an obligation. That’s what this is, right? A social obligation with work undertones so that I can remain relevant and successful.
“Raiden?” A voice pulls me from my thoughts. The Brooklyn Heights restaurant’s noises return to my ears. The man across the table from me chews with his mouth open. “Is it that bad?”
“What?”
“The Croque Madame?”
I look down at my dish. I’ve barely touched it. What I have eaten is less than impressive. I can’t believe I gave up breakfast with Mimi for this. “It’s fine,” I say. The man, a potential billionaire client named Tate Phoenix, continues speaking. It takes a minute to gain presence. Dammit, my head should be on straight right now. The Phoenix Brothers are rolling in money and are dying to put it into buildings around Brooklyn. My best foot should be forward, wining and dining him so that he’ll use my team for his projects.
But I can’t get Mimi out of my head. I let her down this morning before I even knew what was happening. I can’t even focus on what I’m here to do. Then it hits me, harder than a bullet to the brain. It’s not Tate Phoenix that I want to impress, it’s Mimi. It’s been Mimi since the minute I laid eyes on her. And I’ve totally screwed things up.
“And we figure the project will entail about two years of work.” Tate lays his napkin on his lap, checking out a waitress as she passes. “But hopefully we can stretch the budget—“
“I’m sorry, Tate.” I lay my own napkin across my lackluster brunch. “I have to go.”
Tate lets out a huffy laugh. “Go? We’re in the middle of a meeting.”
“We can talk about this later. Trust me, we want to partner with you. And this is not a blow off. But right now,” I look toward the door, a smile playing on my lips. “I have a woman to impress.” Before he can say otherwise, I’m out the door and onto the street. As fate would have it, a yellow cab sits outside the restaurant.
On the ride to Mimi’s apartment, my brain swims. I’ve been doing things for other people all of these years, hoping that by overcommitting myself they’ll bring me some sort of validation. But I’ve neglected my own needs. And I need Mimi. I need her more than anything else I’ve ever come across. It’s her love and acceptance I crave. For me. Because she’s too good to let go.
I just hope I’m not too late.
At her apartment, her roommate, Tara answers the door. Estelle peers over her shoulder, eyeing me up and down once more. “She’s not here,” Tara says, her pink hair sticking out in all different directions.
“It’s her day off, right?” I ask.
“Yeah, but…” Tara looks back at her girlfriend, and Estelle shrugs. “I don’t know where she is.”
My heart sinks. My eyes dance around Tara’s bare feet, pulling my thoughts together. “It’s okay, I actually think I might.” Down the stairs and into another car, and I’m almost to the one place I’m certain to find Mimi.
We pull up in front of the brick and gold building. Prospect Park is bustling with families on summer break. Folks out front under blue umbrellas sit at the tables with their iced coffees and cell phones. I take the steps two at a time, even though my nerves are enough to stop me dead in my tracks. I’ve come this far, and I’m going for broke.
I make it through the revolving door, and stand stone still. The Brooklyn Library’s Central Branch is a huge building. She could be anywhere, on any of the three floors. I need to think! With my eyes squeezed shut, I try and clear my head.