This is the biggest deal of our lives, but I haven’t become this passionate before. It’s thoughts of Lauren, her soft lips, her gentle body, her breath against my chest.
When I ignore her, Andrea calls again, “Julian, please.”
I wait at the elevator as Julian speaks with them in hushed tones. He’s always been better at that side of it, smoothing things over.
“What’s the verdict?” I ask once we’re in the elevator.
He grins, claps me on the shoulder, then pulls me in for a hug. I laugh, clapping him on the back, even as the specter of Lauren haunts me from the corner of the elevator.
Reminding me of the hypocrisy of this embrace.
“You nailed them,” Julian says, moving away. “To the wall. They weren’t expecting that. You did a good job in your early meetings, keeping it calm, making yourself seem almost…meek?”
I laugh, nodding. “There was no reason to let them know I had teeth unless I had to.”
“But just then… they’re shaken. They want to pretend this never happened.”
“We’ll see about that,” I say. “It was a foolish thing to do, pissing us off this close to owning them. But that’s how some people get with money. They’ll do anything for it.”
I don’t think about that scared little kid. I don’t think about the cage.
I don’t think about the fear pumping in my chest.
Anything for money, some people….
Suddenly, I wish my woman was here, even if that makes no sense. I couldn’t hold her with Julian watching, couldn’t tenderly pull her close to me, savor her warmth, share it.
I couldn’t love her with her dad standing so near.
Or ever.
We can’t share comfort, emotion, or life without ruining what just happened.
A hug from my best friend, a deal well made, with no thought we’d ever betray each other.
CHAPTERTWELVE
Lauren
I sit in the yard, my notebook open in my lap, watching as the moonlight shimmers in the pool of water. It’s been a day since Silas’ tattoo session, a day since Dad and Silas had some crazy meeting with their new company.
I’ve spent today with three different clients, feeling like a proper tattoo artist, and I’m starting to be able to extend my focus for longer periods of time.
It’s easier when I have to stare obsessively at my work, so I don’t stare obsessively at Silas.
In my thoughts, he’s always there, tempting.
But he hasn’t contacted me, and I’m not sure it’s right for me to reach out to him. I can’t keep doing this, the hot and cold, but after the Vanessa argument, I’m wondering if we should stick to cold.
The notion causes my insides to twist, as though my core is telling me no. I can’t ever give up on Silas.
But then the reason for giving up on him – Dad – walks over, hands in his pockets. He’s got a big smile on his face this evening, far bigger than I’ve seen since the deal started.
“Somebody’s happy,” I comment, closing my notebook so Dad doesn’t see Silas’ name.
It’s a habit I thought I’d broken. It’s so immature.
But it feels good to write it sometimes.