“Never.” His answer didn’t surprise me. Baldwin sipped his wine. “So where do you want to go Thursday night?”
“Thursday?”
“Your birthday dinner.”
“Oh. I forgot. I’ve been so busy lately, it totally slipped my mind that my birthday is coming up.”
“Well, it didn’t slip mine. I was thinking we could go to Ecru. It’s a new French place on the Upper East Side. The waitlist for a reservation is three months long, but a colleague of mine is friends with the owner and said he could make sure we get in.”
“That sounds great. Thank you.” If I was being honest, I would have preferred to go to Joey’s again for a big, greasy burger. But Baldwin was a foodie and always trying to expand my palatal horizons. On occasion, I even liked some of the fancy foods.
Baldwin stayed for a while, and we talked shop. He told me about a paper he hoped to get published, and I told him how nervous I was to meet two of my video clients in the office tomorrow. After I relocated to New York, some of my video and phone clients who were local to the area had become face-to-face clients. It was always odd meeting them that first time, but tomorrow’s appointment made me particularly nervous because I suspected the husband could be physically abusing the wife.
It started to get late, and at one point I yawned and stretched. My thin T-shirt rode up and exposed some of my stomach. Baldwin’s eyes zeroed in on the flesh, and I watched as he swallowed. Moments like these confused me the most. I wouldn’t claim to be an expert on men, but I’d dated a decent amount myself, even had a few long-ish relationships. Generally, I could read a man’s attraction to me pretty well, and in this moment, I would have sworn Baldwin was into me. It wasn’t new. I’d felt it on plenty of other occasions. Which might be the reason I was still hanging on after so many years.
Sometimes a spark turns into a fire.
Baldwin cleared his throat and stood. “I should get going. It’s late.”
“Are you sure? Maybe I’ll pour a glass of wine for myself if you want to have a second…”
“I have an early lecture tomorrow.”
“Okay.” I hid my disappointment and walked him to the door.
Baldwin said goodnight, and then stopped and turned back. For a brief second, my imagination got the best of me, and I imagined him turning around and shutting the door—deciding to stay.
Instead, he said, “I’m expecting a package tomorrow. If you see it in the hall, can you grab it for me? I won’t be home until late.”
“Sure. Is tomorrow night the New York Psychology Symposium you were telling me about?”
“No. That’s next week. Rachel has tickets to see an off-Broadway play tomorrow.”
“Oh. Rachel.”
“You met her last week briefly at the coffee shop.”
“Yes. Rachel.” Like I could forget. She’d been wearing the dress shirt he’d worn the night before when I heard his door open and peeked through the peephole. “I’ll grab anything outside your door. Have fun tomorrow night.”
After he left, I washed off my makeup and brushed my teeth. Of course, even though I’d been yawning not five minutes ago, I was wide awake once I could go to sleep.
Story of my life.
I thought about my conversation with Drew earlier in the day—it seemed like it had occurred a week ago. Captain Prolactinator had suggested I masturbate before bed. But I was in no mood to think about Baldwin after hearing about his date tomorrow with Rachel.
Although…
I didn’t have to visualize Baldwin, did I? A vision of Drew suddenly popped into my head. He was definitely good looking enough…
But I shouldn’t.
I turned over and forced myself to close my eyes. An hour later, I reached over to my end table. I was desperate for some sleep after the long, draining day.
I turned on my vibrator and closed my eyes, attempting to relax to the hum.
Ten minutes later, I was sound asleep with a smile on my face.
Chapter 13
Drew
Alexa had ruined my job for a long time. After my divorce, I found bits and pieces of my marriage in every client’s bitter battle. It reminded me how much time I’d wasted, how from that first night I’d let my dick make decisions when it came to Alexa, instead of my head. Everything in my client’s files became personal to me, and it was like reliving the worst nights of my life on a daily basis.
Eventually, I learned to separate things—somewhat. But I’d lost something along the way. My job became a source of money and not something I enjoyed doing. While I no longer dreaded going downstairs to my office, I also didn’t look forward to it anymore.
Until today.
I was up even earlier than usual. After hitting the gym, I was in my office by seven, reviewing a case file. Henry Archer was one of the few clients I truly liked. His divorce was even amicable because he was a genuinely nice guy. I had his settlement conference today at eleven. The entire gang would be here to try to hammer out a final deal. Miraculously, I didn’t despise his soon-to-be ex-wife either.