Chapter 13 – Rhiannon
“And then I just... left.”
Leo finishes the last bite of his salad before gently resting his fork on the edge of the plate. His blue eyes are wide, and the corner of his lips are tilted upward as if he’s trying to fight back a smile.
We decided to continue our meet up by grabbing lunch around the corner from the courthouse at a cute, outdoor cafe in the heart of Manhattan. Despite it being cooler in the city today, it’s exactly what I needed and the people watching is fun too.
I know I should get home and prepare for my evening therapy appointments, but Leo and I haven’t had a chance to catch up in months and given the man just did me a huge favor, I couldn’t pass up on an opportunity to gossip with my friend.
“So, you just… left? Without leaving your phone number or any way for him to contact you? For a second time, Rhiannon?” Leo says like I’m exhausting.
I shrug and take a sip of my water. “We were always clear that it was nothing more than a hook up. Leo, you know better than anyone how chaotic my life is. Between all my jobs and raising Eden, I don’t have time for anything more.
I’m not looking for casual, and who wants to date a twenty-eight-year-old who still lives in her childhood home with her siblings and works four jobs?
I don’t even have time to see my best friend, aka you.
Plus, not every hook-up has to be something more. Sometimes it’s just about getting off.”
He snorts. “The way you were looking at him today tells me it was something more whether you admit it or not.”
“Look, I liked the spontaneity of those two nights together. New York City is massive. What were the chances we’d cross paths for a third time? Very, very low.”
He huffs out a breath as if everyone should want to be a golden-retriever boyfriend who loves being in a relationship and wants to dive in the deep end right away like him.
“Plus, I’m practically a mom right now.”
“Firstly, you’re not raising Eden anymore.
She’s eighteen years old and an adult now despite you still looking at her like she’s ten and helpless.
And secondly, I think the universe is trying to send you a sign.
It keeps throwing you two together in the most unlikely circumstances.
Maybe you should listen to it and ask the guy out on a real date? ”
I laugh. “I don’t think so. I rocked his world. I gave him my best. I don’t have any new tricks to show him.”
My mind flashes back to Hartford, to the way he looked at me like I’d just upended his entire reality when I was on top of him, riding him.
The way he’d laughed so easily later that night, how we’d spent hours talking about nothing and everything.
Trading ridiculous lies and half-truths, each of us seeing who could come up with the most outlandish story next.
Seeing him today only confirms what I suspected from the start. That version of Cain doesn’t exist outside a bedroom no matter how badly I wish it did.
The real Cain is buttoned up and serious, a man who probably schedules his fun two weeks in advance, if at all.
I’m not interested in investing in someone whose whole existence revolves around work.
The late nights, long days, I get it because I’m doing it too and I hate it. This isn’t enjoyable for me.
But Cain seems like the type of person to thrive off all that. To need the schedule and structure. To embrace it. Meanwhile, I’m searching for an out.
I can’t help but wonder what brought him to Bryant Park that first night.
If he never lets anyone see that side of him, the one who teased and smiled like the weight of the world wasn’t crushing him while I dry humped on top of him, why did he let me see it that night?
At least now I feel like I understand the real him a bit more.
“Okay, but to be fair,” Leo says, smirking, “he dusted off the cobwebs I know were down there, too.”
“He did,” I admit, grinning. “He was… incredible, actually.”
And he was. The best sex that I’ve ever had which is sad because I haven’t had much. Cain was someone who genuinely seemed to enjoy making me come. Which, let’s be honest, is a rare and beautiful quality in men from the city who usually care more about themselves than anyone else.
“As a sex therapist,” I say, half-laughing, “I have no notes for him.”
Leo snorts.
“But what are the chances that he’d end up being Matt and Madison’s lawyer? And why the hell was he on that music video set in Hartford?”
“Entertainment lawyers sometimes show up to shoots if they think there’s any risk to their client’s safety,” he explains. “Or if they’ve been involved in a lawsuit before.”
I rest my chin on my hand, staring off into space as I process this new information. From the little that I’d observed of the artist Davey, being involved in a previous lawsuit seems likely.
Either way, it’s still a strange coincidence. How many lawyers are there in New York City? Thousands, easily. And one of them happens to be the guy that I keep running into.
The server returns to our table and sets down the check.
“I got this one. It’s the least I can do since you’re not charging me for your time today,” I say, fumbling for my wallet in my purse, my mind still reeling from the unexpected turn of events. “Oh… shit.”
Leo laughs, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “What now? Did you forget your wallet in Brookhaven?”
“Uh, I think I left my wallet back at the courthouse.”
He throws his head back and laughs as he pulls out his credit card to cover the meal.
“I’m never going to expect you to pay for lunch. I’m not supporting an eighteen-year-old sister while paying off debt I didn’t accrue and an expensive mortgage. Plus, I make a shit ton of money,” he says with a teasing wink.
I stand up and kiss his cheek. “Will you marry me so that I can quit my job and live off you? Think about how much fun we’d have together.”
“I think Chris would hate that idea.”
I laugh. “How are things going with you two?”
He smiles almost shyly, and it takes me back to my best friend of decades when we were growing up. “Really well. He’s eager to meet the person who dumped a naked man on my couch and stole his boxers.”
“I didn’t steal them! They clung to me like a tiny barnacle desperate to come home with me!” Probably from all the semen.
He chuckles. “Let’s plan a dinner sometime soon with just us three. Or should I say, us four?” he wiggles his brows suggestively.
“Ah, now this is the moment where I rescind my marriage proposal. That’ll never happen because I’m never seeing Cain again.
A guy who spends all his time working in a stuffy office and wearing suits, is not someone I intend on spending any more time with.
Plus, did you hear him call me boring and insufferable? ” I scoff.
Leo laughs. “I did and that really tells me he knows nothing about you.”
“Exactly. Cain Prescott and I are completely opposites.”
He shrugs. “You know what they say.”
I shake my head, holding up a palm to stop him. “You know me, Leo. I don’t have the time.”
What I really mean is I don’t want to be that vulnerable with someone.
Because vulnerability means honesty, and honesty means discussing the past and hard truths that have shaped me into the woman that I am today.
And dating means taking time for myself, building a life that doesn’t include my parents.
A family of my own. And that feels unfair. It doesn’t feel earned.
“Alright. But I hope one day you’ll see that it’s safe to share with someone other than me,” he says nodding carefully. “Get home safely.”
I exit the café and hail a taxi for the drive back to the courthouse. Fifteen minutes later I’m back and checking with the security desk to see if anyone’s turned it in.
“Sorry, ma’am. There’s nothing here,” the guard says.
“Ugh. Where the hell is it?”
The guard shrugs like my whole life isn’t in that little grey wallet. “You can check in the courtroom, but there’s a case currently in session.”
My wallet has my train card, my ID, and all my cash, so I have no way to get back to Brookhaven unless I find it.
Just as my panic starts to kick in, a deep, familiar voice sounds from behind me. It’s steady, commanding, impossible to mistake. Gone is the stern voice I heard him use in the courtroom and in its place is the teasing, seductive tone he’d used with me during our two nights together.
Except I don’t want to hear that anymore because now I know who he really is. And he’s not the nice, playful and wildly attentive man he pretends to be. He’s a cold, calculated workaholic.
“Looking for this, Ms. Carpenter?”
His scent hits me before I even turn around—that warm, musky mix that still clings to memories I’ve spent a month trying to forget.
My pulse stutters. The tiny hairs at the back of my neck stand on end, and every nerve in my body remembers exactly what he felt like.
So much for thinking I’d never see him again. So much for trying not to react to him.
Pull it together!
I turn slowly, already knowing what I’ll find, and there he is, holding out my little gray clutch with a grin that’s far too smug for a man in a three-piece suit, with perfectly styled hair and a watch that costs more than what’s in my whole bank account.
Was he this tall before? I swear he wasn’t. Maybe it’s the harsh fluorescent lighting in the courthouse, or maybe it’s the expensive dress shoes that definitely scream Italian leather, but he looks taller, broader. More handsome.
The suit doesn’t help either, tailored within an inch of perfection, his long legs and broad shoulders unfairly accentuated. He looks so much lighter now.
I’ve always told myself that Suits aren’t my type. That I prefer my men blue-collar and a little dirtier, but now I’m wondering if I’ve been wrong all along or if it’s just him. I’ve never found a well-manicured guy this attractive.
I keep a blank face when I respond. “You stole my wallet.”