Chapter Seventeen
AT LEAST ONE question had been answered tonight. Somebody up there definitely loved him.
Louis threw his arm around Roxy’s shoulder as they weaved through pedestrian traffic on Grand Street.
He tried not to smile like a jackass when she leaned into him.
Fine, the evening had definitely not started as he’d planned, with her knocking on his door as he’d performed the holiest of acts, but damn.
How beautiful were the stars tonight? He’d never really noticed before!
What had gone according to plan so far with this girl?
Oh, that’s right. Nothing. Not being able to pin her down had driven him crazy in the beginning.
It still did. But he’d just started to realize Roxy couldn’t be situated or handled.
She handled herself and decided when and how she wanted to include him.
He hoped that would change as she got to know him better, but for tonight, he was pretty damn content to hold her close as they walked down the street.
If he had to struggle not to look at her mouth every time she spoke to him, well, he was only a man.
And this man had just had his world rocked.
It was more than the amazing things she’d done to him, for him.
Amazing didn’t even begin to cover it, actually.
It was the way she’d been afterward. He’d expected her to clam up, make an excuse to leave.
He thought he’d truly fucked up letting himself get carried away with her, when he’d gone to such lengths to convince her of his good intentions.
Then she’d smiled up at him without a hint of remorse on her face, and he’d kind of fallen half in love with her.
Stop kidding yourself, you’re more than halfway there .
Louis didn’t know exactly where he fell on the love time line; he only knew that the cautious happiness he’d watched transform her since they’d left the apartment was having a direct effect on his own.
It made him feel like a fucking rock star, and he wanted her to stay happy. To be the reason she stayed that way.
For now, though, he needed to get himself in check before he scared her back to Chelsea.
He knew he shouldn’t make plans, should just let everything happen naturally, but he couldn’t help it.
He’d always been a planner, and his job only exacerbated the trait.
Tonight he wanted to find out more about her.
Everything, if possible. He wanted to make her laugh more .
.. and Jesus Christ, he wanted her to spend the night in his arms. No interruptions or impromptu popcorn parties.
His sisters were at a dinner party in Brooklyn tonight. He’d triple checked.
“You’re thinking awfully hard about something, McNally.”
Relax, idiot. You’re being too obvious . “I’m trying to figure out where you’re taking me.”
“Scared?” She tugged him down a side street, throwing him a smile over her shoulder that made him want to pick her up and squeeze her against his chest. “I’m going to feed you the best meal you’ve ever eaten. I’m going to do it for free, too.”
“A free meal in Manhattan?”
“That’s right.” Her hair lifted off her shoulders in the breeze. “How are your acting skills?”
“You’re assuming I have some.”
“Right.” Excitement danced in her eyes. “I guess this is going to be a one-woman show.”
She reached down and twined their fingers together before pulling him to a stop at the corner of the block.
The action temporarily distracted him until he realized they’d stopped moving.
He looked around for a restaurant but didn’t see any for another block.
Roxy appeared to be scoping something out on the adjacent side street, so he followed her line of vision and saw two food trucks.
They were on opposite sides of the road, a scattering of college students eating on the curbs beside them.
Both trucks had giant signs on their roofs boasting The BEST Falafel in New York City.
“Follow my lead,” she instructed before strolling down the center of the block.
Louis immediately wanted to pull her back to the safety of the curb, until he realized the street was closed down for foot traffic only.
He watched curiously as she stopped in the middle of the street, an equal distance between the two food trucks.
She tapped a finger against her lips, looking from one truck to the other.
“I’ve heard only one of them has the best falafel,” she stage-whispered.
“But I can’t remember which one. Do you know, honey? ”
Louis bit back his smile. Crafty girl. God, she was full of surprises. “I don’t know.” He did his best to appear torn. “Maybe we should try that dumpling truck I saw on the way over. I don’t want to get a bad falafel if we pick the wrong one.”
A hint of surprise made its way into her expression, but she hid it just as quick. “You’re right. We should g—”
“Hold on now,” a man called from the truck to their left. “I’m the best truck. You come to me.”
“Bullshit.” A man poked his head out the window of the opposite truck. “You wouldn’t know a good falafel if it grew legs and danced in front of you. I am the best falafel in this city.”
“You cook something in that truck. It is not falafel, brother.”
“They’re brothers?” Louis whispered in Roxy’s ear.
She nodded, nuzzling her cheek against his mouth. “They used to work the same truck, but they had a fight. Both of them refuse to give up the block.”
“How do you know this?”
“The starving actress newsletter.”
He half-smiled at the joke even though he didn’t find the idea of her hungry funny.
At all. It made him feel impatient ...
twitchy. While his mind headed down that path, it occurred to him that she’d just blown his mind and was now in charge of getting them fed.
It kind of killed him a little, knowing he hadn’t returned the favor— yet —or was allowed to buy her a decent meal.
If he didn’t think she’d dig in her heels, he’d give her the choice of any restaurant in town.
He’d sit there, watch her eat, and feel like he’d .
.. earned her. Christ. Apparently he wasn’t as enlightened as he’d thought, something he’d only realized since meeting Roxy and being blindsided by the urge to take care of her.
She could take care of herself, he knew that.
It didn’t stop him from wanting the job.
Roxy’s voice lured him back to the present. “There’s only one way to settle this, gentlemen. One falafel from each truck.” She pursed her lips. “Whose should we try first?”
“Mine.”
“Right this way.”
Roxy bit her lip, splitting a conflicted look between the two men. “I-I can’t decide. If I eat the bad one first, it might ruin falafel for me forever.”
“Here!” The man to their left tossed a Styrofoam container onto the metal perch beneath his window. “I’m so sure you’ll pick mine as the best, I give it for free.”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” The other man briefly disappeared into his truck. “Mine is free, too.”
“Bingo,” Roxy said out of the side of her mouth before swaggering toward the first truck. “Well ... if you insist ...”
They sat on the curb, a few yards away from the rowdy college students, and ate falafel. Since the truck owners were watching them anxiously from their windows, they switched once in a while and pretended to be in a deep discussion concerning the merits of each meal.
“And you claim to have no acting ability.” She eyed him suspiciously. “You were a regular Leonardo DiCaprio out there.”
“I might have picked up a few things in law school.”
“How to put on a show for the jury? That kind of thing?”
Louis popped a falafel into his mouth and nodded. Here they were, talking about him again. It was like she had some kind of mental block when it came to talking about herself. “What about you? Who taught you how to act?”
She stabbed at her food with the fork but didn’t eat it. “Uh ... no one, I guess. Just me.” Louis waited, hoping she would say more. “There was a drama teacher in high school that gave me a chance, but there were so many other students. He couldn’t really guide me.”
“What about acting classes?”
He laid a hand on her knee when it started bouncing, earning him a cautious look. “I took a couple when I moved to Manhattan. Before that, no. My parents ... they don’t think wanting to be an actress is practical. Or realistic.” She laughed a little. “They’re probably right.”
This is where he should stop asking questions. The witness had given up as much information as he would get. But he wanted to know more. “What did they want you to do instead?”
She didn’t talk for a while, abandoning her container of food on the sidewalk next to her.
When she finally spoke, he realized he’d been holding his breath.
“They didn’t care. They don’t care, Louis.
” Their gazes met. “The only reason they said acting is impractical was so they wouldn’t have to dip into their beer money for my acting classes.
I haven’t talked to them since Christmas. They genuinely don’t give a shit.”
“I don’t believe that. How could anyone not give a shit about you?”
“I was an accident.” She looked shocked to have said the words out loud.
Words that carved right into his gut. “My father got my mother pregnant at their high school prom. I think being the product of a cliché is what hurts the most.” Her laughter was forced.
He could tell she was trying to disguise the hurt, but he didn’t want her to.
Even if he hated seeing it, he wanted this piece of her.
“They went to IHOP afterwards. I wish I didn’t know that, but I do.
They had unprotected hotel room sex and went to a fucking IHOP in Newark.
I overheard that while they were fighting one night. ”
He’d been expecting something bad because of the ten-foot-high wall she usually had up to protect her, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.
Her parents not caring or encouraging her to pursue her goals made him angry on her behalf.
She was dynamic, smart, and talented. She deserved better than that.
His family might be bat shit crazy, but they supported one another.
In their own annoying, often long-distance way.
He started to tell her he was sorry. That he wished her parents appreciated her, saw her for the amazing girl she was, but she shook her head at him. “Talk to me about something else for a while, okay?”
She seemed uncomfortable with what she’d revealed, so he took the focus off her.
For now. “My firm doesn’t want me to do any more pro bono work.
” As soon as he said the words, he realized he’d been wanting all along to talk to her about it.
“Cases like the youth center ... they think it’s a waste of their resources. Also known as me.”
Her expression turned serious, eclipsing the gratefulness he’d seen when he’d changed the subject. “But it’s so important to you,” she said.
“Yeah, but—” Back up. He shook his head. “I never told you that.”
“It was obvious. You care about those kids. They need you.” She pushed her falafel around with her fork. “Who’s going to help them if you’re not around?”
He blew out a breath, when her words echoed the ones that had been circling his own mind. “I don’t know. Another lawyer. Maybe no one.”
Roxy stayed silent a moment. “I’m not going to pretend I understand the world you work in. It’s nothing like mine. But it seems to me ...” She pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “If they know it means a lot to you and don’t care ... you can do better.”
“Maybe they think they can do better, too.” The concern he hadn’t even allowed himself to voice slipped out before he could stop it. “Better than me.”
“No,” she said decisively. “I saw you work, Louis. I didn’t understand a crap load of it ...” They shared a laugh. “But I know if they let you leave, they’d be letting one of the good guys go. I know that.”
Shit. His throat hurt a little. He wondered if she’d push him off or hold him closer if he tackled her onto the sidewalk. “Thanks.”
They passed a few minutes in comfortable silence before Roxy spoke again. “What I said before made it sound like I’m bitter. About my parents, everything. I’m not,” she continued. “I’ve had to work harder to do it on my own. I want to succeed on my own, without any help. And I’m going to.”
Fear trickled through his veins. He’d never seen her look so determined.
Succeeding on her own was important to her.
Possibly the most important thing to her.
He’d taken that away from her with one phone call.
He’d given his help without asking, thinking she might turn it down if he was up-front about it.
Now he knew for certain she would have turned it down. But it was too late to take it back.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
For being a selfish, presumptuous prick, he wanted to say, but the flippant way she posed the question told him she needed a distraction from the topic.
He wanted to give it to her. Wanted to give her anything she wanted.
Not to mention, he sorely needed one himself.
“I’m sorry you’ve got the job of informing truck number one his falafel came in second place. ”
Her mouth lifted at the edges. “I concur. Overcooked.”
He took their containers and stood before tossing them into a nearby garbage can. When he saw that the truck owners were distracted, he winked at Roxy. “Maybe we should just make a run for it.”
Without missing a beat, she took his hand and started jogging. “I like your style, McNally.”