Chapter 19
19
Natalie
“We’re close to making the deal. A lot can come of it if this happens.”
“I have a good feeling about it, so I’m sure it will close.”
He goes quiet on the other end of the call, but then whispers, “Everything’s moving so fast.”
“That’s good, right? It shows your family and the other execs that you’re ready for whatever they throw your way.”
“I mean with us.”
This time, I’m the one who goes silent. Does he regret asking me to be his girlfriend? For committing to someone across the country? I know it’s been a while since he’s been in a relationship, but he seemed ready by his words and through his actions.
Why did I jump in heart first instead of testing the temperature with my toe? Ugh.
“Natalie?”
“What?” I ask, angry with myself for having doubted so quickly. I guess, we’re both in unfamiliar territory. Damn those dimples.
“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing. It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve felt content. I miss you, but knowing you’re at the other end of a call or video at the end of the day is a nice feeling. I have someone I can rely on who makes me happy.”
I lean against the phone, pressing it tighter to my ear, a sucker for his words and hearing him sweet-talk me. “You make me happy, too.”
“No regrets?”
“Not a chance.” I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. “When will I get to see you again?”
Caught up in our busy lives, it’s only been two weeks since I’ve seen him. I’ve started conjuring images of what it’s like in his world—Nick shopping for groceries, going to the gym, hitting the beach for an early morning surfing session, as he calls it. I like to think that something exciting is always happening in his life and I get to reap the benefits of it from getting pics of his hot body or just listening to him breathe as if he’s just come from a workout and lying on the couch to recover. It’s all in my head, but I still like the sweaty, sexy image of him doing that.
He replies, “How’s this weekend?”
“Wide open for you.”
Is that a growl I hear? “I like you wide open. How about a little phone sex?”
“Oh my God, Nick,” I reply, shocked. But the bed is cozy, and man, do I love my boyfriend’s voice—those deep notes reaching my core when he speaks. “Go on.”
A chuckle vibrates in my ear. “I can’t say I mind how much you like sex.”
“I hope not, but to set the record straight, I like sex, but with you I love it.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, baby. Now tell me what you’re wearing, and I hope the answer is you’re naked.”
Having a boyfriend I can share my most intimate acts and emotions with is truly better than anything, even those sexy little dimples, but not by much.
* * *
I huff, setting my laptop on the couch so I can get up and pace. The client I’m working with is beyond frustrating. “This guy has dated everyone in the city, and my client thinks she can hook him with a basket of cookies.”
Tatum looks up from the dining table, her mouth practically hanging open. “Is that what she requested?”
“I talked her out of it. Anyone under the age of eighty knows that cookies won’t tame his ass.”
She laughs and leans back in her chair. Crossing her arms over her chest, she says, “You seem to know the type.”
I walk to the windows but glance back at her. “Not just the type. The guy. I dated him once. Once when you were out of town and weren’t here to talk me out of it.”
“Oh, so it’s my fault, is it?” She sports a grin.
“Technically, it’s mine, but can’t you take the blame of that mistake for me for a little while.”
“For you, anything. I believe I remember just that weekend. I was making a few mistakes of my own, so add your mistake to the suitcase, and I’ll whisk it away so you never have to think about it, or him, again.”
“You’re the best. You know that? The absolute best.” As far as friends go, she’ll always be tops, but after last night, Nick is owning other parts of my heart. Pushing the curtains wider open than they already are, I peer outside. Night had fallen without notice, but now that it’s here, my stomach rumbles. “What do you want for dinner?”
Digging through a small filing cabinet in the corner of the dining area, she pulls out a notebook of our tried and true timeless gift options and sets it on the table. “I’m not sure. What do you want? Oh! I got it. A private Michelin-starred chef prepared meal. We’ll close the restaurant down. Can’t get more up an arrogant asshole’s alley than that.”
“I take it you’re referring to the client and not our dinner tonight. Correct?” Delirium has set in after working without so much as a break, and my laughter follows just after. “We’ve been at this all day.”
She joins in laughing along with me. Definitely not at me. “No, not you.”
“It’s a great idea. Serves two purposes—feeds his ego and fills his belly. I’ll send her an email with the concept and see if she can push her budget.”
With the holidays coming up, not only are we taking corporate orders but we’re also fulfilling specialized gifts to individual clients. We’re busier than ever. That means fewer clients with bigger budgets would allow us to prepare properly and plan the way we need to, approaching the end of the year. “I think we need to bring a couple of people on board. What are your thoughts?”
“We have the workload to justify it, and there’s no reason not to with the funding secured for another year. With more employees, we can serve more clients and continue to grow our list of regulars. We could even start adding in referral incentives. That means a potential larger reach and more profit, which they will contribute toward.”
“I’m not seeing a downside when you put it like that. I need to make sure I’m covering the bases, but it sounds like we might be expanding.” The thought makes me giddy. I pick up my phone to call Nick, but remember he told me he’d be in meetings until late. Lying in his hotel bed thoroughly smitten feels like a lifetime ago because I miss him. But in reality, it seems we’ll not be anything but full speed ahead. And I don’t mind one bit.
Still staring out the window, I try to act casual. “What did you think of him?”
“Oh no, Natalie. You’re not dragging me into this. What did you think of him? That’s what matters.”
“I think…” His smile comes to mind. Those soulful eyes with those sunset-golden edges. And the strong arms that reveal he never wants to let me go by how he holds me. “I think Nick is pretty damn perfect.”
“But you don’t do perfect, Nat. You’re like a magnet to damaged and troubled men, and guys who wear arrogance like a second skin.” She laughs under her breath. “You sure you’re feeling alright?”
No, I answer in my head. I’m love-sick for that man. “Nick is none of those things. Maybe I’m growing up and finally realized that I don’t have to be emotionally battered to think someone loves me. Maybe Nick’s goodness is what attracted me.”
“This time.”
I turn back to look at her.
“I left him in Catalina because I was in no place to see the good in anyone, much less a man. But that doesn’t mean I forgot about him.”
She leans against the bar, studying me. “I’m going to say something you’ve never heard from me before. I like your boyfriend. I think Nick is amazing, and I also think you two are pretty damn incredible together.” She raises her hands. “I know. I’ve hated everyone you dated, but there’s always an exception to the rules.”
“Nick’s my exception,” I say, the words seeping in as I feel their deeper meaning.
“Guess an old dog can learn a new trick.”
“Hey, did you just call me an old dog?”
She shrugs unapologetically. “I’m three months older than you, so what does that make me? Ancient, that’s what.” Opening the fridge, she peeks inside. “There’s nothing but cream cheese and a jar of cherries. Why do we even have those?”
“Last Christmas we made cherry martinis.” I glance at my phone, wishing I had a text from him. It’s not that I don’t understand he’s busy. I’m busy too, but isn’t it fun to blow off obligations when you get to spend time with a new love?
Studying the jar, she asks, “Do they go bad?”
I shrug even though she’s not looking at me. “Check the date.”
The room is quiet while I reply to an email. I can assume she’s looking for a best by date because not ten seconds later, I hear the jar hit the recycling bin. The refrigerator door closes, and she plops next to me on the couch. “Want to go out?”
“Yep. I’m starved.” I set my laptop on the coffee table and stand. “I could eat a family-sized platter of pasta right now.”
Heading back into her bedroom, she says, “I don’t know how you stay so thin when you eat like that.”
“Running three to seven miles five days a week helps.” I fail to mention the intense workout Nick’s given me between the sheets. How could I forget when my body remembers so well?
I know she’d love to hear all the details, but I’ll save those for now to keep the excitement of the newness to myself for a hot minute. “And good genes.”
“Martine passed down those model genes all right. I can’t walk by an Italian restaurant, which is damn near impossible in New York City, without gaining a pound or five from the smell alone. God, I miss fettuccine Alfredo so much.”
It’s true. My mom modeled for a short time in her early twenties. She was spotted in Central Park and was booked for three Paris runway shows the next week. After meeting my dad at a coffee shop in Tribeca, she quit eight months later so she could spend more time with him instead of traveling the world.
As she claims, too in love to be away from him, she also decided to help build the family business. He gives her full credit for making it a success. From marketing to financials, she’s done everything to help not only build but also to create their legacy.
I feel like a failure in comparison. She makes everything look so easy. I peek into Tatum’s room. “Speaking of the other jeans, can I borrow a pair of yours. A bunch of mine went to the cleaners today.”
Without missing a beat, denim hits my chest. “Thanks.” I toss them to my bed and then go to my closet to flip through for a shirt. Deciding I’m not in the mood to dress up, I finally just pull a red fitted tee from a hanger and toss it to the bed. After changing clothes, I slip on a pair of Gucci red heels. They’re not that high at three inches. What? Most of mine are higher.
I’d like to say I don’t worry about my makeup, but I swipe a fresh coat of mascara and lipstick on before primping my hair. Basically, I’m keeping it a low-key night.
She’ll take another twenty minutes, at least, so I return to the living room and wrap up what I was working on. Sitting there, I check my phone again, tempted to call him or text him, but I worry it will interrupt an important meeting. “He’ll contact you, Natalie,” I remind myself.
Remembering how he called me baby the other night, I feel warm and fuzzy. Although that thought amps up the loneliness of his absence.
I impatiently wait, wondering if I should get a glass of wine to pass the time or just sit here with nothing to do but wonder what Nick is up to. “Are you coming?”
Tatum comes out but stops in the entry to the hallway. “Don’t be mad.”
Popping up from the couch, I say, “You’re not ready?” As if she didn’t already know this information.
“I was thinking I would have a night in.”
“What? It was your idea to go out. I got ready . . . kind of to be seen.”
“You look fantastic and should go.”
What the hell? “Alone?”
She goes to the door and opens it. “Totally, even if you just get us takeout. Don’t put that outfit to waste. Nick would totally love it.”
“But Nick won’t see it.”
She grabs my crossbody purse and slips it over my head. “Take a photo on the way and send it to him.”
“Why are you acting so weird?”
“I’m not.” Coming behind me, she shoves me toward the hallway. “I’ll order the food, but you go.”
“Why?”
“Go now.” Her voice is hard, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “I’ll call something in, but you can get a head start.”
Adjusting the strap around my body, I roll my eyes and move to the door. “God, you’re so weird. If you want alone time, just say so, Tatum.”
“I want alone time!”
“Okay. Okay. Geez. Calm down. I’m going. I’m going.” I start walking down the hall for the stairs. Got to get a few more steps in today.
“Thanks, Nat.” The door closes behind me, and I hear both locks latch. Girl needs to get some of that pent-up energy out in constructive ways instead of letting it build like anger inside her.
When I reach the lobby, I cut across the space. The doorman beats me to the door, holding it open. I step through, but then stop.
There, in front of my building, is a turquoise Vespa parked at the curb. And the most handsome man I’ve ever seen standing in front of it. “What took you so long?” Nick asks, holding a helmet out for me.
I look up to the sky to see Tatum leaning on our windowsill with a big smile on her face. I give her a little wave, and she sends one back. Turning to Nick, I walk closer. “I think you forgot I don’t like anything with two wheels.”
“Yeah, but you gave me a chance once. I was hoping you’d give me another to prove that you’ll always be safe with me.”
I take the helmet from him. “Well, when you put it like that, how can I say no?”
Reaching out, he takes hold of me and pulls me against him. “I hope the answer will always be yes.”
My body begins to melt in his hands like a chocolate bar on a hot day. “Yes.”
He chuckles. “I haven’t asked you anything.”
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I lift up so our mouths are a hell of a lot closer, and reply, “The answer is always yes.” Kissing him, I realize how true those words really are when it comes to him.
I’m slow to open my eyes when we part, but when I do, seeing that dimplicious grin is worth the wait. “What are you doing here?”
“Just in town to see my girlfriend.”
He’s going to do me in with his sweetness. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you.”
That has him laughing harder this time. “And if she’s not into surprises?”
“She is.” Taking a step back, I slip my helmet on. “So where are you taking me, Mr. Sexy?”
“What happened to the smug?”
“I misjudged you.”
He gets on the Vespa and anchors a helmet over his head. Clasping the strap under his chin, he shrugs. “That happens to us Ralph Lauren models sometimes.”
Stepping up to the side of the scooter, I shake my head. “I spoke too soon. It’s official. Smug has returned to its rightful place.”
“C’mon on, babe,” he says, “hop on.”
“I’m hungry. What about dinner?”
Turning to look at me over his shoulder, he says, “I know you’re used to being the boss around here, but maybe you’ll give me a chance to surprise you. What do you say?”
I get on the back of the scooter and wrap my arms around him, happy to be with him again. “I’m all in.”