Chapter 13
thirteen
. . .
BLAIR
I pull up to the restaurant an hour later and check my makeup in the rearview mirror. I had a few meetings this morning, so at least I look nice since there was no time to go home and change. The hostess leads me through the restaurant until we are in the outdoor courtyard.
I see Wyatt, but he’s not alone. A gorgeous blonde is sitting at his table with her hand resting on his forearm. She looks comfortable as she leans in, leading the conversation, and he’s just as relaxed with a smile on his face.
I stop the hostess and tell her I need to run to the restroom. Yes, I’m totally hiding from him until I can get the confidence to interrupt his lovefest, but I ask her to let Wyatt know I’m here and will join him shortly. I step inside the bathroom and try to shake this weird, anxious feeling that feels a lot like jealousy.
Just then, the gorgeous blonde from his table walks through the door. She smiles at me on her way to a bathroom stall. She’s glamorous, with more of an edge. More crisp and designed than most women. She’s in a fitted, suit-style gray dress with buttons down the front and a thin belt around her even thinner waist. Slight and tall, she looks like a Victoria’s Secret model.
Of course, he likes her. What’s not to like? She looks like the Barbie to his Ken.
I wash my hands quickly and head out to meet up with Wyatt. I’m having second thoughts about coming here and looking like the sloppy seconds next on his list. He notices me approaching and quickly stands to welcome me with a hug, but I dodge him and rush to sit down.
“Thanks for meeting me for dinner. I know it was last minute. Can I get you a glass of wine or something else to drink?” He sits and motions for our server.
“Chardonnay,” I snap.
While he orders, I see the blonde leaving the restroom, and I look back at him to see if he notices. If he does, he doesn’t let on.
“So, who was the gorgeous woman you were meeting with before me?” I can’t help it. My curiosity is killing me.
“Oh, um, she’s a colleague from New York.” He looks uncomfortable. Was he on a date?
“I thought you said you had a client meeting?”
“I don’t recall mentioning a meeting?” He looks at me with raised eyebrows. “Why are you so curious?”
“I’m not. Let’s talk Sophia.” I try to get us back on track, hoping that I didn’t sound like a jealous girlfriend asking him where he’s been all night.
“Sure. No problem.” He looks at me with a knowing grin, and I hope to hell the flush on my cheeks isn’t visible in the darkened dining area.
Apparently, he already ordered food for us, as the server drops off a small, cast-iron skillet of meatballs drowning in the most delicious red sauce I’ve ever smelled. There are also Manzella olives, a light but crispy French bread, and a farmers’ market salad to share. I wonder if Jess would eat these olives. They have to be the best thing I’ve tasted all year.
“I tried to order a few things I thought you might like,” he tells me. “But please, order anything else.”
I glance at the menu and put it back down. He’s chosen exactly the same things I would have picked for myself.
“This looks great for now. Thank you.”
“What can I tell you about Sophia? You already know her history. She wants to produce and direct, and she’ll push you to find those projects.” Wyatt takes a drink of his wine, and I can’t help but watch his throat as he swallows.
No more wine for me.
“She’s young, and she’s still considered new. But if that’s what she wants, I’m committed to figuring out how to make that happen for her.”
Sophia made the jump from teen sensation to Oscar winner. It seems to some like she’s an “overnight success.” Many actors have years of experience in major films and several awards on their shelves before stretching their talent into other areas of this business. But if anyone can cross the unwritten barriers in this industry, she can.
“We can talk more about Sophia, but there’s something else I need to tell you.” He straightens in his chair, shifting to a more professional demeanor.
This is where he probably tells me not to get my hopes up because she’s already been talking to other agents. Maybe he’s friendly with other agents and set her up with someone amazing. I bet it’s Alan over at DCA. He’s good, but I still think I’m a better match for her.
“Where’d you go?” Wyatt asks.
“Sorry, go ahead. I’m listening.” I prepare for the letdown.
“So, my firm has just taken TWA on as a new client.” He looks at me like I might know this information, or maybe he wants me to share information.
“Congratulations?”
The question in my voice makes him hesitate. “It’s just. Well, it’s possible we could see more of each other, and I wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”
Same page? What does that mean? I stay silent and wait for him to elaborate.
“It’s just…we probably shouldn’t cross any boundaries,” he says.
Oh, hell no.
I cross my arms and lean back in my chair. He shifts in his chair as the realization sets in that maybe he’s made some assumptions about our boundaries.
“I’m not saying we would. Jesus. This is coming out all wrong.”
“I think we’re on the same page, Wyatt.” I down the rest of my wine. “I should get going. I look forward to seeing you around the office.” I stand.
“Wait, you’re leaving? Why? We’ve not even finished dinner. There’s still dessert.”
There’s no way I can sit through another half-hour with him so he can tell me more about these boundaries he’s eager to keep. This was a mistake to meet him tonight. I know better. I’m furious, but only at myself. He’s actually being the only professional at this table, and apparently, I’ve gotten too comfortable with him—so comfortable he’s having a fucking boundaries conversation with me. I scream that last part in my head.
“It’s actually probably better for me to skip those calories.” I force a laugh.
“Blair, wait. At least let me pay the check and walk you out.”
I turn away from him and let out a small sigh. “I’m going to the ladies’ room, and I’ll meet you up front.”
When I walk to the lobby, I see Wyatt talking to the woman who was at his table earlier. I didn’t realize she was still here. She’s hanging on his every word as he charms her with his stupid velvet voice and stupid good looks. I wonder if she’s aware of his “professional boundaries.” Or maybe she is why he mentioned them to me.
I’ve got to get out of here. While he’s got his back to me, I sneak out the front door and leave without saying goodbye. I tell myself I’m setting my own boundaries. The less time I spend with Wyatt, the easier it will be to keep him off my mind, out of my heart, and firmly in my past.
Ten minutes later, I hear my phone ding , and my car reads the text aloud.
“Message from Wyatt. Did you leave?”
I press the speaker button on my steering wheel to reply.
“Yes. Driving. Can’t text.”
I wait a few minutes, and when he doesn’t respond, my shoulders relax, and I sigh. I tell myself I’m relieved, but I wonder if it just means that he’s the one relieved, so he could leave with his Barbie.
I finally get into my bed, cozy in my favorite offensive “what the actual fuck” T-shirt. It’s exactly the vibe I’m feeling tonight. I grab my glass of wine and stack of scripts, and just as I begin to read, I hear my phone buzz on my nightstand.
WYATT
It was nice to see you tonight. Maybe we can grab coffee once I’m working at your office?
Are you fucking kidding me?
I leave him on read.
I lie back in my bed, full of disdain, jealousy, and confusion. I need to get these emotions in check. I’m not interested. I know better. And even if I were, he’s off limits. He made that loud and clear.