21. Whitney
21
WHITNEY
I t’s only been six hours since I slipped out of Liam’s room and fled from my apartment like a thief in the night. At least I managed to shower and grab my laptop. I don’t know if it’s the afterglow of multiple orgasms, but I feel amazing. I’m meeting Shatar, my hairdresser, to discuss All Rhodes with her.
When I get to the salon, she wraps her arms around me in a warm hug. “You look great.”
“I love your hair,” I tell her.
“I’d love to say I cut it myself, but I didn’t.”
“Well, I need the number of whoever did.”
She glares at me. “And ditch me? Never.”
I laugh and she waves me over to the chair, but I stop her with my hand, glancing towards the hairdresser in the corner, chatting with her client. I lower my voice slightly. “I know I booked you, but can we grab a coffee around the corner? I actually just wanted to chat about something.”
She raises her eyebrows at me. “Oh? Okay. Sure thing.” She unties her apron and gathers her belongings, then follows me out of the shop.
When we get to the coffee shop, I turn to her. “What do you want? On me.”
She asks for a cappuccino, and we settle into a booth in the corner.
“So, what’s going on?” she asks me.
I take a deep breath. “I want you to come work for me. I’m opening a salon, and the first person I thought of is you.”
Shatar smiles. “Well, then. Tell me more.”
For the next few minutes, I explain my concept for All Rhodes and discuss the job expectations. We both finish our coffees, and she tells me she has to think about it, which works out because I have to focus on finding a location before I reach out to anyone else for hiring.
I’m on the train home when an idea pops in my head. On my walk back to the apartment, I call Sharon from my old office. She doesn’t answer, so I leave her a voicemail asking if she wants to get together for a coffee. We were never friends, so I’m sure she’ll find it a somewhat strange request, but hopefully she’ll get back to me. She would make a great CFO.
When I get home, I open the door as silently as possible and glance around, holding my breath. My good luck continues as I realize Liam isn’t home. I have no idea what I’m going to say for him.
Thanks for the great sex. Pass me the sugar?
Shuffling to my room, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket.
Abbi: Want to come over tonight? I’m making lasagna.
I haven’t seen Abbi since last night at the club. She texted me to say that she and Shane had left to meet up with some of his friends at another bar. I’d love to see her, but she’ll know something is up with me right away, and I don’t think I can stand the interrogation about Liam. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t need her advice on how the hell to handle this situation, so I shoot her a text letting her know I’m on my way.
“I knew it! You owe me $100.”
I groan, knowing Abbi wouldn’t forget our bet. “Calm down. It was nothing.”
She laughs maniacally, loading lasagna onto plates while I pour us both a glass of red wine. “Nothing, my ass. You should have seen you two at the club. You looked absolutely feral.”
“You say that about everything,” I remind her.
She swipes her wine from my hand. “Yeah, but this time, it actually applies. When Liam almost knocked that guy out for dancing up on you, you had that same look in your eye you get when I make my triple fudge brownies.”
“Those brownies are everything.”
“You know what’s better than those brownies? Hate-sex with your roommate.”
“It wasn’t even hate-sex. I wish it was. That would probably be easier. It was much more… intimate. Intense.” She slides me my lasagna and I start to dig in. “I’m freaking out, Abbi.”
She grins like the Cheshire Cat. “I’m obsessed with this,” she says between mouthfuls. “So, what’s the plan?”
“There is no plan.”
She gasps. “You? Without a plan? Unheard of.”
I roll my eyes, finishing up my food. “It was a one-time thing. I’m just gonna pretend it never happened.”
“But the orgasms! You need more orgasms!”
I shake my head. “It was a mistake for me to get involved with Liam. A drunken mistake. We need to keep our relationship strictly professional. Friendly.”
“I think that ship has sailed, sweetheart.”
I sigh, downing the rest of my wine.
Abbi pats my back. “You are the grumpiest millionaire I’ve ever met.”
“Not a millionaire,” I grumble.
After dinner, we sit on the couch and watch She’s the Man. I end up falling asleep on Abbi’s couch, and I wake up in the morning with a text from Sharon telling me she can meet me this evening. I have my first tour of potential spaces for the salon at noon, so I slip out of Abbi’s apartment and call a car home, praying Liam isn’t there.
I don’t take the time to check, beelining for the bathroom. After I shower, I reply to Sharon to let her know I’ll meet her for a drink later. Just as I’m heading out the door, I glance backwards down the hall, where I see Liam emerging from his room. He’s shirtless and scratching the back of his head, clearly just waking up. I can’t help but let my eyes peruse his bare chest, my mind flashing with memories of him hovering over me, his touch gentle and punishing. My eyes flicker up to his and catch his sharp, surprised gaze.
I flee, letting the door slam behind me.
The first couple of tours are total duds. The first place had mold covering the ceiling, and the second had only a tiny window that faced an alley. I’m feeling pretty defeated when I get to my last tour of the day. My feet hurt, I’m exhausted, and all I want to do is go home, but I’m terrified Liam’s going to be exactly where I left him, looking grumpy and sleepy.
Why does that send butterflies to my stomach?
I’m in such a foul mood I almost don’t notice the spot, too busy staring down at my Google Maps trying to navigate to the right location. But then I look up and see it. Nestled between two brick buildings with a giant A-frame window, it looks like a converted brownstone, stoop and all. A weight starts to lift off my shoulders as I take the stairs up to meet the realtor.
When she takes me inside, there’s only one way to describe it: love at first sight. It’s perfect. The large window lets in so much natural light that it fills the long room with the soft afternoon sun. The realtor tells me about the space and the rent, but I’m already sold. Sticking my hand into hers, I finally feel, for the first time in this whole process, that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
“I’ll take it.”
Later that night, I’m waiting for the paperwork for the rental space to hit my inbox over a bottle of champagne when I hear the sound of a key in the lock and the door opening. I don’t have time to hide in my room — it’s too late. Liam is already stepping into the apartment and meeting my eyes from across the room.
His gaze feels heavy on my face, just like it did this morning when he caught me rushing out the door. There’s a tension in the air, as if there’s an invisible thread pulled tight between us.
“Hey,” he mumbles, crossing the room to toss his keys on the counter.
“Hey.” I lift up my champagne flute and knock the rest of it down.
The corner of his mouth lifts up. A tiny, familiar gesture that sends a jolt through me.
“Celebrating?” he asks.
“I found a rental space for the salon, and I made some connections, hired some folks. Everything feels like it’s coming together.”
He smiles back at me, a slow, sexy grin that spreads across his face. “That’s great, Whit. Congratulations.”
My stomach warms at my nickname coming from his lips. I swallow and manage to form a word. “Thanks.”
A silence settles in the space between us. What is he thinking?
“So… ” he starts, and my stomach flutters with nerves.
He’s going to say it was a mistake. He’s going to tell me it should never have happened, and it’s going to be the most uncomfortable moment of my life. I shake my head, my nerves getting the best of me.
“Let’s pretend it never happened, right?”
He blinks. “What?”
“You know.” I look at anywhere but him. “Last night. Let’s just… it doesn’t change anything between us. We’re friends.”
“Friends?” he echoes back at me.
Why isn’t he agreeing with me?
After a moment, he seems to get his bearings, nodding along with me. “Right, friends. Yeah.” His Adams apple bobs, and I can’t help but stare at that spot on his neck. “Listen, I need a favor. Will you come with me to a gala on Friday night?”
A gala? That sounds an awful lot like…
“Like a date?”
He shakes his head, his dusty brows pulling together. “No, not a date. Just… two roommates who happen to be married, wearing exceptionally nice clothes, mingling in a ballroom.”
I raise my eyebrows, and he sighs with a soft chuckle.
“It will help me with Luke’s foundation. Tim says it will help to have someone by my side while I ‘schmooze’ a bunch of donors.”
“What foundation?”
He plops into the kitchen stool. “I found out that Luke had a plan to open a foundation to help low-income and first-gen students get into a good uni. It’s what I’m using my half of the money for — to do it in his honor.”
I’m quiet in the face of his unexpected admission. Every layer that Liam peels back is like a jolt to the chest, revealing an inner softness that I want to sink my hands into.
“That’s amazing,” I tell him, reaching my arm over the counter and placing my hand over his, hoping it won’t spook him. He stares down at our joined hands until I pull back.
“Yeah,” he finally says. “Anyway, will you come with me on Friday? It’s some fancy gala QuestBridge is hosting to raise money for academic scholarships.”
“Okay,” I agree. “I’ll go with you.”
He breathes out. “Thanks.”
“On one condition,” I supply with a grin. He eyes me, suspicious, and I glance up at his mop of unruly hair. “Let me give you a haircut,” I tell him. “You cannot go to a gala looking like that.”
“Wow, thanks,” he replies sarcastically. “I didn’t know you cut hair.”
“It’s not like I can open a salon without having some skills of my own.” I shrug, glancing at his face. “When’s the last time you shaved, also?”
“I get it,” he retorts. “Friday before the gala, you can do it.”
I nod in agreement, excited to get a chance to cut hair again. I don’t get to do it often, but I always enjoy it.
“Not a date?” I confirm.
“Not a date,” he agrees.
But somehow… I’m not convinced.