Chapter 14
14
Cate
I wake before the alarm goes off and rip myself away from the only place I want to be— Shane’s arms.
After contorting my body to slip out of bed without waking him, I’m confident that counts for my morning yoga routine. That, or an audition for Cirque de Soleil. As the shower spray rains down on my head, I close my eyes, remembering how he kissed my mouth and down my body. There’s a sense of mourning as the water cleanses his touch from my skin. But that leaves me wondering what happens now.
Do we pretend nothing happened between us?
Go about our lives and never speak to each other again?
Date?
Dating seems like the obvious answer, but how do I even broach the topic? I shut the shower off and grab a towel. “Hey, Shane, so remember how you did that thing with your tongue last night? I’d like more of that along with spending all my waking minutes with you. Too much?”
“No. I have time now.”
“Aah!” I jump, startled to see Shane filling the doorway. Twisting the towel tighter around me, I try to keep my heart from escaping my body. “Don’t do that!” I say, still panicked. “You scared the hell out of me, Faris.”
He’s busy laughing, but at least he comes over to wrap me in his arms. “Sorry. I didn’t think I’d scare you.”
I knock my fist against his chest, though I’m comforted by his warm, hard body. “I’ll never be able to step out of the shower without worrying someone will be there again.”
“I wasn’t trying to sneak in. I just happen to have perfect timing, but I am a drummer, so that’s a given,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “But I am sorry, babe.”
Babe. I hated it the first time he said it to me, and now I gobble it up every time like it’s little pieces of chocolate left by the Easter bunny. “I’ll live. This time.”
“That’s good because I’d hate for you to miss out on the other tricks I can do with my tongue?—”
I burrow myself into the nook of his shoulder, refusing to ever be seen by him again as mortification heats my face and chest and every other part of me. “So you heard that, huh?”
“Glad you enjoyed last night.”
“That’s a yes, then.”
Stroking his hand over my back, he dips to kiss droplets of water off my shoulder. “It sure is.”
“ M’kay . Soooo . . .” I gulp and finally face the music, a.k.a. him, by walking to the mirror and gripping the edge of the faux marble countertop.
He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest, and grins like the cat who ate the canary. What a terrible metaphor. “So?”
Is he going to force me to say it again? “Any thoughts on what was said?”
Checking a wrist where his watch typically is, he says, “Like I said, I have time now. I can have you coming within a few?—”
“I meant the other part. About . . . well,” I say, rolling my wrist and tossing it back to him. “You know.”
“You mean the part about wanting to spend every waking minute of your day with me?” He gives me a wink, and his smirk arrives on time, right behind it.
“When you put it like that, maybe not every waking minute, but some minutes most days.” And then I remember his words like he just said them. “What was I thinking?” I turn, facing the mirror and avoiding eye contact in the reflection. I tighten the hair clip holding my hair in place so it didn’t get wet in the shower. Grabbing my vitamin serum, I squirt it onto my hand, hoping to distract from his rapt attention and the silence which is an answer as well. “I shouldn’t have said anything. You made yourself very clear that you’re not a relationship kind of guy.” I mistakenly look into his eyes. His usually brighter blue eyes have darkened. It’s hard to tell from here, and I’m too worried I’ve already crossed the million lines he drew between us.
I reach for my moisturizer just as he wraps me in his warmth again. I still, not sure if I’m even breathing when he kisses my jaw, then turns me toward him. Cupping my face, he kisses me once, and with our lips barely apart, he says, “I leave tomorrow. I want to see you tonight.”
“You’re asking me out?”
I shouldn’t act surprised, but this man doesn’t do relationships. It’s a date, Cate. Not marriage . . . oh wait . That major life event was crossed off my list a long time ago. Never thought that would be reality, or Shane Faris asking me out twelve years after graduation. I still shouldn’t get ahead of myself when it comes to dates with him. One does not necessarily lead to more.
Releasing me, he turns to lean against the counter, facing me with a grin so big that you’d think he was the one who scored and not me. “Yes, I’m asking you on a date, Cat.”
My gaze deviates to his bruise. It’s healing, but fortunately, I can keep an eye on it without him being the wiser. “It doesn’t have to be a production. It can be something easy, relaxing like watching a movie, a nice change from your busy schedule.”
He sweeps hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear. “You deserve the big production—dates in public sharing Italian food or going to the Santa Monica Pier and holding hands at sunset.” He takes a sobering breath as his smile falters. “I can’t give that to you now, but one day I will.”
Now he has me grinning. “Are you making long-term plans with me? The guy who doesn’t believe in relationships?” I only tease to let him off the hook he’s lodged himself on by thinking I need more. “I don’t need all that. But I am thinking pizza tonight.”
He kisses me again. “Pizza it is, then.” Walking away, he adds, “And if you have time before work, I’m up for the job this morning.”
“What job is that?” It hits me as soon as he walks out. “Oh!” Giddiness shoots through me, and I jump. But then I check the time. “Dammit.”
He calls from the bed, “Don’t worry, babe. It’s not a one-time offer.”
It’s also something I won’t be able to stop thinking about all day. I already wish it was over so I could climb back into bed with him.
One week later . . .
“How have you not done the deed yet?” Luna says over speaker for all of Pasadena to hear.
My office isn’t much bigger than a matchbox, but I’m not here enough to worry. Her voice, on the other hand, is loud enough to reach reception. “Well, there are several reasons. One, he’s been out of town except for two nights.”
“Two’s enough to get it on, Cate.” She’s not wrong. “Please don’t ruin the fantasy and tell me he’s been a perfect gentleman.” Right again.
I know most have fantasies of how spending a night with a celebrity, especially one who looks like Shane, would go. I’m no exception. But we talk on the phone, even if just a quick hello, and text each day. He asks about my day and how I’m doing. It’s so normal that I’ve started to forget he’s famous, touring with his band and performing concerts each night that he’s gone.
The divorce barely crosses our minds since I lost the house. Now that we don’t have to worry about it, we can focus on him wrapping the tour and dealing with loose ends afterward.
I get Luna’s interest, though. We share everything. I’m also fascinated when she dates recognizable names. But saying we watched Gladiator because it just happened to be on and we were too tired to search for something else won’t quell her thirst for details.
It was a perfect night if she asked, though, especially falling asleep in his arms.
“He has, for the record. I get that you expected us to be swinging from chandeliers and breaking beds several times over, but neither of us feels the need to rush into it.”
“You do remember you’re married, right? Like that’s the headliner. Sex is the opening act.” I get up to close the door just in case anyone else is hanging around this afternoon. “You’ve seen him, right? Tall, handsome, sexy as fu?—”
“Ms. Farin, I was hoping to catch you.”
Dammit. I cringe, but right my face as fast as I can. “Mr. Goodman, I didn’t know you were in the office today.” I rush around my desk and hang up on Luna. She’ll understand. “Last update I received, you were in Mykonos for a few weeks.”
“We were, but we cut the trip short. Too crowded to enjoy.”
“Ah. Well, at least you enjoyed it three months ago when you docked your yacht.” I sit down, pretending to be professional, considering I was acting anything but a few minutes earlier.
“True,” he says, not catching the little jealousy I slipped in.
“How can I help you, Bob?”
He stands in the doorway with his white coat on, though he hasn’t seen patients in years. He’s barely seen this office, which he pays for monthly. He’s busy making millions and running the firm from vacation spots around the world. “I have a lot of work to catch up on and will be working late.”
I nod, understanding since I have a stack of files I’m working on tonight as well. And I come to work every day.
“We have a new account I wanted to discuss.”
“Alright. Do you want to talk here or move into the conference room?”
Sitting in a chair on the other side of my desk, he looks around as if this is a whole new perspective. It is for him. His office is a palace full of wood furniture, leather chairs, and awards from the Chamber of Commerce and Better Business Bureau. I have a plastic chair with a broken swivel and a desk we acquired when the yoga studio moved out last year.
He picks at the rubber coming off the arm of the chair, and replies, “Here is fine, but you should look into replacing this chair.”
“Will do, Bob.”
“Let’s discuss your future with our company.” I wait for him to lead the discussion. “You may not know that we don’t give promotions here.” I most certainly do know this, but it’s not something I need to quibble with my boss about. “We get more assignments with increased pay or lose locations, which means less money.”
He has me on the edge of my seat in suspense of where he’s going with this. He continues, “Flexibility is key to our business.”
“I thought care was at the center of our business?”
“That’s the business we’re in. Not Endeavor Personal Healthcare’s mission.” I need to reread that mission to see if our values still align if that’s not a priority. “We’ve had a banner year with record profits. You need to expand your mind beyond the basic duties of your job if you want to continue climbing the corporate ladder to have a career.”
Corporate ladders are one of the reasons I went into healthcare. I have no interest in that rat race when I can focus on helping others live better lives. I’m not sure why this conversation depresses me, but hearing about his goals has me wondering when he lost his humanity.
Wasn’t that what I thought about Shane initially? That his stardom made him lose touch with reality. He’s real and present with me as if I’m the most important way he could spend his time. The corner of my mouth rises as recent memories collide, and I shake my head, hoping not to give them away through my expression.
Needing to focus on the conversation at hand, I remind myself that seeing patients is a highlight of my week.
“So you have a new account?” I ask, unsure why he doesn’t just come out and say it.
“Yes, and I’ve been impressed with your performance. The surveys I sent out came back with only glowing reviews from both River Elms and Parkdale. We have Dally Point coming on board next month. It would be a good account to add to your schedule.”
Okay, this is good. Really good. I should get a nice raise, too. “I’m honored.”
“Don’t be honored. You’ve worked hard, and you have happy patients and administrators. We’re not just a facility that provides nurses for retirement homes. We’re in the business of care. You care about your patients.” Wasn’t he just saying the opposite? I want to roll my eyes but stop myself, proving it can be done if I wanted. He leans in as if he’s going to share a secret. “That’s who we are as a company. Now about your pay.”
“I’m all ears.”
“You’ll work at the facility on a trial basis for a week. You’ll get a feel for it and write a report on whether you’d like to continue and why. The administrator will send their feedback to me. If you’re approved to stay after the trial, the new pay increase will start three weeks from that point.”
I’m mathing, but something is missing in the formula because it’s not adding up. “You want me to add an entirely new facility into my schedule, donate two days of my week for one full month for free?”
“It’s a trial.”
“And then it’s not for the other three weeks.”
He stands and taps his fingers along the edge of my desk. “If you’re not interested, I know Ryan is.”
Fuck him and fuck Ryan. My insides seethe from the threat. “I’m more interested to know if you would have asked him to donate a month of his time.”
“I’m looking for team players, Ms. Farin.”
“You’ll never find someone more dedicated than I am, but I also deserve to be paid fairly.”
He heads for the door. “A discussion for another day. They’re expecting you at Dally Point on Monday. Bright and early.” Closing the door behind him, he saves me the trouble.
What a joke. I wish I could laugh about it.
I call Luna back, feeling a little sick to my stomach about the confrontation I just had with my boss. I vent to her, hoping to feel better.
She says, “Maybe it’s a good thing the house didn’t go through, or you’d be stuck with paying a mortgage.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’m not losing my job, Luna.” At least I don’t think I am. I lift my chair and turn it so I can look out the window at the strip center parking lot.
“You’re probably right, so let’s get back to the important stuff. When are you going to have sex with Shane?” Never deterred from a mission, my friend is unwavering in her pursuits of gossip.
I reply, “Three nights. He doesn’t return until Monday.”
“Gives you time to plan. New lingerie. Oh! We should go shopping this weekend.”
That’s not a bad idea. I’m not plotting sex with Shane, but I’m also not opposed to it either. I meannnn , he’s already gone downtown with his mouth, so it wouldn’t hurt to look my absolute sexiest. “I’d be up for that. Now let’s talk about your love life.”
“God, I’ve been dying to.” She dives right into the deep end. “Remember Adam? He does this thing with his . . .”
As much as work calls my name, I sit back and enjoy talking to my best friend for a few minutes instead.