33. Kate
Chapter Thirty-Three
KATE
Why did I answer that call? Drew Blake Bonnaire is not an easy guy to forget. Since I’ve been home, he’s all I’ve thought about. Even my freaking toast at breakfast reminds me of his Welsh rarebit. He sounds so cute on the phone, joking like everything’s normal and fine. Well, nothing’s normal anymore. And it’s not fine. I practically woke up scratching my skin and quivering from the withdrawal of his . . . everything.
I close my laptop and push my chair away from the desk. There’s no way I’ll be able to focus on work now, which is wild because business has been taking off this week. I have a ton of meeting requests, including some in New York. All I wanted was for my company to be secured, and now that it’s beginning to thrive again, all I want is to be with the sexy Londoner in leather.
I keep telling myself that it will get easier as time goes on. Eventually, there will be enough distance between us that I can forget about his face, his touch, his kiss, his naked, tattooed body. But do I want to forget it?
Ugh, and now I’m irritated that he went out tonight without me? I bet he had a blast flirting with every gorgeous girl, getting back to his modelizing ways. A furious wave of jealousy streaks through me, and I clench my jaw, desperate to do something to feel in control again. I grab my phone.
KATE
Cocktails downtown at 7 p.m.?
GARRET
Yes, please!
BEAU
I’ll be there!
Perfect! Everything’s normal. Everything’s fine.
I think.
I change my outfit three times before I show up at the Sky Lounge about a quarter after seven. It’s the kind of place that makes you feel like you’re above all of your problems, which is exactly where I need to be tonight. Garret and Beau are already sipping cocktails at a table with a fantastic view overlooking the city. And Liz is with them too. Beau must’ve invited her.
“Look at us, two cities in one week,” Liz says, greeting me with air kisses.
Garret sips his cocktail, sporting a new hat. “We ordered you a martini.”
I take a seat and glance at the pretty drink in front of me, only to grimace. “Thanks. But I think I’m going to get one of those Moscow mules.” I don’t want anything that even looks like a martini or anything else I drank with Drew.
Beau shakes her head like she’s trying to understand my language. “That’s very hipster of you.”
I brush off her comment with a wave of my hand. “Just trying something different.”
“Okay . . .” Beau shoots me an uncertain stare as she sips her drink. She knows something’s up. The girl can read me like a book.
“So, what’s new with all of you?” I ask.
Beau flashes a tight-lipped smile. “Nothing.”
“Just work,” Liz says, tossing her red locks over her shoulder.
“Same old shit,” Garret says. “But, you didn’t invite us out for drinks to talk about us.”
“Yes, I did. We’re hanging out.” My pitch is a little too high to be believable.
My friends purse their mouths and stare me down with spill-it eyes. Even Liz knows I have something on my mind.
“Fine. It’s the guy.” I feel relieved to say it aloud.
“Your London lover?” Garret winks and nudges Beau with his arm.
“He called me earlier. It was the first time we talked since I left.”
“What did he say?” Beau asks, and my friends seem to huddle in, desperate for details.
I shrug. “He was just saying hi. Do you think he misses me? I mean, he wouldn’t have called me if he wasn’t thinking about me too, right?” I let out a nervous giggle, trying to sound like I haven’t been spending the last two hours overthinking the situation.
Liz, Beau, and Garret’s brows rise in tandem.
“Of course, he misses you, honey.” Garret pats me on the hand, placating me with his tone and pout.
“Aargh!” I mime pulling my hair out. “Why do I miss him so much?”
“Because you’ve got it bad,” Liz says.
“Kate, I hate to break it to you, but I think you might be in love.” Beau smiles as her pupils dilate.
My stomach knots, and my face grows hot. “I’m not in love . No one’s talking about love except for you.”
“Kate likes a boooy! Kate loves a boooy!” Garret sings, dancing in his seat. Liz and Beau giggle.
“C’mon, you guys. This is serious.” The moment the words are out of my mouth, I realize just how serious it is. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. What do I do now? How do you shake this kind of thing off?” I ask, hoping this is like a cold that I can get over in a week. After all, I can’t be in love with him. People don’t fall in love after only a couple of weeks. That’s ridiculous, right?
“There’s nothing you can do. Crushes have to run their course. It’ll go away eventually,” Garret says. Yep, standard cold cure advice.
“This is more than a crush,” Beau chimes in. “They had something real.”
“Why are you egging her on? This is just like one of your foreign affairs.”
Beau looks slightly offended. “I don’t think it is. And how is she supposed to know if she doesn’t see it through and see what it can be? What if this guy really is The One?”
I shake my head. “I hate that saying, The One. There is no one for anybody.” I glance at Liz who’s quietly engrossed in our conversation, like she’s watching an episode of Real Housewives of Something Or Another.
Beau takes my hand and looks into my eyes. “Kate, I know you know that’s not true.” She doesn’t say it, but I know she’s talking about my parents. If my mom had lived, they would have been together forever. No one could ever take her place in my dad’s heart—not even the beautiful Lisa Lake.
“Even if I wanted to pursue him, he lives halfway around the world. What are my options, really?”
“Why don’t you invite him to join you in New York next week? Feel him out,” Beau suggests.
Garret motions a handjob. “She means feel him out.”
“Stop.” Beau whacks his hand down. I laugh, grateful for the break in the tense conversation.
“Beau’s right,” Liz chimes in after complete silence. “If he comes, then you know he’s at least curious if there’s something more.”
I chew the pink lipstick off my bottom lip. A week with Drew in New York sounds like a hell of a lot of fun. Honestly, the two of us could have fun in a cardboard box. “I’ll think about it.”
When I get home after drinks, a large package with a London return address is on my doorstep. I rip open the stiff cardboard and pull out the framed photograph of the tree at Hyde Park with a handwritten note tucked in the corner.
I tried to fit inside the box, but I was too big. Here’s your one-of-a-kind Just Drew photograph.
I’ve been thinking about that night. All our nights.
–Drew
You’ve got to hand it to him. The man knows how to make me blush. It’s five in the morning in London, and I’m sure he’s fast asleep. But I can’t wait. My fingers tremble as I hit the button to dial.
“Hello,” he answers eventually with a deep, groggy voice.
“You should’ve tried harder,” I say.
“What do you mean?” Drew sounds like he’s rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“To fit inside the package. It would’ve been nice to see you. But thank you for the photograph. I love it.” And I love him for sending it. For being Just Drew.
He chuckles. “Oh, you’re welcome.”
“Look, I’m sorry I woke you up, but I have something to ask you.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ll be in New York next week. Would you want to join me?” I ask, almost spitting out the words. I hold my breath, and my heart pounds in my ears.
There, I asked. The ball’s in his court now.