Chapter 20 Lila
Lila
Owen’s big GeneSphere meeting on Thursday meant I had some time to explore Boston on my own.
I didn’t know much about the project, but based on how tense he’d been on the flight last night, it was important.
Once we’d landed, we’d taken a car to his condo, where he’d given me a quick tour before disappearing into his room to work.
The sun was out in full force and the spring air was crisp and refreshing as I made my way to Back Bay, where I toured the Boston Public Library, then strolled down Newbury Street toward the Public Garden.
I took a selfie with the Make Way for Ducklings statue and sent it to my mom. It had been my favorite book as a kid, and the copy in my room was almost falling apart from so many readings.
I’d scheduled a tour of the University of Boston ahead of time, and when I arrived, the dean of the management school even welcomed me and chatted with me about their program and the massive nonprofit network in the city.
The campus was gorgeous. Just for a moment, I let myself imagine living here, walking down the Charles River path to get to my classes in ancient brick buildings that proudly lined the streets and studying at a battered oak table in the massive library.
New York was my destiny. My dream. But Boston was gorgeous and intriguing.
I sat in the park, sipping a coffee and taking in the sights and the sounds of the city. This was what I’d been waiting so long for. A new place filled with infinite possibilities. Where I could carve my own path, far away from the person I used to be.
Once in a while, I spiraled, stressing about all the wasted years. It wasn’t just hindsight. It was muscle memory, imprints of the constant ache of disappointment.
Despite the perfect day and how alive I felt, I was hit with the regrets and what-ifs right there on the park bench. I closed my eyes and breathed through the tidal wave of shame that came.
I’ve evolved, I reminded myself. I freed myself from limiting beliefs. Falling into old patterns was too easy. Just another reason that my fresh start in New York was so necessary.
Most days, my natural positivity made it relatively easy to avoid these feelings. I’d muscle through with a smile and the belief that everything would be okay.
It was more than a belief. It was the truth and an eventuality.
I’d grown through the tough years. I’d learned so much about myself and what I wanted.
The lessons I learned during the hardest times, and the person I’d grown into because of them and in spite of them, were far more valuable than any degree, job, or money could ever be.
It had taken a long time to come to terms with the path I’d taken and to embrace the journey I was on. But now, just a few months away from graduate school, a real career, and making a real difference in the world? I was so ready.
Only a few years ago, I was destined to be someone else entirely.
A pretty trophy on someone’s arm. A kept woman who spent her life bending over backward to please others.
I shrank, took up less space to make room for the wants and needs of others, until I didn’t recognize myself.
Now I took up the space I needed. The space I’d earned.
I woke up every day and presented my true self to the world, brown hair, flat shoes, and all.
It took a long time to get to where I was, and I had a way to go yet, but I was doing things my way.
I’d earned that degree, and when I did, I’d do so much with it.
I had a bank account filled with shitty diner tips and tutoring money, and I was ready for the next step.
I smiled at a group of senior citizens power walking, then tilted my face to the sky and soaked in the warmth of the sun.
Good. Positive. This was who I was. A woman with grit and determination. There was nothing I couldn’t accomplish with a little elbow grease and a smile.
Right? I popped in my earbuds and cued up my “good vibes” playlist.
Life was great. The day was perfect. This moment was bliss.
And then my thoughts veered into dangerous territory.
What if I came here instead? The University of Boston was gorgeous and prestigious.
I’d even applied for several scholarships.
At least I thought I had. I’d applied for damn near every stipend, scholarship, and grant I could find, so it was hard to remember the details.
It was closer to home, and the cost of living in Boston was cheaper than in New York. And Owen was here.
I huffed out a breath and tipped my head back. I’d made it all the way back to square one again. I cursed my stupid, optimistic, romantic brain. It had gotten me into trouble so many times before.
God, I was such a silly girl, considering the idea of making plans around a guy I’d kissed once.
I knew better. I had plans and goals, and every day, I was striving to be the kind of woman who wouldn’t rearrange her life for a man.
Especially when said man may have zero interest in me following him back to his city and his life like a lovesick schoolgirl.
I was not lovesick. It was only a teeny-tiny crush. Nothing more. And who could blame me? He was better looking than any Hallmark hero my mom had drooled over in my lifetime, and he said the kindest, most insightful things to me.
And then there was the kiss.
Owen kissed like a man who understood that a kiss shouldn’t be rushed. It was not an appetizer, but a full, satisfying meal.
His lips, his hands, the feel of him pushing me against the wall. I clenched my thighs together, willing the warmth in my belly to dissipate and scolding myself. Here I was, sitting on a bench in public, having a sexual flashback.
In my defense, it was hard not to fantasize about him, especially while I was sleeping in his home, surrounded by his things, engulfed in his scent.
He’d been a perfect gentleman, and I had no doubt that would continue for the whole weekend.
We were here for work, and tonight, we’d be working through the new offer from the buyers and prepping the new lawyers.
But I couldn’t help but wish he’d be a little less of a gentleman.
DiLuca Construction, housed in a massive building in Boston’s Seaport District, was a ten-minute walk from Owen’s very impressive but minimally furnished apartment.
We were set to meet with the new lawyers on Friday morning.
When I arrived, I was directed to set up in a large conference room with windows that overlooked Boston Harbor.
I should have been reviewing numbers and working through the Deimos issues as our meeting drew near, but instead, I couldn’t help but marvel at the facility.
It was huge, with people bustling about everywhere. Some were dressed formally, while others looked as though they’d just come from a job site. Every aspect of the office was state-of-the-art, and every person here knew Owen and seemed in awe of him.
During my exploration of the city, I saw DiLuca Constructions signs everywhere, and Owen was confident and knowledgeable and fair.
Witnessing him in his element was thrilling, and the energy of the place already had me buzzing.
No wonder they were so successful. Everyone here was working hard and excited about it.
The door to the conference room opened, and a broad-shouldered man in jeans walked in. He wore a wide smile as he held his hand out. “Enzo DiLuca. You must be the famous Lila.”
As I slid my palm against his, I marveled at this guy. He was handsome, with thick dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a dress shirt, jeans, and work boots rather than the stuffy suit one would expect from the CEO.
What was even more unexpected was the way he turned the chair around and straddled it, then put his elbows on the table.
“I’ve heard so much about you. Sorry the office is crazy today. Our biggest client was in yesterday, and the adrenaline hasn’t quite worn off.”
I straightened a stack of papers beside my laptop and nodded. “This place is beautiful.”
“Thanks. As usual, your boy Owen came to the rescue. I don’t think he slept last night, but he has all the new calculations ready to go.
” He scratched at his beard. “A lot of professionals warn against working with your friends, but there’s no one I trust more.
I wouldn’t last a week here without him. ”
I’d known this man for two whole minutes, and already, it was clear that he was whip-smart but down-to-earth. No wonder he and Owen were so close.
“He’s brilliant.” The moment the words were out of my mouth, my cheeks went hot.
Enzo nodded in agreement, but he narrowed his eyes, as if evaluating me. Rather than feeling anxious about the scrutiny, I felt proud. Let him judge me. I had nothing to be ashamed of.
“I’ve heard a lot about you. Owen said you plan to study nonprofit management. Is that right?”
“Yes. I’ve been accepted to some great programs. It’s my dream to develop my leadership skills and business acumen in a mission-driven setting so I can use my skills to have the greatest impact.”
A broad smile spread across his face. Like I had passed some kind of test.
“That settles it. You’ve got to join us at the Boston Cares event tonight. The foundation is connected to every major philanthropic effort in the city. It would be a great networking opportunity for you, and I’ve got two empty seats at my table.”
“Um,” I stumbled, my stomach twisting at the prospect.
I wasn’t the charity gala type of girl. I was a waitress in a small-town Maine diner, not the kind of accomplished city socialite who belonged on Owen’s arm.
“I’m not sure,” I hedged, racking my brain for a way to politely decline without insulting him.
I was saved from having to stutter my way through a lame excuse when Owen walked into the conference room.
“Lawyers will be here in twenty minutes.” He handed me a cup of coffee, then jerked a thumb at Enzo. “This guy bothering you?”
With a roll of his eyes, Enzo stood and gently punched Owen’s shoulder. “I was telling Lila that she must come to the party tonight.”