Chapter 12
AVERY
"You don't have to spend all your money on me!" Alana protested. The bar was loud. She had to lean into me so I could hear anything at all.
"Not all my money," I assured her. "But I wanted to treat you. If you hadn't offered to take me in, I probably wouldn't be here today."
"Why did you order a nonalcoholic cocktail for yourself?" she asked suspiciously as the bartender slipped the drinks toward us. I shrugged, but didn’t reply.
We clinked glasses, and I looked around for a cozy spot where we could talk, but it wasn't likely to happen.
"Let's go outside," I said and we made our way through the crowd slowly, careful not to slosh our drinks.
On the way out, I noticed a few party girls were already inebriated.
I so didn’t want that to be me tonight. Once outside, I took a deep breath, and we stepped sideways to the corner of the building.
Unfortunately, I smelled cigarettes in the air, but we were trying to find a place sheltered from the wind.
I’d forgotten how cold November was in Chicago.
She narrowed her eyes at me. "Hey, you look guilty. Well, not guilty, but like you did something you weren't supposed to."
I bit my lip. Some things truly didn't change. She could read me like a book, just like back in high school.
"It's about Sam, isn't it?"
I rolled my shoulders. "How can you tell?"
"Experience."
"Well, first, let's start with why no alcohol. Last night, I made us Jack and Cokes, and I made a mistake when I measured the Jack."
"You had sex with him," Avery accused.
"No! I might have told him a few things I shouldn't have, and we nearly kissed, but no sex."
She waved her hand, taking a sip of her drink. "I thought you had something juicier to tell me."
"I do."
She let go of the straw and looked straight at me. "Okay."
"This morning… well, one thing led to another, and we kissed. It was a very hot kiss."
"Did it lead to more?"
"Not exactly. He says I’m not ready. It's all very confusing."
"Not to me," Alana said.
"Oh really? Enlighten me, then."
"I don't know if I should. I don't want to influence your train of thought."
I laughed, sipping from my virgin margarita. "We're not in high school anymore, Alana."
Just then, my phone started vibrating.
"And what's that vibrating?" she asked. "You got a dildo in your pants?"
"Don't be silly. It's my phone."
"Close," Alana said when she saw Sam's name on the screen.
I shook my head at her. "You're unbelievable."
"I know, right?"
"You're even more shameless than in high school."
"I get better with age. Speaking of which, how are Sam's kissing skills?"
"Very much improved," I said. The phone call went to voice mail, but then I noticed he'd also sent me a few messages.
"What does he say?"
Alana hovering over my shoulder while we were obsessing over Sam's texts literally gave me flashbacks from our teen years.
Sam: Hey, gorgeous. How was your day?
"Hmm, you've progressed to 'gorgeous' already. I approve," Alana said.
"You know what? Finish your drink and stay away from my phone."
"But best friend privileges include snooping. Even when you're an adult."
Sam: What are you doing tonight? There's this amazing street food festival taking place if you’re still into it.
"Oh, he remembered that about you!" she exclaimed.
"Alana! No snooping."
"Okay, okay. I'm on my best behavior. Look, I'm taking a step back." She sipped her drink, looking at me expectantly.
Avery: I'm out with Alana having drinks, remember?
Sam: I forgot. Enjoy your girls evening, then. I won't be in your way. I’ll put my master plan in motion another time. Say hi to Alana for me. Is she still a fan of me?
I laughed.
Avery: Yes she is.
Sam: Good. Then she's going to do some of that groundwork for me already. This is working out perfectly.
Avery: You're awfully confident, Sam.
Sam: Always. Enjoy your evening. We can talk more when you’re home.
I had a light buzz going even though I was having a nonalcoholic cocktail. Was I drunk on Sam already? The man wasn't even here.
"You know what? This is just like high school," Alana said. "You're blushing when Sam's texting you. And he still knows how to push your buttons."
"Oh yeah, he's a master at it."
"So what’s holding you back?" She ran her hand through her gorgeous mane of hair, untangling some of the strands. She'd always had this messy hairstyle on purpose, even when we were younger. She didn't brush it often because it became too frizzy. It looked effortlessly beautiful on her.
"My life is in shambles, Alana. I'm up to my eyeballs in debt. It’s hard to find a job because I was a jack-of-all-trades and ran my own business for the past five years. I’m doing logo design gigs on Fiverr to keep afloat.
I had to move in with a roommate to afford an apartment in Chicago.
I feel like the last thing I need right now is to have a man in my life in any way, shape, or form. "
"Well, news flash: you already have one living with you."
"I know, but it's not the same."
"And you kissed him."
"Thank you for reminding me."
She snorted. "My point is, I think everything is already complicated. You might as well just roll with it."
I shook my head, taking another sip of the margarita. I should've bought one with alcohol after all.
"You know what they say about best-laid plans."
I frowned. "No. What?"
"If the best-laid plans don't work, then at least get laid.”
I burst out laughing, accidentally snorting margarita through my nose, making us both laugh harder.
"I've never heard that saying before."
She nodded. "I just came up with it, but it's one for the books, isn't it?"
Alana and I stayed out on the town for another few hours before I headed home. It was a chilly evening, but it was nice for a walk, so I didn't head straight to the loft, just wandered through our neighborhood, soaking it all up.
My phone beeped as I stopped in front of a particularly gorgeous mural depicting a woman holding her baby in one arm. I took it out and looked at the screen. I didn't know the number, but that was very exciting. It could be one of the seemingly hundreds of factories I'd contacted this week.
Without hesitation, I answered. "Hi, this is Avery."
"Hi, Avery. I'm Jack Dempsey from Dempsey Productions." His voice was brusque.
"Hi, Mr. Dempsey," I said. I couldn't remember exactly which factory that was, but it didn't matter.
"You're in Chicago, right?"
"Yes, exactly."
"Okay. Listen, I like your designs, but I need a very detailed spec as well as a production plan." He spoke very fast, and I was more than grateful that I hadn’t had any real cocktails. I could barely keep things straight as it was.
"I can make one. When do you need it?"
"Why don't you send it by Wednesday of next week? I’ll email you the address."
"All right.”
“I won't keep you any longer. Have a great evening."
That's it? I thought he’d want to chat for a bit so we could get to know each other better.
“Wait. Can we also schedule a longer call?” I pressed. “I’d like to know more about you and your company.”
“Sure. Let’s chat next Wednesday after I get your presentation.”
I sighed. Then again, perhaps it was better to wait until after I sent him the specs. If he didn’t like them, we’d just waste each other’s time.
"Sounds good. You’ll get my presentation by then.”
He seemed in a hurry. Perhaps he had more potential clients to talk to this evening. I was so excited that I was tempted to call Alana again for a celebratory drink.
"No, no, no, Avery. Don't jinx yourself. Besides, you’ve wasted enough money on drinks. Time to get down to work."
I headed straight back home even though I had so much energy that I could circle the block a few times more. But it was late, and though this was a nice neighborhood, I couldn't be too careful.
I’d expected the loft to be completely dark when I arrived, but to my astonishment, Sam was still awake. He was sitting on the couch with a laptop. Judging by the amount of light on his face, I assumed he was watching a movie or something.
"Hey," I said.
He immediately set the laptop aside, but the screen kept flashing, and I caught a few sentences. He was watching something medical.
“How was your evening?" he asked.
"Amazing. And guess what happened on the way back to the loft? I got a call from a factory owner who's interested in working with me. I've got a few days to put together a plan.”
"Congrats."
"Thanks." I blushed. Oh my goodness. "Sooo for the next week, you’re not allowed to distract me."
He watched me intently, then nodded. "Okay. For one week straight, I’m not going to distract you at all."
"And after that?" I inquired.
The corners of his mouth lifted. "No more promises after that."
Over the next few days, I buckled down, working on the presentation and my Fiverr gigs. To my astonishment, Sam kept his word. He was gone most of the time, of course, but even when he was home, he was on his best behavior.
"Avery," he said a few days later, in the evening.
"Mm?" I didn't look at him, just kept tapping away at my computer. Then a whiff of something delicious reached my nose.
He pushed a plate of chicken dasheri in front of me.
My eyes widened. “Whoa, where did this come from?"
"I bought it. You need to eat."
"Yes, sir. Yes."
His eyes flashed, and his nostrils flared.
Okay, I don't want to know what just went through his mind. I had a few ideas, but I didn’t need them confirmed. "Are you going to eat with me?"
"I already did in the kitchen. I didn't want to disturb you."
“Sam, you wouldn't be disturbing me."
"Let me correct that—distract you. I'm doing my best to keep my word, Avery."
"Thanks for that."
I pushed my laptop away and started eating. It was nine o'clock, so I could probably call it a day anyway.
A vibrating noise made me aware that my phone was ringing somewhere in the room.
"That's mine. I don't know where I put it," I said, looking around.
"It's on the kitchen counter," Sam said, grabbing it. "Hey, it's your mom. Here you go." He stretched his hand toward me, but then we both heard Mom's voice.
Sam’s eyebrows rose. "I might have accidentally accepted the call." Then he grinned, putting my phone to his ear.
I jumped to my feet.
"Good evening," he said in his most charming tone.
"Sam!" I heard Mom exclaim. "How are you doing?"
“I was just about to hand the phone to Avery. She's fine. Working even more than me this week."
I rolled my eyes. "That's not possible."
"I'm trying to take care of her, make sure she eats and doesn't exhaust herself. How are you, Mrs. Sinclair?" He smiled, and it was genuine. "That's good to know. Okay, I'll give Avery the phone. She's throwing daggers at me with her eyes."
I snatched the phone from him. "Hey, Mom," I said, walking a few feet away.
"Darling, you're going to burn out."
Mom was always afraid of that. I’d had a few burnouts while I was trying to hold things together when she was sick. She knew me too well.
"Don’t worry. I have a tight deadline this week, and I'm determined to make it work. Then I’ll relax."
"You ignored my calls yesterday, sweetie. Are you sure everything’s okay?"
"Oh my God, I did? I didn't even realize that. I’m sorry."
"See what I mean? Don’t overdo it, honey.”
“How are you feeling, Mom? Your checkup is coming soon, right? Don't forget about it."
She'd been sick with lymphoma all those years ago, and though she was considered completely healthy after five years, she still did bloodwork checkups twice a year.
"Yes. Don't you worry about that. Now tell me, how is living with Sam?"
I glanced up at the man. He had his eyes trained on me.
"It's nice," I said, looking for a neutral word. Something that wouldn’t give too much away.
"Is he still the same great guy he was back then?"
"I assume so, yes."
"Hmm… Put him back on the phone," she ordered.
"What?"
"I need to talk to him."
"You need to talk to Sam?"
Sam grinned like a Cheshire cat.
"Yes, darling. That's what I just said."
"Why?"
"That's between me and him."
I couldn't believe this. He strode right to me, taking my phone. After listening, then responding a couple times—"Yeah, sure. Of course, ma'am. It will be my pleasure."—he ended the call.
What the heck is going on? I looked at him suspiciously. "What did Mom want with you?"
"I can't say." He paused, then said, “Oh, she gives you her love and says she’ll call again later this week.”
"Oh come on, Sam. Don't play that game with me."
He shrugged, leaning against the kitchen island. "It's not a game. She made me promise. You know I like to keep my word."