Chapter 10 #2
I was tired and upset and I wanted to go home. But if anyone saw me in this state, there would inevitably be pictures online tomorrow. I exhaled, my shoulders sagging.
“I’m too old for this bullshit,” I said.
“This bullshit?” He motioned to us. “Or that bullshit.” He gestured to the rest of the club.
“Both.”
“You seemed to be having a good time a little while ago.”
“I was. But now I just want to go home, put on my pajamas and—”
“Eat some donut holes?”
Despite being upset, I grinned. “You say that with the confidence of thinking there are any left.”
He chuckled. “I have a feeling, in your line of business, you have more self-control than most.”
I shrugged a shoulder. “I do. And good genes. Although three packages of donut holes would probably put both to the test.”
He smiled and nodded, then gestured to the stool again.
“Thank you,” I said. “But I think I’m just going to go. I’m officially partied out.” I took a last sip of my wine and squeezed past him to put it on the bar.
“What do you see in Alex Clarke?” he asked suddenly and I frowned, stepping back and standing up to my full height.
“Excuse me?”
“I just… I saw it online this morning and—”
“And thought it was any of your business? Why? Do you want to put that in your article too?” I blinked back more tears. What the hell was wrong with me tonight? Normally I could shrug this shit off.
Furious that I was getting so emotional and annoyed at the gall of the man, I lost the filter I usually kept on a tight reign.
“Jesus, what is with men anyways?” I asked.
“You know, you had no idea what I was going through that morning. Not that I owe you any explanation, but I had just gotten some terrifying news. And then I stepped in your dog’s shit that you hadn’t bothered to pick up and…
I was scared and then embarrassed about making a scene.
And you took my moment of vulnerability and made a joke out of it.
Are you planning on doing that about my love life now too?
Well, have at it. It won’t be the first time and certainly won’t be the last either. ”
I gulped back a sob and turned on my heel, bumping into people as I headed for the hallway that led to the back door.
“Oh!” I said as I stepped outside and was hit with a deluge of rain, the door slamming shut behind me. “Shit!”
I turned around and reached for the handle but at that moment the door swung open again and I stepped back to avoid it, the heel of my shoe catching on a crack in the pavement and breaking off, sending me careening backwards toward the pavement.
Two hands caught me by my forearms and hauled me upright again.
I looked up to see Graham’s face inches from mine, his hair plastered to his head by the rain.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I nodded and then shivered, rain soaking through my black satin tank top and jeans.
He turned and grabbed the handle of the door.
“Fuck. It’s locked.”
He pounded on it but the music was so loud there was no way anyone inside could hear it.
I shivered and he immediately held out the jacket that was hanging from his arm.
“Take it,” he said.
I wanted to tell him no, I didn’t want his jacket. Didn’t want his help. But I was cold and angry and didn’t have the energy to fight him.
I slid my arms in and he reached forward and zipped me up, his head bent toward me as water dripped from his hair to his glasses, sending little rivulets down the inside of the lenses. Without thinking, I reached up and pushed his hair back and our eyes met.
I inhaled as his gaze moved to my lips, the heat from his body making me shiver in a different kind of way, and then a deep rumble thundered overhead, startling both of us. I took a step back, forgetting the broken heel and nearly fell again.
“Shit,” I said, grabbing onto his arm, which was warm and more muscular than I would’ve imagined a writer’s arm would be. Guess all that typing had some benefits.
“Come on,” he said, reaching out like he was going to take my hand and then pulling back, thinking better of it. “We’ll go around to the front.”
But when we rounded the front of the building, the doorman that had been there to greet Greta’s guests was nowhere to be found, and the front door was locked too.
I closed an eye and looked up at the thunderous black cloud above us. “Well, here we are,” I said. “In yet another mess.”
Graham gave me a wet smile and then pointed.
“We can stand under there.”
I turned to see a small awning over the door of a delicatessen that was closed for the night. He took my arm and I limped quickly beside him until we were underneath it and he was pulling out his phone.
“Cab?” he asked and I nodded. “Do you mind sharing?” I shook my head.
We were quiet while we waited, the sound of the rain thudding against the awning loud as we huddled beneath it, not wanting to get dripped on by the water streaming off it but also trying not to touch one another.
I tried to think of something to say and peeked up at him, wondering if he was doing the same, but his face was turned away from me, giving me a nice view of his strong, stubble covered jawline.
It was interesting to me how different he looked from the picture on his book jackets.
I wondered if he’d seen any of my work, if he’d thought the same about me.
The woman he’d seen in the park was certainly not the one plastered on billboards or in magazines.
And this guy standing here now with the glasses and gruff but sexy appearance, was definitely not the slick, clean-shaven, hair perfectly in place man I’d seen in photos.
He had serious Clark Kent/Superman vibes.
I wondered what magic he could make in a phone booth.
The thought made me snort softly and I pretended I was covering my mouth from a yawn when he glanced over.
The taxi arrived and Graham held the door for me as we hurried inside and gave the driver our addresses.
“Thanks for agreeing to share,” Graham said as we settled in, the windows momentarily steaming from the combination of heat and wet. “Seemed silly to get two cabs when we’re headed to the same area.”
“It was the least I could do for taking your coat in this downpour.” I glanced over at him. “And for yelling at you.”
“This time? Or last time.” He grinned.
I bit my lip to keep from smiling.
“Last time,” I said. “I stand by my right for yelling at you this time.”
“That’s valid. It was none of my business.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Still…”
“Really?” I asked, turning in my seat to face him. “What do you have against Alex Clarke? Is it a competition thing? Did his last book outsell yours?”
“It did not,” he said and smiled proudly. “But he is a pompous ass.”
I wasn’t about to tell him I agreed with him, even though I did. He had no right to ask me about who I was dating, nor give an opinion on him. I was so tired of men feeling like they had a right to push their thoughts and insecurities on me.
“Maybe he is to you,” I said.
He was about to say more but then I shivered and he leaned forward and tapped on the glass separating us from the driver instead.
“Hey, can you turn up the heat please?”
“Sure thing,” the driver said.
“Thank you,” I said to Graham.
“Have to get my jacket back somehow,” he said, trying to fight off a grin and failing.
I started to unzip it but he held up a hand.
“Wear it until we get there. I insist.”
We drove in silence for a while and then—
“Is everything okay now?” he asked.
I frowned, turning to meet his gaze across the dim light of the backseat.
“What do you mean?”
“You said you got terrifying news that day.”
I took in a long breath and blew it out, not sure I wanted to let him in on my personal life but then deciding I didn’t care. If he wrote about Addie, I’d know what kind of person he truly was.
“My best friend got in a horrific car accident. I literally got the news seconds before stepping in shit.”
“Is she okay?”
I nodded.
“She is. Mostly. Still pretty banged up though. She broke her cheekbone, her arm, some ribs… I’m actually flying to Seattle tomorrow to see her again. She’s home now.”
“Damn.” He reached out and this time didn’t pull back before giving my arm a gentle squeeze. “Well, that would certainly make me lose my shit over some shit too.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
“I am sorry,” I said. “I actually barely remember it. I was in such a state. Absolutely blinded with fear. I couldn’t even recall most of what I said…. until I read it in your article. And then I was horribly ashamed and embarrassed. But, you know. Still self-righteous because…”
“I didn’t pick up the poo?”
I nodded.
“She’s dying,” he said, his voice soft.
I frowned, not understanding, and then my body filled with sadness.
“Bronte?” I whispered.
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Graham. I’m so sorry.”
“I didn’t even realize she’d… apparently it can happen when dogs get older. They lose their ability to hold it and they just go.”
“And then I lost my shit.”
Despite himself, Graham laughed.
“Shit happens,” he said, making me laugh now too.
“Apparently,” I said and then glanced out the window as the cab slowed and pulled over. “This is me.”
I grabbed my purse to pay but Graham stopped me.
“I’ve got it,” he said.
“No. I owe you.”
“You can get it next time we find ourselves stuck outside in a rainstorm together.”
I smiled. “Deal.”
I unzipped his jacket and handed it across the seat to him and then got out of the car, glad the rain had calmed to a sensible drizzle.
“Hey,” he said and I ducked my head back in.
“Do you know who Bronte is named after?”
“I’m assuming Charlotte, Anne, or Emily. Or perhaps all three?”
He nodded. “Just checking.”
I gave him a confused smile and then started to shut the door but stopped to duck my head in once more.
“Oh, and Alex Clarke is a pompous ass.”
I grinned at the sound of his laughter as I hurried up the front steps to my house.