Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jameson
I thought about racing home from the restaurant so I could be sitting in wait for Sinclair, but I opted for a walk through Central Park instead.
When I was a kid, my parents warned me not to step foot into the massive park at night. That only ever served to spur my curiosity. By the time I was twelve years old, I’d sneak out after lights out, head over to Kalon’s with a flashlight in my pocket, and convince him to wander the park with me.
We never ran into any trouble. In fact, most of the time, we hiked around the park without incident. Only once did we cross paths with a guy who hit us up for money. He was down on his luck, so Kalon pulled the ten dollar bill he had out of his pocket and handed it to the guy.
It was the first time I witnessed my best friend’s generosity. I saw it again tonight when he paid for our dinner. I was tempted to follow his lead and cover Sinclair and Arietta’s entire meal, but I opted to pay for their dessert instead.
I know Sin. She’d feel indebted to me if I went all out, but treating them to the crème br?lée was meant as a small peace offering. We may never see eye to eye on what happened between us two years ago, but I want to get through the next month without being at each other’s throats all the time.
I round the corner headed toward Denia’s building when my phone chimes in my pocket.
I tug it out and drop my gaze to the screen.
A soft curse falls from my lips when I spot my brother’s name.
Holden: I expect you at the office at 8AM sharp tomorrow. Confirm you got this.
I chuckle as I type out a quick response to him.
Jameson: Confirmed, but I start work at 9AM.
I doubt like hell I need an extra hour at home in the morning since I’m usually up at the crack of dawn, but if there is ever an opportunity to grate on my brother’s last nerve, I’ll jump on it.
As expected, he responds immediately.
Holden: 8AM. I have a meeting at 9 and we need to go over something before that.
Not wanting to lose this battle to him, I hold my ground.
Jameson: We’ll go over it after your meeting. Confirm you understand.
The three dots indicating he’s typing a response bounce on the screen before they disappear. They start again immediately, but within seconds, they’re gone. It seems that my brother is at a loss for words.
With a laugh, I pocket my phone.
I won this round, but we’re just getting started. The year ahead is shaping up to be the longest of my life.
“You can’t fix anything with crème br?lée,” Sinclair tosses those words at me as soon as I enter the penthouse. “Why did you do that?”
Setting my keys on the table in the foyer, I glance to where she’s standing near a couch in the living room.
The shoes she was wearing are at my feet, toppled over on their sides. It’s a typical Sinclair move. She always kicks off her shoes and walks away, never considering that the person behind her might trip over them.
It happened to me during our senior year of high school when she invited me to her parents’ house after school.
It was the first day she wore a certain pair of faded, ripped jeans. It was also the first day I noticed how perfectly round her ass was. I was transfixed, so when we walked into the foyer of her apartment, I tripped over the boots she had just kicked off.
I flew forward, landing on my elbow on the marble floor.
I needed five stitches.
The only positive from the day is that we bypassed the hours-long wait in the Emergency Room. Sinclair took me to see her cousin at the hospital. Dr. Gaines Morgan stitched me up and told me to keep my eyes focused on where I was walking.
I’m pretty sure he knew why I tripped and fell since he patted me on the back of the head when he caught me staring at Sinclair’s ass in the empty exam room he ushered us into.
“Because you like crème br?lée?” I offer as my reason for sending the dessert to her table.
Her hands drop to her hips. “So?”
I mimic her movements and place my hands on my hips. “So what, Sin?”
Exasperation escapes her in the form of a heavy sigh. “Jameson, you didn’t need to do that. It changes nothing between us.”
I step toward her. “I wanted to do that. I know you like crème br?lée, so I ordered one for you. How did it compare to the ones we used to get at Sweet Bluebells?”
The mention of the bakery on the Upper West Side that we often frequented before I left town brings a soft smile to her lips.
“It was good, but nothing like the one at Bluebells,” she admits.
“I’m not surprised,” I say. “I’ve never found one that compared to theirs.”
She keeps her gaze trained on me as I slide my suit jacket from my shoulders. “You’ve had crème br?lée since you left New York?”
“Sure.” I nod. “There was a pretty good one in Scotland. The one I tried in Australia was missing something. There’s a restaurant near my condo in Santa Fe that makes a decent one, but I don’t indulge often.”
“You live in Santa Fe?” Her voice comes out quiet and laced with something. I immediately recognize it as surprise.
After placing my jacket over the back of a chair, I loosen the tie around my neck. “I have for about three months now.”
“Oh,” she whispers. “I didn’t know.”
There is no way she could have. I’ve wandered the world since I left Manhattan.
Every place I landed could have been home for me, but something was always missing.
The only reason I’ve lasted as long as I have in Santa Fe is that I have some loose ends that I need to wrap up there.
I plan on doing that as soon as I can get down there for a few days.
I scrub a hand over my forehead. “Your friend seems nice.”
She nods. “Arietta? She’s great. We were roommates until she moved in with her fiancé.”
“You gave up living in Keats’s place for one of your own?” I question her since she used to crash on the top floor of her brother’s brownstone whenever she wasn’t traveling the world interviewing people for her ghostwriting gigs.
“He’s married now,” she tells me. “He has a son too. I rent the apartment that his wife owns.”
That fills in some blanks for me.
“I’ve been working on something here in New York for the past few months,” she explains. “I was in Scotland, too, early last year. I didn’t try any crème br?lée there.”
Not wanting to admit that I’ve closely followed her career via her socials, I glance over her shoulder toward the windows that reveal the darkened sky beyond. “Did you like Scotland?”
I happen to know she fucking loved it. The joy on her face in the multitude of selfies she took while she was there gave it all away.
“I did,” she affirms with a half-smile. “I was working on a project while I was there, but I had some downtime, so I got to do a lot of exploring.”
She got to do a lot more than explore the country. A guy was next to her in a few photos she took while there. Unfortunately, she didn’t tag him in any of them, so I couldn’t obsess over who he was more than I already had.
I assumed that ended when she tied that project up because he hasn’t shown up in any pictures since.
“I should take Dudley for a walk.” She points to where her shoes are. “You didn’t trip over those today.”
A chuckle flows out of me. “I know you’re tricks, Sin. The shoe trap will never get me again.”
“The shoe trap?” She finally laughs, and fuck, that sound is exactly as I remember it. “Is that what you call it?”
I point at my left elbow, even though it’s hidden beneath my shirt sleeve. “That’s what it is. I have the scar to prove it.”
Her gaze never leaves mine as she steps closer to me. “We both have scars from before you…”
Her words trail into the silence sitting between us.
“We do,” I whisper too softly for her to hear me.
She glances to the left at the sound of her dog approaching from the hallway. “There you are, Duds. Are you ready for another tour of the neighborhood?”
I step aside and let her pass on her way to the door.
The scent of her perfume hits me. It’s the same fragrance she’s worn for years. It’s familiar, sweet, and smells like home to me.
I keep my back to her as I wage war with my emotions.
“I didn’t say it before, but Arietta wanted me to thank you for the dessert, Jameson,” she says softly.
I nod in response before I hear the door open and then shut behind me.