Chapter Seventeen
CIERRA WASN’T EXACTLY sure when she snuck back upstairs.
Maybe two or three in the morning — the time was hard to tell.
She was still reeling from what had just happened.
The floor beneath her feet seemed wobbly, as if she were walking along one of those ladders in action movies — little more than rope and simple plywood over a cliff, with a raging current flowing below toward a steep waterfall drop-off.
With gritted teeth, she slowly creaked the door open, relieved to find Mia fast asleep and turned over on her side; muted snores murmured out of a half-open mouth.
Thank God, Cierra thought to herself. At least she had one less thing to worry about.
It was difficult — no — impossible for her to make sense out of what just happened or how she felt about it.
About Erik. What had come over her? He was her employer’s little brother.
Well, not that little. Ugh, Cierra thought and face palmed as she quietly lowered herself into bed.
After changing into her plaid shorts and a roomy T-shirt, she lay awake in bed, staring at the beamed ceiling.
For six years, she’d only slept with one person.
Now, she’d slept with two people in the span of a few weeks.
The quickness of it all, it felt unlike her.
But maybe it was like her, given she had never had the opportunity before.
Something inside her felt like she’d done something wrong.
That she wasn’t allowed to explore and give into passion.
But then the other part of her mind asked Why not?
Where had all that caution landed you before?
But she’d been around men like Erik. Worked with them and had seen them in Harry’s friends.
Men like Erik didn’t take women like Cierra seriously; never again would she be with someone whose family would most likely look down on her forever.
Besides, before tonight, it’s not like there was anything between them but friendly jokes and side conversations. It couldn’t be anything more than that.
The thoughts came fast at first but quickly lulled in their passing. It was a mistake. A one-time thing. It won’t happen again. These were the mantras Cierra recited until finally falling asleep.
When Cierra woke up just a few hours later, the sky was still a deep teal blue, and the harmony of the woods was quiet. Mia’s dark hair lay draped across her pillow to Cierra’s left. To Cierra’s right, her iPhone glowed with a lime green notification — a missed text.
Ding. Make that two texts. From Julian.
Being that she needed to get breakfast going fairly soon, Cierra grudgingly wrapped a thick cardigan around her shoulders, picked up her phone, and tiptoed to the bathroom. Sitting on the bathtub’s hard edge, Cierra opened the message.
Julian: I get why you’re upset with me. I’ve been a real asshole and I’m sorry. When you asked me the other day about if I’d changed my mind, I got nervous. Please, I know I don’t deserve it, but can we talk about this?
Cierra’s shoulders slumped. Her phone fell onto the frayed bathmat, and she leaned over and buried her head in her hands, although she would have preferred screaming her lungs out into the woods. It was almost seven thirty in the morning, and seeing Erik at breakfast was inevitable.
Shit.
In lieu of a cold shower, she splashed some cold water on her face and marched toward her meal of shame.
Despite her feeling like the walking dead on account of getting no sleep, breakfast service itself went off without a hitch, and she was able to use up most of the leftover food, which was a bonus.
Figuring out how she was going to mix sea bass with green tomatoes distracted her from Erik long enough to get food on the table, and it was a hit.
There was a moment during breakfast, though.
Cierra had accidentally caught his gaze during the meal, and he looked back with bright, almost hopeful eyes.
Oh, no.
In the cold light of day, she was reminded of the most glaring reason Erik was off-limits: her erratic boss, who happened to be the only barrier between her and a twelve-dollar bus ticket back home, was way too protective for anything with Erik to be a good idea.
Not that Cierra was the gold-digging harlot her boss was on the lookout for, but she understood that given her position, there was no other way someone like Zelda would likely see it.
And besides, she wasn’t sure where she and Julian stood. To say her heart hadn’t skipped a beat at the sight of his message would have been a bald-faced lie.
While scrubbing a pan after breakfast had finished, and while most of the weekend party was packing up, a familiar deep voice murmured behind her, sending the sudsy yellow sponge flying out of Cierra’s hand.
“Jesus! You sure scare easy . . .” he said. Erik mischievously glanced behind him toward the doorway and into the kitchen, before motioning to grab her hips.
“No! No,” Cierra whispered through gritted teeth.
“Why? No one’s coming. Last night was . . .” He leaned in again, but this time Cierra side-stepped him, sending him stumbling toward the cupboard.
Regaining his composure, he looked at her with concerned eyes. “Um, okay, did I do something? Because if I did, I’m sorry. What’s wrong?”
Had he done anything?
“Yes, Erik. You did something.” Cierra then shook her head. “We did something. And I know it didn’t mean anything, and we were just a little drunk. Listen, I work for Zelda and your brother . . . last night shouldn’t have happened.”
“Cierra, ugh.” He put his hands up to his forehead. “Of course . . . that was so messed up of me, of course—”
“No, Erik. You’re fine. Listen, we’re friends. We just had a moment—"
“A moment?” Erik’s voice was filled with a hurt confusion.
“I’m still processing last night and . . . that was really unprofessional of me.”
“Oh. Okay, uh, yeah . . .” He took a few steps back, rubbing his chin. “So, what should we do?”
Great question, she thought. As if she were remotely close to an answer.
Unable to come up with anything substantial, Cierra bit her lip and scrunched her shoulders. “Nothing? Can we just be normal this morning? Act like nothing happened?”
His face was flat now despite the hint of disappointment that flickered across his eyes. “Sure, I can do that. But . . . are we good?”
“Yeah, we’re fine. But I work for your family, and I don’t think we should let that happen again. It’s not who I am . . . and I just . . . I really need this job. And your sister—”
“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything,” Erik said calmly, with those steady kaleidoscope eyes. Cierra believed him and smiled with gratitude.
Erik was about to say something else when Elliot called from outside, asking his Erik’s help with loading luggage into the car.
“Okay, um, we’ll talk later?” he asked.
“Yeah, sure,” Cierra replied, watching him leave before walking back up to her room. After latching the door, she grabbed a pillow and pressed it hard against her face, screaming into it for dear life.
The party got back late Sunday afternoon, and Cierra briefly said her goodbyes to the Lawsons before biking back to her apartment. The subtle soreness between her legs she felt riding home was another unwelcome reminder of what she had done the previous night.
Before heading home, while she hugged everyone goodbye, she’d shared a make-room-for-Jesus side hug with Erik that felt utterly out of place.
His hands held her side for longer than they should have, and even though she knew she needed to pull away, her body was resistant. Eye contact was nearly impossible.
She kept thinking about the others’ body language that morning.
Had anyone heard them last night? At breakfast, and during the long car ride, no one’s actions seemed to suggest they were aware of the brief affair.
She and Erik even shared a mundane conversation about pretzels versus popcorn as an ideal snack, which she appreciated, because if they didn’t talk at all, it would be even more suspicious.
Once, she thought she might have caught Zelda staring in her direction, but maybe she was just looking out the window, lost in thought.
While Cierra wasn’t sure how Zelda would react if she found out, it would at the least be a terrible look.
At the worst, well, Cierra didn’t want to think about that.
That was a bridge she’d be willing to cross only if forced there.
In the same journey, she’d allowed herself to be persuaded into dinner with Julian, particularly once he proposed a restaurant she’d been dying to try: an upscale seafood joint in Midtown. About an hour after they departed from the Catskills, Cierra had responded to Julian’s message asking to talk.
Cierra: What is there to talk about? I don’t need an apology, I just don’t want to be in a situationship at 30. We’re looking for different things.
Julian: Me either. Please, can we talk? In person?? I know I fucked up, I just don’t want to miss out on you because of a mistake. Let me make it up to you.
Desperately, Cierra wished she cared less and could simply blow him off. But who was she kidding, she was far from over him. Maybe an apology would be nice, she thought.
Cierra: Fine.
Julian: How about Oceans at 7p.m.? Wednesday?
God, he was good.
Cierra: See you then.
But then, before she knew it, Cierra was recalling the previous evening all over again.
How understanding Erik had been, and how every word he spoke into her ear while their bodies joined had melted over her body like warm honey.
Lost in the bliss of her memory, it was as if she had never left that moonlit kitchen in the Catskills.
BEEEP! BEEEEEP!