Chapter 21 #2
"He'll do great. I know it. And he's probably having an amazing time. And if he doesn't for some reason, he'll just call you."
"Yeah, you're right. I did tell him to call me or text me, and I'd go get him in a heartbeat."
"And what did he say to that?"
"'Chill, bro,' I believe were his exact words."
Once again, I found myself cracking up. There was just something about Archie and Tristan's relationship that made me laugh.
"Okay," he said, "I promise to move on and I won't bring it up again. Unless he calls. Or the police call. Or—" He stopped himself and laughed, then cleared his throat. "So how was your day?"
"My day?" What could I say that wouldn't give it away? "Hectic. But good. But hectic."
"Oh yeah? Are you all set for fashion week?"
The bastard. He was so certain and smug about it, but damn if he wasn't right. "If I had anything to do with fashion week," I began, "I would not be ready for it. No."
"Really? But it's less than a week away now."
"Oh, is it? That's good to know."
His low chuckle sounded through the phone. "Well, if there's anything I can do for you to help you with fashion week, please let me know."
"If there were, I might let you know. But I'm also a big girl and can handle my problems on my own."
"I know you can, baby."
I smiled to myself. "What about you? How was your day?" Are you having any trouble with your latest project? I wanted to ask, but held back obviously.
He didn't say anything for a long moment, and I thought he might not respond at all. But finally he spoke up. "Work is okay. But honestly, having you on the phone, my job is the last thing I want to talk about."
What exactly did that mean? Was it good that he didn't want to talk about it? Maybe things weren't going well?
It was strange though, because most men I'd met in the upper echelons of Manhattan's skyscraper set loved to talk about their jobs.
Or I should say, brag about their jobs. That's what it all boiled down to.
Boasting, smug assholes. And I would have bet my last dollar that Tristan fit right in there with that group.
So his silence on the subject was odd. If his job was rough at the moment, surely he would have just lied about it to me and said he'd just closed some multi-million dollar deal.
"Okay, sure, that's fine of course. So no work talk. For either of us, I guess. So what do you want to talk about then?"
"You."
Damn. The way he said that in such a low, gravelly voice sent a zing straight between my legs. "Me?" I breathed out. "What about me?"
"Everything. I already know your favorite color and favorite foods, so maybe more personal this round. Like do you have roommates? Do you have a best friend? When was your last boyfriend?"
"Oh, um, well, no, yes, and quite a few years ago."
He let out a laugh. "So no to a roommate, and yes to a best friend? Who is she? Or he?" he added.
"They are my sisters." And my old best friend from high school, but I didn't feel like I could tell him that. And my assistant. But did that really count? Someone I paid to help me?
"Ah, I see. And you haven't had a boyfriend in a few years?"
Why did I feel like that was the answer he really wanted to know? Which was good. Exactly the kind of interest I was going for.
"It's been a while," I admitted. There was no way in hell I was going to tell him that I'd never had a real boyfriend, none since college, if those brief flings even counted. "What about you?"
"Honestly? I've never had a real girlfriend before."
He was joking. Or lying. Because there was no way.
I racked my brain thinking back over the years since I'd graduated from high school. I'd seen the occasional photo of Tristan at some event with a woman on his arm, but not that many actually. Maybe just one or two, come to think of it.
But there had to be a hundred more. He was exactly the type to have a different girl every week. Which kind of explained not having a real girlfriend before.
"You haven't?" I asked.
"No, I haven't. After everything I witnessed with my parents, I swore I'd never get attached to anyone. No girlfriends. No marriage. No kids. No mess."
Oh, that was kind of sad though.
"And besides that, I've never really connected with anyone like that. Sure, I've gone on dates and been set up for big events, that kind of thing, but no one has ever kept my interest before."
Huh. "That's, um..."
"Until you."
Oh, crap. Oh, wait. Not crap. That was a good thing, right? That's what we were aiming for. Exactly what we were aiming for.
But now that he was saying stuff like this, it made me flustered. And nervous. And totally tongue-tied. When I didn't say anything, when my stupid brain wouldn't work and come up with something clever or sexy or cute—remember the plan, Astrid—he laughed.
"I know I'm coming on strong. I'll back off," Tristan said. "Instead, can I ask you a question?"
"Uh, sure?"
There was his low laugh again. "So what is it you're looking for in a man? In a relationship? What's important to you?"
That was easy. I'd only been thinking about that since I first became interested in boys. "First off, kindness. That's huge to me. Kindness and empathy."
He didn't say anything. Yeah, exactly, buddy.
"And," I continued, "he has to be honest, loyal, hard-working, preferably in a field that makes a difference in the world somehow.
" Oh, crap, that was rather pointed, wasn't it?
Scrambling to cover my tracks, I kept going.
"And nice. Did I say nice already? Like can never say a mean word to me, or I'll cry.
No yelling or shouting at me. No belittling me.
No making fun of me. No saying hurtful things and calling it teasing.
I'm sensitive, and I own that. And I want my significant other to respect that. "
"Has someone been mean like that to you in the past?" he asked, an edge to his voice.
Really? Tristan D. Hawthorne was going to get upset that someone had been mean to me? Oh, my God, the irony. And the nerve of him.
"Yes," I gritted out.
"Who?"
Holy shit. How had we ended up here? And what the hell did I do now? "It's a long story."
"I have time. Who? And what did they do to you?"
Moving my head side to side, I tried in vain to alleviate the sudden tension in my neck and shoulders. Again, how had our conversation led to this? Of all the topics in the world? And what did I say?
I'd dug myself into a massive hole, and I needed to dig myself out if I had any hope of sticking to my original plan.