Chapter 6 #2
Rob is in Mike’s office, sitting back on the leather chair by the bookcase and laughing, swirling whiskey around in a large glass. The door is open, so I step inside, feeling unanticipated nerves. Rob turns and gives his easy smile, his eyes meeting mine full-on.
“Wow. My stunning wife.”
“You don’t scrub up too badly, either.” I find myself blushing at my teenage-level flirtation, but he’s nothing short of dashing in what’s obviously a designer dark gray suit and a white shirt that’s open at the throat.
“C’mon, you two. Drink up, Rob.” Mike hustles us out of his office.
We weave through throngs of holiday tourists and revelers along the couple of blocks to the restaurant, Rob noticeably turning the heads of several women along the way.
He doesn’t see it though, focused as he is on supporting me in my heels.
We arrive at Lafayette and descend into a spacious wine cellar.
Two lavish tables are laid beautifully, seating at least fifty, with a separate bar and lounge area.
“This is a big space,” I comment to Rob.
“I think there’s only twenty coming from our office. ”
“The B+B folk are coming too. Combined party, remember? It made sense, since we do so much work together. There are twenty of you, nearly forty of us. I think it was your idea, originally.”
“Right. No wonder Angela is so giddy. I can’t imagine she’d be this excited about the H&F agents.”
Rob laughs. “My team will be here soon to make it worth her while. Drink?” He puts his hand on my back and guides me toward the bar as more people pile into the room.
Most of the H&F agents are pretty full of themselves, but conversation with Rob, Mike, and Hans proves as fun and sparkling as it was at our apartment. Hans has shown up in a tropical-print shirt, declaring, “Screw Christmas.”
At dinner I sit next to Rob, with Angela opposite and Josh, the office’s young receptionist, on my other side.
Angela doesn’t seem interested in engaging, talking intently to a slick-haired guy beside her but occasionally casting strange, narrow-eyed glances my way.
Ignoring her, I devour the delicious steak-frites and enjoy chatting with Josh, who is outspoken and hilarious.
Hans stands up, dinging his fork against his glass, and the room falls silent.
“As you all know, I’m the shy and retiring type.
I hate the limelight—” cue snorts of derision and loud heckles “—so I’ll keep this short.
Thank you so much to my team at Halstein & Faust, and to our friends at B+B.
Great job on a wonderful year of success.
Even though the last unit of Cavendish House is now sold, as of last week, we have the new Tribeca building to work on, so long may this relationship continue.
“Speaking of relationships, on a personal note — Josie, welcome back to our family — we’re so glad to have you with us, my dear. Thanks to everyone, and happy holidays to you all. Cheers! Prost!”
“Prost! Cheers,” come the calls from around the table.
Then, “Rob! Speech!”
Rob raises his hands in protest. “No, no, I don’t . . .” He relents as the chants become louder.
“Fine, to shut you all up. I don’t have a speech prepared — it was always the deal that Hans, the very un-shy and retiring one, would do this. But I suppose my folks at B+B deserve their own message, so . . . thanks, guys.
“It’s been a great year for us at B+B, very much helped out by our friends at H&F.
I’d like to thank everyone for that. And of course I would like to echo Hans’s words about Josie, my lovely wife, and the inspiration for Cavendish House.
” Rob’s voice softens. “As you’ve all heard, Josie is suffering from amnesia, so this has been a challenging time in many ways.
But I’m thankful she’s still here with me, and I know you guys at H&F will take care of her. So thank you for that, too.”
He raises his glass, his eyes on mine. Everyone raises their own glass in response. I blush at the attention, but Rob’s adoration feels wonderful. Confusingly so.
“To our continued health, happiness and success, this holiday season and in 2018. Merry Christmas.”
As the others echo the toast, Rob leans down and kisses the top of my head. I put my hand on top of his, where it rests on my shoulder, the champagne forgotten.
“Everybody up.” Hans is waving his hands in the air. “Let’s move these tables because, by God, there shall be dancing!”
Much champagne later, the evening is getting fuzzier, and I find myself on a slippery stool at the bar with Josh, who is complaining about his absent boyfriend.
“Screw him. I gotta pee,” he declares, abandoning me. Our colleagues are dancing to pumping music, but I can’t see Rob. I’m about to go find him when a guy in a pinstripe suit and slicked-back hair — Angela’s dinner companion — squeezes in next to me.
“Josie, right? We met last year . . . you won’t remember. Kyle,” he says in my ear. “Drink?”
“Thanks,” I gesture at my full glass. “I’m good.”
“I’m business development at B+B. Veep. Awesome company. Eighteen months now, love it. But I’ve been buddies with Angela on your team for years. We go way back.”
“That’s great.”
“Josie, I’m, like, super-curious. You’ve got full-blown amnesia, right? Angie was telling me. Can’t remember a thing?” He’s slurring his words, his gaze half-focused.
“Well, nothing since around three years ago. My long-term memory is fine. But I’ve only been at H&F two-and-a-half years, so nothing about my job. I restarted yesterday from scratch.”
“That’s wild. What about Rob? How long have you guys been together?”
“About three years. Married for two.” I look past Kyle, scanning the room. Where did Rob and Mike get to?
“You can’t remember your relationship at all? You woke up not recognizing your husband? That’s what Angie said.”
“Right.” I sip my wine. This guy is making me uncomfortable.
“I figure, it must feel like you’re single, right?
Like, you don’t know Rob or remember marrying him?
” He leans in closer, the whiskey heavy on his breath, and, to my shock, slips his arm round my waist. “If you don’t want to be married to a guy you don’t even remember .
. . You’ve got options, is all I’m saying. ”
He lurches, tugging my body toward his. I slide off the slippery stool, wine spilling on Kyle’s expensive suit.
Furious, I stand upright and look him square in his unfocused eyes.
“Don’t you worry about me. Being married to a man I don’t know is a hell of a lot less painful than listening to your greasy bullshit.
” I take a defiant swig of wine, hesitate for a moment, and then throw the rest in his face. “Asshole.”
As I turn, I spot Rob, Angela and Mike standing at a distance, watching the exchange. Angela has her hand up to Rob’s ear, telling him something. Rob’s brow is furrowed as he tracks my approach. I smooth down my dress and weave past sweaty, dancing colleagues toward them.
“I’m all out of drink, apparently,” I tell Mike, feeling exhilarated. “But it’s time I was cut off anyway.” The song “Fairytale of New York” begins, one of my favorites. I turn to Rob. “Dance?”
“Hell, yes,” he says with a short laugh. He turns to Angela. “Excuse me.” His voice has an uncharacteristic frosty tone, and her jaw slackens.
Rob pulls me to the center of the room. As our colleagues cavort around us, he twirls me around the dance floor, an easy mover, pulling me in close in the quieter spots, pushing me away as the music livens up.
It almost feels like we’ve danced together before, many times.
Some kind of muscle memory, perhaps. Either way, there’s no denying that in this moment, I feel something close to joy.
Much later, back at the apartment, we’re still laughing about the sleazeball who got a faceful of Sauvignon Blanc.
“He’ll probably send me his dry-cleaning bill, he was that kind of asshole,” I say.
“Man, if anyone deserved it.” Rob chuckles. “I’m sorry about him. I knew he was a douche — just didn’t realize how much. If he has any pride, I’ll have his resignation on Monday.”
“Don’t fire him. Not on my account.”
“I’ll see how he handles it.” I note Rob makes no promises.
“You know he’s a friend of Angela’s? I got the impression she encouraged him to approach me, which is weird.”
Rob nods. “She was strange with me, too. When Kyle was hitting on you. She made sure I saw it. Like she was trying to get you into trouble. But she’s always been jealous of you, ever since you got the comms job. She applied for it at the time. And she’s been covering it while you’ve been away.”
“I did wonder about that.” I remember the way she looked at me earlier in the evening.
“I don’t want to waste another moment thinking about Ange or Kyle. Want another drink?”
I hesitate. It’s so tempting. But I’m aware I smell of white wine and sweat, and am already a little too tipsy. Plus, there’s work tomorrow. Most of all, I don’t want to lose control around Rob. It’s been such a great evening. I could almost imagine this life were mine.
“Thanks. But I’d better go to bed. I do have to work tomorrow.”
“Of course. Well, good night, Bruiser.”
I grin. “Night. And thanks, I had a great time. Sleazeballs notwithstanding.”
“Me too. Sleep well.”
Rob leans forward to kiss my cheek, his lips grazing my skin. It tingles.