Fourteen
FOURTEEN
Noble
W atching Holland taking in the city through the back seat of the Uber made me smile on the inside. I paid the driver a few extra dollars to make the ride scenic so I could see the joy in her eyes.
Holland had both hands splayed across the window at one point, looking out in wonder like a kid at Disneyland as we rumbled across the Brooklyn Bridge, through downtown, and past the Empire State Building on our way to Saks Fifth Avenue.
Not used to the erratic techniques of New York drivers, Holland white-knuckled the back of the front passenger seat a few times. She even yelped when a car came dangerously close, cutting us off in traffic.
“Did you see that?” She spun in my direction, her mouth agape in disbelief.
“And you guys are completely unfazed,” she said incredulously. Holland shook her head and turned back toward the window. “I could never drive in New York.”
“We’re here,” I said, presenting Saks to her with a sweep of my hand. “Ever heard of this place?”
“I’m a small-town Southern girl, but I’ve heard of Saks before. We used to have one in Myrtle Beach.”
“Oh. I didn’t mean to…”
Holland waved away my concern. “No explanation needed. We didn’t have this Saks. This is the flagship store.”
“Let’s go get you an outfit fit for a black-tie queen.”
We walked around Saks for a while before I led her to the private styling suite where I’d booked her an appointment with a stylist.
“Let’s go. It’s time for your session,” I said, pulling her along.
“Session? What session?”
“Just follow me,” I said, excited to give her this experience.
“Okay.” Holland tilted her head but followed my lead up to the private suites where we checked in with a short man with striking blue eyes and a sharp navy suit.
“I’ll let Alyssa know you’re here, Mr. Washington.” His tone was jovial but professional.
“Thanks.”
Holland looked at me with pursed lips, raised brows, and mouthed, Mr. Washington . “Pretty fancy,” she said, chuckling.
A young, thin blonde with a sharp bob rounded the corner and greeted us.
“Hi, I’m Alyssa, your stylist. I’ve got your suite all prepped for you. Right this way,” she said.
With brows knit tightly, Holland looked back at me before following Alyssa into a suite the size of a large bedroom, with a rack of dresses, sparkling wine, and refreshments set up like a tea party.
“I understand you’re attending a black-tie affair?” Alyssa said, nodding. “I pulled a few things for you to get started, okay?”
While I waited, Alyssa gave Holland 100 percent of her attention. Skilled at gauging size and knowing what looks good on any body type, Alyssa styled Holland from head to toe in several looks before Holland became smitten with a formfitting wine-colored gown with a trumpet hem. Alyssa added black shoes, a sparkling evening bag, and dangling earrings.
I knew Holland was beautiful, but I hadn’t expected her final look to drain all the language from my brain and air from my lungs. I was speechless when Alyssa presented her final look. My breath stuttered. Stunning wasn’t strong enough to describe how gorgeous Holland looked. Feeling pulled to her, I stepped closer, fighting the urge to caress the sexy lines of her smooth, neck before kissing her nape.
“You look amazing,” I finally said after fumbling through brain fog to find words. Circling Holland, I admired how the dress seemed to be crafted perfectly with Holland’s curves in mind. She was a natural beauty wrapped in the perfect combination of sexy and elegant.
“She does, doesn’t she?” Alyssa’s agreement cut into the rabid thoughts about Holland running through my mind. She turned to me. “Would you like this on the usual account?”
I nodded without taking my eyes off Holland—bottom lip in my mouth. I bit back the desire to moan, but that didn’t prevent the tightening in my groin.
“Can you give us a moment, please?” Holland asked Alyssa.
With a polite smile, Alyssa spun on her heels and left the room. When Holland was sure she was out of earshot, she turned to me with wide eyes. “Noble!” she said with a sharpness I hadn’t expected. “Did you see these prices?” Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She tried again. “I can’t let you spend this much on me. This is insane,” she said, pulling on the price tag.
“It’s not insane,” I said calmly.
“To you, it’s not. The cost of this dress, these shoes, this bag—” she pointed at each item as she mentioned them and shook her head “—it’s more than my rent and car payment combined. I—I can’t let you do this. We can go somewhere else. You guys don’t have Ross around here?”
“Who’s Ross?” I asked.
“Ross is a store, silly. Like Marshalls or TJ Maxx. I could easily find something suitable there.”
I held my hands up. “Holland, please. Let me do this. It’s no trouble at all. I invited you. I said I’d cover the expense of your outfit, and that’s what I will do. End of discussion.”
Holland tossed me a sharp look and curled her lip. “End of discussion?”
The feisty side of Holland reared its head. I matched her energy. “I’m buying the dress,” I said definitively.
Holland blew out a hard sigh and rubbed her temples. She opened her mouth again, and I held up a hand.
“It’s already done.”
“Noble!” She sighed dramatically. “This is crazy. It will take forever to repay you.”
“I didn’t ask you to pay me back.” I turned away. “Alyssa,” I called. “Can we get everything wrapped up? Thanks.”
Without looking, I could feel Holland’s eyes on my back. She was upset. I was amused. I let a smile slip across my face. Her twisted-lipped glare melted into a defeated grin. I won.
Before leaving the dressing room, I spun back around to face her. “Are you hungry? I am.” I left the suite and shut the door behind me.
Moments later, Holland emerged from behind the closed door wearing her regular clothes and a serious look of defeat.
Alyssa carefully bagged her items and bid us a wonderful afternoon.
Holland didn’t speak much once we stepped out onto Fifth Avenue. I understood. I’d grown up poor. The prices at Saks would seem obscene to any average person. Until I became wealthy, I hadn’t fathomed that people made salaries like mine or had shopping experiences like the ones at Saks.
I tested the temperature to see if Holland was still hot about the purchases. “What would you like to eat?”
She sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Have you tried New York pizza yet?”
The hard angles of her face softened a bit. “My treat,” she commanded.
“I won’t object to that. Some of the best pizza is right in our neighborhood.”
We caught a taxi back to Brooklyn. I watched her as she watched the landscape whir by.
I racked my brain to find the right words to describe what being around Holland felt like. She was unlike any other woman I had dated. From the way she lavished me with her full attention when we were together, making me feel seen and exposed at the same time, to the way she appeared comfortable in her skin whether she wore leggings or a four-thousand-dollar gown. Holland was an intriguing combination of soft and bold. No pretense, inherent entitlement, or gold-digging tendencies. Her effortless beauty, the rhythmic swing of her curvaceous hips, and the bounce of her ample breasts were the icing and cherries.
I knew she was reconciling the money that was spent. She had to know I wasn’t looking for anything in return.
I watched Holland take in the noisy hustle at Gino’s, our neighborhood pizza shop. Her eyes ping-ponged along the narrow restaurant, which was teeming with customers sitting, standing, coming, and going. The family that owned and ran it navigated the organized chaos, yelling out orders, stacking boxes, slipping slices into the mega-hot ovens, and tossing dough high in the air.
“Wow,” she said under her breath.
“Yo, Noble.” The owner’s son nodded my way.
“What’s up, Tone?” I said.
“Who’s your lady friend?”
“This is Holland. Holland, meet Tone. She’s Ms. Goldie’s great-niece.”
“Oh! Pleasure to meet you. My condolences. Whatever you want today is on me.”
“Oh, thanks.” Holland waved off his offer. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I…” Tone looked at his father. Gino nodded. “We insist. We loved your aunt. Wanna try her favorite?”
“Um…” Holland turned to me.
“Go for it,” I encouraged.
“Sure,” she said.
How could a smile be both sheepish and sexy? Somehow, Holland managed that.
“Cool. One grandma and one regular slice!” Tone yelled over his shoulder. “Staying?” he asked Holland.
“Yep.”
“To stay,” he tossed over his shoulder to complete the order. “And for you, bro? The regular?”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
Tone yelled over his shoulder again. “One veggie, one buffalo!”
Snaking sideways through the mass of customers, I parked our bags at one of the small red-and-white-checkered tables near the back of the bustling restaurant, grabbed some drinks, and plopped down in the chair. The sound of car horns, hissing of bus brakes, and random voices from outside floated inside and mingled with the noisy collection of voices. Holland and I had to practically yell across the small table to hear one another.
Moments later, Tone’s brother, Sal, brought us four plates of steaming hot pizza.
“Bon appétit,” I said, biting into my veggie slice first. “Be careful, it’s really hot,” I warned Holland.
Holland pinched a piece of the grandma slice, blew on it, and popped it into her mouth. “Mm.” Holland nodded. “Utter deliciousness.” She picked up the full slice to bite into it.
For several moments, we both ate in silence.
“What’s a buffalo?” she said over her last bite of the grandma slice.
“Pizza topped with chicken tossed in buffalo sauce.”
“Oh. I’ve heard of that before. Sounds tasty. I’ll have to try that before I leave.”
“Here.” I held the pizza to her mouth. “Take a bite.”
She did, and quickly wiped away the oil dripping down her chin.
“That’s really good,” she said around a mouthful.
Holland took another bite and eyed me pensively.
“What?” I asked, downing a gulp of grape soda.
“Mind telling me about what you do?”
“Nothing illegal.”
Holland twisted her lips. “That’s not what I was thinking.”
I flashed my best grin. “Just messing with you. I run…” Air swelled in my chest. I took a deep breath. “I used to run a consumer goods company.”
“Used to?”
“Yeah.”
“Why’d you leave?”
I didn’t want to talk about this. The sting of being asked to leave was still fresh. And what would Holland think of a person who’d been asked to resign?
“I didn’t choose to leave. I was asked to step down from my role as CEO.” I’d said it. What would she think? I resisted the urge to dive into explanations about the reasons corporations fired CEOs other than bad performance.
Holland reared her head back. “Oh! I’m sorry to hear that. Can I ask what company?” she asked, brushing crumbs from her hands.
Many of the women I had dated in the past pretended not to know me at first, but then dropped clues that they’d already checked out my net worth. Holland’s interest seemed organic—her curiosity wasn’t driven by potential gain.
Holland studied me. I dropped my eyes to the half-eaten pizza on my plate and took another bite just to give me something to do. I didn’t want her to read anything that I wasn’t ready for her to see. I hated having to say Push was no longer mine.
“You know what, never mind,” she said. “I’m sorry if that was too personal.”
“It’s okay. My comp—the company was Push Beverages.”
Holland’s eyes widened. “You were the CEO of Push? Oh my goodness! My sister loves those drinks. They get her through long days.”
“Same. Thanks. I started the company back in grad school.” I told her my origin story and enough about the last ten years to hopefully curtail more questions.
“Wow. Congratulations on such amazing accomplishments. Your mother would have been super proud of you. By the way, how’s your dad?”
Another sore subject. “The idea of making her proud motivates me every day. I like to think she’s looking down at me, smiling.”
Holland tilted her head. “I’m sure she’s super proud.”
“Thanks. And my dad’s fine,” I said, telling a small lie. The truth was, I hadn’t spoken to him or Tanya since I left the hospital. I want things to be different between us, but I don’t know how to make them different. He was still stubborn, even after diminishing to a shadow of his former self. Two stubborn people at odds didn’t make reconciliation easy. And I didn’t feel like I was the one who should make the effort. I’d done that before and it hadn’t gotten me anywhere. Years of yo-yo letdowns made it hard to believe that we could be more than what we’d been in the past. But something had to give. I couldn’t lose him this way.
I could run a whole company, but couldn’t figure out how to have a normal conversation with my dad.
“Good. I hope he continues to get better quickly,” she said, bringing my focus back.
“Thanks.” There was nothing quick about his condition.
Holland put the last bite of pizza in her mouth, sat back, and rubbed her belly like she going to ask three wishes of herself. “That was good. Now I can tell my cousin I had authentic New York pizza.” She sat up and looked directly into my eyes. “I have to admit, I still feel guilty about the amount of money you spent on me today.”
I opened my mouth to object.
“But!” She halted me with both hands. “I want to thank you for a wonderful experience. I enjoyed myself. And this pizza…knowing it was my aunt’s favorite made it extra special.” She reached across the table and took my hand. “Thank you.”
Holland’s sincerity took some of the weight off.
“My pleasure. I have to take good care of Ms. Goldie’s niece. She wouldn’t have it any other way. That woman was good to me.” A flood of memories flashed through my mind, bringing the dull ache of loss. I’d spent many holidays at her table. Ms. Elsie and I were part of her chosen family—her words.
After a few quiet moments, I asked her, “Are you ready to go?”
She nodded.
We gathered our oil-stained paper plates and tossed them in the trash. I said goodbye to Tone and the family and stepped out of the pizza shop into the balmy evening. I tried to control the pace of our walk. We were just around the corner from home. Dreading every step, I slowed, not wanting to get there too fast. Why did I crave her presence so much when other women struggled to pin me down for more than a few hours?
I walked her to the door, wishing I could kiss her again. For a moment, I thought my wish would come true as we stood suspended in each other’s presence. We’d been doing that a lot lately, connecting visually. Words weren’t needed. I knew what I felt, and I knew she felt it too.
Holland broke our gaze when she looked down at her keys, cleared her throat, and offered a soft “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Still, she didn’t move. Was she waiting for me to make my move? Had she been any other woman, I would have. After buying the dress, I didn’t want her to feel like I was expecting anything more than for her to be my plus-one, but this resistance was painful. I beat back the urge to run my tongue across her pink-tinted lips.
Her eyes bore the reflection of my desire. The pull was mutual. Holland wanted me as much as I wanted her. I stepped back, placing a foot on the lower step, wishing for a breeze to cool whatever this thing was that sizzled between us.
“Yeah,” I finally said, our eyes connecting again. She swallowed. I watched her neck bob, imagining how soft and salty that sun-kissed skin would feel against my roving tongue. My lips suddenly needed moisture. When I licked mine, she licked hers. Invite. Me. In. “Tomorrow,” I repeated, hoping we could reconsider that timing. “Looking forward to it,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t really have to wait.
After several hours together, I still hadn’t had enough of her.
“And you promised to help me finish clearing this place out, now that you’re cutting into my schedule.” She wagged a finger at me, bursting the bubble of tension surrounding us.
Smiling, I said, “I will.”
Holland’s beautiful smile was her only response. Sufficient enough for me.
“Let me know when you want to see the mural in St. Albans.”
“As soon as we get this place cleaned out.”
“Sounds good.”
We did that gaze-locking thing again. Finally, I leaned forward, kissed her cheek, and backed out of the gate as I watched her enter the house safely. Another cool shower awaited me. I’d lived alone for over a decade, but this night, when I entered my home it felt especially empty, and I wondered what Holland was doing next door all alone.
Holland was the best distraction, but I had to get to work on my profile as a prime leadership candidate while I could still be considered a commodity. Thinking of anything else while she was around took extreme focus. Landing on my feet, or at least appearing to land on my feet, was critical. I was done sulking.
Money wasn’t an issue. I had plenty of that, and the golden parachute the board had approved set me up for this life and the next. I certainly had no objections regarding their severance package. I could have remained unemployed if I wanted, but that wouldn’t work well with my ego.
Holland would be leaving soon. I wasn’t ready to let her go, especially when there was no guarantee I’d ever see her again. I needed time to explore the magnetism between us. I don’t remember being this drawn to any woman, even the ones I thought would last. Holland’s presence was a salve, soothing and dulling the ache of my circumstances. I’d never understand how she’d gotten so far under my skin in just a matter of days.