“No.” Another hesitation. “I was. But . . . no.”
There’s something in his tone that tells me there’s more but warns me not to ask. I try on the idea of Rich Hanson as a concerned and involved father. One who would pick up and move across the country for his daughter. It flies in the face of everything I’ve ever heard or thought about him; it adds another layer of satisfaction to what we accomplished together today. And all that lies ahead.
He leans forward and looks directly into my eyes. It’s clear that he wants to kiss me.
But I’m the one who disregards my normal aversion to public displays of affection and presses my lips to his. It’s my eyes that flutter shut. But I’m not in that kiss alone.
When we pull apart, he looks slightly stunned, exactly how I feel. Without discussion or debate, he pays the bill and follows me home. On the front porch we kiss again. This time our tongues tangle, and I feel the clear, hard pull of desire. I take his hand and lead him inside.
* * *
• • •
Which is how I awake next to a naked Rich Hanson the next morning. Our clothes are strewn across the carpet. The late-morning sun streams through the wood blinds. I go up on one elbow and reach for my phone on the nightstand. It’s almost ten o’clock. “Oh, God!”
“What? What is it?” He sits straight up beside me. Our naked bodies touch.
I yank the comforter up to my neck, which pulls it down below his waist. In this moment, I actually wish I had drunk more so that I could at least pretend that I did not choose to sleep with this man. My colleague. And until so recently, my nemesis.
I shake my head. “I can’t believe we did this.”
He turns to face me. He’s trying not to smile. “But we did. And frankly it was . . . unbelievably fantastic.” He sighs. “I don’t think I can apologize for something I’m pretty sure I’m going to remember to my dying day.”
“But I don’t even like you!” Somehow, I pull the sheet out from under the comforter and stand while wrapping it around me. “I don’t understand how this happened!”
“Well, let’s see,” he says calmly as he gets out of bed, picks up his boxers and pants from the floor, and steps into them. “You kissed me at Kaleidoscope. I saw you home. We kissed again. You invited me in. One thing . . . led to another.” He stands on the opposite side of the bed, bare chested, his hair tousled.
“Oh my God. I can’t believe this.”
“That’s what you kept saying last night. Only you sounded happier about it.”
And, of course, I was. Because while I am shocked at my behavior, I haven’t forgotten how thrilled I was with our collaboration, how great it felt to bowl Larry over, how much I enjoyed celebrating with Rich. How surprised we both were when I kissed him. How eager we both were when I took his hand and led him inside.
It’s the rare man who can make you laugh even while he’s making love to you. The rarest of the rare who understands just how great an aphrodisiac humor can be. The only other man I’ve ever known who got that connection was Xavier.
I shake my head. “I’ve never slept with a client or a colleague. I don’t believe in it. It can lead to complications and . . . misunderstandings.” I look him directly in the eye. “I won’t be another notch in someone’s belt.”
“I’m not into notches,” Rich says, pulling on his shirt, tucking it in, buckling his belt. “I’ve never seen the point. But as much as I think we both enjoyed last night, if it’s a problem we can pretend it never happened.” He says it lightly, but I’m starting to be able to read those hazel eyes. To decipher what he means, what he doesn’t.
Nonetheless, I take the out he offers. “I apologize for crossing the line. We’re going to be working together, and it would be silly to jeopardize that. As far as I’m concerned, it didn’t happen. And it definitely can never ‘not happen’ again.”
Erin
Jazmine arrives at work late the next morning even though she had nothing on her calendar, something that’s never happened before. She offers no explanation. Rich Hanson never shows his face. When I ask, his assistant says he’s out at meetings all day.
We spend the day on paperwork and researching high school and college tennis players. Jazmine displays none of the excitement or satisfaction of yesterday’s presentation. I had never seen her that excited. It’s as if some curtain has been brought down and now it’s back to business as usual.
It’s early afternoon and we’re in her office going over upcoming travel plans and discussing her calendar when Larry strolls up, knocks on the open door, and steps inside. He has a huge smile on his face.
“Afternoon, Jazmine. Just wanted to say again how impressed I was with your and Rich’s work. I am blown away by what a great team you make, how well you managed to work together and put aside your differences.”
Jazmine’s head cocks to one side. It’s a signal that she’s listening, of course, but although there’s still a smile on her lips, I can see that she’s gone very still. Her eyes are pinned on Larry’s face.
“I told him when he joined the firm that the only way he was ever going to make his mark here was to get you on board.” He chuckles, wags his head. “I have to admit, I never thought he’d win you over. I was kind of looking forward to seeing you put him in his place.”
“Is that right?” Jazmine’s smile freezes on her lips. Her eyes go all flinty.
I’m not sure exactly who that look is meant for, but I hope I never find myself on the other end of anything half as lethal.
Thirty-Three
Judith
I’ve spent the last five days waiting for the kids to call—they haven’t. Even the daily texts have stopped. Despite her own meltdown over Frank’s disappearance and her disillusionment with online dating, Meena keeps reminding me that whether to sell the house or not is my decision. So is what I do next with my life.
I’m tired of waiting, waffling, and second-guessing. When I get in bed on Friday night, I stare into the ceiling and give myself a Meena-esque pep talk. By the time I turn the light out, the one thing I know for sure is that as much as I love my children, I can’t live only for them. It’s time to stop beating myself up and set things straight. It’s time to reclaim my life. Or, more accurately, begin to build a new one.
For the first time since Nate died, I sleep through the night. At ten on Saturday morning, when I’m sure they’ll both be up, I place a call to Ansley. When she answers, I ask her to hold, then quickly add Ethan to the call before she can refuse.