Jake: That may be true. In any case, I just finished birthday shopping with my sister for my mom, and I’m on my way over. I know you’re counting down the minutes. I’d bet money on it.
Kate: You’d lose that bet.
Jake: Doubtful. Highly doubtful.
Laughing, I shoved the phone into the side pocket of my purse. I was not counting down the minutes until I saw him.
Or the seconds.
Please. I had other matters on my mind.
Even though the man did have a terrific rear end.
Not to mention a handsome face.
And a fast mouth.
Damn him. Damn all the what-ifs I entertained about him.
3
Jake
My back was tight, my muscles taut. Hell, my mind had high-tension cables running through it.
That was par for the course for the last several weeks.
I left the office on a Thursday evening, the sun already set, the city lit with miles of neon, glitter, and glitz.
I drank in the New York skyline, the Eiffel Tower, the pyramid and its eye as the Lyft took me toward the Strip. A place I loved. Too bad it’d been a while since I’d enjoyed all this city had to offer. But this evening I was coming up for air.
It had been some time since I’d had a night out with my friends.
But first, shopping.
I tried to shed another long day as I headed to Caesars to meet my sister.
Christine had demanded my presence as a shopping companion, since our mom’s birthday was next week.
After the driver dropped me at the massive hotel, I made my way through the casino, enjoying the sound of games and slots until I reached the stores, scanning for Christine. My sister leaned against the wall outside the perfume store, dressed in black, her brown hair piled high on her head, a pair of silver glasses on her face, looking every bit the badass businesswoman she was. She founded and ran Hamilton-Carey, a cruelty-free beauty products company that supplied several of the hotels on the Strip.
She narrowed her eyes above the frames, like she didn’t recognize me. Staring down her straight nose, she acted as if she were seeing me for the first time. “Wait. Is that you? In the flesh? As I live and breathe?”
“No. It’s my hologram twin.”
“Ah, that makes more sense,” she said. “I was thinking ghost, but hologram tracks.”
“Fine. I’ll play your game.” I sighed like I was genuinely annoyed, but I wasn’t. I was, however, curious what the smarty-pants meant. “What exactly are you saying?”
She studied my face, peering at my eyes, my nose, my ears too. She patted my cheek. “It is you. I just wasn’t sure what you looked like. Now, I see you’ve aged ten years in these last few months.”
I scoffed. “Thanks. Good to see you too.”
She laughed, tossing her head back, having a blast at my expense. She slugged my arm. “Just giving you a hard time. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you that I wasn’t sure I’d recognize you,” she said, gesturing toward the shop.
We entered the land of olfactory overload, a bright white store with too many bottles of eau du toilette. But Mom liked her perfume. And moms deserved whatever they wanted for their birthdays.
Mom had a collection of favorite scents, so here we were, looking to add to it.
“It’s only been a few weeks since I’ve seen you, Christine.” Defensive was my natural state of mind. “Don’t you recall that I saw you when we were watching a Warriors game at your place with Carson?”
As we wandered past some celebrity scent created by a singer with only one name, Christine tossed me a skeptical look. “Hello? That Warriors game was three months ago. We watched it on Valentine’s Day. And I live two miles away from you. You haven’t seen your nephew recently either,” she said, but there wasn’t any accusation there. More like sadness, and that made me sad too.
Was she right?
My brow furrowed as I flipped back through the calendar in my head.
April, March, February.
Holy shit.
It had been a long time.
Too long.
Next to the Chanel, I bowed obsequiously. “Apologies, oh great sister of mine. I am a dick. Work has been insane. We had some new clients with all sorts of rights reversions, and it has been a hell of a crazy time.” Business at the firm was good. Almost too good. In addition to the rights reversions, we’d inked new deals for TV shows and struck partnerships for on-air talent. Things were booming when it came to entertainment law.
And when I’d gotten into law school, I’d vowed to never complain about too much work.
Hell, I’d made that vow when I entered college too.
This was how I lived my life.
Christine and I knew all too well what the other side of the equation was like. We’d seen it happen to our dad growing up. Watched him struggle to make ends meet as an appliance salesman when we were kids. He’d weathered too many storms with zero business. Too many nights coming home without nabbing so much as a single dishwasher sale. I’d never bitch about having too much to handle, especially since all the extra work I’d taken on helped fund my parents’ well-deserved retirement.
Dad’s days with his new running club, training for a 5K.
Mom’s time to garden, read, and relax.
And perfume. Lots of perfume.
Christine shot me a big-sister look as she squeezed my arm. “I know you have a ton going on, and it’s awesome. No one works harder than you. But you need balance. You’re working too much, Jake. I don’t get to see you. Carson wants to see you. He loves his uncle. He asks about you, wants to know when you’ll come by. He has a soccer game on Sunday.”
That tugged at my heart.
I loved that rug rat. I wanted to see him, play pinball with him, shoot hoops with the kid. Christine’s husband had died a few years ago, so I did my best to help out with her son, now eleven, when I could. “I’ll pick him up after school tomorrow and play pinball with him.”
Christine laughed. “I’m not angling for a school pickup.”
“Too bad. You got one. And I will go to his soccer match this Sunday. I promise. Forgive me,” I said, pressing my hands together in prayer as we wandered past an Obsession display.
She smiled, adjusted her bun, then shook her head. “No apologies necessary as long as you try to relax and take a weekend off. You need some downtime. Can you get away from the office? Relax? You seem tense.”
“Should I book myself a spa getaway?” I asked, teasing.
But her gray eyes remained stern, knowing. “I mean it. Don’t work yourself too hard. That’s what Dad did.”
“I’m not going to have a heart attack,” I said softly. “Or nearly die of one either.”
“Let’s make sure of that. And that means doing something other than work. Can you just take a weekend off?”
I sighed, dragging a hand through my hair. “Maybe,” I said, picturing the stack of contracts I needed to weed through tomorrow. But after that? “It’s possible.”
“Do it,” she said, like a drill sergeant. “Have some fun. You’re seeing your friends tonight, right?”