“Hi,” I say.
“Are you really leaving next Friday?”
Letting out a long sigh, I sit on the edge of the big bed. “Stephen and I have return airplane reservations for next Friday night leaving out of JFK. We’re headed back to London, no matter what happens with the position. Either we need to pack and get juniors squared away or we are simply moving back home to our places in Shepherd’s Bush, just a tube ride away from our jobs.”
“Am I a bad friend if I don’t want London to be your home?”
“No,” I say with a grin. “I think that makes you a good friend.”
“So what are your plans for your last weekend in the Big Apple—until you move back here?”
I recall Trevor’s comments last night as we dined at yet another fabulous restaurant in the sky. “Well, I’ve been told that I have and can make no plans.”
“Oh! I like that. And how are you supposed to pack for this no-plan weekend?”
I giggle. “I was told the venue is a strict no-clothes zone.”
“Well, hot damn. Quiet Trevor needs a new nickname.”
I laugh, thinking I could give him a few. Of course, none are ones I’m willing to share.
“Shana?” Kimbra says when I get lost in my own erotic thoughts.
“Sorry. Yes, he’s definitely not quiet or shy or any of the other adjectives you’ve mentioned.”
“Babe, I’m so happy for you and for him,” she adds. “I don’t want to impose on your weekend, but can we see the two of you?”
“I guess I better pack clothes.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea. The thing is that on Sunday afternoon Christopher and Beth are coming over for dinner. They’re in the city for a concert. That’s a good thing because they can’t stay too long. Duncan and I were thinking this would be a good time for them to meet you.”
My mind is filled with names and people. I think about friends I used to work with here in New York. I’ve seen a lot of them here at the offices. I try to recall people from Kimbra’s circles. “I’m sorry, I’m drawing a blank. Who are Christopher and Beth?”
“Oh shit. Well, you met them once.”
I shake my head. “Can you give me another clue? I’ve been a little crazy lately.”
“First, tell me if you can come over Sunday?”
“I need to check with Trevor. Remember, he said no plans. Now my curiosity is growing. When did I meet these people?”
“At my wedding,” Kimbra responds.
“At your wedding?”
“They’re Duncan and Trevor’s parents.”
I fall back onto the bed, landing on the pile of clothes waiting to be packed as I let out a long breath. “Kimberly Ann!”
“It won’t be bad. They’re great people. They’re much saner than my family, and you’ve survived them. Besides, I may have mentioned to Beth that Trevor was seeing my very best friend in the whole world and how you were going to be leaving for a while but the two of you are trying to make it work and how this started at the wedding and how Trevor is totally smitten, and she is so excited.”
“Whoa, take a breath.”
“Please?”
“I passed on spending the weekend with Stephen’s family and now this?”
“Like I said, it’s not like with my family. There will be no strip poker or discussion of sex toys.”
I giggle. “That’s so good to know.”
“Oh,” she says, “I need to go. So I’ll tell Duncan that you and Trevor will be here Sunday at three. Love you. Bye.”
“Wait—”
Pulling my phone away from my ear, I look at the screen. “Bitch, you hung up.” Of course, she doesn’t hear me.
There’s a number by my text message icon. I must not have heard the notifications when I was talking to Kimbra. I tap the screen.
Trevor: “MY LADY, IF YOU DON’T ARRIVE SOON, YOU’LL MISS THE OPENING ACT.”
I shake my head.
Me: “I’VE ALWAYS BEEN MORE OF A HEADLINER FAN.”
Trevor: “THE OPENING ACT IS FOOD.”
My stomach growls as I recall that I only ate some of my salad today for lunch.
Me: “ON MY WAY!”
They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I’m pretty sure that works for women too. I quickly fold everything I have on the bed and place it in my suitcase, making room for toiletries and my little black and white bag.
Leaving my work clothes on the floor of the closet, I slip into the tight jeans I wore Saturday night, a comfortable long top, and my tall boots. Running a brush through my hair, I secure it in a low ponytail and pull the length over my shoulder.
This is supposed to be my escape weekend. Looking at the clock, I see it’s almost seven on Friday night. That gives me until Sunday at three. I plan to enjoy every minute.
Goodbye, Ms. Price, professional fashion buyer. Hello, Shana, someone looking for an escape.
I may have told Stephen I was going to use this weekend to assess my mess of a life, but as I’m turning off the lights to my hotel suite, I decide that assessment isn’t what I need. Instead, for once, I want to simply enjoy. I want to forget about whatever is going to happen with my job, not think about Stephen’s secret, and even put off thinking about Sunday’s dinner at Kimbra’s. For the next forty-plus hours, I want to relax and enjoy.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Trevor
You would think I’m seventeen on my first date.
Since leaving the bar with Max and receiving Shana’s text that she was done for the week and wanted me to take her mind off work, I’ve been in planning overload. It’s what I do. I plan, probably excessively. After all, a structure doesn’t become a fifty-story building without planning. First there are specs. What will be needed to secure the foundation? A building or a bridge, no matter how well constructed, won’t stand without a strong foundation. After that, preliminary plans are developed. The investors’ desires are taken into consideration but always with safety regulations in mind.
Once the basics are formulated, a model is constructed. While I loved Legos as a kid, these models are different, being built to scale for a very specific reason. If the model can’t stand or withhold the stresses placed upon it, neither will the structure.
It’s the way my mind works.
Of course, things are different for creating a weekend with the woman I’m falling for. I know it’s true. Then again, maybe Kimbra was right and I’ve already fallen. That morning in Indianapolis, when Shana woke in my bed, I was a goner.
I’ll never forget the way she looked at me. With her beautiful blue eyes wide, wearing my button-down shirt, her expression filled with surprise and wonder. I admit I had fun teasing her and stretching out the explanation for our situation.
Through it all, she remained calm and innocent.
Oh, I wanted her that night. I wanted her that weekend, but not taking her has made what we’ve shared this week so much better.
I stop and look around my apartment. It isn’t a bad apartment for New York. When I first moved in, I had Eric as a roommate. That helped with expenses. Now that he’s getting married and living with Cynthia, I can’t imagine downsizing. Not that it’s large, but two bedrooms in Manhattan—unless you’re my brother—is like a mansion in other areas.