Chapter Three

The man is even more devastating up close than he was across the bar.

An hour later we're sitting in a big booth at The Red Eye Diner, and my belly is full of the excellent cheeseburger I ate and butterflies. Because he's kind of everything.

And that's why I should be wary, but it's okay. The man's here for work and won't be staying long.

Luca. He'd introduced himself as Luca Martin, and he'd zeroed in on me in a way that told me Darnell had absolutely explained my prior drooling situation. Which I really hope I've stopped doing.

My friends are terrible, wonderful people who'd asked Luca a whole bunch of questions, eaten quickly, paid the bill—taken at least one surreptitious picture of him in case I got murdered—and then left Luca and I sitting here as the evening lengthened to night. I can't quite make myself leave. I worry I'm about to make a complete fool of myself over this guy, and I can't stop it.

"Your friend," he begins with the most perfect British accent, "she seemed familiar. I think she called herself Ivy. She mentioned she worked in tech. Was that Ivy Jensen?"

So he follows the business world, more specifically the tech industry. I nod. "Yes, she used to run a company called Jensen Medical."

His fingers snap in recognition. "Yes. She was at the top of her game. I was sad to hear she lost her company. Her software works brilliantly. Our hospital system uses it. The local system that is. She's quite intimidating. I've been told my picture was taken at some point in time this evening, and if you go missing, she will put me on something called Dateline."

That sounds like Ivy, but I don't want to scare him away. "Don't worry about her. She's only watching out for me. Do they not have Dateline in England?"

He shrugs slightly. "I might have heard of it, but I've never watched it. It sounds very informative. I prefer something more entertaining. I do quite a lot of reading."

"I bet you're into nonfiction and like Nobel Prize-winning literature." He would certainly not approve of my latest read, Their Virgin Mate, and that's a shame because I learned a lot from it.

He shudders, an oddly masculine gesture on him. "Not since I finished university. Give me a murder mystery or a good graphic novel. My adv…coworkers always lament my taste in fiction. The only reason I don't watch a lot of telly is time. My job can be a bit intense. When I have some down time, I enjoy… What do you call it here in the States? Binging?"

So he's not an overly intellectual snob. He's ticking off all the boxes on my list while presenting me with zero red flags. He'd been charming with my friends and attentive with me. He hadn't even said anything when I'd gotten ketchup on my dress. He'd simply taken his napkin, soaked it in his water, and told me to pat. The man knows how to take care of semi-fine fabrics. "Yes, I like a good binge. I once locked myself in my apartment for a weekend and shut off all social media so no one spoiled Stranger Things for me."

"That's the worst. Although it's a fine line, isn't it? When does a spoiler become a normal, everyday reference every human should understand?" There's a mug of coffee in front of him and an empty plate that used to house a big piece of chocolate pie he'd declared delicious. "I have a friend who still hasn't watched Game of Thrones and gets upset when we talk about it around him. Sorry, mate. That ship has sailed."

Oh, I like him so much. He's laid back and seems real to me. The haze of his hotness is still there, but there's also an ease between us that does something for my soul. In the last hour we've talked solidly thanks to the gift Heath left for us.

It's a game he sometimes carries around when we're all going out to dinner. It consists of a bunch of cards with get-to-know you questions. Like what's your favorite type of weather. His—rainy with a hint of a chill. Mine—a fall afternoon when the air is crisp but the sun warms me while I'm walking through the park.

It's odd because those questions Heath left us don't cover the basic where do you live, where did you go to school, who are your friends type of things that normally get asked when you first meet someone. I suck at those first awkward conversations because I usually say something weird.

A regular guy would have tossed the questions aside the minute Heath and the gang had left us on our own, but Luca seems fascinated with the cards. He holds out the stack. "It's your turn."

It's getting late, but he shows no signs of wanting to leave. The waitress has long since given up on us, leaving a pot of coffee on the table as she starts to clean up. I reach out and take a card from the middle, hoping it's a good one. Luca doesn't allow mulligans. I glance down. "All right. Where is your favorite vacation spot and why? It has to be a place you've been to, not an aspirational location."

He sits back, and a soft expression comes across his face. "Santa Maria. It's an island in the Azores off the coast of Portugal. My uncle lived there for most of his life and when I had school holidays, I would sometimes go and work at his vineyard. I suppose it was the time I felt the most free. My parents were particularly invested in me doing well at school. Boarding school in England is… Well, there's a reason Game of Thrones resonated with me."

"Boarding school?" I can't imagine not being able to go home at night, not having that firm boundary between school and rest. Not that it would have been possible for me. My parents had been solidly middle class, and rent control is the only reason my mom still lives in her two bedroom in Hell's Kitchen. Luca's family apparently had money.

He nods, pouring another cup of coffee. "Yes. I went away to boarding school when I was eight. I only saw my parents on breaks after that, and when they were busy, I would be sent to my uncle's. I have to admit, I preferred that. My uncle was more laid back, though he worked hard. He taught me a lot about wine and how to grow it, how it represents the land and the history of the people who make it. For my uncle, wine was a living history."

"Was?" I ask, knowing the answer.

He nods. "Yes. He passed a few years ago, my father before him. Cancer. My mother died last year. She had a stroke that she never recovered from."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

A soft expression crosses his features. "I wish we'd had a better relationship, but that's in the past. So now you know why I love Portugal, despite my love of rain and gloomy climates. How about you?"

He's been so open with me. I want to say Disney World because of fun. I went once with Harper's family, and we had the best time. We'd been eight years old and made it a point to try to make each other throw up on the tea cups.

But that isn't the place that still calls to me. "My dad's family had a big cabin in the Poconos. That's a place in Pennsylvania. It's beautiful. Mountains and lakes, and it's so green in the summer. He grew up in Scranton, but he spent his summers there with his parents. So when I was young and my grandma was still around, we would go for a couple of weeks every year."

"And you had fun running around the forest?"

I sigh because it's more than childhood fun. "It was the only place where my father seemed happy. He was a complex man. Is still a complex man, I assume."

"He's not in your life?" Luca asks.

We're getting deep for only having met a few hours before, but I also think this will be our only night together, so it feels strangely right to confide in him. Like he's a safe place to put some of my emotions for the simple fact that I won't see him again. "He left my mom when I was twelve, but the marriage was shaky before then. It was kind of toxic. Not kind of. Just plain toxic. I don't think my father liked how his life turned out. He always made it clear to my mother that she wasn't his first choice. The problem was he was hers, and no amount of bile he spit her way changed that for her. But those weeks when he was back around his old friends he seemed like a different man."

"Why didn't he move back to where he was happiest?"

"Oh, the family home was gone by then. They'd all had to leave the area to find better opportunities. He did finally move back a couple of years ago. He's working at a resort and seems to have gotten some of his issues under control." I have probably said way too much. I give him what I hope is a bright smile. "Anyway, I loved rafting and hiking, and there was this place that had the best cinnamon rolls. Big as my head at the time, and my mom would get one and I would eat on it all day. It was fun. Now if you ask me where I want to go today, I would absolutely say someplace like Hawaii or Fiji. Somewhere beachy, with a fabulous spa."

He reaches out, his hand covering mine. "I know what it's like to have complicated relationships with parents. It's hard. Thank you for sharing that with me."

I feel vulnerable in that moment. He's looking at me with soft eyes, like he's never had a woman open her soul to him, and he probably hasn't after knowing her for such a short amount of time. "It's your turn."

I take the cards and fan them out, turning them his way. He hesitates, and I wonder if we're done for the night. By night I mean forever. I won't see this man again. He's explained that he has a big project he's working on while he's here in the city, and this is his last free night. When the job winds up, he'll head back to England. Though he simply called it Europe.

He reaches out and takes a card, turning it over and frowning. "What's your biggest fear?"

"Spiders." I hate them. They're gross and build webs to trap you in and have eight eyes, and that seems like an unfair advantage in this wildlife documentary we call life.

He frowns my way. "That is not your biggest fear."

"How would you know? You met me a couple of hours ago. I could have gotten bitten by a tarantula when I was five and still bear the scars of that trauma." I hadn't. I'm smarter than that. Tarantulas are large and easily avoidable if one is always on the lookout for arachnids. And I am. No. It's the small ones I truly fear. Not to say I won't girly scream and get my ass out of there if a tarantula shows up, because I will.

Luca is staring at me like he can see through to my soul. "We talked about your parents and my parents, and if you're not afraid of becoming your mother, I'll eat that special thing they have on the menu."

It's fried pickles slathered in sriracha, and Luca had seemed both fascinated and horrified at the thought. I rather thought they'd shut down the kitchen at this point, but I get what he's saying, though I stand by my arachnophobia. "Fine. I do worry I'll end up in that kind of relationship. She was devastated when he left. I don't know what she would have done if she hadn't had her business partner. Tonya's been her best friend since high school. She held us all together while Mom worked on some stuff. It was hard because right after the divorce, Dad insisted on a strict custody schedule. I think he did it to punish her."

"Why do you think that?" Luca asks.

"Because he wasn't interested in spending time with me." It had been a difficult era for me. He moved out of the city so when I was at his place, I didn't have Ivy or Harper. I was alone. "I don't think he hated me. He was kind of neutral when it came to me. I think he was far more interested in punishing her for not being the woman he wanted. And this is why I put all the weird stuff out at the beginning. I think that's what my dad did wrong. Or maybe it was my mom. She said he changed after they got married, and again after they had me. I don't think people really change. I think they get comfortable enough to show you who they are. I make it a point to simply be myself the entire time."

He seems to think for a moment. "Sound reasoning, although for some people there is a hidden self. One they must show to the public, and a more private self."

I don't buy it. "Why would anyone want that kind of life? I mean, I get it. You're talking about politicians or like an actor or something. I deal with a lot of those, and I know they don't present the same face to the world they do in private, but that's work. You're never going to be the same person at work that you are at home. Not entirely."

He seems to think about what to say, leaning over, his deep brown eyes searching mine. "But what if your work is always with you? I don't think King Charles would say he gets much of a private life."

"Yeah. It would suck to be royal."

"Yes, it would," he agrees. "Although there are some compensations."

I can't think of one, and I am about to have to deal with a horny king, so I'm ready to get off the topic of royalty. "Well, I'm not worried about ending up in some royal family, but I do worry I'll find myself in love with someone I don't truly know."

He stares at me for a moment. "So you try to be yourself always."

"Always. Though you should understand I truly am afraid of spiders. They're not natural. You shouldn't be able to have eight legs and a million eyes and be hairy under a microscope."

"Well, if we see any I will slay them for you," he offers gallantly.

"I didn't say I wanted them dead. Just not in my house. Or whatever space I'm in. I read somewhere that at any moment in time your house has an average of eight spiders in it." I shiver at the thought. "Maybe not mine, though. It's very small, so maybe mine is only like one or two."

A grin flashes across his face, and I swear my heart reacts to how glorious he is. The thump in my chest isn't something I can ignore. This man does it for me. The elusive, undefinable "it" we're all looking for.

"I've heard the lodgings in the city can be somewhat small," he remarks.

"Try excruciatingly tiny. I have to move my sofa in order to bring down my bed to sleep. But it's in a great place for me workwise. I can get everywhere I need to be quickly, and I'm close to my friends, though I worry someday Ivy and Heath are going to make some super-smart babies and leave for Connecticut. Don't tell her that. She would find it horrifying, but I suspect one day she might even buy a minivan. Did you know Connecticut is called the Nutmeg State?"

If he's shocked by my weird turn in conversation, he doesn't show it, merely looks at me like I'm fascinating. "I did not."

Like I said, I put my oddness out there for all to see. Strange facts are a part of the package. You learn a lot in the industry I work in. A lot of useless facts, though I think I might do well on Jeopardy. "Yes, it is, and I find it interesting that nutmeg, while everyone thinks it's just a part of a pumpkin pie spice combo, is actually a toxin if it's not processed properly. If you consume it in large amounts, it can give you hallucinations, and I think that's why people from Connecticut always seem so happy. They have too much nutmeg in their systems."

He sits back and laughs, the sound booming through the small diner. I like the sound. "You are the oddest woman I've ever met."

Not the first time I've heard that, but he doesn't say it like it's a bad thing. I think he might be a man who can handle some odd. "You obviously don't get out much."

"You do know it's almost one in the morning." The waitress looks tired of our antics. "And everyone else is gone. We close in twenty minutes. Or in five, if you decide to leave."

I don't want to leave.

Luca pulls the cards into his hands. "We haven't finished the game. I think you're going to have to show me this tiny space of yours."

When he offers me his hand, I take it.

Two hours later we've gotten ice cream and walked around Rockefeller Center, answering more of those silly questions while sitting on a bench. Usually the late-night crowds would bug me because at this hour they tend to be drunk or obnoxious, but the truth is I don't see anyone but him.

We've talked about what world peace would look like for us—a weird question that he answered beautifully and I mentioned the words free candy—discussed our childhood pets, and whether or not we have siblings. No for both of us.

We have a lot in common. It's all I can think about as we approach my building. The night seems magical, and I don't want it to end.

"This is me." I reach inside my teeny tiny bag that basically only holds my phone, ID, and the key to my apartment.

He glances up at the building, and I wonder what he sees. It's an old building, bearing the marks of decades and generations. There are certainly prettier buildings. Like the one I'm going to spend a bunch of time around soon because it will play host to a group of wannabe queens, while their king stays at a luxury hotel.

I don't want to think about that right now. I want Luca to kiss me and come upstairs, and we can forget everything for a couple of hours. I know we're not starting some grand romance. He can't stay in New York, and I won't be moving to England anytime soon, but I've so enjoyed the feel of his hand in mine.

I want to not be lonely for a little while.

"This has been the best night I've had in a long time," he says quietly, his fingers disentangling from mine. "Thank you. I so often find myself in stuffy places with stuffy people. It's my line of work."

He described it as a combination between publicity and diplomacy. I picked up that he works for his government, and likely in a high-level position.

I'd explained my dream job to him. Not the one I'm about to do. We talked about my upcoming film project, and he agreed that it probably didn't need aliens. Probably. He really does like science fiction. "No stuffy people around here. Only weirdos."

He looks down at me, his fingers coming up to brush the line of my jaw. "I like weirdos. I enjoyed being in your world for the night, Anika. I wish I could stay longer."

I don't like the sound of that. "You could come up for a nightcap."

That will lead to sweaty, glorious, nasty sex, and an exchange of phone numbers.

Damn it. I'm thinking beyond the night, and that's so foolish of me. He told me he can't hang out. He's been clear, and I should know better.

He sighs, a look of regret in his eyes as he stares down at me. "If only it was so simple. The funny thing is I thought I would be walking up those stairs with you. Or I would convince you to come back to my room. I looked across that bar and thought I might be able to fit one good night in."

Despite the fact that I've just admonished myself for overreaching, I leap at the opportunity. I still want him even though I'm pretty sure he'll break my heart. "So come upstairs with me. It's small but cozy, and I think I've got some wine."

It might be in a box. I hope it's not in a box.

"But then I got to know you," he says, stepping away. "And I know what a sacrifice I'm about to make. I have things I have to do, things I don't want to do. However, I will do my duty, and one of those things is going back to my hotel room alone. It was such an honor to spend time with you, Anika Fox."

He's going to leave and he's not even going to kiss me.

I thought for sure he would kiss me.

He seems like the charmingest of princes, and now I realize I've been playing out a fantasy in my head. A rom-com where we both go in without the intention of falling in love, but in the morning he would know he can't leave.

I'm still that little girl who wants so badly to have an epic love story because the world seems so cold.

He's doing me a kindness because he isn't playing into my fantasies.

"It was good to spend time with you, too, Luca." I give him what I hope is a bright smile.

He takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips, his kiss sending warmth through me. "Know that I am going to regret walking away from you for a very long time. Have a good life, Anika, and I'll look for that movie of yours."

He backs away, and I watch as he hails a cab. He waves to me and then he's gone.

I stare for a moment and then walk slowly up the steps, hating the fact that I have tears in my eyes.

I don't know that man. Not really. I mean I know where he likes to vacation and that he felt lonely most of his life. I know he views his job as something he can't step away from. I know his parents didn't give him the best model of a relationship.

So it's strange that when I think about it, I have to admit that I know more about him than my last boyfriend, and I dated him for half a year. We'd done all the where did you go to school and who are your friends stuff, but we'd never gone deep. Not the way Luca and I had.

I sniffle and realize how late it is. It's time for bed. If I can sleep.

I buzz into the building, and there's a woman sitting on the bottom step. She's still dressed for the party we went to earlier, and I wonder how long she's been sitting here.

"Harper?"

Her head comes up, and her face falls as she realizes I'm alone. "Oh. Did you already go back to his place and now you're walking in here all happy and satisfied? Except you look ready to cry."

I am so relieved to see my friend. She stands, and I cross the space between us, throwing my arms around her. "I liked him so much, but he didn't even kiss me. We walked around the city and asked each other all those questions and then he left me here."

Harper's arms close around me. "Oh, sweetie. I'm so sorry, but if you're this invested already, it's for the best. I was waiting because I knew how much you liked him, and I was either going to let him know I was hanging around in case he thought about hurting you or for this. I can kill him if you want. I know how to use a nail gun."

She does, but there's no reason to want vengeance. He's a nice man who didn't take advantage of me. He gave me a great night and a wonderful memory. I wipe away the tears I shouldn't be shedding because I barely know him.

Except it doesn't feel that way.

"Come on," Harper says. "I swiped a bottle of wine from CeCe's. It's been in my tote bag most of the night."

"You did what?" I ask.

Harper grins. "Well, I was going to swipe another bottle, but CeCe caught me and told me I was an idiot and gave me this one instead. It's old. Should we drink wine from 1947?"

"Yes." My best friend mostly drinks beer. I happen to absolutely trust CeCe to give up the good stuff. She can be intimidating, but she genuinely enjoys sharing the things she loves with people she doesn't want to murder. That bottle of wine is practically a declaration of love. "We are definitely drinking that wine."

It will be the perfect end to a glorious evening.

I sit on my fire escape, watching the night ease toward morning, talking to my friend, drinking wretchedly expensive wine. And wondering what Luca is doing.