Chapter 21

TWENTY-ONE

E verything about the date was perfect.

The restaurant.

The food.

The weather.

The music.

Everything was perfect. Except my actual date.

I sat primly at the tiny table at Rio Blanco, the romantic tapas restaurant in Gowanus that Xavier of all people had recommended. I wasn’t sure he had actually meant his bizarre and frankly shocking offer to babysit Sofia so I could see Adam. But when he had texted halfway through Monday asking which night that weekend he should make himself available, I decided the hell with it.

After I’d asked Adam if he’d like to go to dinner that Monday, I’d considered canceling at least five separate times. But the days ticked by with Xavier confirming again and again that he was looking forward to his night with Sofia. His excitement was palpable, as was hers. I couldn’t disappoint either of them. Plus, if he really wanted a taste of legitimate parenthood, trying to put Sofia to bed was a great way to get it.

He had arrived an hour early, allowing Sofia to show him her doll collection while also allowing for a particularly awkward moment when I stepped out of the shower in only a towel on my way to my “room.” His hot gaze seared my damp skin. Then he blinked and went right back to inquiring after Sofia’s dollhouse while I stood there like an idiot, dripping all over the hardwoods and wondering what the hell I was doing.

Other than the exchange in the hallway, Xavier continued to be magnanimous toward the date. He had something to say about everything I was doing, and Sofia was happy to jump right in with him to critique my wardrobe, hair, makeup, jewelry, all of it. My initial choice of jeans had to be swapped out for a black miniskirt that showed off my legs. My hair had to be down, not pulled back into a practical bun. Smoky eye instead of simple mascara. I drew the line when they suggested a red lip. I already felt like a lady of the night, and not in a good way.

And so that unease continued, from the moment I left my house to when I arrived at the restaurant, through accepting Adam’s awkward compliments and kiss to the cheek, sitting through a delicious meal, and now waiting for him to return from the men’s room.

I should have been enjoying myself. But instead, I was yet again wondering what the hell I was doing here. Or why in the world Xavier had been so adamant I go.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong .

My phone buzzed on the tabletop. I turned it over, revealing yet another new message from Xavier, who had been taking full advantage of the fact that I had to answer any texts from him in case something happened to Sofia. I honestly couldn’t tell if he was goading me or genuinely interested. Or why the latter bothered me so much.

Xavier: Still eating?

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t have to answer. Not really.

Me: Almost done.

His reply was almost instantaneous.

Xavier: Where to next? There’s a new club in Williamsburg that’s supposed to be great.

I scoffed. He had been back in the city for all of what, a week? And suddenly he was divulging advice to a born-and-bred local?

Me: I’m not really a club kind of girl.

Xavier: That’s not what I remember ;)

Something deep in my chest squeezed as a memory floated to the front of my mind. A dark basement lounge somewhere on the Lower East Side. Sultry trip hop, occasional whiffs of vanilla-scented hookah smoke, bodies swaying while I pressed mine to six feet, five inches of muscle in time to the beats. A pair of large hands sliding around my waist, then down, down, down…

Xavier : Has he put the moves on you yet?

I started, then stared at the message for a long moment. Good lord, could he read my mind from there? Irritably, I punched out a reply.

Me: omg that is NONE of your business.

His own reply buzzed while I was still trying to rid myself of his ghost.

Xavier : Just saying. If it were me in his shoes, I wouldn’t be wasting time with a cute bird like you.

I giggled. I honestly couldn’t help it.

Me: I’m a “cute bird” now?

Xavier : You know you’re gorgeous. Especially in that skirt.

It was a game, obviously. He was toying with me little better than a cat playing with a mouse.

Even so, my heart thrilled a little at the compliment.

“You brat,” I murmured, trying to come up with something pithy in response.

“Everything all right?”

I startled, hastily stowed my phone in my purse, and pasted on a bright smile. “Fine, thanks. Just a text from one of my sisters.”

“Are they all as gorgeous as you?” Adam took his seat across from me and adjusted the driver’s cap he had not removed for the meal.

I wasn’t sure why that bothered me so much. Maybe because I grew up in a house where no one, not even my grandfather, was allowed to wear anything on their heads during mealtimes. Some things just stick with you.

“We look alike,” I conceded, frowning to myself.

How was it that the same essential compliment from Adam felt like a wet finger down the back of my neck? He was supposed to be the nice one in this situation.

He was nervous. I could see it in the way he kept pulling at his goatee while he talked and fidgeted with his glasses whenever he listened. I wanted to tell him to stop, that he had nothing to worry about. But I couldn’t, because honestly, it wasn’t true. I already knew the moment I walked into the restaurant that we wouldn’t be doing this again.

It didn’t have anything to do with the glower on Xavier’s face just before I’d closed my front door. Or the constant texts. Or even the fact that he would still be there when I got back.

Nothing at all.

“I really had no idea,” Adam continued. “Like, wow. At school, you’re always so?—”

He cut himself off, like he had just realized he was about to say something that wasn’t particularly complimentary for once.

Well, at least it would be the truth.

“Dowdy?” I finished for him. “It’s okay. You can say it.”

He almost looked relieved.

“Well, yeah. I mean, I always thought you were cute, obviously. But the baggy clothes and T-shirts. And, oh my God, those black sneakers you always wear! I think my grandma has the same?—”

“I get it,” I cut him off sharply. “My work clothes suck.”

“I’m not blaming you or anything,” he rattled on, oblivious to my irritation. “We work with kids. But, yeah, not exactly the sexiest stuff in the world. This, though…”

His eyes perused me openly, probably with the help of the bottle of wine he had swallowed over the past two hours.

I’d had half a glass.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. This guy was everything I should want. Elementary school art teacher. Indie rock aficionado. Self-proclaimed literature lover. Everything a nerdy bookworm like me should want. But everything out of his mouth either made me feel on display for his overeager gaze or slightly put down. Sure, I’d helped him along his train of thought, but it didn’t exactly feel great to have your worst fears about yourself confirmed. That I was, in fact, an unattractive lump of clay when I didn’t take all the extra time to make myself look like this.

The problem was, this wasn’t me any more than the bargain bin crap I wore to work. Both were reactions to my environment, to the expectations of me in those places.

It occurred to me then that was the problem with the entire night. Maybe it had nothing to do with Xavier. Maybe it was more because from the second I’d agreed to this, I was playing dress-up yet again. There were times I mourned the girl I had been before Sofia—the one who had the extra hours every day to do my hair or go to the gym or put on makeup. The one who could wear short skirts because she didn’t have to squat down to help a small child at a moment’s notice. The one who could actually have casual relationships.

Well, not that one. That girl had never existed in the first place.

“Well, hopefully dowdy is more your style,” I said. “I probably dress like this once a year.”

“And I got the benefit? Lucky me.”

Ew.

“So, who’s watching your kid tonight?” Adam asked after he started back into his tacos.

I forked up a bit of my arroz con pescado , wishing I had more of an appetite. I still couldn’t believe I’d ordered fish of all things—on Xavier’s insistence, of course. “Ah, that would be her dad.”

“Her dad? I didn’t realize he was in the picture.”

I froze, realizing what I’d just done. Lord, I hadn’t told my family about Xavier yet. I hadn’t even told Sofia who he was. And now I’d just let the cat out of the bag with someone completely random.

“Er, they’re sort of getting to know each other,” I said. “Adam, I’d appreciate if you could keep that to yourself, please.”

Adam smiled kindly like I hadn’t said a thing wrong. “Is he from here?”

I shook my head. “No, he’s from London, actually. But he’s back in New York on business, so I’m giving him a chance to get to know Sofia.”

“Makes sense. What kind of business is he in?”

I swallowed a tasteless bit of rice. “Restaurants, actually.”

“No kidding. That’s cool. I’m a bit of a foodie myself.”

I looked down at his plain chicken tacos, ordered without hot sauce or really any interesting condiment, and back up at him. He didn’t seem to notice the irony.

“You know, he looked familiar when I met him,” he prodded through a mouthful of poultry. “I kept trying to figure out where I’d seen him before. He said his name was Xavier. What’s his last name? Maybe I’ve heard of him.”

“I doubt it,” I replied. “Xavier Parker?”

Adam froze mid bite, revealing a mouthful of chewed chicken. He swallowed. “Ah, of the Parker Group?”

So he had recognized the name.

“Yes,” I said slowly. “Everything okay?”

He coughed slightly, then offered a wry smile. “I—holy crap. Small world, I guess. I went to school with the guy. Christ, he’s changed a lot.”

I frowned. “Really? He didn’t attend college for more than a year.”

Adam just shook his head, shoved another bit of taco into his mouth, then continued talking through his food. “Actually, it was in high school. Or secondary, in England. He looked a lot different back then. Tall still, but really skinny. And his hair was down to here.” He gestured about six inches below his shoulder.

I blinked, trying to imagine Xavier like that. The man I’d met five years ago had been somewhere in between. That muscle had obviously grown in between his teen years and twenty-seven, but the hair had been the same. Now, though, I could imagine someone who probably looked like a rock star wannabe in his teens was almost unrecognizable as the suave, besuited CEO Adam had met.

“England…” I mumbled for want of something else. I realized guiltily that I hadn’t actually asked Adam a question about himself the entire night. I’d been too busy wondering about Xavier. “Are you from there originally?”

Adam shook his head. “No, I kind of grew up all over the place. My dad was sort of a diplomat. We spent some time in London, so I went to Eton for a bit, if you remember.”

My jaw dropped. I did remember. Xavier had mentioned being carted off to prep school after his mother died, but I didn’t realize it was the most famous boarding school in the world. Good lord, he was probably there at the same time as Prince Harry. Or maybe even William.

It was, to say the least, a strange coincidence.

“That is a small world,” I agreed after another unsteady bite of my rice. “That must have been amazing, growing up abroad.”

Adam just shrugged and didn’t quite meet my eyes.

“So, when did you move back to the States?” I wondered.

He swallowed his food. “After about a year. My parents split up, so my mom and I moved home to Connecticut. I liked it a lot better there.”

It was an interesting story. It really was. But I couldn’t make myself ask anything more. Or at least, I didn't want to ask him the rest of the story.

My phone buzzed in my purse. I didn’t answer it, but I knew exactly who it was.

Yeah, it was time to call it.

“Can I interest you in some dessert?”

We turned to find the waiter approaching us with a small paper menu fluttering in his hand.

“Sure,” Adam started, only to be cut off by me.

“Actually, do you mind if I cut the evening short? I’m not really feeling that well. I think the fish is bothering my stomach.”

His surprise morphed into one of immediate concern. Once again, guilt stabbed.

“Yeah, of course. Let me just get the check.”

Continuing to be the present (and irritating) gentleman that he had been all evening, Adam insisted on accompanying me all the way home. And that was after the dinner he insisted on paying for, even going so far as to yank my credit card out of the server’s hands and shove it toward me.

I let him pay. At that point, it seemed like the safest thing to do.

“It’s fine,” he said several times as we climbed into a Lyft together. “I don’t live that far from here, really.”

“I thought you lived in Park Slope,” I protested even as the car started off down Third Avenue. “That’s in the opposite direction.”

But Adam just offered me a grin. “I can’t let a lady go home by herself.”

He leaned in a little closer, smudged lenses full of intent.

“You, um, have a bit of spinach on your tooth.” I indicated just above my own right incisor.

He flushed and started prodding at it with his tongue. I turned away.

“Feeling better?” he asked once he was finished.

“I am,” I said truthfully. I didn’t want to lie too much. “Maybe the atmosphere of the restaurant was getting to me.”

He smiled. To my surprise, however, when the car stopped in front of my house, Adam followed me out onto the curb and right onto my front stoop. The car remained, clearly waiting for him. Good. He wasn’t expecting an invitation inside.

“I had a really good time tonight,” he told me, pulling at his goatee again.

I masked a cringe. He’d been doing that all night, and I could practically feel the tug of skin on my own face.

“You did?”

The question flew out before I could stop it. I wanted to ask why he was lying. I hadn’t been a particularly engaging date. Honestly, I hadn’t even been trying. And no, I wasn’t ready to ask myself exactly why that was.

Adam leaned closer, a knowing smirk framed by his facial hair and creased skin under his eyes. If I looked hard enough, there were still some crumbs in his chin hairs.

He slid a hand around my waist. I backed away, my shoulder finding the door, but he followed, unwilling to let go.

“Adam,” I tried, no longer willing to make eye contact. “I should really be getting inside.”

“I know,” he said. “But, Frankie, I was hoping for at least a good night kiss.”

I swallowed. There was something distinctly transactional about it all. The car still running behind him was another reminder of everything he had paid for that evening. And now he was expecting his returns.

“Hey,” I said. “Let me give you some cash for dinner, all right? It’s not fair for you to treat me on our pittance.”

But Adam didn’t seem to hear me as he stepped even closer, trapped against the door and the porch railing.

“Frankie,” he crooned. “You don’t need to play hard to get.”

His lips landed on mine, prodding and insistent. I felt like I was being mauled by a rubber chicken.

I pulled away, repulsed. This was more than wrong. This was horrifying.

“Adam, no.” I put my hands on his chest, trying to push him away. “I’m really not?—”

“Come on, Frankie,” Adam continued, pressing his mouth up and down my ear with all the energy of a wet stamp. “You’ve been giving me fuck-me eyes all night. You can’t expect me to take anything less than a kiss. Give me something here.”

Fuck-me eyes? Was he serious? I had barely paid attention to the man all evening.

“Adam, seriously. Please stop.”

“We don’t need to play games,” he cooed, his lips pulling over the edge of my jaw like one of my kids’ rubber erasers.

But before I could answer, the door opened. I stumbled backward, out of Adam’s insistent arms and into a quivering wall of muscle.

Adam and I both turned to find Xavier looming in the entry, staring at us both with a face full of murder. Even with his white shirt wrinkled and untucked, feet shoeless, hair mussed from lying on the couch, he was ten times the specimen of the other man standing beside me. With his arms crossed like that, every line of his biceps, his tattooed forearm, and even his shoulders were cast in high relief through the white cotton; buttons pulled across the wide expanse of chest. With the posture of a warrior and the sharpness of a chief, he was the very definition of what my nonna would have affectionately dubbed “a real man.”

A real man who wanted to tear the other one apart.

There was no recognition in his blue eyes as he looked Adam over. Only cool acknowledgment of someone he clearly regarded as no better than a bug on his shoe. And fire. The dark blue kind at the center of a flame. The kind that can burn anything it wants.

“Good night?” he asked but didn’t wait for an answer before turning to me. “Your daughter needs you.”

Without waiting for an answer, he took me by the wrist and yanked me inside, behind his big body and completely out of Adam’s reach.

“Good ni—” Adam started to say just before Xavier slammed the door in his face.

“Fuck off,” he snarled over his shoulder.

And then he turned that fire on to me.