20. Conrad

CHAPTER 20

CONRAD

T he night Claire called, I got home around ten o'clock. My penthouse was deserted, my cleaner long gone, though I knew it'd been cleaning day by the lingering scent of Pine-Sol. I opened the door to the balcony to let in some air. The breath of the city came in on the breeze, thin at this height but still distinctly New York. Nothing like the clean, salty smell of the ocean.

I'd done the right thing today, keeping my distance. Seeing Claire again so soon would screw up our friendship. We'd succumb to temptation or it would be awkward, and the gulf between us would grow and grow. What we needed was time for the feelings to pass. Time enough I could stand out here and not miss sitting with Claire by the ocean. Time enough I could shower and not think of her hair, suds running down her shoulders and over her back.

I felt like a kid on Christmas Eve again. Mom would give me one present, just a small one, meant to quell my excitement so I could sleep. But it had the opposite effect. It got me amped for my big gifts. I should've known it would be the same way with Claire. I'd been foolish to think we could just dip our toes. Have a taste of each other and not crave the rest. I was sick of coming home to a penthouse that looked like no one lived in it. If Claire lived here too, she'd bring her fun pillows. Those bright, woven blankets draped over her chairs. She'd bring color and movement and presence and life. Someone to come home to. Someone I?—

"Damn it."

This was why — this — I'd been right to say no. Every second I spent on my own, not working, was a second I spent second-guessing myself. I never second-guessed myself. That wasn't me. How long till my indecision crept into work? Had it already, in subtle ways? I'd been off my game lately, my instincts awry.

I went through to my study and fired up my laptop. Went through my emails for something to do. Nothing jumped out at me, and I stared at the screen. My phone buzzed and I sighed. No rest for the wicked.

"Hey, Joe. What's up?"

"Some good news for once."

My mind jumped to Claire at the mention of good news, though I had no reason to assume Joe meant her. And he didn't, of course. He hardly knew her. He had no idea what we'd done on our trip, or where it had left us, with this chasm between us.

"Conrad?"

I cleared my throat. "Sorry? You cut out right there. What were you saying right after ‘good news?'"

Joe made a frustrated sound. I heard him pacing around, hunting a better signal. He hadn't cut out. I just hadn't been listening.

"Okay, can you hear me? I'm up to two bars."

I winced, feeling guilty. "Loud and clear."

"All right, a reporter's reached out. A chance for some good press. Could help push that lawsuit out of the headlines."

"Say more."

"He's doing a human-interest piece about that storm in The Bahamas. Apparently, you stepped in and saved some lost kid? He wants a comment on that, and you flying those folks out. I'd say you should give him one. Cast yourself as the good guy."

"I didn't save the kid," I said, smiling. "I had the same pants as his dad, was all, and he'd followed me out. Couldn't see where his parents went, so I walked him back inside."

"Say that," said Joe. "That tone, y'know, humble. I just did what anyone would have — and be sure to mention the thing with the turtles."

I frowned, confused. "Turtles?"

"Didn't you get my email?"

I turned back to my laptop and scanned through my emails. I'd let them pile up, and I couldn't find Joe's.

"Must've got lost. Give me the broad strokes?"

"Well, they've got sea turtles that breed on those islands. Come to the beaches to lay their eggs in the sand. The storm blew trash in, and the locals got worried. Thought maybe the hatchlings wouldn't find their way to the sea. We're funding the cleanup, so take credit for that."

I sat down heavily, massaging my brow. I'd normally be on top of that type of detail — a whole cleanup effort, funded by me? And I had no idea? Where was my head at?

"I'd have come to you first," said Joe. "But your plate's been full. You told me ‘handle PR,' so I thought?—"

"No, that's fine. You did the right thing."

"Is everything okay?" Joe's tone turned cautious. "I wouldn't ask, but you don't seem like yourself. Did something happen on your trip?"

I went to snap back at him, none of his business. But I'd known him almost as long as I'd known Claire. He'd been at my side at the founding of Constel, and had my back ever since. We weren't close friends, exactly, but he'd earned my trust.

"It was eventful," I said, choosing my words with care. "I might've crossed a line in my personal life, but nothing that'd blow back on Constel."

Joe didn't say anything right away. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head, what I might've done, its PR implications. But when he did speak, his voice was gentle.

"You are allowed a personal life. You know you have time, right?"

I snorted. "Good one. I barely have time to think."

"You do, though," said Joe. "Or you could if you wanted. Constel, at this point, is a well-oiled machine. You could delegate some of your day-to-day."

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or hang up on him. My day-to-day was Constel. Constel was me. If I stepped away from that, well, look what was happening. I'd been gone a few days and two deals were dying. A lawsuit had sprung up from thin air.

Maybe if I had delegated, those deals would be done.

Maybe they wouldn't, and I'd be getting sued twice.

"I like Claire," said Joe. "I think you're good together. If you think you can't have that because you've got Constel?—"

"Take this down," I said. "For the reporter. I'm pleased to have been able to do my part, but the real credit goes to the workers on the ground. The ones cleaning those beaches, repairing the damage. I only did what anyone would've done."

"Better tell him yourself if you want it done right."

"What? I just?—"

But Joe had hung up on me. He'd never done that. Was he pissed at me? I tried to think why. Had I been somehow stepping on his toes? Was that what this was about, him wanting more freedom? Space to do his job without me interfering? But that was ridiculous. I wasn't interfering. I was doing my job, hand-in-hand with his. If I'd been in his way, he'd have said so before now.

He had offered, a few times, to take a bigger role.

Offering help wasn't the same as complaining.

I switched my phone off, hot with annoyance. If Joe had a problem, he should've damn well said so. And there wasn't a problem. Constel was great. This was only a hiccup, a nuisance to deal with. Once that was done, we'd be back, same as always. Joe would calm down. I would move on. Claire and I would go back to how things used to be.

I reached for my phone again, feeling suddenly empty. The way things used to be, I'd have called her right now. Called her to vent about what a dick Joe was being. She'd have had something smart to say, something wise and thoughtful. She knew what made people tick, how to keep them onside. I tried to think what she'd say, but in my head, she was silent. Pissed and not talking, same as Joe.

"Damn it, I built this thing. Worked my ass off…" I shut up, feeling stupid talking to no one. I thought about going in and making some dinner, a fried egg, a sandwich, something easy. But that just made me think of Claire in the kitchen, grabbing for the swordfish I had let slip. Claire laughing, carefree, with sauce on her apron. Claire playing tennis, neck glistening with sweat. Claire on the beach, watching the sunset. The moon in her hair. The stars in her eyes.

I shook my head. She was as busy as I was. She knew just as I did, she couldn't let up. Unless, what if she saw it the same way as Joe? That maybe she could have more in her life, that she could make room for it if she wanted?

She understood my lifestyle, if anyone did. If we were together, I could call her right now. She wouldn't question the late hour. She'd understand. We could steal an hour together, a night. A weekend. A game of tennis between meetings, or lunch on the go.

I thumbed my phone on and tapped on her contact. Hovered over the call button, but I couldn't push it. If I called Claire and it was a mistake, it would be a bad one. We could come back from this, from our fling on the island, but a whole failed relationship? That would end us forever.

I thumbed my phone back off.

I couldn't lose Claire for good.