Stumbling into Love
Page 11
“Mac?” Libby’s singsong hello floats from the living room, cutting into my wayward thoughts.
I sit up on the side of the bed.
“I’m in the bedroom!” I shout back, wondering why it’s necessary to inform her of that—our apartment is less than five hundred square feet. She would have found me eventually, even without looking.
“What’s up, sister dearest?” She comes into the room with her long, dark hair tied up into a neat bun and her makeup done perfectly.
“Nothing much,” I answer, watching her dump her purse on her twin bed, which is directly across from mine.
She starts stripping out of her slacks and fitted blouse—something that she always does the moment she gets home, which makes me wonder why she bothers wearing things that are obviously so uncomfortable. “Do you feel like ordering a pizza and watching a horror flick?” She turns to look at me once she has on her baggy sweats and an even baggier T-shirt.
“I’m actually going out in a bit. I’m meeting a friend for dinner.”
“Oh, can I come?”
Oh lord. How do I answer that? Libby often comes out with me when I’m meeting friends, so I know if I tell her she can’t come, she will have a million questions for me—questions I’m not ready to answer.
“Never mind. I don’t feel like getting dressed again,” she says as she heads toward the bathroom, taking her hair out of the bun as she goes.
Sighing in relief, I play it off like I’m disappointed when she comes back out. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s freezing out. They said it’s going to snow. I don’t want to be stuck outside wearing heels if it’s snowing.”
“You could just wear regular shoes . . .” I point out the obvious.
She rolls her eyes at me, making me smile. I don’t know how Libby does it, but she manages to wear heels even though she’s on her feet all day doing makeup for the who’s who of New York City at the posh upscale boutique where she works.
“I own one pair of rain boots and one pair of sneakers—and they are both still brand new and in the box they came in.” She lies down on her bed, then rolls her head toward me. Her eyes scan my face. “Are you okay?”
“Yep,” I say. Maybe I answered a little too quickly, because her eyes narrow. She lifts herself up on an elbow and rests her head in her hand.
“You’ve been weird since before Thanksgiving. What’s going on?”
There is a six-foot-two gorgeous, giant man taking up my every waking thought, I think but don’t say.
“Nothing’s wrong. Just a little tired.” I shrug one shoulder.
“Hmm.” She studies me like a speck of dirt under a microscope.
Needing to avoid the interrogation I feel coming, I stand and head for the bathroom.
“So tell me about Wesley.”
Dammit! I pause and turn to look at her over my shoulder. “Wesley?” I feign ignorance.
She huffs out a breath. “Yeah, Levi’s hot friend Wesley. How do you know him?”
Bunching my eyebrows together to give her the full effect I ask, “Know him?”
“You know what? Never mind.” She sits up, then pushes herself off the bed and starts for the door, grumbling as she goes.
“Libby . . .”
“No.” She shakes her head, turning to face me. “You, me, and Fawn used to be close. We used to tell one another everything. Now I feel like everything is some big secret. It’s annoying.”
“It’s complicated,” I admit.
She frowns. “Life is always complicated. That’s what family is for—to help you uncomplicate things, to talk things out, and to be there,” she says. Before I can open my mouth to reply, she continues. “All I’m saying is if you guys don’t want to share what’s going on in your lives, then I won’t be sharing what’s going on in mine.” With that parting shot, she leaves me standing in our bedroom, feeling two feet tall and riddled with guilt for not opening up to her.
I should tell her and Fawn about what’s happened between Wesley and me. But the idea of doing that and having to risk seeing the pity in their eyes later if things don’t work out leaves me feeling torn. I hate that they witnessed my crush on Edward, that they saw firsthand how desperately I tried to get him to see me, how I went out of my way to spend time with him. I looked like an idiot, pining over a guy who was never more than a friend, who never led me to believe that we could be more. I’m supposed to be the oldest one, the experienced one. Instead, I’m the one who wasted two years of her life on a crush. A crush on a guy I now feel nothing for. How crazy is that?
When Edward came to my office today, I didn’t get butterflies like the ones I get whenever I see Wesley. My pulse didn’t kick into overdrive. My palms didn’t itch to touch him. My mind didn’t scream at him to kiss me. I really don’t remember any of those things ever happening before when I was around Edward. In fact, in hindsight I have no idea what I saw in him in the first place.
I run my hands down my face, willing myself to give up on figuring that out right now. I head for the bathroom, where I get in the bathtub and try not to think about what will happen tonight. Not that it matters.
Two hours later, I’m sitting in a cab and watching the city go by in a flash of dazzling lights. The glow is accentuated by the snow that is steadily falling from the night sky. When I checked the weather report before I left home, it said that New York City was expected to get at least two inches of the white stuff by morning. There will be a few more flurries tomorrow afternoon, which means work will most likely be slow. A lot of my clients are older and don’t like going out in the snow.
“Here you are.” My cab driver pulls me out of my thoughts as he comes to a stop. The steady hum of nervous energy I’ve been feeling all evening expands through every inch of me.
After running my credit card through the machine on the backseat, I put my hand on the door handle. I don’t have a chance to push it open before it’s opened for me. I look up.
Wesley is there, holding out his hand. I feel a sudden rush of excitement as our eyes lock and I place my hand in his.
“Thank you.” I smile as I step out onto the street, then hiss out a breath when my boot catches on a crack in the ground and I stumble into him.
“I got you.” He catches me before I can fall and pulls me against him, holding me there. He shuts the cab door and leads us to the sidewalk.
“Thanks.” I look up at him as the cab pulls away and swallow when I see the look in his eyes.
He cups my jaw with his warm hand, and his thumb presses into my bottom lip.
“I’ve been thinking about kissing you all day.”
“You have?”
“Oh yeah.” He tips his head down until our mouths are a mere centimeter apart. “All goddamn day,” he rumbles.
My stomach clenches while my hands hold on to his coat. I feel his sides tighten in response.
“Wesley?” I call softly after a moment.
His forehead touches mine. “Yeah?”
“Are you going to kiss me?” I ask breathlessly.
He growls right before he captures my mouth with a kiss that makes me so light-headed, I see stars.
When his teeth nibble my bottom lip as he pulls away, my body quivers and the space between my legs tingles.
“Gorgeous.”
“Hmm?” I slowly open my eyes and find him looking down at me and smiling.
“As much as I want to keep kissing you, we have a reservation.”
“Oh . . .” I look around, then shake my head to try and clear my lust-fogged mind. “Right,” I say.
His laughing lips touch my forehead. Taking my hand, he leads me toward a restaurant at the end of the block. The place is really nice, and its dim lighting makes the large room feel intimate. Small booths line the walls, and round tables dot the middle of the space. It’s all white tablecloths and fancy folded napkins and gleaming place settings. As I look around, I feel like I should have looked up the restaurant online to check the dress code.
“Are you okay?”
“Um . . .” I look around again before looking up at him. “I think I might be underdressed for this restaurant,” I admit.
I sit up on the side of the bed.
“I’m in the bedroom!” I shout back, wondering why it’s necessary to inform her of that—our apartment is less than five hundred square feet. She would have found me eventually, even without looking.
“What’s up, sister dearest?” She comes into the room with her long, dark hair tied up into a neat bun and her makeup done perfectly.
“Nothing much,” I answer, watching her dump her purse on her twin bed, which is directly across from mine.
She starts stripping out of her slacks and fitted blouse—something that she always does the moment she gets home, which makes me wonder why she bothers wearing things that are obviously so uncomfortable. “Do you feel like ordering a pizza and watching a horror flick?” She turns to look at me once she has on her baggy sweats and an even baggier T-shirt.
“I’m actually going out in a bit. I’m meeting a friend for dinner.”
“Oh, can I come?”
Oh lord. How do I answer that? Libby often comes out with me when I’m meeting friends, so I know if I tell her she can’t come, she will have a million questions for me—questions I’m not ready to answer.
“Never mind. I don’t feel like getting dressed again,” she says as she heads toward the bathroom, taking her hair out of the bun as she goes.
Sighing in relief, I play it off like I’m disappointed when she comes back out. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s freezing out. They said it’s going to snow. I don’t want to be stuck outside wearing heels if it’s snowing.”
“You could just wear regular shoes . . .” I point out the obvious.
She rolls her eyes at me, making me smile. I don’t know how Libby does it, but she manages to wear heels even though she’s on her feet all day doing makeup for the who’s who of New York City at the posh upscale boutique where she works.
“I own one pair of rain boots and one pair of sneakers—and they are both still brand new and in the box they came in.” She lies down on her bed, then rolls her head toward me. Her eyes scan my face. “Are you okay?”
“Yep,” I say. Maybe I answered a little too quickly, because her eyes narrow. She lifts herself up on an elbow and rests her head in her hand.
“You’ve been weird since before Thanksgiving. What’s going on?”
There is a six-foot-two gorgeous, giant man taking up my every waking thought, I think but don’t say.
“Nothing’s wrong. Just a little tired.” I shrug one shoulder.
“Hmm.” She studies me like a speck of dirt under a microscope.
Needing to avoid the interrogation I feel coming, I stand and head for the bathroom.
“So tell me about Wesley.”
Dammit! I pause and turn to look at her over my shoulder. “Wesley?” I feign ignorance.
She huffs out a breath. “Yeah, Levi’s hot friend Wesley. How do you know him?”
Bunching my eyebrows together to give her the full effect I ask, “Know him?”
“You know what? Never mind.” She sits up, then pushes herself off the bed and starts for the door, grumbling as she goes.
“Libby . . .”
“No.” She shakes her head, turning to face me. “You, me, and Fawn used to be close. We used to tell one another everything. Now I feel like everything is some big secret. It’s annoying.”
“It’s complicated,” I admit.
She frowns. “Life is always complicated. That’s what family is for—to help you uncomplicate things, to talk things out, and to be there,” she says. Before I can open my mouth to reply, she continues. “All I’m saying is if you guys don’t want to share what’s going on in your lives, then I won’t be sharing what’s going on in mine.” With that parting shot, she leaves me standing in our bedroom, feeling two feet tall and riddled with guilt for not opening up to her.
I should tell her and Fawn about what’s happened between Wesley and me. But the idea of doing that and having to risk seeing the pity in their eyes later if things don’t work out leaves me feeling torn. I hate that they witnessed my crush on Edward, that they saw firsthand how desperately I tried to get him to see me, how I went out of my way to spend time with him. I looked like an idiot, pining over a guy who was never more than a friend, who never led me to believe that we could be more. I’m supposed to be the oldest one, the experienced one. Instead, I’m the one who wasted two years of her life on a crush. A crush on a guy I now feel nothing for. How crazy is that?
When Edward came to my office today, I didn’t get butterflies like the ones I get whenever I see Wesley. My pulse didn’t kick into overdrive. My palms didn’t itch to touch him. My mind didn’t scream at him to kiss me. I really don’t remember any of those things ever happening before when I was around Edward. In fact, in hindsight I have no idea what I saw in him in the first place.
I run my hands down my face, willing myself to give up on figuring that out right now. I head for the bathroom, where I get in the bathtub and try not to think about what will happen tonight. Not that it matters.
Two hours later, I’m sitting in a cab and watching the city go by in a flash of dazzling lights. The glow is accentuated by the snow that is steadily falling from the night sky. When I checked the weather report before I left home, it said that New York City was expected to get at least two inches of the white stuff by morning. There will be a few more flurries tomorrow afternoon, which means work will most likely be slow. A lot of my clients are older and don’t like going out in the snow.
“Here you are.” My cab driver pulls me out of my thoughts as he comes to a stop. The steady hum of nervous energy I’ve been feeling all evening expands through every inch of me.
After running my credit card through the machine on the backseat, I put my hand on the door handle. I don’t have a chance to push it open before it’s opened for me. I look up.
Wesley is there, holding out his hand. I feel a sudden rush of excitement as our eyes lock and I place my hand in his.
“Thank you.” I smile as I step out onto the street, then hiss out a breath when my boot catches on a crack in the ground and I stumble into him.
“I got you.” He catches me before I can fall and pulls me against him, holding me there. He shuts the cab door and leads us to the sidewalk.
“Thanks.” I look up at him as the cab pulls away and swallow when I see the look in his eyes.
He cups my jaw with his warm hand, and his thumb presses into my bottom lip.
“I’ve been thinking about kissing you all day.”
“You have?”
“Oh yeah.” He tips his head down until our mouths are a mere centimeter apart. “All goddamn day,” he rumbles.
My stomach clenches while my hands hold on to his coat. I feel his sides tighten in response.
“Wesley?” I call softly after a moment.
His forehead touches mine. “Yeah?”
“Are you going to kiss me?” I ask breathlessly.
He growls right before he captures my mouth with a kiss that makes me so light-headed, I see stars.
When his teeth nibble my bottom lip as he pulls away, my body quivers and the space between my legs tingles.
“Gorgeous.”
“Hmm?” I slowly open my eyes and find him looking down at me and smiling.
“As much as I want to keep kissing you, we have a reservation.”
“Oh . . .” I look around, then shake my head to try and clear my lust-fogged mind. “Right,” I say.
His laughing lips touch my forehead. Taking my hand, he leads me toward a restaurant at the end of the block. The place is really nice, and its dim lighting makes the large room feel intimate. Small booths line the walls, and round tables dot the middle of the space. It’s all white tablecloths and fancy folded napkins and gleaming place settings. As I look around, I feel like I should have looked up the restaurant online to check the dress code.
“Are you okay?”
“Um . . .” I look around again before looking up at him. “I think I might be underdressed for this restaurant,” I admit.
