Page 19 of Burning for You
Caro
While still processing what has just happened, I find my fiancé tailing me all the way down to ground floor.
“Please, not now.” I hasten my steps, using my suitcase to create distance between us.
“Why don’t we grab lunch together?” Josh seems to have softened.
“No thanks.”
“I understand. It’s not so pleasant to sit in a restaurant when we’re like this.”
When we’re like this?What I’m experiencing is more than the usual ‘this’ between us. My heart has deflated, every muscle in my body has snapped.
Josh’s head falls toward his chest. “How about we go home?”
I could use this opportunity to cool down the temperature, talk heart-to-heart with my fiancé, and perhaps rekindle a spark that will bring us closer.
But right now, it’s not about Brilliance shares, it’s not about Joshua Bright, and it’s not about New York. My mind is full of that man who had just saved my ass, almost literally. Thinking about Josh destroys my psyche, but recalling that culpable man—who I’m certain had fussed with my underwear—is like having a glass of brandy after a day from hell.
And he is right there, returning his lanyard at reception. I wish I had caught his name.
“I’ve gotta go to Sass,” I say, splitting my attention between Josh and the crowd behind him, which my ladies-room savior attempts to blend into. And the man flashes his eyes at me—is he saying ‘see you soon,’ or ‘don’t come near me?’
“I’ve gotta go to Sass.” My mouth switches to automatic rewind.
“Yes, you said.”
I watch my savior’s taut back disappearing, swallowed by others’ backs that look so ordinary and meaningless.
Who are you?
It’s not his looks that hook me (although, I admit, his appearance is actually far more desirable than I’d given him credit for). What I experienced with him on that bathroom floor, as unglamorous as it was, made me realize that I’d found what I’d been looking for. That wish when I lay on the side of the Mohawk Towpath Byway, and during the dark nights I was intubated, bandaged, plastered and pricked in a hospital bed—I had wished I could’ve held onto someone, who in return would say, ‘You’ll be okay.’
The stupid sensor in that level-43 bathroom did play up, and for once I didn’t hate it.
A miracle.
It was the way that man spread his body to swathe me, it was in his grip, it was in his voice. Not even Bear, or my mom, could’ve settled my anxiety like that.
“Why don’t I drive you to Sass?” Josh says, directing me to his car where Samuel Kelleher, his bodyguard, is standing by.
“Let me grab that, Caro.” Sam offers to take care of my suitcase. I thank Sam and surrender it to him.
Josh looks at me, apparently still hoping I will come with him. But I say, “I’ll take the subway. I’ll see you at home.” I sigh. “Are you still okay with the gala tonight?”
“Are you?”
I don’t know if I’ll have the energy, but it’s too late for me to bail out. “Yeah.”
As my future husband departs, most likely going ahead with his lunch, I hustle to find my ladies-room hero. I desperately want to feel that safety again.
“Wait!” I say when I spot him. He’s a distance away, but he knows I’m here because he stops, as if petrified.
“Hey there,” I say, rounding him as he still refuses to look at me. “I know the difference between women’s and men’s bathrooms, you know.”
He shakes his head apologetically. “I’m sorry.” There’s a soft garble coming out of his mouth, and then he says, “I was the one who was in the wrong place.”
I chased him looking to re-enact my feeling, but as I stand face to face with him under the New York sun, I find myself mesmerized by his presence. I wasn’t hooked by his looks, I’d said. But now, I can’t stop gazing at his wildly handsome face—bushy brows, arctic-blue eyes, pouty lips, and a square, bearded jawline that has enough softness to retain his boyishness.