Somebody witnessed my kiss with Jonah after all. “Kip—”
“No denials, Vivienne, please. They’re so tiresome. Just tell me why you’re trying to defrost that particular block of ice.”
Ice? Maybe on the surface. Underneath, Jonah is pure fire. Not that I’m ever going to explain to Kip. “It’s not serious, okay? Can you leave it at that? With Shay and I being so close, and Jonah sort of being one of her bosses—we’d rather not advertise it. Could be awkward, you know?”
He doesn’t entirely believe me, I can tell, but he doesn’t ask any more questions. “Fine, fine. This fling of yours with Jonah Marks will be but one of the many secrets I keep. At least you’ve finally discovered the joys of casual sex.”
I shrug noncommittally. Jonah and I aren’t in a relationship—but I wouldn’t call our arrangement casual. “Why did you go digging up all this stuff anyway? Just for the sake of gossip?” Kip’s all-encompassing curiosity has led him to snoop where he shouldn’t, but never before did I feel like he was being judgmental about someone. Yet he seems wary of my connection to Jonah.
“Because,” Kip says, “Jonah Marks is a cold man. And a hard man. He doesn’t make friends easily, if at all. Not exactly the right type for you.”
“Since when do you know what my ‘type’ is or isn’t?” I ask.
“All I know is that you need someone who can be gentle with you.” He sighs. “Because you have serious problems with conflict.”
“No, I don’t—”
“Liar!” Kip looks triumphant. “You can’t bear it whenever people argue in department meetings; it’s like you want to slither under the table. You’re no pushover, but when you have to stand up for yourself? You always do it via e-mail if you can. Rarely on the phone, and never in person. When Professor Prasanna starts shouting about whatever’s ticked her off recently, you flinch. You physically flinch as if you thought a five-foot-tall woman in her sixties was going to hurt you.”
. . . I hadn’t realized I did all that, but it’s true. Kip sees even more than I thought he did.
He continues speaking, his tone gentler. “Geordie Hilton might be a lush, but at least he was always kind. You’re someone who needs kindness, I think. And I don’t know that Jonah Marks is the man to give it to you.”
What I need from Jonah has nothing to do with kindness. The only cruelty he shows me is the type I desire.
I simply repeat, “It’s not serious.”
“Fine, fine.”
Downtown Austin is quieter than usual tonight. Maybe it’s the first chilly evening driving people indoors, to dig through the back of their closets for sweaters and jackets. Or maybe there’s a more exciting place to be just a few blocks away. Whatever it is, Kip and I have this stretch of the street to ourselves, our footsteps echoing slightly from the tall buildings surrounding us. The setting sun paints the mud-colored capitol building a soft russet.
“Hey,” I say softly. “I don’t need you looking out for me—but I still appreciate the thought.”
“I always think of you, Vivienne. Except when I’m thinking about my new future husband, Ryan.”
Laughing, I get him to talk more about the many glories of Ryan. Inside, though, I’m deeply and unexpectedly touched. Kip can be a world-class meddler and gossip—but in the end, all he wants is to take care of his friends. To find us a bit of kindness in this world.
Sixteen
The next day, the suspense begins.
I sleep well, knowing Jonah won’t come to my house—but from the moment I get in my car the next morning, every moment is charged.
Will he be waiting in the backseat? In the stairwell of the art department? Or maybe he’ll be standing in the hallway leading to the restroom at my favorite restaurant. Jonah could find me at any time, in any way.
Sometimes I try to figure what he has in mind. If he’s not following me, and not coming to my house, then how will this happen? I can’t imagine what Jonah’s planning.
Of course, that’s the whole point. I won’t know what Jonah’s going to do to me until he does it.
Sometimes my curiosity piques as I’m sitting at my computer keyboard. It would be so easy to search for Carter Hale Jonah Marks Chicago. If I did, yet more chapters of Jonah’s complicated personal history would unfold for me.
Then we wouldn’t be strangers. We promised to stay strangers. So I don’t look.
? ? ?
“Are you sure this dress looks okay?” Carmen says for about the fourth time since we left her place.