Barely Breathing

“At this hour? Isn’t it almost nine in New York?”


“Yes.” I bumped up the size of the text on my screen since it was starting to blur after my long day. “How do you feel about letting her have the Manhattan place? She’s offering to buy it out at market value.”

He sighed into the phone. “I like that place. It was mine before we even met.”

“But we were going to sell it and divide the proceeds.”

“Yeah, I’m better with that than I am with giving it to her. She shouldn’t get to fuck her new boyfriend in my apartment.” He paused for a second and spoke again. “I’ll take market plus another million. She can decide how much it’s worth to her.”

I rolled my eyes at the ceiling. This case was never going to end. “I’ll include that in our counter, then.”

“Excellent. So I have a confession to make.”

“Uh . . . what’s that?” I wanted to get the hell out of here and meet Kane for dinner at the club.

“I looked you up on the law firm’s website. That photo of you looking like a naughty teacher is something, Miss Marceau. I had a feeling you were hot and I was right.”

“I do not look like a naughty teacher in my headshot.”

“You do, actually. In that business suit, with that come hither smile.”

This time I sighed into the phone. “You’ve got an active imagination, Mr. Cartwright. Can I email you the counter for your review?”

“Sure. Send me a naughty pic, too, would ya?”

I cringed. “No. Can you have this back to me within twenty-four hours?”

“Maybe. Can you just send it to my assistant?”

“This is important. It requires your attention.”

“Do you require my attention, Vivian?”

“Are you drunk?” I demanded.

“Nah. I’ve just got a good buzz going. Have you ever been to L.A.?”

I clicked the ‘send’ button on my email. “No. I just sent you the counter proposal, Mr. Cartwright. Please review it and get back to me.”

“What are you wearing right now?”

“I’m hanging up now.”

And I did, texting Kane as soon as the call ended.

Me: Longest day ever. You still want to do dinner?

Kane: Sorry, can’t. Bartender called in sick and I’m covering. Come sit at the bar and eat while I work.

I thought about it, but the club’s loud music and a spot at the crowded bar didn’t appeal right now. I just wanted Kane all to myself.

Me: I’m beat. I’ll just eat at home.

Kane: Come on babe. There’s nothing but an old tomato in your fridge. Get over here and let me feed you.

Me: Tomorrow night. I miss you.

Kane: Miss you too. Sleep well. Eat something besides that damn tomato.

Smiling at the phone, I pictured him standing at the Six bar with a white bar towel hanging from his back pocket. My man was one sexy bartender.

I yawned and resolved to get home as quickly as possible. Ten more minutes. As soon as I finalized this and sent it to Henley, I was going straight home. Maybe I’d pick up some Chinese takeout on the way. Kane was right about the tomato.





Kane

CORI’S NUMBER SHOWED UP ON the screen of my phone and I sat up in bed to answer it, wide awake now.

“Cori? Everything okay with Brooklyn?”

“Yeah, everything’s good. She’s at school.”

I laid back down, relieved.

“I’m off today,” Cori said. “And I wondered if you might be free for lunch.”

“Lunch?” I wrinkled my face, still out of it from being woken out of a dead sleep. Hadn’t she just said Brooklyn was at school?

“Yeah, you know . . . we can talk, decide where to go from here.”

She had my full attention now. Dinner had gone well the other night, with Brooklyn giving me a tour of her room and telling me about what she was learning at school. And now Cori seemed open to letting me see more of her. I’d figured it was too soon to ask for one on one time with my daughter, but maybe not.

“Sure,” I said. “In the city?”

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