“It’s fine, Michael, relax. I ordered for the both of us.”
The Saks Fifth Avenue bag in his hand slid under the table. “Thank you for meeting me like this. I know it’s last minute, but I really needed to talk to you.”
Mild curiosity as to what was in the bag distracted me for a moment.
“You look tired. Are you sure everything is okay?”
Forcing myself to stop thinking about Logan was difficult, but I had to concentrate on the conversation at hand. “I’m fine. I’ve just had some trouble sleeping. But honestly, Michael, meeting you for lunch isn’t a problem. I wasn’t doing much today anyway. Peyton took care of the entire inventory restocking at the boutique yesterday and everything else was already done.”
Michael and I hadn’t talked since his early phone call Saturday morning and I found that strange. Usually, he called me for dinner on Sundays but he hadn’t called yesterday, and since I was in New York City, I hadn’t called him either.
He sat down. “Good then, I don’t have to feel guilty about dragging you out on a rainy day.”
It might be a cold, rainy spring day outside, but it didn’t matter because even in here I was chilled. Nothing could warm me. I was cold, sad, and tired. I hated feeling like this. I blinked away my thoughts and focused on Michael. “What is it you wanted to talk to me about? It sounded urgent. Is everything okay with Clementine’s new nanny?”
Unfolding his napkin, he set it on his lap. “Yes, they’re both fine. This meeting isn’t about Clementine.”
“Oh. From the urgency in your voice, I just assumed it was.”
Actually, I had come here with two trains of thought. One—he knew I’d lied about the cocaine being delivered to my boutique; or two—he had changed his mind about who he was appointing as Clementine’s guardian and had invited me here to let me know.
My heart started beating so fast.
This had to be about the delivery.
I was so screwed. I tried to remember what Logan had told me to say under this circumstance, but nerves got the better of me and my brain felt frazzled.
A small sip of his water on his part alerted me that he was nervous too.
I wondered why.
Finally, he spoke. “First of all I want to apologize for involving you in that entire mix-up last week. I never should have put you in a position like that.”
Phew, he was completely unaware of not only the delivery, but also Logan’s involvement. Another attempt at a smile I just couldn’t seem to form failed. Instead, I tried to be as upbeat as I could. “Please, Michael, I think we’re past all the pleasantries. I understand why you had to ask me for help. Sending the packages to the boutique and not the house or your office made sense. No one would have had any idea. I’m just glad the people who were threatening you and Clementine are now behind bars and we can put all of this behind us.”
I hoped that was true.
Dark circles below his eyes couldn’t hide how tired he looked and I wondered if something was still worrying him. “Good then, we can agree to put that behind us.”
I nodded.
“You’re certain everything is okay?” he asked again.
No, everything was not okay. I was heartbroken and downright upset over this entire situation I’d allowed myself to be put in, but I couldn’t tell him that. He knew nothing of my brief affair with Logan. I drew in a deep breath and found some inner strength. “Yes, I’m fine.” This time I managed a smile that had to look as fake as it felt.
“Okay then, I have a favor to ask you.”
Before I could think of what to say, because the last thing I wanted to do was another favor for him, the waiter arrived with our food. “Lobster rolls,” he said, placing our plates in front of us. “Can I get you anything else?”
Michael looked over at me and I shook my head. “No, I think we’re good. If you could just bring the check, I’m in a bit of a hurry today.”
“Yes, certainly, Mr. O’Shea, no problem.”
Michael was a regular at B&G Oysters. He’s the one who turned me on to the restaurant and to lobster rolls. Both of which I loved, but neither of which pleased me today.
I looked down at my rectangular plate of food—the sandwich on one side, the sea-salt-seasoned fries on the other, and in the middle pickles and a small silver container of ketchup.
Ketchup.
Even the stupid condiment made me think of Logan, and my mind drifted back to the first night we’d met.
Logan had been sitting across from me at the table and I couldn’t get the ketchup to come out of the bottle. He took it from me and magically poured some onto my plate. Those hazel eyes lifted seductively. “The secret is knowing where the sweet spot is,” he’d said. That was the first time my stomach had ever done a full belly flop over a guy.
Michael cleared his throat.
Pulled from my thoughts, my eyes darted across the table.
“I have this fundraiser Wednesday night that I was hoping you would attend with me.”