“Yes. I’m the sex and dating editor for Blush magazine.”
“But you’re up for a promotion?”
“Assistant editor of the entire magazine. As long as I nail this story.”
He peeks over my laptop at my notepad, squinting to decipher my chicken scratch. “August Laurent?”
Indignant, I cover my notepad with my hand, pulling it toward me and flipping it over so he can’t see. “He’s the subject of my story.”
He doesn’t react. I take his silence for confusion.
“He’s the most sought-after escort in the country. Apparently, he lives right here in Manhattan,” I explain. “No one’s been able to nail down this guy for an interview, so that’s what I’m trying to do. My sources say he frequents this place, so if you’ll excuse me…” I lock eyes with him, hoping he gets the hint that I have no desire to continue this conversation.
Finally, after a stare down that feels like it lasts hours, he reluctantly gets up. “Well, I’ll leave you to your work.”
“Thank you.” I reach for my coffee, taking a long sip, trying to calm my overwrought nerves. The last thing I need is to be distracted and miss spotting the man who could be the mysterious August Laurent.
“For the record…” When I hear Julian speak, I lift my head, meeting his sincere eyes. “It was nice to see you again, Evie.” His lips curve up at the corners. “Really nice.” Then he disappears into another section of the coffee shop.
Chapter Eight
I can’t get Julian out of my mind the rest of the morning, despite a valiant effort on my part to do so. Every time I think of his sapphire eyes and the earnestness in his voice when he confessed he was happy to see me, my body heats as my stomach erupts in flutters I haven’t experienced in too long now.
Whenever I consider the possibility that maybe there’s something more there, I remind myself it’s all part of his game. Men like Julian crave the chase. Once they’ve captured their prey, they’ll either destroy it in a way that makes it unrecognizable, or release it back into the wild with the hope of finding something tastier, perkier, younger. I’m too smart to allow Julian to capture me again.
Since my focus is essentially nonexistent, thanks to one Julian…whatever his last name is, I decide to call today a loss and return tomorrow, refreshed and rejuvenated. After collecting my things and shoving them into my laptop bag, I do like all New Yorkers do and check my social media on my phone to avoid eye contact as I head out of the coffee shop, paying no attention to the couple walking in.
“Evie.” It’s not a question. More like a statement of surprise.
I lift my head, admiring the long, sleek lines of the suit-clad body, sucking in a breath when I peer into a pair of familiar hazel eyes. Eyes that once looked at me with such devotion as the owner declared his love. I swallow hard though the lump in my throat at the comfort I once felt whenever I peered into them. Now I only feel inadequate.
“Trevor…,” I breathe, unsure what else to say.
“Hey.” He looks as uneasy about our unexpected meeting as I do.
I’ve been living in our apartment the past few weeks, but we haven’t seen each other. Every night, I prepared a dinner plate for him, thinking he’d be hungry whenever he got home from the office, yet I was always asleep when that happened. By the time I woke up in the morning, Trevor would already be gone, his plate in the dishwasher. It probably sounds like nothing, but the gesture fills me with hope that this separation won’t last. That he’ll see how much he needs me in his life.
Until I see the woman clinging to his arm, their hands intertwined. If seeing him for the first time since he broke up with me isn’t hard enough, now I have to look at him while another woman holds his hand, feels his skin, enjoys his warmth. That’s supposed to be my hand, my skin, my warmth.
When a throat clearing sounds, Trevor tears his eyes from mine, looking at the petite woman at his side. She can’t be more than five-foot-two, and probably a perfect size two. She’s pretty, I suppose, but nothing stands out that makes her remarkable.
Her dark hair is pin straight, not a single strand out of place, as opposed to my wild red locks I have trouble taming. It fits my personality — bold and a bit reckless. Her clothing choice is a complete juxtaposition to my love of color, her conservative charcoal suit something I wouldn’t even wear to a funeral. Her makeup is simple. Not over the top, but enough to add color in all the right places. I like making a statement with my makeup. My mother once told me a great red lipstick could make everything better, advice I’ve carried into adulthood. She doesn’t seem to have a single curve on her body, compared to my shapely hips and ample chest. The combination of my physique and red hair causes many people to comment that I resemble the character Joan from Mad Men.
Is this really what Trevor wants? Someone boring and…ordinary? It’s almost like he purposely found someone who’s the polar opposite of me. I’m not sure if I should find satisfaction or sadness in that fact.
“Sorry.” He licks his lips as he tugs at his tie, a nervous tick of his. I wonder if his new friend even knows that yet. “Evie, this is Theresa. Theresa…” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down, “this is Evie.”
She stares me down, her mouth forming a tight line. Her lukewarm reception gives the impression that Trevor must have mentioned me. I can almost hear her disapproving thoughts, wondering what he could have seen in someone like me.
Likewise, girlfriend. Likewise.
In an attempt to be the bigger person, I reach my hand toward her. “Theresa. So wonderful to meet you.”
She plasters a fake smile on her face, although she can’t fake it like I can. She better practice because she’ll need to fake some orgasms if she plans on staying with him. Sex is...okay, but she’ll need some extra assistance if she wants to get off on a regular basis.
“I’ve heard so much about you.”
I look from Theresa to Trevor. Even their names are similar. It’s creepy. “I wish I could say the same.” I keep my tone upbeat, not wanting anyone to catch on to how hard it is for me to see him with another woman, especially mere weeks after he broke up with me. “I didn’t realize you liked this place. It’s out of the way from your office. What is it? Fifteen blocks from Thirty-Fourth and Fifth?”
“Actually, it’s closer to twenty. But Theresa’s never had one of their chocolate hazelnut pastries. I stop by every morning for one before heading into the office.”
“You do?” I try to hide the hurt in my voice over the fact that I didn’t know this about him. And that I haven’t noticed him during the weeks I’ve been camped out here. Who else haven’t I noticed? What if my propensity to be easily distracted by cute puppy videos on the Internet caused me to miss August Laurent?
“Yeah. But I haven’t been able to get here recently because of the trial.”
“Right,” I breathe in a drawn-out voice, relieved. “The trial.”
I don’t even bother to ask how it went as we stare at each other in uncomfortable silence. I do my best to pretend the idea of him sharing a chocolate hazelnut pastry with Theresa doesn’t break me even more. He’s supposed to want to share these things with me. Hell, my office is only a few blocks away, yet not once did he ask me to meet him here.
“Well…,” I say, my tone upbeat. We had the spark once. I have to figure out how to get it back. Then he’ll come to his senses, and I’ll be there waiting. “I need to get back to work.”
I’d normally make a joke about having to take a few vibrators for a test drive for an article I’m working on, but I don’t, choosing the mature route. Although it’s hard… Really hard.