“You washed my dress,” I breathe. It’s not a question.
“You probably thought the worst of me when you woke up in my bed. I considered sleeping in one of the guest rooms, but the reason I brought you to my place was to keep an eye on you. I couldn’t do that if I slept in a different room. When I woke up and you weren’t there, I panicked. I could only imagine what you must have thought, and I hated the idea of you walking around thinking we slept together. I needed to track you down and explain. That’s why I searched for every name close to Evie on Facebook. I even went to the bar I first saw you at in the hopes I could find you.”
“I haven’t been in the drinking mood after that night. Plus, once my boss told me about the possible promotion, that’s been my focus.”
“I don’t take advantage of women,” he states with determination, his jaw firm. “Particularly drunk women. I just…” He blows out a breath. “I just wanted you to know the truth.”
I stare into the distance, reflecting on this new information. No one in the city cares about each other. It’s always every man for himself. The idea that Julian took it upon himself to make sure I was okay has me rethinking my original assumption.
“You really are a good guy,” I murmur, more to myself than anyone else.
“I’m no saint, but I try to be a decent human being. Okay?”
“Okay.” It’s all I can manage to say as relief fills me. Trevor’s still my number three. There’s no number four. But now the idea of there being a number four doesn’t seem to be the apocalyptic event I once believed it to be. For two weeks, I’d carried on like there was a number four. There were no flooding rains requiring me to build an arc. No swarm of locusts. No great famine, apart from that between my legs. Life went on. And I get the feeling it will continue to go on even if there were to be a number four.
“So, what do you say?” He runs a hand through his hair, drawing my attention back to him. “Want to be my fake girlfriend?”
To anyone else, I’m sure it sounds like a great offer. Pretend to date some ridiculously good-looking, presumably wealthy man who looks incredible in a suit. But it’s not that easy for me. Even though Trevor’s moved on, there’s still a level of guilt.
“I apologize if I appear skeptical, but I just don’t see what you get out of this.”
“Simple. I get a seat at the table.”
I scrunch my brows together. “Excuse me?”
“Listen…” He licks his lips. “I didn’t always have money. Because of that, there are a few prominent people in my circle who are bitter about my windfall. I’m typically relegated to the ‘kid’s table’, so to speak. Old money versus found money kind of thing. A dear friend who’s been around this life for more years than she cares to admit suggested a girlfriend might help. Showing up at many of these events as a bachelor could be working against me. I’m in the middle of a few huge projects for my company, but there’s a lot of bureaucratic red tape I need to cut through to get them off the ground. Some of the nation’s most powerful people summer in the Hamptons.”
“And if they see you’re in a committed relationship and aren’t just some bachelor playboy pissing away his fortune, they’ll take you more seriously.”
He nods. “Like I said, it’ll be a win-win. I can conduct some much-needed business. You can make Trevor so jealous that he’ll come crawling back to you.”
I chew on my bottom lip, considering his offer. Julian certainly makes it sound appealing. But he doesn’t know Trevor like I do. He’s always had an uncanny ability to weed through the bullshit, which is why he’s one hell of an attorney, even for only being thirty. He’ll see through this bullshit, too. When he does, it will only reaffirm his reasons for breaking up with me in the first place — that I don’t take anything in life seriously enough.
“I really do appreciate the offer, but Trevor will see right through our game in a flash. It will never work. I’m sorry. But I’m sure you can find someone else to help you.” I lock eyes with him, feeling a twinge of guilt at the disappointment crossing his brow. “Goodbye, Julian.”
When I turn from him, a part of me hopes he’ll call my name once more. He never does.
Chapter Ten
“I can’t believe you’re actually trying to figure out who August Laurent is,” Nora says Friday afternoon as we unpack all the boxes containing possessions from my former life.
After my run-in with Julian in Central Park yesterday, I went back to the apartment I shared with Trevor instead of heading to the office. All I heard was Julian’s warning that if I kept living with him, I’d only give him the satisfaction of knowing I’ll always be around and waiting. I refuse to do that any longer. He needs to know I’m ready to walk away, too. A part of me hoped Trevor would reach out to talk when he walked into the apartment last night and saw the stacks of boxes containing my things. He never did. So, after our weekly meeting at the magazine earlier today, I convinced Chloe to play hooky. When I told Nora of my plans, she volunteered to help, as well.
“Yeah,” I groan. “And it’s proving to be impossible. The man’s a ghost.”
“Like Keyser S?ze.”
“Exactly!” This is why we get along so well. We all think the same thing. It can be a little scary at times, but being able to anticipate what each other is thinking and feeling makes things easier.
“I wonder what he looks like.” She grabs a magazine off the stack of back issues of Blush and flips through it.
I’ve kept a copy of every single issue since I started there. I remember holding the very first one in my hands and seeing my name in print. The feeling was indescribable. I even slept with it on my nightstand that night. Trevor never even asked to read the article.
“Maybe he appears differently for everyone who hires him. You know, like the Mirror of Erised in Harry Potter.” She stops flipping through the pages, turning the magazine around to show us an image of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie when they were still “Brangelina”. “Brad Pitt would be my August Laurent.”
Chloe laughs. “I don’t think it works that way, Nora. I don’t think he changes his appearance based on what the person who hires him wants to see.”
With a frown, Nora returns the magazine to the pile, then places them on a small bookshelf. “Pity. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Sure,” I say with an eye roll.
“How did you figure out he frequents the Steam Room anyway?” she presses.
I avoid her speculative gaze as I remove a few of my favorite coffee mugs from bubble wrap. Trevor always hated my affinity for mugs with snarky sayings on them. He drank out of the same boring black mug, said most adults don’t drink out of mugs with profanity. I guess I’m not like most adults.
“Just a hunch based on a few tips.”
“Hmm…” Her lips form a tight line. “Those tips wouldn’t have come from our very own gossip queen, would they?” She waggles her brows, nodding toward Chloe.
I open my mouth to respond just as my phone rings. I glance at the screen, my breath hitching when I see Trevor’s face smiling back.
“Who is it?” Chloe asks, noticing my reaction.
“Trevor,” I answer hesitantly.
“What do you think he wants?” Nora sneers.
It took my friends no time at all to go from Team Trevor to Team No One, especially after I told them about seeing him yesterday. Of course, I left out any mention of bumping into Julian and his little proposition.
“Maybe to tell me he realized he made a mistake.”
“You’re not going back to him after this, are you?” Chloe presses.
Unsure how to respond to her, I shrug. I should just write him off. If we’d only been together a few months, I’d do just that. But it’s been twelve years. There’s a certain level of patience, understanding, and forgiveness that increases over time.