Me: It’s Christo’s fault. We went to a sauna and…we went to a sauna.
Becka: And? Dish out!!!
Me: And…muscular man. Tiny towel! Heat and sweat? Ugh. I’m still squirming inside.
Becka: Baby girl, that’s hot! I vote you go impale yourself on Christos. I sure as hell remember he’d like that.
Me: Not anymore. He’s taken, okay.
Lucky bitch
Becka: All is fair in love and war.
Me: It’s not love.
Becka: What is it?
Me: Terrible
Terrible lust
Becka: Was he really muscled? He was skinny before. No?
Me: You have NO idea the muscles he packs. And I won’t even get into the SHAPE of what was under his towel.
Becka: Now who’s the perv! HA!
Me: Lucky I don’t have a principal after me. (But maybe an angry girlfriend if she ever found out her man was with me in a sauna? I’d be jealous out of my mind!)
Becka: Me thinks you’re in trouble, bestie…
Me: Nooooo. I just needed that off my chest. I’m good now. I’m going to work!!
Really.
No, really.
Not thinking of Christos’s sweaty, tattooed bod in a tiny towel at all!
I dreamed of him. He was hugging me in his office, and I was crying on his shoulder because my parents had just died. It makes no sense. He wasn’t there when my parents died, flowers sent in his absence. The only time he ever hugged me was when we said goodbye. And maybe…well, it wasn’t exactly a hug, but when he tried to kiss me. Still, he didn’t hug me in his office yesterday. But when I wake in the middle of the night, my face is wet and I can’t go back to sleep.
It feels odd to see him, remember the girl I used to be—he reminds me of my childhood. He reminds me of my dreams, my parents, myself before my heart broke into pieces, one for each person I’ve loved and lost.
Maybe, even, including him.
I’m distracted with Milly, Natchez, and the rest of my dog tribe the next day. Then Milly’s owner, Mrs. Ford, invites me to join her for tea when I drop Milly off that afternoon.
“Brynny! You’re back just in time for tea. Come sit with Milly and me.”
“Oh, Mrs. Ford…I couldn’t…”
“You can and you will,” she declares in moody New York fashion.
So I grudgingly agree, “Five minutes,” and sit in her European-style sitting room, drinking tea.
“Tell me about yourself, Brynny. How are you finding New York?”
“I’m finding it,” I say, and she laughs. I admit, “It’s a jungle, Mrs. Ford, but I suppose I’m learning the ropes of how to survive around here.”
“Like what?”
“Like if I stand at the pizza line and don’t know exactly, exactly, what I’m having when it’s my turn, I get skipped.”
We laugh, and she tells me of the days when she moved into Manhattan seven years ago.
“At my age, you can imagine what a shock the city was. It’s why I’d rather look at the city from up here.” She motions to her lovely view, and I say, “If you ever want to go out, I’d be happy to walk with you or ride with you anywhere.”
“Thank you, but I do have family who visits occasionally. But thank you for offering, Brynny.”
I feel relieved that she’s not alone in the city—mainly because I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t met Sara when I got here—so I smile, make her a new pot of tea, and head out, not before petting Milly. “’Bye, girl,” I whisper in her ear. “Wish me luck tonight.”
I rush to get ready for my meeting, more nervous than I care to admit.
Christos
12 years ago
She finds me out on the roof while the party disperses inside. I’m staring at the lake in the distance, an empty bottle in my hand.
Bryn walks forward, her steps tentative. It’s as if she thinks I’ll ask her to leave. No. I’d never ask her to leave. I crave her too much to want her anywhere but near me.
“Are you out here all alone because you’re avoiding saying goodbye to me?” she asks.
Her mouth drives me crazy when she speaks. I try to pull my head on straight and shake it. “Nah.” I smile.
She frowns at me. She’s always told me I’m very elusive and stubborn, the one man she can never read. “I’ll leave. Really. If you don’t want me here.”
“Don’t leave. Come here, bit.” I scoot over.
“Bit?”
“You’re a small little thing. Much more trouble than you look.”
“I’m not trouble.”
“The places you take a guy’s thoughts…pure trouble, bit.”
She smiles happily, and takes a seat next to me, and thanks to the wind, her hair flies across my face. I brush it back, trying not to snatch it between my fingers. “You going to miss anything about here?” she asks me.
“I’m going to miss you.” I smile. “Hey, you sad?”
Her eyes shadow, but she shakes it off. “What? You think I’d miss you?” she scoffs.
I nod soberly. “I’d take you with me if I could.”
“I wouldn’t go.” She wrinkles her nose.
“You would if I asked you to.” I smile, and she laughs, then we fall silent.
“I guess this is the last time I see you, huh,” she says.
I look at her closely. If anything in this goddamned world would prompt me to stay here—it’s her. But there’s a job for me in Dallas, an opportunity for me to grow. “Don’t change, bit.”
“I’ll try. And you. Be good, Aaric. The line you walk is far too fine.”
I laugh. She glances at the skyline, as if realizing it’s too late. People have already left the party.
“Have a good life,” she says, clapping her hands once. As if that’s that.
I frown. “Jesus. I might see you one day.”
“Really? I’m not sure you will.”
“I might look you up one damn day.”
“Why?”
“To prove to you that I can. To show you how far I’m going to have come.”
“You’ll want to show off what a big shot you are.”
“That’s right.” I wink. “Bye, bit.”
Her eyes water and when I rise to my feet and draw her into my arms—for the first and last time, really—she sobs into my shoulder and can’t seem to say it back.
Bryn
I meet him at Peasant as instructed, my pulse a little rapid as I walk inside, even with the two glasses of wine I guzzled down to help with the nerves as I changed. It’s as if my nervousness keep amping up with every meeting. I don’t know if it’s because I’m nervous that one final NO, and this will be over. Or if it’s because I really crave to spend time with him and look forward to these…meetings. Stressful as they are.
Anyway, I wanted this to go well. So I pulled out the minidress Sara calls the “tiny sexual bomb” that I designed myself, and I headed several blocks from our apartment down to Peasant.
My heart does something crazy when my eyes spot Christos at the bar. His head is bent to his phone, and he’s frowning over something he’s reading.
He’s wearing a black shirt and gray slacks, his hair slicked back, and he looks drool-worthy. I lick my lips, and then he tilts his head as if he senses me, and my heart flips a little more.