Page 22 of One Little Favor
He asks what cruise line they’re on, and when I tell him, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Is this the cruise they’re taking?” he asks, holding his phone out to me.
“Yeah, six-night Eastern Caribbean ... and yes, that’s the ship they’re on.” I recognize the name of it from the pictures my mom sent me when they were waiting to board.
He takes the phone back, scrolls a bit, and lets me know that they definitely have Wi-Fi. Now I’ll just have to remind my parents how to do a video call. Given that they’re just across the river from me and I see them at least once a week, we rarely video chat.
Tom gets this look on his face that I can’t quite read.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Tom ...”
He gives me a half smile this time. “I like that you have this really good relationship with your parents. And I hate that you won’t get to see them.”
I take my napkin and unfold it, setting it on my lap. “Well, now it seems like Iwillget to see them.”
“You know I didn’t mean through video.”
“It’s better than nothing, though, right?”
He bites the corner of his lip. “Sure.”
“Here you are,” the server says as he slides our appetizer onto the table between us, and the rest of the meal is a blur of drinks and food and holding hands. It’s exactly the kind of thing I’d expect in one of the Hallmark movies I love to watch around this time of year.
Except, this is real life. And in real life, my boss has apparently been as infatuated with me this past year as I have with him. Seeing this other side of him, all soft and gooey and open to conversation, is such a shift that it’s caught me off guard, in the best possible way. It’s like exploring an undiscovered path that ends up being ten times more amazing than you could have imagined.
When dinner ends, we leave the cozy cocoon of the restaurant and wait outside the doors, where the glowing lights cast the sidewalk in a hazy glow, while the valet gets Tom’s car. When a shiver racks my body, he unbuttons his coat and pulls me against his chest, wrapping his jacket around me. I melt into his warmth, but he grows hard against my stomach, and all I can think of is getting him back to my place and naked. I lean up and plant a quick succession of kisses along his neck, and he squeezes me tighter against him inside his jacket.
The minute we’re in his car and he pulls out into the street, I’m reaching across the center console to run my fingers up and down his thigh. I can’t stop touching him.
“You’re torturing me,” he says, glancing over at me as he comes to a stop at a red light.
“No way,” I say, trailing my hand up to his zipper and dragging my fingers along the length of his erection, “this is just the briefest preview of what’s to come tonight.”
He swallows, his throat bobbing above his collar, and then shifts his eyes back to the road as traffic starts moving again. I wish I knew what he was thinking right now. The fact that he didn’t immediately say he was looking forward to tonight, or in any way acknowledge what I just promised him, or react to how I just touched his dick, has me ... worried.
That worry increases when he throws his hazard lights on and pulls into a loading zone in front of my building in the West Village, instead of searching for a parking spot.
He turns toward me in his seat. “I know I said we were going to spend tonight together.” He sighs. “But there’s something I have to take care of and I can’t put it off until tomorrow, unfortunately.”
I chew the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out what’s going on. The only logical conclusion is that he’s changed his mind. “Is this you letting me down gently?”
“What? No!” He reaches his hand out, sliding his palm against the side of my face before cupping the back of my head in his hand. “Avery,” he says forcefully, and he waits until I look up at him before continuing. “I promise, I’ll explain everything tomorrow.”
“Okay.” I shrug, and the movement loosens his grasp on my head so that his hand falls away from me. “Well, I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then.” I turn and reach for the door handle, opening it even as he calls my name. But I scramble out of my seat and shut the door behind me, praying that he can’t see the mortification I’m feeling. He’s turning me down and doesn’t know how to be honest about it, and I need to get inside my apartment so I can think back on our night and figure out where things went so wrong.
I take quick steps along the icy sidewalk until I reach my stairs. I’ve just grasped the railing and taken the first step up toward my brownstone’s front door when Tom’s arm encircles my waist and pulls me back to him.
With me standing on the first step, his head is right next to mine. His hot breath curls against my ear when he says, “Don’t run away from me. You’re not a child.”
I don’t want him to see my tear-streaked face, so I turn my head away and say, “Oh, so now you’re moving past grumpy and doing the whole condescending bit?”
“What are you so upset about?” he asks.
I take back what I said about not wanting him to see me cry. I spin around so fast I almost fall over, but his arm is still around my waist and he holds me up.
“Tom, I’m not sure what happened that changed your mind about us, but please ... just let me go stew in my own embarrassment, in private, please.”
