“Oh, Ave.” Her brow creases with a worried frown. “What happened? Do you want to talk about it?”
I do, but at the same moment, I see a very attractive black man in a white dress shirt and tie and light gray slacks come out of Joel’s former office with a tablet in hand. High cheekbones and close-trimmed hair and beard set off pale eyes and a lush mouth. Even though my heart and all the rest of me belongs to Nick, it’s hard not to stare.
Tasha glances back at him, following my arrested gaze. “That’s Andrew Beckham.”
“Nick’s attorney?”
“Yep.”
“Oh.”
She wiggles her brows at me. “Yeah. Oh is right. You haven’t met? Come on, let me introduce you.”
I start to protest, but it’s too late. The young lawyer approaches us, his mouth curved in a polite smile.
“Mr. Beckham, this is my friend, Avery Ross.”
His chin lifts slightly in acknowledgment as he extends his hand to me. “Ms. Ross. Nice to meet you. And please, both of you, call me Andrew. Or Beck. I hear Mr. Beckham and I get a little twitchy, expecting to see my dad in the room with me.”
I smile and shake his hand, feeling awkward and relaxed at the same time. It’s obvious Nick has already mentioned me to him in some capacity. Good or bad, at this moment I don’t know. Thankfully, Beck is too professional to point it out.
The three of us chat for a few minutes about the restaurant and trivial things, then Beck’s phone chimes and he excuses himself to take the call. I don’t have to guess if it’s Nick he’s speaking to. Andrew Beckham may be an outstanding lawyer, but he’s no match for my intuition.
Just knowing Nick is on the other line now puts a knot of misery in my breast.
“I should go,” I murmur.
“So soon?” Tasha looks crestfallen. “You just got here.”
I shrug lamely. “I have some errands to run. And you need to get back to work, boss lady.”
She stares at me for a long moment, then pulls me into a quick hug. “I don’t believe you, but I’m gonna let you slide for now. You call me later. But first, you go tell that man you love him and that whatever is wrong, you want to work it out.”
“Tasha, you don’t understand—”
“I don’t understand what? That you’re falling head over heels and are miserable without him, or that you’re too chicken-shit to admit it?”
I glare at her, but, dammit, she’s right. On all counts.
“Look,” she says. “We’ve been friends for a while now. I know it’s not easy for you to take advice, but I’m going to tell you anyway. Don’t let this one get away. I’m not saying that because he’s crazy rich and hot as sin besides. I’m saying it because last night I saw the way you two look at each other.”
“Tasha—”
“He needs you, Avery. Maybe he won’t say the words to you either, but they’re right there in his eyes. And you need him too.”
I purse my lips as she finishes. “May I speak now?”
She gestures for me to go ahead.
“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, you know that? Thank you for caring about me. Not just now, but ever since I walked into this place looking for work and you made sure I got interviewed ahead of anyone else.” I pull her into a hug. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, girl.” She draws back, holding my upper arms and giving me a stern maternal look. “Now go tell him how you feel.”
One of the other employees calls for her from behind the bar, and I take the opportunity to edge toward the door.
“Call me afterward,” she says. “I mean it. I’m working until eleven tonight. I want to hear from you before I go home.”
I nod as I step out onto Madison Avenue. As I head toward Grand Central under a cloudless blue sky, it seems as if years have passed since the last time I made this trek, not a handful of weeks.
It’s been almost three and a half months since I first laid eyes on Dominic Baine in that lobby elevator.
It’s strange how different everything seems to me now.
I used to feel as though this city and I were at constant odds with each other. I used to think New York sensed me as an interloper in its domain and wanted me gone—that each obstacle I met with since I moved here had been thrown into my path by some cosmic force conspiring to defeat me at every turn.
But it isn’t the city or anything else blocking my way.
It’s me.
Tasha is right. And isn’t that what Nick has been trying to tell me too?
Isn’t that what he’s been teaching me every time he touches me . . . each time he shows me what I truly crave but am too afraid to admit, let alone ask for?