“Ah, he cheated on you,” he murmurs, and I wince.
Nope, we cheated on his fiancée. Both of us. Repeatedly.
“Um, no, nothing that drastic,” I say, defending him. “We just wanted different things, I guess.”
“Like what? As far as I can tell, you’re smart, sexy, funny, and you’re polite enough not to gag when a guy eats octopus, even though I can tell it grosses you out.”
I change the subject, shining the spotlight on him, and by the time we leave for the theater I feel as light as a feather and strangely grateful. This could work. I could throw myself into, if not a relationship, a friendship with a man as easy-going and attentive as Taylor Barret, and if I do it right I could be over Gregory by this time next year.
I hope so, I really do, because according to this morning’s paper, Gregory and Selena Jeffries have set their weeding date.
Chapter Twenty Two
The theatre, while not my cup of tea, turned out to be a good first date, and four weeks later, as I’m hotfooting it to the subway, I’m actually looking forward to going out.
I’ve seen or spoken to Taylor almost every day since we met, and while I’ve told him I want us to take things slow and get to know each other, I have faith that we’ll end up in some sort of relationship in the future.
No, he’s not at all my type, and if I were a nicer woman I’d tell him that instead of using him to distract myself in my mission to forget Gregory. It works, most days, and to tell the truth I’m just glad I have enough of a life right now not to think about the wed— see, there I go again.
Nana hates Taylor and refuses to do anything with us. She’s a die-hard Gregory fangirl, and she still plays his messages every night when he calls.
He’s still calling.
He doesn’t beg me to come back or even say anything at all besides assuring me my job’s still open and whispering a husky goodnight.
So yeah, I’m doing relatively okay.
Taylor has been very forthcoming about his previous relationship, and I know his ex had cheated with his best friend, and taken his dog when she moved out.
This conversation had made me open up about me and Greg. Oh no, of course I didn’t tell him everything. Not about my duplicity or any names or anything really relevant, just that I’d fallen in love with a man who is engaged and that I’d broken it off.
Taylor assumes that part came when I found out about his engagement, and I’d chickened out and not disabused him of that notion. I am a liar, by omission, and I know it, but I’ve felt so…sane being with him that I couldn’t bring myself to confess my own crimes and risk losing him.
It’s Friday, exactly four weeks after our first date, and I’m thinking that maybe, if I can bring myself to, I could get the first kiss out of the way. Sort of like a trial run to see if I’m capable of being turned on by any other man.
By the time he arrives I’m ready, thanks to Chris and the shopping spree we’d gone on after Amber begrudgingly paid me back. Seems Greg had turned her business around quickly, and instead of sinking into debt or just breaking even she’d actually made a profit. Small, but better than nothing, I guess.
“Hey there, beautiful,” he says, planting a quick peck on my cheek.
“Hi, Tay, how’s the world of investment banking?”
He grimaces and shrugs, as he usually does, something that annoys me a lot, since he seems to expect a lot of answers from me and gets downright weird when I deflect. I’ve chalked it up to his need for honesty and some residual fear of sharing too much of himself too soon, but truthfully, it irritates the crap out of me.
Gregory had told me everything about his businesses, even when I didn’t want to know, so I’m not used to this level of aloofness from a guy who’d been so open at the start.
Oh, stop it. You’re not sabotaging this because you’re afraid of giving Gregory up completely.
I have to concede the point, since I still listen to the messages every night. Sometimes three times before I force myself to go to bed.
“Where we going?” I ask as we exit my building and hail a cab.
“A little party uptown,” he says distractedly, scrolling through his messages.
He’s being weird. Usually he’s attentive to the point of clinginess and he talks enough that I’m considering ear plugs.
“A party?” I prompt.
He finally shoves his phone in his pocket and turns to me, his smile a little off from the open gleam he usually blinds me with.
“Cocktails, nothing heavy,” he assures me, and I relax, smiling back.
When the cab stops he pulls me out, and I look up at the swanky apartment building, surprised when I see a lobby and a doorman. I can’t say why it surprises me that Tay schmoozes with rich people, he’s in banking after all, so I shrug off the niggling irritation and follow him, breathing deeply the whole way up.