The Dirty Series 2(128)

I might as well be back at the Four Seasons, sulking my damn life away for all the good this “distance” is doing me.

Texting her doesn’t seem like a good option, since I was the one claiming to be busy, and she hasn’t messaged me all day. I’ve been fighting the urge to go down to the lobby for hours, only giving in when I left to go to the gym, but it’s killing me not knowing if she’s here or…elsewhere.

While the TV plays episode after episode of some crime show I used to watch years ago, my mind tracks down every dark possibility. She could be with another man. She could be lonely, bored, wishing we were together. Although—I don’t necessarily want a woman who can’t be without me for two days. She doesn’t want a man who acts as clingy and pathetic as I feel, either.

I go out for dinner by myself on Saturday night, but when Noah pulls up outside the restaurant, I can’t stand the thought of sitting at the table alone.

“You hungry?” I say toward the front of the car, and Noah whips around, jabbing his thumb toward his chest.

“Who, me?”

It’s a dick move, but sometimes Noah fades into the background for me. He’s a pretty constant friend, but whenever I get wrapped up in a woman, or…well, a woman…he gets relegated to the back burner.

“Yeah, you,” I say with a smirk. “You got dinner plans?”

“I’m working tonight.”

“Then come on.” I tilt my head toward the restaurant.

Noah doesn’t have to give it a second though. “Great. I’m starving. Please tell me I don’t have to wear this uniform inside.”

He’s dressed like he always is, in a black suit with a pressed white shirt. I look down at the outfit I threw on. Slacks and a blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up to my elbows. It’s not quite cold enough to need a coat to walk from the car to the restaurant, and even if it was, I’ve been burning up for Carolyn all day. I need fresh air, even if only for a few steps.

“Ditch it.”

He steps out of the car and peels the jacket and tie off, tossing them both onto the opposite side of the front seat, quickly shoving his shirtsleeves up to his elbows. Then he looks at me, eyes narrowed. “Too matchy-matchy?”

I roll my eyes. “Come on. I’ve got a reservation.”

The restaurant is perfectly accommodating—they should be, given that I could buy them out today if I wanted to—and changes my seat at the bar for a regular table where two adult men will have more space.

Noah and I spend the meal discussing…random topics, none of which stick in my mind at all.

All I can think about is Carolyn.

When dessert comes out, he snaps his fingers in front of his eyes. “Where are you, boss?”

“Don’t call me that,” I say with a joking smile.

“Question still stands.”

“Thinking about someone.”

“A woman?”

He knows about Elisa, so his tone is cautious. I can tell he’s ready to back down if I don’t respond positively, or at all.

“Yeah.”

“Same woman?”

Noah might keep his eyes on the road at all times like a true fucking professional, but he sees everything. He delivered sushi to her apartment, for God’s sake.

“Yes.”

He takes a bite of chocolate cake and chews it thoughtfully. “Things getting serious?”

It’s damn good cake. I want to say, Yes, it’s serious. I’ve fallen for her so hard I don’t know what to do with myself. But the words stick in my throat. If I say it out loud, who knows what will happen? It’s superstitious bullshit, but I just can’t admit it to Noah.

Not like he doesn’t know. He’s been with me long enough.

I still can’t do it.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

He lets it drop.

By the time we’re finished eating, I’ve had enough food to last me three days, which is the one thing that lulls me into sleep.

By Sunday morning, I truly can’t stand it anymore. The hours crawl by and the ache in my chest only gets stronger.

Finally, at noon, I lunge up from my armchair, sticking my keys into my pocket.

I’m going down to see her.

I’ve done everything I can to stay away from her, and it’s not working anymore. If I don’t see her face within the next ten minutes, my heart is going to explode.

It only occurs to me in the elevator that she might not be home.

When it lets me off on her floor, I hurry down the hall, stopping dead in front of her door.

Her voice comes into the hallway, muffled slightly by the doorway, and a smile spreads across my face.

I raise my hand to knock, but something makes me draw up short. It’s the sound of my own name.