I shove it aside.
Most of all, I rewind to how she was always saving me from me. From the very start of this affair, right through to the end, she saved the day when I needed her most.
“I need to find her,” I say, patting my pockets. They’re empty. “Oh, shit. She has my phone. And my wallet. And my keys.”
“Good. Because we’re not moving that fast.”
“Why not? Shouldn’t I just go to her place and tell her how I feel or something?”
“Or something?” He arches a brow as he mimics me. “You might know a thing or two about how to land the ladies for a night. But I know how to win one woman for a lifetime,” he says, tapping his heart. “Your dad happens to be a hopeless romantic. So let the master give the apprentice some lessons in winning back a woman.”
I stand and hand over the reins. “I always did kick ass in school. Teach me your secrets.”
He surveys my attire. “First, we need to get you into some decent clothes.”
“I don’t have my wallet.”
He rolls his eyes. “I bought your first onesie. I think I can spring for a nice pair of slacks now.”
“Dad, that’s fine and all, but can you swear to never say that word again in relation to me?” I say, as we leave his office.
“Onesie, you mean?”
I nod.
He shrugs. “I’ll do my best to never discuss how adorable you looked in a little baby blue onesie.”
“Dad.”
“Right. You weren’t adorable in it. You were manly and rugged.”
Have I mentioned I have the coolest dad in the universe?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I look sharp. I’m rocking a pair of charcoal gray pants, a navy blue button-down, and new shoes. And…wait for it…I’m freshly showered, too. Yup. Dad took me shopping and let me use the guest shower at his home. And damn, do I clean up well.
He wouldn’t let me call Charlotte though.
And yes, I do know her number. It’s one of maybe two I have committed to memory. Hers and the Chinese food delivery joint. Instead, he called her, and inquired politely if she was still available to see me tonight. Evidently, she said yes, so he told her I would be arriving at six.
As the town car I hired pulls up to her building, I feel a bit like a teenager arriving for prom. Except I don’t have a corsage, or teenage stamina. Grown past that one, thank you very much.
But the nerves are the same, and mine are sky-high. I step out of the car and head to the doorman. He buzzes her, and I wait, pacing in the entryway, checking my watch, counting the number of tiles on the floor. Three interminable minutes later, Charlotte crosses the lobby.
She wears a cranberry skirt and a black top. It’s the outfit I took her ring shopping in. The fact that she’s wearing it knocks the breath from my lungs. It feels like a sign. As she nears me, I take in every detail. Her hair hangs loose and beautiful down her shoulders. Her lips are red and glossy. Her legs are bare, and she wears black high heels. I’m not sure I’ve ever told her that those shoes are my favorite, and somehow it turns me on even more that the ones she likes wearing are the ones I like seeing her in.
I can’t believe it’s been only eight hours since I’ve seen her.
She stops in front of me. Narrows her eyes. Points. “I don’t know whether to kiss you or punch you. Because I’ve been sending text messages all day. To my purse,” she says, dropping her hand into her purse and hunting around.
She grabs my phone and thrusts it at me, and the first text I see makes me grin.
THAT WAS THE BIGGEST LIE I EVER TOLD. CALL ME.
Her jaw is set hard, and she glares at me. “Oh, and I called you several times, too, before I remembered I had your phone. I was basically messaging myself all day. You had the ringer on silent, you idiot.”
“Idiot seems to be the theme of the day when it comes to me,” I say, but I’m smiling because this is another reason why I love her madly. The fact that she marched up to me and called me out.
She parks her hands on her hips. “Do you even want to know what my messages said?”
“I do,” I say, taking her hand and lacing my fingers through hers. God, it feels good to touch her again. It feels out-of-this-world amazing when she squeezes back, her hand fitting mine so perfectly. “But right now, I want to take you out.”
“To the restaurant in Chelsea?” she asks, as we reach the door of the gleaming black town car.
“Yes, but not yet. First, I’m taking you on a themed tour of New York.” I gesture to her building. “This is stop one on the Lessons I Learned in the Last Week Tour.”
She arches an eyebrow, inviting me to say more.
“Right here is where I was really dense,” I say.
“How were you really dense?”
“Because the day I asked you to be my fake fiancée, I actually believed I could pull it off and it wouldn’t change a thing,” I say, as I lift the handle of the car and hold the door for her. I watch her slide into the cool, air-conditioned backseat. She looks edible.
“Did it change things?” she asks, her voice rising on the question.
I nod as I get into the car next to her and pull the door shut. “It did.”
She swallows. “What’s stop two then?”
I gesture north. “A restaurant called McCoy’s. Heard of it?” I ask, as the car zips uptown, weaving through Saturday evening traffic.
“I believe I’m familiar with it. I’m so curious what you learned there.”