He could hear her suck air. “I should just block you from my phone.”
He nodded. It had worked. “You should.”
She was gone, the phone dead against his palm. In a prison where he couldn’t control basic mobility, he could protect Orchid. Dreams—of a dark-haired beauty, traversing the Andes, or cradling his own child—scattered like dust.
Goodbye, Orchid.
CHAPTER 19
ALONE IN MY HOME
Orchid
In disbelief, Orchid rode the subway to her downtown apartment. She sure scared off Phoenix. He didn’t buy the “I was just babbling” claim. She didn’t either.
Now what was she going to do? Forget him. Move on. Just like she had after every other heartbreak in her life.
She dragged her luggage over the dirty platform. The damned elevator was broken. TheTimeshad published an exposéthat two-thirds of New York subways weren’t wheelchair accessible. Normally, she wouldn’t notice. Today, she really needed the lift. She stomped up the stairs, huffing under the weight of two suitcases.
Her apartment felt cold after six weeks away. Nothing but condiments in the fridge. She could eat dressing, she supposed. She wasn’t hungry anyway. She turned on the TV just to hear a human voice. Weird to see American personalities instead of Chinese newscasters.
Then, the shock hit her in waves.
A world devoid of Phoenix. She shouldn’t have dreamed. Hadn’t he hinted at other trips, after they’d returned from Cannes? Her foolish heart had hoped that France might be the romantic spot where they’d return, recapturing their first magical week there. It was too much, she couldn’t think about their trip to Paris, down the shore. His dark scowl.
Maybe she shouldn’t have confessed her attraction. Maybe she’d pushed too fast. What if she’d played hard-to-get? Did men like Phoenix just get bored? The stupid questions all led to the same conclusions: there was no changing this outcome. He’d avoided her for six weeks, why would he change his mind now that she was back in New York?
She’d survived the death of her parents, been independent since she was eighteen, and thrived for six weeks in a country where she was illiterate. But this was too much.
Phoenix had been kind when they were together. First, he had kept her cover when her boss had introduced them. He took her lead and didn’t mention that they’d actually met the night before. When she’d stumbled into him in the men’s room at a club.
After letting her save face, they’d worked together on a military campaign. At their first meeting, Phoenix had presented images of fit men and women proudly exhibiting missing limbs or gapped teeth. Orchid had stared at the scarred skin and twisted muscle. Without wanting to, she had pictured the trauma that must’ve caused those wounds. The possibilities unspooled memories from when she was twelve, jolted awake as locked wheels skidded over ice. Her parents’ car crumpled into a tree.
Phoenix’s voice had faltered then as he noticed Orchid’s reaction. He had skimmed ahead until the presentation stopped on a page of logos.
“Enough about the creative. Maybe you want to talk about plans to drive awareness?”
Orchid had lowered the hand blocking her view of the screen and nodded, thankful for his thoughtfulness. His gaze had caught hers. Deep and blue and kind. “You okay?”
With him, she was more than okay. Later, he’d flown with her to Cannes, guiding her through her first creativity festival. Invited her to the Effies awards show. After which, she had cheered him on at a triathlon, met his brother, and visited their family’s beach house.
She’d watched the way his mouth widened when he smiled. He’d looked at her from under his lashes.
Their heat ramped up that last week before her trip. He touched her arm while they talked. The night before her departure, they’d connected on another level. He had walked her back to her apartment, even though she didn’t want the evening to end. Before she could help herself, she’d kissed him. If he wasn’t going to ask her out, she’d be the provocative one. And he’d reciprocated. He had kissed her temple, then her cheek and then landed on her lips, while one hand fingered the pleather-edged sash of her dress.
Now this rejection was too much. “Can’t see each other” . . . “better not call.”
Her apartment echoed empty. If only she had a cat, or even a goldfish. She flung her suitcase open and threw her clothes into a dirty hamper. She knew the antidote to her foul mood.
She scooped her phone out of her bag and checked her friends’ social media feeds.Hi hon, guess who’s home?she texted Mandy.
While she waited for a response, she pulled up her email.
In her inbox, a message had arrived from a name she hadn’t seen in forever. With a grimace, she clicked on it.
Hello Orchid,
I’m sorry it’s been sixteen long years. Your dad would whip my ass for being a stranger (may he RIP). I married a few years ago. And now, we’ve had a baby. So, you have a new cousin. I’ve thought of you often. Please give me a call sometime, I’d really like to talk.
