But I’ll make it up to her. If she’ll allow me to. And I am confident that she will.
Pulling out my phone, I ignore the fifty-seven new text notifications and call my chief of staff, Iris.
She answers before the second ring. “Are you coming into the office today or not?”
“No. I’m still in the city. Did Merrick call?”
“It’s eleven p.m. in England.”
“I didn’t mean just now,” I say. “Since I left.”
“No, John. George Merrick did not call you. George Merrick doesn’t have to call anyone. That’s why you’re going to England to meet with him.”
“I know that. I just thought he might call when I least expect it.”
“Well. He didn’t,” Iris informs me. “However, as expected, Alfie and Baxter have emailed and texted several times to ask if we’ve heard from him.”
“Right. I’ll touch base with them later. I need you to call Richard and tell him I’m going to walk my friend Olivia to her place. I’ll text him when he can pick me up there.”
I can almost hear the sound of her eyeballs rolling over the sound of her overly dramatic sigh. “Why don’t you call or text him yourself?”
“Because then I’d have to maketwocalls, and I need to talk to you.” I wait for her to finish sighing again. I might have to wait forever for this sigh to end, though, so I continue. “I also need you to call Sanjay and tell him to order some Ritual coffee beans. From Costa Rica. For tomorrow.”
“You want him to order coffee beans from Costa Rica for tomorrow?”
“No, they’re local roasters. I need the beans from Costa Rica. She seems to like those.”
“Uh-huh. Is ‘she’ your friend’s sister?” Iris asks.
“Olivia, yes.”
“Uh-huh. Have you presented your offer to her yet?”
“No.”
“Thank God,” she says. “I knew you’d come to your senses.”
“I had always planned to wait until I could speak to her in private, like we discussed,” I say.
“I did not endorse speaking to her about that offer at any time, in any location. It’s a terrible idea.”
“Thank you for your insights. Don’t forget to make those calls.” I hang up before Iris can remind me that she has an MBA and isn’t my secretary.
Because I see Olivia walk out to the sidewalk. She has unbuttoned her white shirt and tied it above her waist, revealing a bit of skin. Her belly button. Her toned but soft lower belly. Without that server apron on or a ballet costume, I can see that she has maintained her feminine curves. This pleases me. She’s exceptionally fit, but there’s still plenty to grab on to. To massage and stroke and explore.
I feel a twinge of guilt, but I’m going to ignore it. My best friend and I were so protective of her when we were growing up. At first because she was considered a bit of an ugly duckling, and then when she blossomed at the age of twelve or thirteen, because we knew what all the boys were thinking. I’m not the kind of guy Monty would try to protect her from now, though. I don’t think.
She’s let her long auburn hair down, applied something glossy to her lips. I bet she’s spritzed some kind of perfume on too. She used to do that when I showed up at her parents’ house when she was a teenager. She probably didn’t think I noticed, but I noticed. I noticed everything and I remember everything. I tried to forget all of it until two years ago, and here I am.
I’m glad I didn’t see her when I was in Pittsburgh. I wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready, but I really was not ready. Now I have everything I need to win her over. Now my best friend is happy enough in his life that he probably won’t want to kill me.
Olivia is running her fingers through her hair as she spots me, and I watch as one corner of her pretty mouth tips up. A gentleman would walk over to meet her where she stands. But I want to watch her come to me, and she’ll have to get used to the idea of me not being a gentleman all the time.
And there’s that smirk. A little tilt of her head. She glances to one side quickly before walking toward me. I think she wants me to watch her. I think she likes it. She has always moved gracefully since she was eight years old, but there’s a sway toher hips that she didn’t exhibit in the restaurant while she was working. There’s a confidence and sensuality that wasn’t there when I saw her with her family years ago.
All that sexual energy she silently taunted me with when she was a teenager… She has grown into it, embodied it. She owns it. Instead of trying to avoid or ignore her like I did when she blossomed back in Cleveland, I will meet her where we are. Today I’m confident that I can handle her. Soon she will know exactly how confident I am in handlingher.
“Hi,” she says, standing a foot in front of me. I can smell that perfume. “How’s it going?”
