I wasn’t complaining. I didn’t mind looking after his interests in his absence. That company meant just as much to me and I would have repeated it all in a heartbeat. I owed the guy my life. Fortunately, all that toe stepping and brain picking to get KimCore up and running resulted with my name etched in the glass at my own firm. So yeah, it had been a seriously long year juggling all of it, and I was looking forward to having some time to take in a few Bruins games.
I took a pull on my beer as I watched a tall suited guy weasel himself between two hotties. He waved a fifty to get Dave’s attention. Typical Wall Street thinking his shit didn’t stink. Completely oblivious to his surroundings, the girls simultaneously leaned to the side and rolled their eyes. They grabbed their drinks and stalked away.
“Open seat, come sit, Talia, what can I get you? They’re out of Prosecco?”
I crinkled my forehead. He had my attention. That was not a common name and one I had not heard in … um … nineteen years. There was a swarm of people around the bar and I couldn’t get a visual on the woman with that name. I cocked my head to the right and the guy stepped back for her to pass and sit down. Perfect pin-straight, long blonde hair came into my view. No way. I would’ve known that hair anywhere. How lame did that sound?
She whipped around to face him and I choked on my cold lager. I coughed so hard that the asshole next to me actually asked me if I was all right. Fuck. I was not definitely not all right. Talia Prince was here. My Talia Prince, who I hadn’t seen or heard from in years, was sitting a couple bar stools down from me. Holy shit, if guys were allowed to freak out I was totally freaking out. I never thought I would ever lay eyes on her again after everything that went down.
The prick she was with ran a hand down her hair and kissed her cheek. She half smiled up at him and said something. My eyes were too busy drilling a hole in her left ring finger to catch what she said. It was naked and I released that swallowed breath. Wait, how old was I, acting like I was back in high school, wishing and hoping and never claiming?
Her caramel eyes widened slightly. Yeah, she recognized me. Six bar stools away, I saw her breath seize and her jaw clench.
After several long seconds she mouthed, “Asher.”
I smirked and tipped my beer up, totally trying to play the cool guy card. Now who was the loser? Wall Street whispered something in her ear and she nodded. Then the douche kissed her on the lips. My stomach churned. It was probably just a skunked beer.
She looked … she looked like Talia. It was as if time stood still. She was still Talia. Damn, I missed that girl. After the first few years I refused to let myself go there, but I also never thought this day would come. Douche left her side and blurred into the background. Maybe he’d bump into my date and get distracted by her cleavage. I took this as my chance and hopped off my stool to join her.
“Hey, you.”
“Hey. It’s been … a long time.” Her voice was identical to my memory, just tense. She almost looked embarrassed. I could tell I was the last person she expected to see tonight. We both had to be in shock, especially after the way things were left between us. I kissed her cheek—how could I not? It was a cheek I’d kissed a million times before. And Jesus, it was so soft. She smelled like a mixture of jasmine and mint. And yes, I deserved that eye roll you just gave me. But hey, I grew up with four women, three of them in my bathroom, and one who taught me the way around a kitchen. I knew my scents. Her face relaxed slightly, but she still forced a tight-lipped smile. All I really wanted to do was squeeze her to my chest and ask where she’d been. Instead, I tightened every muscle to hold back and allowed my eyes to make the infamous downward trek. She was all grown up, trading a ribbed tank and cut offs for a super sexy, sophisticated vibe. Her dark tailored suit was low-cut but not obscene, and her skirt was short but not too short.
My heart, the one that always picked up a couple of beats when she was around, started pounding. “You look incredible. How’ve you been? What brings you to Boston, don’t tell me you live here too?” My need to bombard her with fifty questions was unstoppable.
“I’m good, busy, but good. I’m just in town for a conference.” She broke our eye contact and swirled the straw in her drink. If it wasn’t so damn hot and stuffy in this bar I could’ve sworn her cheeks pinked. She didn’t let the silence linger. “So you live here now? I can’t believe it—Maggie let her prince leave the City?”
The sarcasm earned her a salute from my bottle. “Still funny, I see.” Born and bred New Yorkers couldn’t help being egotistical. It wasn’t our fault; there was only one City. We had that in common. After a quick swallow, I answered, “Moved here for law school.” Half truth. “Guess you can say I never left. But don’t worry, the queen sees her prince plenty.” A quick wink, and yup, she definitely blushed. “What about you, where are you calling home these days?”
Nineteen years of nothing and we were making stupid ass small talk. We were never about small talk. We might as well have been chatting about the fucking weather.
“I’ve been out in San Diego since, you know … I left.”
Yeah, I knew. Like I could ever forget. The summer after high school graduation was supposed to be a million different things for four best friends. It was supposed to be a few carefree weeks to party it up in the Hamptons and gear up for college. Kimi, Talia and I were Duke-bound, while Chase sported Columbia gear. One last summer of band gigs, road trips, and afternoon beach naps. It was supposed to be the summer to learn a little about life. And we did. We learned how unfair life could be, and we learned it the hard way.
The weeks following the accident were a blur. Bad news followed by worse. The driver of the car got lucky. His drunk ass died instantly upon impact with the telephone pole. Kimi, not so lucky. She was left wide awake, trapped in her own body with every muscle paralyzed. But no one figured that last tidbit out until three years later. Instead, we all believed she was permanently comatose. Beyond wretched. We all handled our grief and guilt differently, if you could even say we handled any of it. Five stages my ass, not when you were eighteen. And if we didn’t have enough to deal with, add in Chase’s fucked up parents’ decision to abandon their daughter, both physically and financially. For them, brain-dead equaled waste of time and money. Then Talia’s folks dropped the bomb that they were getting divorced. And to complete our misery, my dad’s only brother and best friend got diagnosed with Alzheimer’s one year to the day we buried my grandfather from the same disease. Yeah, the end of that summer we all struggled to see through the dark fog. My only clarity was the night before I left for college; the night Tal dropped a note with my doorman. I went to Duke solo.
“Cali, huh. Not much to dislike about San Diego. Gorgeous place. I’ve been out there a couple of times over the years.” I was rambling.
“Yeah, kind of hard to get used to this East Coast weather again once you’ve been gone for so long.”
Yup, there it was. We deteriorated to the fucking weather.
No use tiptoeing around the elephant that wasn’t just standing in the room, but directly between us, so I went for it. “Had Chase’s wedding last night on the Cape. He married a great girl and they just moved into Boston.” It was a borderline dick move, but Chase and Talia had their own history, and selfishly I wanted to see her reaction when I said his name.
“Oh, that’s great. You guys still close?” Her expression did not falter. One point: Talia.
“You can say I fulfilled my best man duties.”
Wall Street douche finagled his way between us. “Dr. Pryce, I see you made a friend.” His smug grin turned my stomach.