“I don’t blame you,” I whisper so he won’t hear the tears in my voice.
“I feel like you do.”
I shake my head, looking up to the sky as if it holds all the right answers. “I’m not happy. I wouldn’t say I’m depressed, but I’m not happy. My friends keep telling me it’s time to move on, but I don’t know how.”
He leans across the table, holding my hand in his. “You have to forget. You have to have moments where you think about something other than him.”
As I look down, I notice his watery eyes. “Is that what helped you get through what happened with Alyssa?”
Now he’s staring up at the sky. “It took a long time, but I buried myself in my work—kind of like you do—and after a while I realized that wasn’t enough. You’re just putting off what needs to be done.”
I wait for him to look at me. “And what’s that?”
“Live. You have to live the life you want … look forward instead of back.”
“And how long did it take before you were able to do that?” I ask, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“I’m still working on it. It’s a constant search for happiness.”
I think long and hard before what I say what’s on my mind. It’s something I’ve wanted to say to him for a while. “Her death is not your fault, and it wasn’t his either.”
There’s a long silence again. Maybe I overstepped my bounds, but I needed to say it.
“I don’t want to argue,” he finally says, “but that’s something I’m still working through. My opinion might change down the road, but it’s something I struggle with.”
This is a point I’m not going to push. Alyssa was his sister. He knew her all her life, and I can’t imagine what it was like when she took her own life. I can’t imagine.
I pick the remnants of our lunch up and throw it in a nearby trashcan. When I get back to our table, I don’t sit down, but I hold my hand out to Pierce instead. “Ready?”
His eyes widen. “Where are we going?”
I shrug. “You’ll see.”
We passed a playground on the way in. It reminded me of when I was a little girl. I used to swing for hours, dreaming of what the world had in store for me. It was a form of meditation; I always felt like the weight of the world was off me when I was done.
I pull him straight to that playground, finding two empty swings.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he remarks, his hands on his hips.
Grinning, I say, “I played your game. It’s time for you to play mine.”
“I could fire you, you know.”
“But you won’t.”
I sit on the swing, kicking my heels off in the sand. Pumping isn’t easy with long legs and a pencil skirt, but the emotional benefit hasn’t changed. “Aren’t you going to join me?”
“You look a different kind of beautiful with that smile and the wind blowing through your hair. I might just stand here and watch.”
“Pierce, if you don’t get on that swing right now, I’m taking the next plane out of New York, and I’m leaving you to deal with Wade all by yourself.”
He throws his hands in the air, showing mock fear. “I’m not scared of Wade, but I don’t want you to leave so you win.”
If I look ridiculous on the swing, he looks outright crazy. He does his best to get it going, and I can’t help but laugh.
He smiles genuinely, lifting his legs in the air. “For the record, I didn’t really think you would leave if I didn’t do this. It just looked kind of fun.”
“While we’re on the record, that different kind of beautiful comes from within … because you make me happy. I like how happy looks on you, too.”
“Are you flirting with me, Ms. Fields?”
“Take it how you want,” I laugh, pumping my legs faster until I’m a few feet higher than him.
For almost an hour, we play that game—trying to see who can go higher while reminiscing about our childhoods. For once, I’m just in the moment.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I LET YOU talk me into stepping foot into Wade’s conference room again.”
The elevator door closes, lending me a few seconds to smooth my red pencil skirt and straighten my black blouse. I read in an article not long ago that said wearing red to a business meeting shows strength. Since a suit of armor would look ridiculous, this is all I got.
“Quit fidgeting,” Pierce says, coming to stand a few inches in front of me. “If you looked any more beautiful today, he wouldn’t hear a damn word you had to say.”
My eyes cautiously float up to his. He’s got that look again. “Stop doing that. Besides, now I have sand stuck to my legs, I smell like a French fry, and the sweat from our little park workout probably washed all my make-up away.”
The corner of his mouth turns up. “Stop doing what?”
“Looking at me like that … flirting.”
He presses his hand to the elevator wall causing the sleeve of his suit to brush my cheek. “I don’t know any other way to look at you, and I definitely don’t understand how the truth got confused with flirting. Besides, I think you did a little flirting back at the park yourself. My memory isn’t the best, but I do remember that; I practically framed it.”
The scent of him. The closeness of him. The memories. It hits me all at once—a long lost desire pooling between my legs … something I haven’t felt in months. This could be so right … could be. Without another thought, I lean into him until my chest is pressed to his. His warm breath hits my lips and then we collide. It lingers, neither one of us wanting to let go … neither one of us moving.
I’m lost. We could be on a deserted island. We could be on packed sidewalk with the whole world walking by. We’re nothing but two lost souls found in a moment.
Just as he starts to press for more, the elevator dings, forcing us to slowly pull apart until I see into his eyes again. “We need to talk about this later,” he says, leaning in just enough that I think he might kiss me again. Or maybe I just want to get lost again.
The elevator doors open, and his hand is wrapped around mine pulling me forward.
I want to kiss him more, but there’s a little voice in my head telling me to stay away. Yet, the more time that passes, the more I wonder what is holding me back, and the guilt starts to wash away. Blake left me. It was his choice … not mine.
Wade’s conference room hasn’t changed. The arrogant look on his face hasn’t either. “It’s nice to see you again,” he remarks, eyes scanning the length of my body—from my sleeveless blouse to my fitted skirt, not stopping until they hit my black high heels. Pierce did the same thing when I walked on the plane earlier today; his stare just didn’t leave a sick feeling in my stomach.
“Likewise,” I answer, struggling to pull my lips into a smile. “I didn’t think I’d be back.”
Fingers curl against my back. “Behave,” Pierce whispers behind me. I almost forgot that he’s standing there. Chess only has two players after all.
“I knew you’d be back,” Wade chides, holding his hand out to me as he steps closer. I take it, wrapping my fingers tightly around his, not because I want to feel his snaky skin, but because I want to show the power I possess. I’m not the same Lila I was when we last met. A metal shield around my heart keeps it from breaking or bending. It’s left my mind to think without interruption, and I could care less if I offend this guy.
When I let go of his hand, Pierce still has hold of my shirt, keeping me from moving forward. “I see you’re starting out with your regular pleasantries,” Pierce remarks, his comments pointed at Wade this time.
Wade holds his hand out to Pierce. He accepts, and I’m finally free. “Oh, come on, Stanley. You should know how I am by now. Quit acting like anything I do surprises you.”
Pierce laughs. “It doesn’t but don’t consider that a challenge.”