We walk the short distance to the café and grab a table. Murphy’s Law deciding to bitch slap me for my deceit, Jordan walks in with a few of the other principals a few minutes later. I want to slink to the floor beneath our booth, but I sit, staring as he moves with his group to a table no more than five feet away from ours. He catches sight of me within moments, and with a clenched jaw he takes a seat that allows him a position where he can keep his eyes trained on me the whole time, and he does just that. I catch him watching me every time I dare to glance his way. He’s studying me, but not glaring at me. I deserve it, and yet he is calm.
When Bridget and I are finally finished with lunch and ready to leave, I ask for the check, but the young waitress blushes quickly as she informs me the gentleman two tables over has taken care of our check for us, and then she clears our plates with one final comment. “He’s really quite handsome, isn’t he?” Yes, he is.
I follow Bridget from the table, and she stops to thank Jordan for picking up our tab. I do the same, trying very hard to sound casual. His eyes are holding mine, refusing to look away, and as I utter my thanks he comments, “My pleasure. Glad you decided to take a lunch, Adeline.” I blush at his words as my eyes widen and flit from his, but he’s not done speaking. “I need you in my office at two o’clock to discuss the Market Street project.” I nod quickly before escaping from their table.
Bridget eyes me curiously on the walk back to our office, and she spends a good deal of time contemplating something before speaking again. “Is everything going okay with Jordan? He’s never really worked with an intern before … I’m just curious. He can be a bit … intense.” She has no idea. I shrug, saying everything’s fine, but my mind is still focused on him. He watched me so carefully, so intently, and his gaze did nothing but remind me just how much I’ve given up by pushing him away. I want him with a pain that is hard to stomach, and when I get back to my desk I spend the next two hours focusing on anything at all but him. I fail, and come two o’clock I’m nearly shaking in nervousness and a good deal of anticipation.
***
She’s terrified of being near me, and as she takes the chair across from me at my desk, I want to approach her, touch her, hold her, assure her she shouldn’t feel this way with me, but I can’t do that anymore. It was her choice, and I respect it. I hate it, but she was right to put a stop to it. What do you even call a few amazing days of fucking? A relationship? Hardly, but with her, it felt very much like that.
She struggles to look at me for more than a moment, so I do my best to move our meeting along quickly, hating that I’m working to separate myself from her just to make her more comfortable. I want her comfortable with me, not ready to jump out of her skin at my presence.
We review the inventory orders she’ll be placing for our project that afternoon. There has been a significant change in the lighting fixtures we’ll be using on the project after a last-minute meeting with Trigg that morning. They loved Adeline’s choice of original vintage fixtures from a now-demolished Chicago railroad station. They were expensive, and if the budget got tight, I knew they’d be one of the first items to go, and so it was. I don’t like a fake knockoff fixture in a building of this caliber, but it’s not my decision, nor is it Adeline’s.
I give her the item details for the cheaper fixtures she’ll be ordering instead, and as her face registers her disappointment at their choice, I reassure her. “You’re not always going to get what you want on a project, but I agree. The fixtures you chose were perfect for the job, and I made sure they understood our disagreement. They’re trying to cut costs, and they’re using one of your elements to do it. I’m sorry.”
Her face shows a flash of appreciation at my words, though she has yet to say a word to me in her damn nervousness. She’s antsy and looks as though she’s ready to flee, but I’m not passing up this opportunity to bridge the gap between us. “Adeline, I’m sorry about last night. I’m sorry if you felt I was taking advantage of you. I certainly didn’t mean to or want to, but…”
“No. I don’t think that at all. I’ve never felt that way.” She’s struggling to find the conviction of her words. She’s struggling to get past her discomfort with me, knowing she has to respond … and eventually, she does. “I just don’t want to see either of us ruin our careers for something that’s not going anywhere anyway.” Now it’s my turn to shut down. Her words are more than a mirror in front of my face. They’re sobering.
I made it clear I wasn’t interested in a relationship with her, and she took me at my word. What did I expect? But a relationship is exactly what I want with her. It’s a risk to both of us, given her current position at Foster’s, but it won’t always be that way. She’ll graduate, her time here will be done, and I want to be there when that happens, but that’s apparently not at all what she wants.
If those words aren’t enough, she leaves me ready to break apart with her next. “I’m moving back to Iowa once I graduate.” She’s watching me, looking for a reaction, and like the asshole I am, I give her nothing. Inside it’s as if my world is ending, but from her perspective she sees only my stone-hard exterior. “I haven’t found a job yet in Chicago. No one wants a recent college grad. They want experience I don’t have. Chicago’s just too competitive for someone fresh out of school … and I was offered a position at a small firm in Des Moines. I figure if I start back home, someday I’ll have the experience larger firms in larger cities are looking for.” It’s like she owes me an explanation. Her nervousness, her discomfort with me is there, but she keeps stumbling over her words to explain.
She wouldn’t be the first graduate to realize just how competitive this market is, but she’s selling herself short. She’s making excuses. She landed our coveted internship for a reason, and to think there will be no firms in Chicago interested in the Foster’s intern is ridiculous. Hell, my recommendation alone should get her more than enough interviews to find something. She’s given up, and I can’t help but think it may have something to do with me. This project has been hard on her. She’s been tormented by a pathetic freak of a man, Vera has treated her like dirt every last chance she’s gotten, and hell, I was hardly kind when she first started here. Though these thoughts are whirling around in my head, I still say nothing.
I want to argue, but suddenly my heart is on my sleeve, and for a man who likes to hide his away in the darkest recesses of his mind, it’s uncomfortable, especially given the vulnerable state she’s left me in by ending our relationship—whatever that word even means anymore. She’s the first woman I’ve wanted to keep since my ex-wife destroyed my world when she left me, and I’m going to let her slip away because I’m too afraid to fight for her. A flash of self-hatred washes over me as I continue to watch her, giving her no reaction whatsoever. I’m frozen in my fear of showing myself. Using my body to show her how she makes me feel is easy, but now that is gone, and I’m left wanting to confess what is in my soul, but so far outside of my emotional comfort zone I can barely breathe. Will I watch her slip away too afraid to let her see me?
I had stupidly been looking forward to working with Adeline after she put me and my cock in our place. I wanted to have her begging me to fuck her and watch as she crumbled from her want. She wants me, and the uncomfortable, sad desire buried in her eyes is all the assurance I need of this, but I’m now a shady asshole of a man who wants to protect her from myself. I’m sick and tired of having to face my shortcomings with her. She’s nothing but a constant reminder of how despicable and selfish I can be, but at the same time she has me wanting to be better.