The Palms (2 page)

Of course she did.

“What the hell?” she muttered under her breath. “After all this time?”

Why did Trent have to show up here? Why now?

“I’ll get you another drink,” Jason said from behind the bar, interrupting the protests that sounded in her head. “Maybe a stronger one?” She nodded her head at him quickly before turning her attention back to the man who’d stopped her heart.

A few more ticks of stalemate passed before Trent stood up from the bar. He leaned down and said something to the woman next to him. By now, the bartender who tended that section of the long bar had delivered their drinks. Trent’s date nodded at the bartender and tossed a smile at him. She didn’t look at Lauren — didn’t even notice her. Instead, the woman picked up her drink, took a sip, and pulled out her cell phone as Trent walked away.

Meanwhile, Lauren watched Trent leave the bar. Her eyes followed him as he strode into the center of the room, his athletic frame just one of many at HMF that night. Her eyes took in his grey slacks, black polo shirt, and dark Sperry Topsiders as he moved further away from her. If they talked to each other again, would he see into her soul the same way he did all those years ago? Did he still have the same abs she remembered? He certainly had the same gorgeous face. How would she handle it if he did talk to her? Why did he leave her so long ago, without so much as an explanation? What had happened to him since he left? Could he still make her laugh the way he used to when they were kids?

She let out a long sigh as she decided he didn’t plan to speak to her. Maybe she’d be able to let this uncanny encounter pass. Probably for the best. Perhaps the past was just that — the past. She could hope. And hope. And hope some more.

Just as Trent made it to the center of the room, he stopped. He looked to his left, then his right, and put one hand in his left pocket. Lauren wondered what he was thinking, and she contemplated a quick exit out of the back of the bar. If she left right then, maybe he wouldn’t notice. The Breakers was a huge hotel with plenty of exits and even more places to hide.

“Excuse me, sir?” Lauren thought quickly. Jason turned in her direction from the bar and she continued. “Did I forget to tell you the order’s to go?” She pushed onward as the bartender frowned. “Yes — I’m so silly. I meant to tell you that.” Lauren fished around in her leopard print bag. “Let me see, where that card... is… oh... right. Here it is. Just charge it, please.” She handed Jason her American Express. “Sorry about the mix up.”

Meanwhile, her thoughts stayed on Trent. They didn’t have to encounter each other again after this. She could pretend for the rest of her life that this brief encounter with Trent Matthews had never happened. Right?

Seconds later, she got her answer.

In the middle of the wide room, Trent Matthews turned around and faced her. He fixed his eyes on hers, pinning her to her bar stool as he walked over to where Lauren sat. As he moved toward her, his stare never left hers. Not even once he reached her seat.

“Hello,” he said. The greeting came out confident, but also low enough that she knew Trent only wanted her to hear it. He added a half smile. “Good to see you again.”

Lauren didn’t answer right away. Instead, she broke the gaze, glanced over at her drink and saw Jason had replaced it with a fresh one. On the inside, she cursed Jason for being so good at his job. On the outside, she picked it up and took a long, casual drink of the cocktail.

“Hi.” When she spoke, her words came out softly too.

She didn’t add anything else. She couldn’t bring herself to say more. Not right then. In the silence, Trent leaned in a little closer to her. Lauren couldn’t tell if he did this for effect, or if he just wanted her to hear him over the din of the other people in the bar. Either way, the move ruffled her.

She hated being ruffled. Hated it.

“I looked over and I couldn’t... it's you, isn’t it, Lauren?” Trent asked. “After all this time — you’re back. Here. In Palm Beach.”

“Yes,” she replied as she tipped her drink at him. She took another swallow, and the effects of the alcohol started to take hold in her body. Thank God Jason made this cocktail about two times stronger than the last one. “It’s me, Trent.” She smiled and drank more of the cocktail. She hoped she sounded flip and unfettered — the exact opposite of the way she felt inside.

Trent smiled back at her, a grin so familiar and at the same time so annoying. He looked, as he did years ago, like a boy who knew he had the whole world as his personal playground. The thing of it was, this boy had now become a man. And the man looked even better that the boy. She hadn’t thought it possible. Well, for years she had tried not to think about that at all. But right then, she knew it was true.

She’d have to keep herself in check. For sure.

“What are you doing here, Lauren?”

“What does anyone do here?” She shrugged. “I’m staying at my family’s place. Just thought I would take some time to relax, and get away from Ohio.”

She added a vague, breezy gesture toward the rest of the room. By now, HMF didn’t have single table or bar stool open. All around the room, people passed drinks and laughed at stories about golf scores and European cruises. No one noticed the strained, awkward conversation happening at the corner of the bar.

“I haven’t seen your family down here in forever,” Trent muttered.

“That’s because they haven’t
wanted
to see you.” She paused as Trent flinched. “And I stopped coming down with them once I went to college.”

“You look happy, Lauren.”

Lauren gave him a saccharine, sarcastic smile. “I am happy. Life’s good in Cincinnati. And I’m starting a new job in a couple of weeks—” She broke off, aware she’d just offered him more information than she had planned to.

“That’s good.” Trent looked down the bar in the direction of the woman he’d left behind. Lauren did too, and saw the woman still staring at her phone.

“So. Who’s she?” Lauren couldn’t help asking the question. This was Trent Matthews, after all. She had a right to be a little direct. In fact, she probably had reason to be
more
than direct.

“A friend,” Trent said dismissively, embarrassed to realize he couldn’t even remember her name. He faltered on what to say next. “Just a friend.”

Lauren saw his eyes wander over her black peplum dress. She chose to ignore the action. “Well. She’s a very beautiful friend.”

“She is.” Trent leaned a little closer to her, fully ignoring whoever he’d come with to HMF. As he did this, Lauren got a whiff of his aftershave. “I wish someone had told me you were coming back to the island.”

“Why?” Lauren raised a sculpted eyebrow and lowered her voice to a sexier octave. “So you could ban me? I think this island is big enough for the both of us.” Her flirtatious defense cracked just a bit. “And it’s been ten years.”

“More like ten minutes.”

“Maybe for you.”

“Maybe for you, too?” Trent looked down at his watch, a large, silver designer number that showed both the date and the time. He never went a day without it wrapped around his wrist because he liked the security that it brought him. “Listen, I’m thinking—”

“Here is your sushi, Miss.” Jason set down a to-go bag.

Trent held up his hand to stop her and Lauren thought she saw something like panic flash across his face. “Wait. You’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s early,” Trent said, a little flustered. He even gaped at her. “You shouldn’t leave yet.” He pointed at her drink. “Besides, it doesn’t look like you’ve drank enough of these. Surely you want another one.”

“Want and need are two different things, Trent.”

“Well, maybe you
need
another one, then.”

Lauren shook her head. “It’s been a long day,” she lied. “And I’m very tired.”

Another member of the wait staff placed the check in front of her; she picked up her drink and gulped down the last few drops of it. Trent watched her do this, but it didn’t cause Lauren to break. She wouldn’t let him delay her. Not tonight.

“How long are you here?” he tried.

Lauren opened the checkbook.

“A few days,” she said as she signed the check without stopping to examine the charges. “Maybe a week. Just a quick getaway.” She closed the black sleeve and grinned at him. “It was nice to see you.”

“Wait… ugh… nice… nice to see me?” Trent sputtered. “Nice to see me?”

“Yes.” She got up from her barstool, aware at that instant that in this conversation, she now had control. “Nice to see you.” She picked her purse up from the bar and grabbed her food with her other hand. They stood only inches away from each other, now.

“Wait. Where are you staying, again?” Trent asked. Something in his voice rang out as desperate, as if he would do anything to keep her at the bar. Lauren bit back a smile, half liking the fact that he seemed that way. Maybe this reunion had left him as unsettled as it left her.

“Look. Why does it matter to you?” she chided, but she told him anyway. “My family’s place. Like I said.” She looked into his deep-set eyes and hesitated as they ensnared her once again. After a few more seconds, she found her voice. “Now, really. I should go.”

She took a step backward to widen the space between them. Maybe that would work. It might break the magnetic hold he had over her. Perhaps it would snap the attraction she couldn’t deny. But of course, it didn’t.

Trent closed the space with a step that mirrored hers. “Have breakfast with me, Lauren,” he pleaded. “Something casual. Tomorrow. Nine AM.”

Lauren took another step back as she studied the man before her. Something about him that kept her there, in the middle of the bar, even though she knew inside she should run. He’d managed to hurt her, and even ten years later, that pain stung her core. Nothing about Trent Matthews said breakfast would be a good idea. Still, she wondered...

“Hmm. Why should I?” She looked away from him and over at the other restaurant patrons, hoping the move made her look casual. “We haven’t seen each other in so long—”

“Exactly,” he insisted. “So that’s why we should.”

He grinned at her again, and Lauren shook her head at him as she felt her gut tighten and twist. She wouldn’t allow him to sweep her up again — not without an explanation of what happened the last time she saw him. She deserved at least that much and she knew it.

“Green’s Pharmacy. Tomorrow.” He put his hand out, yearning to place it on her arm, and then he stopped himself. He didn’t have those kinds of privileges anymore. Not with her. No matter how much he wanted them. “Just say you’ll be there.”

“Green’s Pharmacy? I haven’t been there in forever.”

He nodded. “I love that place.”

She bit the inside of her lip and considered all the pain, sadness, and frustration of ten years ago. It overwhelmed her as she thought about it, so she shook her head no. “I shouldn’t... it’s better if we don’t...”

“Please, Lauren.” His shoulders sank and his breath came out hard as the tension rose around them. A few strands of hair fell out from behind her ear, and when they did, he reached out to touch them. She tossed him her best stoic gaze, and his hand fell back to his side. “Give it a chance. It’s breakfast. Just be there.”

She considered his offer again, taking in his handsome features, the way light stubble covered his square chin, and how the skin wrinkled around his eyes and set off their grayness. She shook off the attraction and kept her tone indifferent. A glance at her watch wrenched her away further.

“Maybe.”

“I’ll be there. And I hope you’ll show up.”

“Goodnight, Trent,” she said. Before he could say anything else, she grabbed her to-go bag, turned on her heel, and walked out of the bar. As she did so, she made sure she didn’t look back.

December 7, 2012

8AM: Palm Beach Biltmore Condos

hen Lauren’s alarm on her iPhone pinged the next morning, she stayed in bed for about five minutes and debated going back to sleep. As she lay there, the Florida sun streamed in through the gauzy curtains of the condominium’s bedroom and tried to stop her efforts. The rays hit her face, and she heard the noise of the island as it woke up. It all beckoned her to get up, but so did something else.