Then There Was You (27 page)

A week later I got another text from Chris. After the wonderful conversation we’d had, I’d kind of expected it to be sooner. I was pulling my hair all week. The endless phone checking interrupted my entire week, my job, and my time with Alexis. I was distracted, daydreaming like a teenager with a crush. I couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed with each passing day.

Chris: It’s been a busy week, but I just wanted you to know that I can’t stop thinking about you.

I nearly giggled when I read his text, and suddenly a week felt like nothing—until I was standing in line at the grocery store and saw all those tabloid pictures on the magazines.

Chris had been photographed with several different girls. One photograph was taken mid-hug, and in another he was holding one girl’s hand while they walked.
What the hell?
I slammed my grocery items on the conveyor with such force that the cashier gave me a funny look.
Don’t take it out on the produce, Salem.

I immediately deleted his text.

Two days later, he texted again while I sat in the parking lot waiting to pick up Alexis after school.

Chris: Didn’t hear from you. Wondering if you got my last text? Hope you’re doing well. Passing through Charlotte in several weeks. Are we still on for dinner?

Ugh.
I’d forgotten about my promise to cook for him. The forever-loyal Salem took control of my fingers and typed out my response, despite my efforts to beat her back down.

Yes. We’re still on.

A new text immediately popped up.

Chris: Great. Can’t wait to see you.

Can’t wait to see me? Yeah, me and ten other girls…

I wanted to forget those photos and bring myself back to how I felt after we talked the other night, but I couldn’t. So, I added a new emotion to this constant craziness—jealousy.

Tommy caught me texting Salem again. “Damn, son, whoever this chick is… she’s got you whipped. You do realize there are a lot of sexy, young women out there who are just dying to get with you.”

“None like her,” I admitted out loud. Tommy didn’t have a clue. He never really even understood the depth of the feelings I had for Kaitlyn, so to see another woman having this kind of effect on me was of no significance to him.

Tommy was a man-whore. This life on the road was an endless buffet of ass for him. It could’ve been for me too, and it was at one point when I was trying to get over that weekend at the beach with Kaitlyn, but I was over it. No one night stand could compare to this feeling.

Days had gone by and I hadn’t heard from Salem. Not since my last text. I missed the sound of her voice already. Being on the road sucked ass. I endured long, all-night bus rides where I tried to catch up on sleep. I fought through endless crowds of women, all grabbing at me and touching me, but who meant nothing to me. I wished I had time to call her every day, but my schedule just wasn’t always conducive to that.

“What are you gonna do while we’re in NYC?” Tommy asked as he practiced a few riffs with his guitar.

I shrugged. “Haven’t decided yet.”

“It’ll be nice to have a couple days off,” he said, strumming his fingers across the strings. “I was thinking I might head over to Allentown to visit my folks.”

I nodded, lost in thought.

“Hey, you should fly that chick you’ve been texting up here and get her outta your system,” he said with a wink.

I didn’t always listen to Tommy and his crazy fucking ideas, but for once I thought he might be on to something. “Yeah,” I said, nodding, “good idea.” But much to Tommy’s dismay, getting Salem out of my system was the last plan on my agenda.

I was busy repainting the hallway when I heard the knock at my front door.

Wiping my hands on my shirt, I realized I was covered in paint, and I was pretty sure I saw some drops in my hair when I passed by the mirror in the hallway.

I peeked through the window. A man in a suit leaned toward the peephole and flashed his ID card.

“I work for Chris King, ma’am. He sent me here,” his muffled voice called through the thick door.

Recognizing him immediately, I opened it. “You’re Pete, right?” I asked. “I met you in Charlotte.”

Pete smiled. “Yes, ma’am, I remember,” he said, tipping the fedora he wore on his head then thrusting a box into my hands.

“What’s this?” I asked, turning it over in my hands.

“A gift from Chris. He asked that you open it immediately. I will return within an hour.” The man shrugged. “Chris’s orders.”

I looked at him, confused. “Orders?”
Hmmmm, what’s this about?

“One hour, ma’am,” he repeated and spun on his heel, retreating to his car.

“Okay, thank you,” I mumbled, looking at the box and closing the door behind him.

I opened the package, lifting the lid carefully. Inside the box lay beautiful, black sleeveless dress, with lace across the shoulders and back, a pair of designer black, strappy heels, and a very expensive matching clutch purse. A handwritten note was sticking out of the handbag.

New York City? The whole weekend with Chris? Although my immediate response was a backflip in my head, the adult in me mulled the idea over for a minute. I wondered if I’d be back in time to pick up Alexis from volleyball camp or what I would do if she needed me while I was gone. Of course, her dad was only a phone call away, and she could always ride home with Olivia if my plane was delayed. Then I questioned all those tabloid pictures I’d seen. Did I really want to spend time with a man who couldn’t keep it in his pants? Actually, yes… yes I did… but not necessarily for that reason.
Or is it?

I returned the note to the box and pulled out the dress. Holding it up to my body, I wondered what he had planned. The dress was from an expensive designer. One I could never afford. I held it up to me, admiring it in the mirror, suddenly feeling very pampered.

Then, it hit me…
I am going to New York City to see Chris!

Since Alexis was away at volleyball camp for the weekend, Chris couldn’t have timed the trip more perfectly. I quickly typed out a text to let her know where I’d be, that I’d see her on Sunday, and if she needed anything while I was gone that she should call her dad.

I stared at Chris’s note and his handwriting, that same messy scrawl I remembered from his journal all those years ago. It was then that I remembered the paint in my hair and my unshaven legs. I grabbed the box and flew upstairs to my bedroom, tossing it on my bed along with my suitcase. Time was ticking.

I showered, shaved my legs, and blow-dried my hair in record time, then stood at my closet door longer than I wanted to, trying to decide what to pack. I hadn’t seen Chris in a while, and I wanted to look young and sexy, but not immature and easy. There was a very fine line between the two. Tearing through my dresser, I stuffed items into my suitcase as quickly as I could, running down my mental checklist when Pete rang the doorbell.

Carrying my new black dress in a garment bag, I hesitantly opened the door. I felt too self-conscious in my thirty-eight year old body to think about being stuffed into a sexy, little black dress heading off to NYC with a much hotter, younger man.

Pete said with a grin, “Ready to go?”

“Yes, I think so,” I muttered, worriedly grabbing my suitcase.

But Pete stepped in. “I’ll get it.”

I walked ahead of him, toward the waiting car, glancing back once to the window of my bedroom, my safe place. For a moment I considered ditching Pete and crawling into bed with my e-reader to forget this whole thing.

Chuckling, he said, “I see you washed the paint out of your hair from earlier.”

The smile in his tone calmed my nerves. “Yeah, it took some time, but I finally got it out.” I self-consciously patted my newly washed hair.

Pete held the car door open for me and I slipped inside. The fresh smell of new leather invaded my nostrils. There was nothing like the scent of a new vehicle.

As I relaxed into the luxury, I suddenly wondered how many women had been whisked away for a weekend getaway with Chris.

“Just so you know,” Pete said as if he could read my mind, “Chris has never done this before.” When I cocked my head with an expression of confusion, he added, “You know, bought a plane ticket to spend a whole weekend with a girl…”

I kept a straight face, though I was dancing inside. “Really? Never?” I barely refrained from adding,
Never ever?

He nodded, giving me a once over. “You must be special.”

I didn’t respond because, honestly, I didn’t know what I was, and I didn’t want to open up to Pete about it. I barely knew him. Smiling to myself, I stared out the window as the trees and buildings blurred by.

The flight was pleasant—no real turbulence and no screaming babies. I relished the quiet hum of the plane as we sliced through the clouds. I didn’t really think my nerves were getting the best of me until we touched down at LaGuardia. Suddenly, I felt my stomach clench into a ball of nerves. I took some deep breaths, trying to relax. After all, it was just Chris—same old Chris—but different in so many ways.

When I got off the plane, I quickly found a bathroom to try to work a miracle after being stuck on that stuffy airplane. I hastily brushed my hair, applied fresh makeup, and slipped into the beautiful dress that Chris had given me. Standing in front of the mirror, I stared at my reflection, trying to calm my frazzled nerves.
It’s just Chris
, I reminded myself again. Giving my reflection a final glance, I crammed all of my belongings into the bag, and headed off to find Chris.

At baggage claim, I saw him before he saw me. In any other airport he would’ve been mobbed with fans, but in New York City celebrities were a dime a dozen. Onlookers passed by him without a second glance.

He was leaning against a concrete pillar, scrolling through his phone. His biceps bulged in his taut, black oxford shirt that was partially unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A chained necklace hung around his neck, and a silver link watch wrapped around his right wrist. His hair was spiked and gelled in that same hot, sexy mess I remembered from last time while he sported a pair of slim-fit, flat front, gray dress pants that accentuated all the right assets. I was ogling his amazing physique when he looked up and caught me. For a brief moment he was mesmerized then he leaned his head against the concrete pillar and closed his eyes as if he were taking a moment to gather his thoughts. Reopening them, he studied me, and I suddenly felt hyper aware of every flaw, wondering if there was any lipstick on my teeth or if I’d missed a patch of hair on my legs when I’d shaved.
No time to feel them now.
I nervously smoothed the wrinkles on my dress and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.