Come Undone (17 page)

“No,”
he said, looking out the window. “I don’t have the time. Hopefully one day
though.” Turning back to me, he added, “Canyon. His name is Canyon.”

I
smiled and raised my water glass. “To a speedy recovery,” I said and clinked
his glass. I was rewarded with a smile.

The
waiter set down two juicy, stacked burgers with leafy side salads. I hurriedly
devoured my salad and looked up to find him grinning at me.

“Hungry?”
he asked, echoing his earlier inquiry.

“Well,
yes . . .” I stopped, embarrassed.

“What?”
he prodded.

“Actually,
I hate salad, but my dad always made me eat it.”

“You
know your dad isn’t here, right?”

“Mhm,
but I feel like I have to eat it anyway, before I can touch anything else. It
sounds stupid when I say it out loud,” I shrugged.

“Interesting,”
he mused, nodding. “Delayed gratification.”

“Hmm?”
I asked, chewing a forkful.

“Nothing,
just soaking up everything I can about the elusive Olivia Germaine.”

I
felt my face heat and, in an attempt to slow down, unceremoniously stabbed a
couple leaves. “Well, don’t. We’re here to discuss you. How long have you known
Arnaud?” I asked.

“Since
I started with Pierson/Greer. Eight years maybe.” I went to pull out my notepad,
and he touched my wrist. I drew back, startled by the unexpected contact.

“Let’s
just talk, we can do that later.”

“All
right,” I said, willing my heartbeat to slow. “So Arnaud, he’s also an
architect?”

“He’s
the other senior architect. A brilliant one, actually.”

“Oh.”
So he’s not going anywhere
, I thought.
“Is he married? Single?”

“Why?”
David eyed me suspiciously. “Are you considering him for the article also?”

I
almost choked in response. “God, no.” I said, shaking my head. “I was just
trying to soak up . . . your world, or whatever.”

He
laughed. “He’s single. Eternally.”

“Must
be a hazard of the job,” I muttered.

“It
is,” he responded with a straight face. “We work a lot. Developing a
relationship can be tough.”

I
nodded understandingly. “Are you looking for something serious? Is that why you
agreed to do the issue?”

“Yes
and no. I’ve been ready to settle down for some time, work makes it hard
though. Women say they can handle my schedule but they always want more. It’s
not really the reason I decided to play along, though.”

I
took a big bite and chewed slowly, trying to decide if I was irritated by his
choice of words. “Bill works a lot too, and the firm is always sending him out
of town. He’s a lawyer,” I added. “But I guess you knew that. Probably because
he doesn’t have kids, he’s one of the first people they turn to.”

His
lack of response caused me to look up from my food. He looked thoughtful as he
examined his plate.

“So,
if I were interviewing you, the next thing I might ask is where you went to
college.”

“Yale
for undergrad, and then Architectural Association in London.”

I
felt suddenly inadequate.

“You?”
he asked.

“Oh,
Notre Dame.”

He
smiled. “My father went there. It’s a great school, isn’t it?”

“Mine
too.”

“Well
what are the chances? Wonder if they know each other?” Dimples formed at the
edges of his mouth as he grinned.

“What
does he do, your father?” I asked.

“He’s
retired now, but he was a CEO.”

“Of?”
I asked even, though I knew the answer.

“GQS.”

Why did I ask?
How do you respond to that?
“That’s . .
. that’s a good job.” He looked at me and we started laughing.

“It
was,” he agreed. “They just moved back to Illinois a few years ago.”

“How
did you like London?” I spat out before he could ask about my parents.

“It’s
beautiful. One hell of a place to study architecture. Have you been?”

“With
my parents as a child.”

“What
do your parents do?”

“My
dad is a consultant in Dallas, and my mother is a novelist.”

“Is
your mother a novelist in Dallas?”

I
shook my head and tried to avoid his intensifying stare.

“Divorced?”
he asked. I nodded. “When?”

“Right
before high school.”

“That
must have been hard.”

I
cleared my throat, wiped my mouth with a napkin and shrugged.

“How
did you end up here?” he asked.

“I
chose Notre Dame because of my father, and because it was the best school I was
accepted to. Gretch was going to University of Chicago so I liked that we
wouldn’t be far. After graduation, Lucy and I moved here to live with
Gretchen.”

“Did
you always want to live here?”

“Actually,
no. I thought I would end up in New York City.”

“Really?”
He raised his eyebrows at me. “You’re so close. Why not move?”

“It’s
complicated,” I said, shaking my head.

“How
so?”

“Boring
stuff. What else ya got?”

He
didn’t miss a beat. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where - ”

Spain
, I thought,
not needing to hear the end of the sentence.

I
shrugged. “I don’t know. You?”

“Yes
you do,” he countered, narrowing his eyes at me.

Can’t a girl have any secrets? Why
does he ask so many questions?
I continued chewing leisurely,
studying the way he studied me. “I don’t have time to think about that.
Besides, Bill doesn’t like taking vacations.”

“That’s
a shame. I guess I wouldn’t like fantasizing about surfing perfect breaks or gorging
on oysters if I knew it wasn’t going to happen.”

I
stopped mid-chew.
Damn. I can totally
envision him sporting a surfboard, sucking down an oyster . . . .
I
clenched my jaw.

“Anyway,
wherever it is you have hiding in your head, you’ll get there. You seem like a
girl who knows what she wants.”

“I’m
hardly a girl,” I bristled, surprised by the assessment. Although these days I
felt close to a self-indulgent child, walking the tightrope between fantasy and
reality. But I couldn’t tell him that.

“How
old are you, anyway?”

“Well,
Mr. Dylan, I fancy that’s not a very polite question.”

“I
see. Is politeness something you look for in a gentleman?”

“Is
that not a defining characteristic of the gentleman?”

“Touché.
Is politeness something you look for in a
man
?”

I
stopped myself from gulping. “Hey now. Leave the personal questions to me. And
I’m twenty-seven,
anyway
.”

“Well.
You are a baby.”

“Why,
how old are you?”

“Thirty-four.”
I had thought as much. “I’m ancient,” he added.

“Not
even.” I waved my hand and took a sip of water. I shut my mouth but my
curiosity was piqued. Bill was just thirty, yet David seemed older and more distinguished.
And until Bill, my only experience with an older man was when I’d lost my
virginity to a junior in college when I was a freshman. Something told me this was
different.

“That
was one tasty burger. I’m so full,” I said, making a face.

“Really?
I could eat another one.” I laughed when I realized he wasn’t joking. “I’ve got
this,” he said, pulling out his wallet.

“Oh,
no,” I insisted. “I might even be able to expense it,” I chirped. “Beman would
be thrilled to - ”

“I’ve
got it.” His tone was stern.

“No,
really - ”

“Olivia,”
he said with that same authority that had caught my attention before. I shrank
in my seat.

“Is
this because I paid for our drinks at Jerome’s?”

“You
didn’t. Sherry didn’t charge us. Something about me looking upset and that I
could use a break.”

I
gaped at him. “Did you . . . ?”

“What?”
he asked innocently.

I
blinked furiously, trying to decide if I should laugh or scream.

“You
think I went home with her because she comped my bill?” His laugh filled the
restaurant. “Relax,” he said. “I’m not as bad as you think. She did get a
decent tip though, thanks to you. Don’t pull that again.” I nodded mindlessly,
feeling like I had no choice but to obey. I watched him settle the bill,
surprised at how natural his company had been. Despite his jesting, I felt
comfortable, as though we’d been longtime friends. It was just one more thing
to feel confused about.

~

“Come on,”
he said. “Let’s take the Riverwalk. You can see the hotel from there - it’s
part of the charm.” I followed as he led the way and soon we were winding our
way along the water. There was so much more I yearned to ask him, to know about
him, but we walked in easy silence, and it was equally as pleasurable.

The
sun was high. Fluffy, dense clouds spotted the sky. The Chicago River gleamed
with the reflection of the sun, as if it were covered in gold sequins. There
was a slight chill in the air and it felt nice; everything seemed like it was
just as it should be.

“That’s
it,” he said. I tilted my head back and took in the imposing building. I had
seen it before because it was impossible not to notice. It started with a slate
grey base and seamlessly faded into steely grey mirrored glass. The building
defied logic by curving outward along one side, dipping in and then bowing out
again slightly, almost like the letter ‘B’. “What do you think?”

“It’s
something else, David.”

“Is
that good?”

I
turned my body so I was facing him, shielding my eyes as I glanced up at his
face. I searched for a hint of humor but saw none. “Do you really need me to
tell you?”

“Yes.”

I
turned my head back, squinting against the sun. “It’s unexpected. I love how
it’s all glass so it reflects the blue of the sky and the water, but . . .
there’s this sort of silver sheen to it, right? Against the stone slabs –
what color is that, graphite? It’s almost . . . fluid?” When I realized I was
rambling, I became self-conscious. “This isn’t exactly my area of expertise,” I
finished, blushing.

“No,
you’re right,” he said, shaking his head quickly. “I’m sorry. I just love
watching you talk.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and started toward the
entrance while I stared after him. “Coming?”

I
jumped to attention, taking long strides to catch up. Large palm trees sprung
from the ground, greeting us as they lined the walkway. “Palm trees?” I raised
my eyebrows.

“This
will all be grass,” he said, motioning toward the empty lots by the entrance.
“And,” he continued, lighting up, “this will all be open. The lobby is entirely
glass with sliding doors that will stay open during the warmer months.”

I
walked over and touched the stone, surprised at how rough it felt, despite its
smooth appearance. I remembered the contrasting feel of the cool marble of St.
Patrick’s Cathedral. Clean grey edges and long rectangular windows structured
the front of the hotel. I had visions of waves crashing and foaming against
black sand beaches.

David
slid the door aside and motioned me through. “Welcome to the Revelin Resort.”

“Dave!”
someone called from across the hollowed out room. A sturdy man approached,
immediately engaging David in conversation. I wandered around the room,
envisioning what it would become. It wasn’t much to see because of the
construction, but I admired the al fresco vibe David had incorporated with
large windows that spilled natural light.

I
looked back in his direction. Three different people stood before him now, each
one looking to him for something. His presence at my office had been
overpowering, and it was just as much so here, even in all the empty space.

He
stopped talking suddenly and looked about the room, uneasily it seemed, until
he spotted me watching him. That current lasered between us in an instant.
There was much unspoken, but I felt bound to him in an inexplicable,
supernatural way. He came to me, leaving behind questioning faces, and I
crossed my arms to keep from reaching out to him.

“Are
you okay?” he asked as he approached.

I
didn’t trust myself to speak, so I just nodded up at him confidently, trying to
convey what I felt with my eyes. He placed a cautious hand on my shoulder, and
the heat seared through my blouse, stinging the flesh directly beneath it. Broad
shoulders acted as a shield to anyone who might be watching our restrained
contact. I was painfully aware that it was the closest we could be without
serious consequences. I studied his face, noting how the creases deepened with
concern.