Keaton was now the new CFO, and despite the Maxwell Medical rulebook, he and Gwen had made their casual fling official. It seemed sudden and Fate told them so. Life was short, they’d both said. Once they’d realized their feelings for each other, they hadn’t wanted to waste precious time.
Why spend another second apart if it makes us both miserable?
Gwen’s words had struck entirely too close to home.
“It isn’t that I necessarily feel the need to be tied down personally. It’s that, if I didn’t tie her down, she wouldn’t let me tie her up.” Keaton had thankfully missed his calling as a stand-up comedian.
Fate rolled her eyes more than once during their engagement dinner. But her friend was happy and constantly smiling. Joking aside, when Keaton looked at Gwen, Fate saw the kind of love and adoration on his face that she could only hope to see one day when a man looked at her. And that was what mattered.
Dean was there as well, wearing black dress slacks and a designer shirt the color of ocean water, but a bevy of beautiful women kept his attention for most of the evening. Fate downed her glass of champagne from the happy couple’s toast and handed Gwen her gift. It was a simple silver bracelet made of the infinity symbol. The inside was engraved with the words ‘congratulations on finding your forever.’ Her friend’s eyes filled with unexpected tears when she opened it.
“I’m glad you like it.” The women hugged and Fate pulled back first. “This is a beautiful party and it was lovely meeting your parents, but I think I’m going to call it a night.”
Gwen nodded, glancing over her shoulder at Dean with a look that would’ve struck a lesser man dead where he stood. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Thanks.” Fate was grateful that her friend hadn’t tried to talk her into staying. Her black, strapless dress was far too tight, her feet ached, and her head was a little fuzzy from the champagne. That didn’t even include the knots seeing Dean flirting with other women was tying her insides into.
“Do you think I’m crazy?” Gwen whispered as they made their way outside of the Plaza Grand.
“No,” Fate told her honestly. “Crazy was me wearing these stilettos and thinking I could walk around in them all night. I think you’re very brave.”
Gwen smiled. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re brave too. And you deserve the best. If the asshat we work for can’t see the forest through the silicone-implant-bearing trees, then to hell with him.”
Fate swallowed the lump of hurt feelings that had grown at seeing Dean with his fan club. “Thank you. Looks like I’m the one in the market for a new roommate now, huh?”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, lady. We’re going to have a long, long, loooong engagement. Keaton still needs about three more years to hit thirty and actually grow the hell up.”
Fate smiled at her friend. “If I haven’t said it yet, I’m happy for you. I knew the first time I saw him kiss you goodbye that the two of you had something special. Also, when you’re picking out bridesmaids dresses, keep in mind that I refuse to wear anything yellow. Just saying.”
A cab pulled up to the curb and Fate saw Dean and a seemingly tispy, giggling blond woman she didn’t recognize coming out of the hotel doors.
“I should go. I won’t wait up,” she told her friend hurriedly. “Enjoy your night.”
“Fate. Don’t tuck tail and run because of him. Please.” Gwen’s eyes were round with sympathy.
“It’s silly, right? It was one weekend. He was very clear about what he wanted and I agreed to it. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.”
Gwen watched Dean hailing a cab beside them. When she spoke, her voice was lower than before. “I don’t think anything is wrong with you. And I have a spy on the inside, okay? Keaton isn’t exactly the best keeper of secrets, particularly since I do things to him that his best friend does not.”
“There’s a mental image I didn’t necessarily need.” Fate bit her lip. “But, um, what does Keaton say?”
“You’re not the only one who fell that weekend, Fate. And despite how hard Dean Maxwell is trying to convince himself and everyone else otherwise, you’re not the only one hurting.”
Fate watched as he slid into the cab with his attractive companion. “Looks like one of us has already found a way to ease the pain.”
“I’
ve never been inside this building before,” the blonde informed him. “But it has fabulous natural light.”
Callista O’Connor was the interior decorator who’d helped him redesign his office. She was now going to help him redecorate his apartment and then eventually the new beach house he intended to buy. He sure as hell wasn’t ever returning to the old one.
Unable to even fake enthusiasm for his best friend’s engagement while Fate had been there looking positively edible in a black, strapless dress and stilettos he only wanted to see over his shoulders, he’d been distracted and miserable.
“Go home, for fuck’s sake,” Keaton had said. “Take a party favor with you please. Hell, take two. If you don’t stop pouting,
I’m
going to have sex with you so you can move on with your life.”
“Too bad you’re already spoken for,” he’d said dully.
Even verbal sparring with his best friend hadn’t soothed the gaping wound in his chest. A few mere feet away, Fate had smiled and laughed and sipped champagne with lips he ached to kiss.
There wasn’t a cure for this, whatever it was.
Just like his party at Lux not so long ago, beautiful women—many who were more than willing to accompany him home—surrounded him. And he had still been fixated on the one who’d eluded him. Just like before, she’d been within reaching distance but still out of his grasp. Except now he had a hell of a lot more than one memory to fuel his need for her. He also had a hell of a lot more regret.
Callista examined his penthouse room by room before rejoining him in the living room. “I have several ideas already. I’ll pull some samples and mock-ups together for you this week and bring them by.”
Dean was mid-pour on an antique bourbon. “Sounds good, Callie. Thanks for coming by tonight. I wasn’t really in the party mood.”
“I was ready to call it a night as well. Guess it was just a case of perfect timing.”
Dean nodded. “Guess so. Can I get you something to drink?”
She smiled widely. “I’ll have what you’re having.”
“Woman after my own heart,” he teased, pouring her two fingers of bourbon into a glass.
“Yes, well, I was there tonight. Didn’t really appear your heart was up for grabs.”
“Excuse me?” He handed her the glass and took a long swallow of his own before sitting down on his couch.
“The brunette in the black strapless and four-inch slingbacks seemed to have full custody of your attention this evening.”
Dean had told himself that he could handle it, that he could remain professional and leave Fate alone. She deserved more than he had to offer and had made it plain and clear that she was now looking for that.
Looking
. As in actively pursuing. As in at any moment, including
this
very moment, she could be finding what she was looking for with someone else.
“Dean? Are you all right?” Callie’s eyes were filled with concern as she sat down beside him. “You looked strange for a moment, like you might be ill.”
“What? No, I’m fine. Long week at work.”
Just as every week would be. She’d pervaded every aspect of his day. Getting dressed, he thought of her in his shirts. Riding to work, he thought of her sitting beside him, reveling in the same kinds of music he enjoyed. At work, he could hardly think of anything other than her, knowing she was only a few floors below. Lying down at night, he felt as though his bed had turned to a cold stranger without her in it. How he wished he could return to the weekend at the beach house and hold her each night instead of wasting time trying to avoid being too close or crossing lines.
“I’d be happy to help you work off some of that stress if you’re interested,” the woman sitting across from him offered.
Dean assessed his companion. Callie was unquestionably attractive in every sense of the word. She was intelligent, successful, articulate, and accomplished. She’d built her design business from the ground up and had impeccable taste. But she wasn’t Fate. No one ever would be.
“You’re taking far too long to consider my offer, Dean.”
“Can I ask you something?” He set his glass aside and leaned forward.
“Of course.”
“When a woman says she wants ‘more,’ what do you think that means, specifically?”
Callie sipped her bourbon before lowering it onto a coaster. “Well, it depends on what you were currently offering. What do you think she meant?”
Dean stared intently at the two glasses setting side by side, his nearly empty and Callie’s with a heart-shaped lip print around the rim. “We agreed to one weekend only. No strings. Then, when the weekend was up, I offered to extend our arrangement beyond that.”
“Beyond the weekend or beyond the limitations of only a physical relationship?”
“Beyond the weekend. I said we could just do what we wanted until we didn’t want to anymore. Exclusively.”
“Like a friends-with-bennies thing?”
Dean scratched his jaw. “A what?”
“A friend with benefits. Fuck buddies. You know, people who just hook up without a serious commitment.”
“Well…yeah, kind of. I told her I didn’t really do relationships and she was good with that at first. Then we agreed to keep hooking up and I acted like an asshole. We had a…misunderstanding and I tried to talk to her about re-engaging our agreement or even a do-over, but at some point, she’d changed her mind and now she wants more. Whatever that means. And she doesn’t necessarily want it from me.”
Callie’s eyebrows had lifted in amusement when he returned his attention to her. “I see. Well, that sounds complicated. Which the Dean Maxwell I know doesn’t do. So maybe she isn’t the only one who’s changed her mind.”
“I’ve certainly changed my perspective on a few issues. But I don’t know if I ever want to get married and she’s been engaged already once before. My mom passed away when I was a kid and I’ve just always had this issue about not letting anyone in too close. Vows and rings aren’t the be-all, end-all. People can leave, you know?”
Callie nodded. “Yeah. They can. But how sad to think of spending our time in this life together just focusing on when it all could end. Some things don’t last forever. Hell,
life
doesn’t last forever. But what we have while we’re together is usually worth risking some heartache in the long run. Isn’t it? I mean, would you go back in time and not get to know your mom just because she wasn’t going to be around forever? Miss out on all the good for fear of the bad?”
Dean wanted to sucker-punch himself in the face. He’d done exactly the wrong thing—focused on when his time with Fate would be over, placed an expiration date on them, and limited the potential of what their relationship could be before they’d even had a chance. The only factor that had kept them from having more was his stupid deadline. They could have had more—a lot more—if he hadn’t tried to set parameters around their time together. The universe had given him a second chance and he’d blown it to hell and back.
“What if it’s too late? You saw her tonight. She didn’t even say hello to me.”
Callie laughed out loud and stood to leave. “Poor Dean. For a man recently crowned New York City’s Most Eligible Bachelor by single gals everywhere, you sure have a lot to learn about women.”