Gramercy Nights (The Argo Press Trilogy Book 1) (12 page)

Elizabeth gazes lovingly at her son before turning back to me. “Are you coming to Thanksgiving this year?”

I smile nervously. The Stuarts have been trying to get me out to San Diego for Thanksgiving for as long as I’ve known them. And every year, I end up telling them no. The holidays are hard enough. I don’t think I can handle being with their perfect family, remembering everything I’ve missed out on over the past few years. “I’ll think about it,” I say, knowing that my mind is already made up. I just don’t have the heart to tell Elizabeth no in person.

She smiles at me kindly. “We’d love to have you. The house is so quiet now. We’d love the extra company.”

“Plus, mom makes a mean pumpkin pie.”

“I do love pumpkin pie,” I say, hoping they’ll drop the subject. When mom was alive, Thanksgiving was always just the two of us. I’d help her cook, relishing in the time together in the kitchen, the smell of onions sautéing in butter.

I’m not ready to let those memories go. Or replace them with new ones.

When our food arrives, Connor cuts off a large piece of his steak and puts it onto my plate without asking and I shovel half my fries onto his plate. His parents watch in silence, a funny smile crossing his mother’s lips.

“So, what are you two getting up to later?” Julian asks as I dip a French fry in some ketchup.

“I have work in the morning,” Connor says glumly.

“Good. It builds character.”

Connor groans and takes a bite of his steak. “Yeah, it’s good. Everything at the magazine is coming along nicely. The new issue is amazing.”

“I’m looking forward to getting it in the mail.”

“Julian was delighted to see your name among the contributors in the spring issue,” Elizabeth says. “He was bragging to all his friends that he knew a famous poet.”

“Translator,” I correct.

“You’ll always be a poet in my eyes,” Julian says.

We slip into silence as we eat. The food is delicious. And the steak that Connor ordered is divine. Perfectly cooked and just a little bit bloody. I lick the salt from my lips and wash it down with a sip of beer.

My phone starts buzzing on the table as I’m finishing up my burger, Sebastian’s name flashing on the screen.

“I have to take this,” I say apologetically and they just wave me away. I stand, answering as I make my way towards the front of the restaurant.

“Hey,” I whisper, pushing outside into the cool evening air.

“Hey,” Sebastian responds, his voice soft and subdued.

“I’m out to dinner so I can’t really talk.”

“That’s okay. Are you free tomorrow night?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Great. There’s an opening at the Met. I’d really like to take you. I’ll send a car to pick you up at six?”

“That sounds great.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, Sebastian breaks the connection.

When I return to the table, the waitress has already passed around dessert menus. I’m stuffed and ask for an espresso, but when the chocolate cake that Connor ordered arrives, I can’t help myself and he pushes the plate between us so we can share.

After dinner, Connor’s parents both pull me back into their arms, hugging me warmly. “Please think about Thanksgiving this year. We’d love to have you,” Elizabeth says in parting and I promise that I will.

“You realize my parents think we’re dating and that I’m too much of a chicken shit to tell them, right?” Connor says casually as he walks me towards the L train.

“Seriously?” I laugh and Connor looks away.

“Come on. You’re my best friend. I talk about you all the time. In the absence of a viable alternative…” He shrugs.

I place a hand on Connor’s arm and feel his biceps tense under my palm. “Connor…”

He takes a deep breath and does his best to smile at me brightly. “They’re really stoked about your meeting,” he says, changing the subject.

“Will you thank them again for dinner?”

“You know they love taking you out, but yeah, of course I’ll thank them.”

Connor gives me a tight hug and then I skip down the steps to the subway, eager to be home. I can’t help but feel like Connor wanted to add something right before I left but held himself back.

Whatever it was, I’m glad he kept his mouth shut.

At home, I change into pajamas and sit on my bed, thinking about what Connor said. About his parents thinking that we’re together. Sometimes it seems like everyone thinks we’re an item, and there are times when I wish it were true. Connor is perfect. He’s smart and funny and handsome and he cares about me. The only problem is, I’ve never seen him as anything but a friend. Sure, I’ve thought about it. Hell, we’ve even slept together. But we both woke up the next morning realizing that it was a mistake.

Still, I’d have to be crazy not to wonder what it would be like if Connor and I were together. If we were more than just friends. I’ve seen the way he looks at me sometimes. Like there’s something on the tip of his tongue that he wants to say but can’t. And every time he keeps his mouth shut, I’m silently grateful.

When my mother died, I lost the only person in my life who mattered. A year later, when I met Connor, I was a mess. A complete and utter disaster. At the time, I thought I was in control. That everything was fine. But looking back, it’s easy to see how much of a front I was putting on. I was alone and terrified. I pushed myself, with work and with school, so I never had to think about what had happened. Because if I stopped, even for a second, I thought the whole world would come crashing down on my head. My roommate Margot caught me more than once coming out of the bathroom we shared, eyes red, but she never asked and I never told her. We became friends, but it wasn’t a friendship borne out of shared confidences. We went out. We partied. We stayed up too late watching bad television.

And then I met Connor. I never thought the cocky kid in my lit class would end up being the most important person in my life, but he is. He was the person I opened up to one night about my mom, after one too many beers, Connor who walked me home that night and stayed with me, stroking my hair as I finally let it out, crying until there was nothing left. Connor who has seen me at my worst and just keeps standing by me.

I don’t know what I did to deserve him, but now I can’t imagine my life without him in it. He’s become my family. Connor and Margot. My adopted family. I can’t begin to count the number of nights the three of us have spent together, just hanging out, the time passing in a blur.

I love Connor. I’ve probably loved him since we first hung out, but it was that night, when he sat with me in my twin bed, holding me, that cemented it. So why can’t I just be in love with him? Why can’t I want him that way? I’d be lucky to have someone like Connor. Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe he doesn’t think of me as anything but a friend. But I can’t help but wonder.

Sebastian sets my skin on fire. There are butterflies in my stomach whenever I think of him. My skin prickles with excitement. It’s a reaction I can’t deny. Maybe it’s just lust. He’s new and exciting, whereas Connor is safe and familiar. He’s home. Connor would never hurt me. He’d do anything to make me happy.

Somehow, that thought depresses me. I wish I loved Connor in that way. Wish I could think of him that way. But I can’t. Sleeping with Connor was a mistake, but that’s what being young is all about. Making mistakes. Connor isn’t the type of guy you have a fling with. He’s the guy you end up marrying. The man you make a home with. The father of your children. Who cares for you and cherishes you and makes you feel safe.

Too bad he’s not the one I want, because my life would be a hell of a lot simpler if he were. But he’s not. I want Sebastian so badly it scares me. Because I know it’s only going to end in heartbreak.

Sebastian Casal is many things, but he’s definitely not the forever type of man.

Chapter Fifteen

Sebastian’s assistant appeared at my door first thing in the morning with several shopping bags for tonight. Dress, shoes, even lingerie. I couldn’t believe it. If I were the type of girl who fantasized about high-end clothing, it would have been a dream come true. Instead, it made me feel a little queasy. That is, until I saw the delicate black lace wrapped in tissue paper and my heart started to flutter with excitement. There’s something so intimate, so forward, about Sebastian picking out my undergarments. I held up the lacy demi bra, admiring the intricate handiwork. It was stunning. And when I tried it on, it fit me like a glove, the soft cups barely containing my nipples as it lifted my breasts.

He’d thought of everything. Or so I thought, until I searched through the tissue paper and realized there was one thing missing. He’d sent silk stockings. A lacy garter that matched the bra perfectly. But no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find panties.

You forgot something
, I texted Sebastian playfully, knowing full well that Sebastian isn’t the type of man to forget anything.

I don’t want you wearing panties when you’re with me. I like knowing I can have you wherever, whenever.

I feel my sex go slick with desire as I read his text. Slowly, with care, I dress in everything that Sebastian bought. Of course everything fits perfectly. The sleeveless black cocktail dress hugs my curves while the silk stockings and garter belt make me feel like a pin-up from a bygone era.

At five to six, the buzzer rings and I slip into my jacket and out the door. My heart is pounding in my chest as I make my way downstairs and it hits me just how nervous I am at the prospect of seeing Sebastian for the first time since our fight.

Outside, Sebastian is leaning up against a limo in an elegant black suit, looking devilishly handsome and completely out of place on my quiet, residential street. His dark wavy hair is pushed back and there’s the hint of a five o’clock shadow along his jaw. Just the sight of him sends a familiar flutter of excitement through me, and I have to admit, evening wear works on him. The jacket emphasizes his broad shoulders and narrow waist, doing nothing to mask the lean power of the muscles beneath.

His face lights up when he sees me, his eyes roving hungrily over my body before settling on my face.

“After you, Miss Sutton,” he says genteelly as he holds open the door for me. I catch the barest hint of his masculine cologne as I brush past him and slide into the backseat of a limo for the first time since my senior prom.

“You didn’t need to get a limo,” I say with a laugh. The roses, the dress, the limo. And I realize it’s a scene out of
Pretty Woman
. It’s like he’s trying to woo me, which is ironic given the circumstances. He has me. He’s had me from the start. And I think he’s known that this whole time.

Sebastian gives me an amused look. “I said I wanted to take you out and I meant it. I want tonight to be perfect.”

I look away. When Sebastian looks at me like that, it’s as if the whole world dissolves around us, and we’re all that’s left. Sebastian brushes his hand lightly against my cheek, making the hairs on my arms stand up. His touch is electric, powerful and inescapable. It’s terrifying and yet, I don’t want it to stop.

“Would you like a drink?” His smooth voice makes me look up and I find myself nodding. “Good. Now why don’t you take off your jacket.”

I’m suddenly aware of how warm I am, though I have no way to know if it’s the ambient temperature or my body’s reaction to Sebastian’s proximity. There’s the pop of a cork, and then Sebastian is once again sitting next to me, his body so close I can smell his cologne again.

“That dress looks fantastic on you,” he says, passing me a champagne flute. He lets his fingers brush mine, setting off another spark of electricity.

I smile up at him. “Someone has very good taste.”

“I’m curious to see if everything else fits as well.” He leans in, his breath warm and teasing on my neck and I can feel my skin prickle with excitement and my nipples harden. “I’ve always loved a woman in stockings. They’re so,” he pauses, making me hold my breath, “so sexual. I can’t understand why tights have become so popular.”

I laugh. “They’re convenient.”

Sebastian wrinkles his nose. “There’s nothing sensual about convenient. Convenient is what you settle for because you’re lazy and complacent. No, stockings and a garter are designed for seduction. And seduction, Danielle, should be slow.”

I swallow hard as Sebastian’s fingers flit across my knee. “Well aren’t you just the romantic,” I joke.

“You don’t have to be a romantic to know it’s that extra effort, that denial of gratification, that makes the end result all the better.”

I feel the heat rising to my face and I take a sip of the champagne.

Sebastian stares at me for what feels like an eternity before adding, “You have no idea how beautiful you are right now. How happy I am to have you here with me.”

Sebastian’s words set my skin on fire and I can feel it all the way to my toes, this sudden awareness. I’ve never reacted to anyone the way I do to Sebastian. This need. This hunger. And the knowledge that in Sebastian’s hands, I’m able to feel things I’ve never felt with any other man is intoxicating.

Sebastian brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re stunning when you’re turned on. It’s as if I can see every emotion that passes across your face, every thought and fear and desire. You’re an open book, just waiting for me.”