Stay With Me (4 page)

An image of him on top of me caused me to shift in my chair.

“Everything alright, doll?”

“Yes, of course, Mag, I’m just a little hungry,” I lied. I probably wouldn’t have been able to ingest a single thing.

“Now that we’re all here, we can order,” Ash said, while taking the menu into her hands.

The waiter came over to us shortly thereafter and took our orders. I opted for a plate of tagliolini in a squash and scampi sauce, but when the young man placed the plate in front of me, I had to keep myself from running to the bathroom and throwing up.

I kept turning over the strands of egg pasta with my fork, while all around me I could hear the others conversing amiably. I’d been quiet for almost an hour, though every so often I’d offer a smile, as fake as a three-dollar bill.

Fortunately, I’d never been an emotional girl, otherwise I would have found myself crying desperately in front of everybody in the restaurant.

That would have certainly made Ashley feel proud of herself.

I poured myself some water, taking special care not to cross glances with Andrew, and looked at my watch: 10:40 p.m. More than anything else, I wanted to run home and take a shower to wash away the evening. It probably wouldn’t have helped much, but it would have been a relief.

I felt Ash’s eyes on me. Maybe she was waiting for me to explode, my final surrender.

How little she knew me.

I gathered my courage and placed my napkin on the table. “I’m going to the powder room,” I said. My announcement attracted five pairs of eyes.

“Of course, Zoe, it’s just before the exit on the right,” Ashley said in a tone too high-pitched to be genuine.

I stood without saying anything. My brain was too busy coordinating my movements to allow me to do much. My legs were mush, and my heart didn’t know how to go back to beating in a regular fashion.

I reached the bathroom door by sheer luck, and when I grabbed the handle, I realized how much I was trembling.

When the door closed behind me, I looked around: on my right was the women’s bathroom, and on the left was the men’s. Connecting them was a small lounge with a double sink, a makeup area, and a divan.

I could have remained here for the rest of the evening.

I approached the sink and leaned my hands on the cold black marble. A loud sigh escaped. I was still in disbelief . . . what was happening in the other room could not be real.

Andrew was about to marry Ashley.

What God could have allowed something like this?

But above all: what did she have that I didn’t?

In a few short months, she would be Mrs. Cooper.

I had only represented a fleeting adventure in Andrew’s life, something that had little meaning. Someone he probably hadn’t even thought about until I was right in front of him again.

The door suddenly opened, causing me to jump.

“I’m almost finished . . .” I murmured.

“I had no idea, Zoe.”

My heart skipped a beat once his voice reached my ears. It was no longer cold and detached like before, but enveloped me.

It took me a moment to respond, as I looked at his image in the mirror, and everything seemed truly surreal, bordering on insanity.

Andrew was in the bathroom, behind me. Why?

“It doesn’t matter.” My words were nonsense. Every muscle in my body was still, immobile, frozen. I focused on washing my hands.

“I didn’t know you and Ashley were friends,” he insisted, as though it was important for him to justify himself. It made no sense, because the memory of the day he’d left was still vivid—his harsh words spoken with brazen simplicity and a calm expression. They had made me feel like one of the minor deals he’d wanted to close in a hurry.

Maybe he was making this great effort to trick me into going to bed with him again . . . No, he wouldn’t go that far.

“I said it doesn’t matter, Andrew,” I burst out.

“Your behavior indicates otherwise,” he observed in seriousness.

“You don’t know me at all. How could you be so presumptuous as to think you’re in any position to interpret my behavior?”

“I think you’re angry at me, Zoe.”

“I’m not interested in what you think, and I’m amazed you’re interested in the behavior of someone who wasn’t anything more to you than
just a waitress
.” I grabbed a towel to dry my hands.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I was surprised to see you again, and I didn’t know what to say.”

I turned slowly to look him in the face. “You said the truth,” I said, trying not to seem hurt. “I was just a waitress you’d fuck once in a while. Not the only one, and certainly not the most special one, therefore you didn’t lie. You just left out the part about the sex, but I can understand why.”

“Zoe—”

I cut him off. I didn’t want to hear anything else. He had no reason to justify himself to me. I was no one in his life. Every word would have been out of place.

I looked into his eyes and for a moment, I saw something new, a light that was different from the cold one glare he’d always had. But it was too brief to understand what it meant.

“Andrew, years have passed. And since you didn’t owe me any justifications back then, you owe even less today.” I smiled. “The bathroom is all yours.” I went past him and inhaled his fragrance, the same as back then. Bergamot.

But in the moment I was about to open the door, his hand grasped my elbow.

“Zoe, I’m sorry,” he said, without letting go of his grip. My eyes darted from his hand to his eyes.

“Let go of me,” I hissed.

“I’ll only let go if you tell me you believe me.”

“You’re insane.”

I wasn’t that naive to let myself be taken in by him.

There were nights over the past four years that I hadn’t managed to close my eyes because of him, and I wasn’t about to ruin myself for some sweet talk.

But it was silly to have those fears. I was already ruined. Broken, defective. Like my heart, which would never be able to love anyone the way it had Andrew.

“I’m not crazy; I’m only telling you what I want,” he said.

“You want me to believe you?” I asked. He nodded as I clenched my teeth. “Too bad, as I couldn’t care less about what you want.”

He squeezed me harder. “Tell me you believe me.”

“OK, I believe you,” I lied to make him happy. “Now leave me alone. You’re hurting me.”

He let go as though he’d been burnt and looked at the light redness on my skin.

“Zoe, I’m sorry.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Fuck!” he said, and it was only then I realized how worked up he was as he shifted from one foot to the other and his jaw twitched.

“Andrew, it’s time for me to get out of here. And let’s pretend nothing happened here”—to pronounce the words, I had to swallow a mouthful of bitterness—“or four years ago. Agreed?”

He nodded, though it seemed more like a gesture of vexation rather than consensus.

But I let it go and while I crossed the threshold, his voice went straight to my heart and I nearly cried.

“I’ve missed you, baby.”

4

I had no idea what was happening.

I sat on the bed, staring into nothingness for an eternity. I’d returned home from what could have easily been the third-worst night of my life.

I felt hollowed out. All of those feelings had turned me upside down, leaving me in pieces. The fact that I couldn’t shed a tear didn’t mean I was doing well. Allowing myself to surrender to my feelings was rare. I’d become that way after my parents’ accident.

The worst night of my life.

In the last few years, I’d only cried a couple of times: the night Andrew left me and the day I gave birth. The feelings were different, but they were both intense and deeply felt.

I rubbed my face, trying not to let the memories overwhelm me.

But it was too late now. They were invading my head.

“Zoe, bring the wine to table eight.”

“Which one do they want?”

“Brunello di Montalcino, 2008.”

I nodded. How people could spend more than a hundred dollars for a bottle of wine remained a mystery to me. That money would have gone a long way in paying my monthly bills.

“Do I need to bring anything else?” I asked Greta, who was trying to open a frozen bottle of vodka.

“No, but please, give them special treatment. They’re important customers.”

“Aren’t they all?” I asked rhetorically.

“Yes, Zoe, but they are even more so.” She clenched her teeth and finally managed to open the bottle. “Greta, one, vodka, zero!” she declared, raising the bottle as though it were a trophy.

I laughed. “Of course if you’d put it under warm water for a few seconds, you would have avoided all of this unnecessary exertion.”

“You!” She pointed at me. “You’re wicked. Why didn’t you tell me that right away?”

“And miss out on all the fun?”

“Zoe. For your own good, walk away. I wouldn’t want the bottle to accidentally make contact with your head.”

I hurried to table eight. I had a habit of not observing the customers too much. I listened, wrote things down, served them, and left, and that’s what I did with table eight as well.

There were two men and one young woman.

“Who will be tasting the wine this evening?” I asked.

“I’ll taste it,” one of the men said. I poured two fingers and awaited his response, my eyes cast down at the tablecloth.

“It’s perfect,” he said in a velvety voice.

I gently put the bottle inside the wine bucket. “May I bring you anything else?”

“No,” the young woman curtly replied, and then continued her story.

I offered a small nod and excused myself, not returning to table eight since it was in Greta’s section. I continued with my customers without giving table eight another thought.

“Zoe,” Greta murmured as she took my hand and accompanied me to the wine cellar. “Did you notice the gorgeous hunk of a guy at table eight hasn’t taken his eyes off of you?”

“What?” I furrowed my brow.

“What do you mean, ‘what?’ Don’t tell me you didn’t notice anything. You’re hopeless, Zoe.”

“You know I never stop to look at the customers for very long,” I said.

“OK, but him . . .” She sighed dreamily. “God, he’s gorgeous, and you’ve got to see his eyes. In any case, they’ve asked me for the check, and you’re going to go take it to them.”

“And why should I?”

“God, Zoe, that man wants you. You should have seen how he was staring at you.”

“Greta, you know I don’t date customers. Besides, I’m positive you’re mistaken.” I looked at her calmly. “May I go now?”

She shrugged. “Do what you want, but I think you’re making a big mistake.”

She was wrong—if I’d let it go, I would have certainly done the right thing. Instead, once I entered the dining room, my head was swirling, and in the end I gave in. I raised my eyes toward table eight and I saw him.

He was beautiful.

Incredibly beautiful. His eyes immediately caught my attention. They were the sort of blue that tended toward gray, but there was so much more behind those irises. When he laughed, he only used his lips. His eyes remained impassive. They looked like orbs of ice due to the coldness they transmitted.

I stood there, inspecting him with bewilderment.

He ran his hand through his dark hair, which was a bit messy, and it was in that moment that our eyes locked. I managed to hold the glance for a few seconds, and then I lowered my head from the embarrassment. My cheeks were probably the color of cherries.

I turned and tried to calm my heart. I didn’t have many rules in life, but one was indisputable: I never went out with customers.

When I left the restaurant, it was around four o’clock in the afternoon. That week I had the day shift, and at that time of year it was ideal: night fell early and the cold showed no sign of diminishing, so ending then gave me the chance to hole up in my shoebox of an apartment and spend my evening with Meg Ryan and Julia Roberts.

I’d planned on watching
Erin Brockovich
and ruining my stomach with the worst type of junk food. I’d barely managed to turn the corner when I heard someone call out to me.

“Zoe?”

I turned around slowly. “Yes?”

“I didn’t mean to startle you, and I’m not a maniac,” he started very quickly.

“Well, that’s not a bad introduction,” I said, amused.

He scratched his head. “You’re right. I’ll start over.” He extended his hand and I shook it. “Hi, my name is Andrew. I know your name because I asked your weird coworker for it.”

“Hi, Andrew, taster of fine wines. It’s a pleasure meeting you, and yes, my coworker is very weird.”

“You remember me?” he asked, revealing a certain satisfaction.

I nodded, aware of having divulged too much.

“Are you going home?” he asked, flashing a smile that would have broken any heart. And in that moment, it became clear that my number-one rule was about to be tossed out the window.

“Do you live far away?” he continued.

“About a twenty-minute walk from here.”

“May I accompany you?”

I looked at him. “Why would you want to?”

“Never answer a question with another question. And besides, you seem alert. You should be able to answer your own question.”

I looked at him carefully. “Yes, I’m smart enough to know that the answer to your question is no.”

“You’re going to hurt me like that?” he said as he theatrically brought his hand to his heart. The gesture caused me to burst out laughing.

“Tell me, Andrew, does your approach usually work?” I asked.

“I don’t usually need it,” he said. “Normally, it’s you women who beg me to enter their—”

I raised my hand to stop him. “Don’t continue; I get it. Now, my dear wine-taster, I must go.” I started walking.

“The only thing I’d like to taste is you!” He threw it out there, taking my breath away.

In my young life, I’d witnessed many pickup lines, but none had been as direct.

“I’m sorry,” I said, secretly thrilled. “But you’ll have to make yourself content with the wine.”

He rubbed his chin. “For today, I’ll make myself content.” He took a step closer to me. “But just for today, Zoe.” He kissed my cheek and left, leaving me entirely confused.

That same night I was relaxing on my favorite easy chair, with my legs on top of the armrest and an enormous bowl of popcorn on my belly, when I got a message from an unknown number
.

I meant it today. I want to see you again soon. Andrew.

I stared at my phone, surprised and uncertain about what to do. Greta must have passed along my number as well. The temptation to reply was strong, but my conscience was split between my inner good girl and inner bad girl.

The good girl said to immediately delete the message and turn off the phone. The bad girl, on the other hand, prodded me to reply, and explained that at my age, a little bit of adventure wouldn’t kill me. Plus, Andrew was a real fox.

In the end, the good girl won out. I didn’t reply, deleted his message, turned off my phone, and went back to watching the movie. Or at least I tried to.

After a restless fifteen minutes on the couch, I finally forced myself to get up. I couldn’t stop thinking of his message and hit myself on the forehead. “Stupid!” I yelled.

Damn it, why couldn’t I just let myself accept the advances of a handsome young man? So what if it was just a fling? I had to stop rationalizing everything. For once I could seize the moment without trying to find a thousand faults with it.

I reached over to the side table and turned on my Nokia. I scrolled to incoming messages, but like a fool, I’d deleted it.

Instead, the words “1 new message” appeared on the screen. I opened it with great anticipation, hoping it was him again.

The fact that you haven’t replied doesn’t change the fact that I want YOU. Andrew.

I rubbed my eyes to be certain of what I was reading.

Despite the fact that I was alone, I blushed like an adolescent. I put my hand on my cheek, which was burning. If this guy was turning me on in a text message, imagine what he might be able to do in person.

I decided to take a chance and throw myself into the adventure without worrying about what it would mean for me and my heart. I followed my instincts instead of reason and quickly punched out a message.

9 p.m. at 23 California St. Zoe.

I hit send without thinking twice and covered my face with a throw, embarrassed at what I’d just done
.

How silly. As though someone could see me.

I’d really done it!

I’d invited a stranger to my apartment. It certainly wasn’t a smart move. In fact, it was quite irresponsible. But damn it, I wanted to do the wrong thing at least once.

A few hours later I was in my living room anxiously watching the clock: 8:44 p.m. I was nervous, even if I knew perfectly well what was about to happen. Andrew hadn’t answered my text message, but there’d been no need. He was coming. Every cell in my body was convinced of it.

Just to be safe, I’d let Greta know about the evening ahead of me, but she’d reassured me that Andrew was well known and that nothing would happen to me.

I’d had no idea I was about to have a date with some sort of superstar entrepreneur. I decided to do a quick search on him.

There were hundreds of photos and articles on Google about him. They confirmed that he wasn’t a serial killer, but also that he was very popular with women. The same type of woman: tall, blonde, and beautiful. They were so different from me that I wondered what strange reason he had in wanting to get to know me “better.”

The ringing of the phone rescued me from my thoughts.

“Hello?”

“I’m downstairs.”

“I’ll buzz you in. Third floor, first door on the right.”

He ended the call without saying anything else, and I went to open the door as my heart pounded furiously in my chest like a jackhammer. The moment had come. There was no turning back.

Once I saw him standing in front of me and saw how handsome he was, it took my breath away. He wasn’t wearing a suit, but plain jeans and a gray hoodie, which covered his head and part of his face.

I looked at him and smiled. “Are you a secret agent, perchance?

“No, we maniacs love dressing like this,” he said as he walked past me to enter the apartment.

My nostrils delighted in his scent. It was one you didn’t forget. One that could cause you to relive every moment associated with it years later.

I breathed in deeply, trying not to make a show, and closed the door behind me.

“You entrepreneurs like to go incognito?” I asked while he looked around.

He raised an eyebrow. “I see you’ve done your homework, Zoe. It pleases me.”

“I just wanted to be sure I wasn’t inviting a crazy person into my home.”

He lowered his hood and revealed the full beauty of his face. His hair, freed from the gel, fell messily onto his forehead. His square jaw was smooth, without the trace of a beard, and his well-defined lips seemed made exclusively for kissing.