Who I Am With You (27 page)

S
taring at the firehouse, Duncan stood on the sidewalk, unable to move, as if invisible roots had grown through the cracks in the concrete and held him in place. Apprehension and embarrassment formed a complex ball in his gut, a reminder of his heinous actions. Any buoyancy he felt waking up next to Olivia faded with each throb of his swollen jaw, courtesy of Frank’s ham-sized fists. It’d only been a day since he stumbled into this building, but it seemed like a year. This morning, he felt every one of his forty-four years. Exhaustion pressed on his shoulders, making him a hundred pounds heavier, and he was not looking forward to facing the crew. Thank God Olivia hadn’t found any six a.m. meetings nearby to take him to. He wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with that as well as the shit-show he was about to walk into and the ass-kissing required.

Sucking in a bracing breath, Duncan walked through the open bay door and kept his head down. After tossing his duffel in his locker, he ambled into the kitchen where Frank and Alex were bent over steaming mugs of coffee and joined them at the table.

“Nice shiner,” Frank quipped.

“Worse than it looks,” Duncan answered. “Only hurts when I move, or breathe.”

“Good.”

Duncan glanced between his two friends, finding no easy forgiveness there, and his shoulders slumped. “Yeah, I’m sorry about ... everything.”

“Don’t be, you barely scratched me.”

“Are you okay?” Alex asked.

“No. Far from it, although I do believe there is a light at the end of the tunnel. It’s a long tunnel, but it’s there.”

“That was pitiful, Duncan.”

Duncan nodded at Frank’s statement, unable to think of anything else to say but, “Agreed.”

“Wait. What in God’s name is in your hands?” Frank demanded.

Duncan lifted the clear to-go cup from the Starbucks up the block. “This is an iced chai tea, gentlemen. Olivia bought it for me this morning, says it’s a healthier alternative to coffee. Do you know how much shit is in that cup of yours? And we drink gallons of it a day,” he repeated what Olivia told him earlier, neglecting to mention how she suggested he avoid any kind of stimulant such as caffeine, just until his system regulated.

They burst out laughing and Duncan shot them a glare. Alex recovered first.

“When did you turn into an eighty-year-old woman?”

“That’s pretty fancy stuff, cupcake,” Frank added.

“What can I say? It tastes great and is better for me.” He didn’t see the point of adding the cinnamon only made him thirstier or how the feeling healthy part was probably wishful thinking. Apparently, Duncan the Downer was not all the way gone. He concentrated on a positive note. “Olivia is a good influence on me.”

“You need one, for sure.” Frank took a long gulp of his coffee and Duncan had a sudden craving for the life-giving beverage. “Hell, if I were you I’d quit the force and be a kept man. Putter around her penthouse all day, sipping your tea with a frigging pinkie in the air.”

“Jealous?” Duncan fired back. “The place you live in is a step up from a crack shack and around the corner from cardboard boxville.”

“I know, but the aroma is what truly makes it home.”

“Aroma?” Alex teased. “You mean God-awful stench.”

Frank merely took another drink and changed the subject. “Are we going to talk about it?”

“Who’s an eighty-year-old woman now?” Duncan asked, knowing exactly where Frank was going with this.

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Talk to us, Dunc,” Alex prodded.

“It was the kid.” Duncan gripped his cup, so hard his fingers dented the plastic. “I couldn’t bounce back from hearing him suffer and everything spiraled out of control.”

“Spiraled is putting it mildly,” Frank said.

“After a heavy bout of drinking and pills, I went to Olivia.”

“Shit,” Alex whispered.

“Yeah. It wasn’t pretty. I said some unforgivable things to her. Then, I had the bright idea to come to work.”

“We all know how that turned out.”

Duncan rubbed his tender jaw. “I’ll repay the favor one day.”

“Something else happened, didn’t it?” The question came from Alex who was watching him closely.

“Short story, I had a revelation.” He wasn’t quite ready to spill it all. Eventually, just not yet. “Afterwards, I felt lighter.”

“Which might have had to do with the copious amounts of alcohol and no food.” Duncan cut Frank a glare. There were times his humor came at the wrong moment. Frank looked chagrined and said, “Sorry. It’s a disease.”

Duncan sighed. “I went to Leslie’s.”

“How was that?” Frank’s eyebrows shot up.

Leslie’s face materialized before Duncan, soft and radiant, much as it had been during their moment in the hallway the night before, outside the kids’ rooms. His chest grew tight and he swallowed thickly, hoping to dispel the warmth from spreading.

“It went okay.”

Alex must have noticed something in his tone. “Just okay?”

“We talked. We turned a corner.” He paused. “Into what, I have no idea.”

“A second chance?”

Frank’s question surprised Duncan and he shook his head. “I’m with Olivia. It’s rocky right now, but we’re together.”

“What if there was no Olivia?” his friend pressed.

“There is.”

“You wouldn’t want to take a stab at putting your family back together?” It was Alex’s turn.

“No. Yes. I don’t know. The fact of the matter is I care for Olivia. I can’t play stupid ‘what-if’ games.” Even if he did play them in the secrecy of his mind. “I don’t think I would have gotten to where I am now without Olivia forcing me to face the past and my present. I love Leslie, I always will, but I caused too much damage. From now on, I’m looking forward, not back, and Olivia is forward.”

“Deep,” Frank drawled, snapping the heavy moment as usual.

“Chill. This is an important moment for Dunc. He’s finding his soul and getting in touch with his feelings,” Alex said sarcastically.

“My bad. The real question is whether or not the lovely Olivia can handle your PMS.” Frank’s smirk stretched his mustache wide.

“Oh, I have PMS? I’m not the one who gets misty-eyed watching American Idol,” Duncan fired back.

“Hey, the kid had a story that tugged at the heart strings.” Frank stressed his point by flourishing his mug. “Of course, you’d have to have a heart to understand.”

Alex laughed. “You two sound like an old married couple.”

“Duncan couldn’t handle my needs.”

“I just threw up a little,” Duncan groaned.

“Now you know how I feel listening to you getting all heavy and mushy.”

Duncan fixed them with a hard stare, but it didn’t work. They continued to grin at him like lunatics. He loved these bastards. No matter how bad he got, these two stuck by him, and he was still trying to figure why. Their filthy comments or manly insults were lifesavers, often the buoys to his sinking moods.

To direct the conversation away from himself, Duncan gave Alex a mocking smile. “Yuck it up, Alex. Rumor has it you’re gonna be moving in with your girl soon. We’re in the same relationship boat, so don’t tease me about feelings.”

“Wrong. Right now yours is a relation-shit,” Frank tossed out.

Alex took issue with Duncan’s statement. “Hey, I’m a hell of a lot more mature than you, Mr. Hard and Cold as Steel, so no, we are not in the same hemisphere. Plus, I’ve always had feelings, unlike you, and the feelings I do have don’t involve words like ‘anger’ or ‘ignorance’.”

“The only feelings you have are in your dick,” Duncan said, rewarded by a cackle from Frank. “You used to get more ass than any firefighter I’ve ever seen. You telling me Natalie is different?”

“Hell, yeah, she is.” He flashed white teeth, unable to keep a smile off his face. “And you’re not innocent in the one night stand category yourself. All it takes is a good woman to change everything. You had it with Leslie and lost it. Don’t do the same with Liv.”

“I sure as hell don’t want to blow it,” he muttered, inwardly wincing at everything he destoryed with Leslie.

“Piece of advice.” Frank leaned in close. “Lay off the pills and booze. Bit of a turn off.”

“No shit.” He sipped at his tea, hating how it shook at the prospect of what he was about to say next. “Flushed the pills this morning.”

“Good for you, man,” Alex said with a sincere tone.

“
All
your stashes?” Frank asked.

“Not the one here. I, uh, may need someone to watch in case I wuss out.”

“A babysitter?”

“A friend,” Duncan practically growled at Frank.

“McMurray! My office. Now!”

Captain Blankard’s loud shout boomed through the kitchen as he stepped inside, killing the mood, and Duncan hung his head. Time to listen to the old man rant for a while and accept whatever punishment he dreamed up—as long as it wasn’t a suspension. Might not hurt to kiss some ass or volunteer for extra shifts. He picked up his tea, flipped off his friends, and trudged off to face the music. Nerves caused his hands to shake, rattling the ice in his cup, and his tongue felt like sandpaper.

His thoughts turned to Olivia. Her press conference started in a couple hours and he hoped it went well. Maybe they’d celebrate tonight, dinner at a nice restaurant, followed by a walk in the park, fool around in the cool grass. He grinned at the image of Olivia with grass in her hair and for the first time in ages, looked forward to going home to a beautiful woman.

O
livia nibbled nervously on her lip as she waited for the press conference to begin, distracting herself by examining the work being done to her building.
Her
building, it still felt so surreal. Plastic and scaffolding encased the exterior and signs of progress were already visible; a large trash dumpster had been delivered, a protective walkway sheltered the sidewalk, and a flatbed truck loaded with supplies was parked at the curb. Drawn to the corner store, the one she intended to open her bakery in, she studied the windows, loving how they curved with the rounded edge of the building. Maybe she’d custom order a display case and counter to reflect the shape.

“Dreaming?”

She startled at the sound of Simon’s voice and her mouth curled into a smile. “A little bit, it keeps the nerves in check.”

“This is a great location. I set it up so you can talk to Greg, the lead contractor, later this week, go over what you want layout wise.” He paused, glancing at her sheepishly. “And I have some ideas I want to run by you.”

“About the shop?”

“Yeah.” His cheeks flushed and she found it endearing. “Some design suggestions. A few things I sketched. No big deal.”

“I’d love to hear what you’ve cooked up. Lunch tomorrow?”

“Great.”

She sighed. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“You’re going to kick some cupcake ass.” Simon peered over her head at the commotion behind her and adjusted his tie. “We should have postponed.”

“There will never be a good time.”

“I know. You look exhausted. Did you get any sleep?”

“Some. Probably not much more than you.” She felt him assessing her and she contemplated telling him about Duncan coming to her place, but he’d only give her the same lecture the voice in her head was about Duncan being volatile and dangerous to Olivia’s sobriety. To erase the furrow between his brows, she said, “We should pass a motion at the next board meeting to introduce siestas to our workday.”

“I wholeheartedly agree. Come on, let’s get this show over with.”

Simon led her to the cluster of microphones. A decent crowd had gathered, a mixture of reporters and local citizens, and the weight of their stares bored into her. As she climbed the steps to the platform, she found herself worrying whether the sleeveless blouse she wore was appropriate. Once at the podium, her questionable clothing choice fell to the wayside as her nerves did a three-sixty and she wondered if the reporters would be able to see her knees trembling. Fussing with her necklace, she brushed the notion aside and straightened her shoulders, forcing herself to be cool, calm, and composed.

Simon stepped forward, looking breathtakingly handsome in his suit and commanding everyone’s attention.

“Good afternoon. I’m Simon Greene and on behalf of myself, VDB Enterprises, and Olivia Van den Berg,” he gestured at her, “thank you for being here. We’re pretty excited about this project and what it means for communities across the city. For more than a hundred years, VDB has grown with New York. From Lloyd Van den Berg’s immigration from Belgium in 1905 to our current presence in over a dozen countries, we have evolved into a global contender, all while keeping our roots where they belong—at home. With a hand in everything from manufacturing to shipping to alternative energy research, our company is excited about what the future holds.” He grinned. “But I was informed recently that it isn’t always about expansion or turning a profit. Smaller projects, like this one, remind us of where we come from and shape where we’re going.

“Since it’s her baby, I’m going to let Olivia tell you all about it. When she’s done, we’ll take a few questions.”

Olivia drew in a deep breath and moved next to Simon. She felt his hand on the small of her back, a gentle encouragement.

“Anderson Van den Berg loved this city. Not only its rich history, beautiful architecture, and the unique boroughs, but the people who call it home. VDB Enterprises has always found innovative ways of giving back to the city we love. Before my parents’ death, and the tragic events of September 11
th
, my father began working on an idea to honor New York’s history. He dreamed of taking old, abandoned and neglected buildings, like the one behind me, recognizing their storied pasts and rehabilitating them.

“This location will be the first of VDB’s Second Chance Project. After sitting here for over a century, we’re giving it new life, offering space for apartments, shops, restaurants, and even offices. The surrounding neighborhood is thriving and we’re looking forward to being a part of it. Once the building is finished, we’ll host an unveiling and invite you all back for a glimpse of Second Chance Project’s potential. Specifics are listed in your handouts, take time to look at the drawings and floor plans the architect has set up, and we can answer any questions you have. Again, thank you for coming and showing your support.”

Olivia stepped back and a rush of adrenaline swept over her as the audience clapped. She’d rushed the speech, due to her nerves, and forgotten a few details, but it wasn’t nearly as painful as she imagined.

Simon took her place. “We’ll now field a few questions.”

Reporters shouted and raised hands. Simon pointed to one.

“Roger Thatcher, the
Times
. Miss Van den Berg?” Olivia’s stomach clenched. Here it comes, she thought. “We all know your grandmother, Catherine, is terminally ill with bone cancer and, let me assure you, she will be missed in this city. She is a wonderful woman and an inspiration to many. How does she feel about this project?”

Her lips tipped up in relief and she leaned forward to answer. “Thank you. She loves the idea. Not only does it save historically significant buildings from being demolished, it looks good for the company.” Scattered laughs drifted from the crowd. “Also, she sees it as a great tribute to her son.”

“Next.” Simon pointed to a younger man with square frame glasses.

“Gary Wilson, the
Journal
. Mr. Greene, can you address how investigations are coming on the tower crane incident, as well as the fire in Brooklyn?”

“All I can tell you is the investigations are ongoing. NYPD does have a couple viable leads, but no specifics yet. As a company, we at VDB are thoroughly invested in finding out what went wrong and preventing it from happening again. Trust me, when we know, you’ll know. I will do my best to keep the press involved.”

More hands and questions erupted as Simon indicated an older woman with a superior expression stretching the skin of her cosmetically-enhanced face.

“Phyllis, the
Post
. Another question for Mr. Greene. Do you, or Catherine Van den Berg for that matter, feel it’s in the company’s best interest to be represented by a woman who’s been absent for nine years and who is, as we’ve discovered, a recently recovered heroin addict?”

Olivia could not, as hard as she tried, draw air. She’d known inquiries to her past were coming, but it still took her by complete surprise. The buzzing in her ears built to a deafening crescendo as everyone’s eyes bored into her, judging. Simon saved her from standing there stiff and mute as a statue. He stepped in front of her, blocking the camera flashes.

“Olivia is here because it is her right as a Van den Berg to be part of this company,” he said in a commanding voice. “Rekindling this project was her idea, and believe me when I say I wouldn’t have let her near it if I didn’t feel she was up to the task. Her passion and professionalism impresses me daily. As far as her past is concerned, we should congratulate her and welcome her back from the edge of a dangerous cliff. She watched her parents die—”

Olivia snapped out of her trance and placed a hand on his arm. “I got this.”

“I’m not sure about you, Phyllis, but I was at the World Trade Center that day,” she addressed the crowd. “I watched a plane slam into the building my parents were in. I watched that same building crumble to the ground, killing them and thousands of others and almost taking my life with it. Unlike so many who were strong enough to deal with the consequences, I turned to drugs to forget.” She gritted her teeth. “Maybe you should print a story on PTSD, about how it affects people differently, like the many firefighters who dug for weeks to recover bodies, pieces of bodies. Do some research about those who are still suffering before you start slinging mud. I’ve been clean for a year, and I’ll always be an addict, but I’m here now. You don’t have to remind me of where I’ve come from and the mistakes I’ve made. I’m reminded every time I close eyes. Thank you for taking the attention from my father’s hard work.”

A louder barrage of questions erupted as she spun and stalked past Simon who scrambled to keep up with her. Shock held her spine straight and then it sank in. Oh crap. What had she just done? They ducked into the waiting company car and it sped off downtown. A giggle burst from her lips, drawing an odd look from Simon. She could tell he was pissed, his jaw clenched and nostrils flared.

“You’re laughing?”

“I might have messed up back there,” she sputtered, unable to hold her mirth in check.

“Don’t worry about those pricks,” he growled. “The
Post
likes to keep up on their gossip. They wouldn’t recognize an inspiring story if it landed in their lap.”

“I should have played it more humble, maybe not as bitchy.”

“It was pretty spot on, if you ask me.”

She angled her body to face him. “You stood up for me. Thank you.”

He met her gaze and a flurry of emotions crossed his blue eyes, too quick to make sense of. “Why does that surprise you?” he bit out, his temper simmering.

“It doesn’t, not really. I’m just not used to it.”

“You’re a fighter, and you deserve a hell of a lot more credit than you or anyone else gives you. When I look at you, I’m blown away.”

His words dripped with sincerity, hitting her squarely in the chest. She heard everything he didn’t say and it confused her. All this time he’d been her friend, her confidante. Heck, she had to work so dang hard at keeping her own attraction buried, denying her feelings, but Olivia felt those walls crack.

Simon’s face paled, as if realizing he’d said too much. “Look, I didn’t mean it. Well, I did, but I understand how things are.” He shrugged. “Who can compete with a firefighter?”

“You might be surprised.” Olivia placed a hand on his knee, deciding to be honest. “You are a very tempting package.”

“That’s not helping,” he grumbled.

“Sorry.” She tried a safer angle. “You’re one of my best friends and I don’t know what I’d do if that ever changed.”

He nodded and she almost wished she could read his mind. No, not a smart idea. The idea of being with Simon was not the worst thing she’d ever heard, a temptation there for the taking. All she had to do was reach out and grab it. But didn’t Duncan deserve a chance?

“Don’t worry. It won’t change.” He grinned. “I saw that over-botoxed woman picking on you and the alpha male attacked.”

“My knight in shining armor,” she teased, matching his light tone.

He laid his hand over hers and stared out the window. While he’d managed to turn his unspoken admission into a joke, Olivia concentrated on the scenery passing beyond the other window and ignored the feel of his hand, or the way her heart sped up. Knowing he carried feelings for her, seeing them etched on his face, it filled her with excitement, confusion, and most of all, guilt. Why did life have to be so complicated?

Then her mind shifted to the spectacle she’d made of herself with the reporter. Not the best way to prove she was mature and healed. The headlines tomorrow should be interesting. She dropped her head back against the seat, finding comfort and peace in the reassuring squeeze of Simon’s fingers.

~~~~~

Later, after a long afternoon at work and scanning the internet for any mention of her tirade, the company car stopped in front of her building. Olivia spotted Duncan striding up the sidewalk and the tightness across her chest loosened, but she couldn’t stop fretting about how much damage she’d done with the press. The only thing to do was deal with the consequences once the papers hit the stands, face it head-on. It’d be rough, she had no doubt, but she was strong enough to handle it, she found that out with one snotty question from a cosmetically-enhanced witch. She had managed the situation without cowering or running for a meeting, so she regarded it as a victory. If only she could move past the moment with Simon as easily.

Ambling towards Duncan, she sighed when he embraced her, letting his arms chase away her worries and preoccupation with another man. Admitting it killed her, but she wished her time with Duncan didn’t have to be so much work and prayed for an easy evening, one without shadows of the past.

“Tough day?” he asked, stroking her hair.

“Yeah,” she pulled back to look at him. “I kind of went off on a reporter from the
Post
. She brought up my heroin-filled glory days.”

He held her chin between his thumb and finger. “Good for you. Wanna talk about it?”

“Not yet. I want to go upstairs, order in, lock the world out and snuggle on the couch. Delay tomorrow as much as possible.”