Close to You Read online

  Something about that thought made me feel stronger. Like I had, somehow, taken some of the power back that Brandon had ruthlessly kept all these years.

  And so, for now, I could allow myself to hold Iain’s hand.

  Chapter 13.

  Being with Iain felt like something out of a dream.

  As we rode the subway downtown, he asked me about my week, our knees touching as we sat. I had forgotten how good it felt to laugh and get to know someone new. I had forgotten how good it felt to let loose and be myself.

  For the first time in as long as I could remember, a light had broken through the dark clouds flooding my mind.

  Iain took me to the Empire State Building first, an elevator shooting us up 86 flights and placing his hand on the small of my back, guiding me out onto the main deck. The wind was brutal, hitting me full-on in the face, picking my hair up and sending it flying. But all thoughts of the wind and my hair disappeared when I followed the direction his finger was pointing.

  The city unfolded, like the richest of tapestries, as far as the eye could see. Buildings giving the illusion of being stacked on top of each other, growing smaller and smaller the further away they got. It was breathtaking to behold, and I wanted to somehow bottle this moment and keep it forever.

  I forgot the entire world except for what I saw stretched out before me. The city where I lived.

  “I’ve never actually been up here before,” Iain said quietly. Tearing my eyes away from the sight before us, I looked at him in disbelief.

  “I guess that makes this a first,” I said, tentatively.

  “I guess that does.” He reached for my hand, leading me to the barred walls so we could look.

  Standing that close to him made me aware of him: of his presence, which I’d begun to realize made me feel something akin to safe, and his scent, that heady mixture of soap and wind and something that I could only figure was something unique to him and him alone. I looked up at his face, studying it, wondering what it would feel like to kiss him. Would his beard tickle my face? Would I feel his heart through his chest, so close to mine?

  I blinked, breaking my gaze and returning it to the view. Berating myself. In my situation, what was happening between us could not be anything more than temporary, but I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if it wasn’t. Since leaving Brandon, I had lived my life in doubt and fear, little more than a shadow. But in that moment, standing next to Iain and staring at the stretch of buildings and water before me, I realized that I didn’t feel like a shadow at all.

  I felt almost whole, and it scared the shit out of me.

  “We should go,” I said. “We have a lot to see today.”

  I made to turn, but the grip of his hand in mine strengthened as if to stop me. The touch was innocent, but I reacted to it with a gasp.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, dropping his hand immediately, and I met his gaze.

  Not Brandon. Not Brandon.

  “Nothing,” I replied.

  “You sure?” he asked, eyes searching mine. The fear dissipated quickly, but the aftermath sent a wave of something cold through me. I nodded.

  “Positive.”

  Iain didn’t look convinced, but he turned away from the city and gestured toward the door. “If you want to go, that’s fine. It is pretty cold up here.”

  Shaken, I followed him through the gift shop and to the elevator. I berated myself for reacting that way - as if Iain had been trying to hurt me or force me to do anything I didn’t want to do. It was just a natural reflex when I had turned, to keep his hand in mine. He had let go the second I had reacted.

  “Where to next?” I asked as we waited for the elevator, in an effort to act normal.

  “That’s a surprise,” he said, raising an eyebrow, making me giggle.

  The elevator arrived, releasing a flood of people. One they’d cleared, we got on with several others.

  Now that I’d calmed down, I felt completely stupid for the way I’d acted. I glanced at Iain, noticing that he wasn’t acting any different at all. Everything I felt had been mostly internal, and if he found the situation strange, he didn’t let it show.

  A blip, that’s all it was. A blip in the radar of our day.

  Hesitantly, I reached out and grabbed his hand again. His eyes met mine, his expression entirely blank for just a split second. And then he smiled.

  xxx

  Next was Grand Central Station in all its beauty and illustriousness, the noises of everyone coming and going a deafening blanket of sound in the open space. Iain described, in his most cheesy tour-guide voice, that the terminal had 44 platforms, which was the most out of any train station in the world. He directed my gaze up at the massively arched ceiling, pointing out the constellations painted there.

  After that, he stopped us in front of the New York Public Library, a squat building situated in the midst of so many skyscrapers.

  Next, it was Times Square, where Iain named several places of interest, including Broadway Theater, various shops and places to eat. I took it all in, staring at all the massive screens attached to buildings before returning my gaze to the street. It was extremely busy here, and people were everywhere.

  “It’s mostly tourists,” he said, noticing that I was watching people pass by. “New Yorkers, we don’t really come here. I’ve been here maybe twice in my entire life.”

  “Really?” I asked, finding it hard to understand how a place like this with so much life and movement would be shunned by locals. My eyes were drawn to all the flashing lights, the posters on Broadway advertising the productions running, and the endless amounts of cars and people in every direction.

  “It’s too busy.” He crinkled his nose as he said that, and my heart skipped a beat at how cute that made him look. I was tempted to reach out and touch him, to run my fingers over his lips and lean in. But I shook that off.

  It was nearly one, and my stomach growled.

  “Please tell me our next stop is food. I’m starving.”

  “Where would you like to eat?”

  “Hmm.” I scanned the street, looking for something promising. I spotted a familiar name across the street and pointed. “Why not there?”

  Iain looked to where I was pointing and laughed. “Olive Garden? Seriously?”

  Nodding, I tugged his hand, pulling him toward the restaurant. “Yup. And I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Inside, it was blissfully warm and very crowded. The host said our wait would be about twenty minutes, so we made our way over to the bar and ordered a glass of wine for me and a beer for him.

  “What do you think so far?” he asked, once we got our glasses.

  “So far? I can’t believe I waited so long to do this.”

  He was quiet about that at first, his eyes thoughtful as he regarded me. I wondered what he was thinking. I wondered how I looked to him, with my windswept hair and blissful expression.

  “I guess you were just waiting for someone like me to come along,” he said finally. My heart pounded at that, knowing that what he said wasn’t exactly true, but wishing it was. I hadn’t been waiting for anyone to walk into my life, especially someone like him. I searched his face, taking it all in, letting the sight of him affect me like it had the first time we had met.

  “You got me,” I said, almost breathlessly. “I’m definitely only using you for your tour-guide abilities.”

  With a face of mock hurt, he said, “I knew it.”

  “No, but seriously, I’m having an amazing time.”

  He smiled at that, broadly, with no attempt to tamper it down. It felt like a hot sun came out from behind the clouds, warming me instantly. As if by instinct, I leaned in, soaking it up.

  For a split, terrifying second, I thought that he was going to lean down and kiss me. I anticipated it, I wanted it, but I was petrified of it. His gaze softened, like something out of a movie, his body stock still. Then he blinked.

  “I’m glad. Now, that’ll be one hund
red dollars.”

  I laughed at that, and at the exact same time, our pager vibrated in my coat pocket. I pulled it out, showing it to him.

  “Guess that’s us.”

  We returned to the host stand and followed a hostess to our table. We sat and ordered drinks, and perused the menu.

  A quiet few moments passed between us, and after I had decided on just having spaghetti, I allowed myself to look around the dining room. My eyes jumped from table to table, taking in the families and couples eating, drinking and talking. A sharp stab of something like nostalgia shot through me, for better times back home, for reasons I couldn’t explain. I had never gotten over the fact that my marriage with Brandon felt like a huge failure, like the way it unraveled was somehow my fault.

  I knew it was unfounded guilt. Brandon’s actions weren’t my fault. But that didn’t stop me from sometimes feeling that they were.

  “Lila?” I heard, and I snapped out of my reverie. I looked at Iain, who was watching me with some concern. “You okay?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just lost in thought.”

  I had been having an amazing time. I hadn’t gone on a first date for years, not since, of course, my first date with Brandon. My husband. A lump formed in my throat as the gravity of what I was doing hit me, the knowledge that I was in Times fucking Square with a near stranger, sitting in an Olive Garden for lunch like I was somehow normal. I forced a smile on my face, suddenly nauseated, and stood.

  “I’ll be right back. I have to use the restroom.”

  Not waiting for a reply, I turned around and found the women’s restroom, crammed myself into an empty stall and locked it.

  I was safe here, because nobody could see me. I forced myself to breathe, in and out, like they do in meditation videos online, imagining the bad thoughts leaving my body, semi-believing that it could work. The wine I’d drunk soured in my stomach, my throat thickening.

  Of course it didn’t work. You couldn’t just dispel bad thoughts. They’re like a virus, attaching itself to its host and spreading, claws sunken in as it dug deeper and deeper inside of you.

  I was a fool to think I could do this. Not only did I want nothing to do with going on dates with anyone, even strikingly handsome journalists, the fact remained that I just couldn’t. What would Brandon do if he found me and found out I was seeing someone? What would happen to me, or to them?

  I was being irrational. Probably. I mean, I knew that. But the other part of me, the part that protected me for four months, the part that gave me the courage to leave him to begin with - that part of me whispered, But what if?

  After a careful few moments of deliberation, I exited the stall and left the bathroom, turning my head to see Iain fiddling on his phone. He didn’t notice me.

  I left the restaurant without looking back.

  Chapter 14.

  Iain

  I looked up from my phone to see Michele’s retreating back heading out the front door quickly.

  Confused, I thought that maybe I had been mistaken. Why would she be leaving? She had told me she needed the restroom. Surely, she wasn’t running out on our date?

  When the door closed behind her, I sprang into action mode and jumped up from the table, leaving $10 to pay for the Cokes we’d ordered, and rushed out of the restaurant. Once on the sidewalk, I turned my head from left to right wildly in hopes of spotting her. She couldn’t have gotten far at all, but the sidewalks and streets were congested with people and she would easily get lost in them if I wasn’t careful.

  I spotted her not long after heading the way we came, her hands shoved in her coat pockets, giving her a hunched look. I took off after her, fearful, wondering why she’d left. She had just said that she was having a great time. Had that been a lie?

  Maybe she figured me out.

  “Lila,” I said. I was close enough that she could hear me, but she didn’t turn. “Lila!”

  How could I have blamed her for running off on me? I had hardly been honest with her - I met her under false pretenses. Not that she knew that, right? But eventually, the truth would have come out. I knew now in that moment that I would have never been able to break it off with her after just one day, and that thought scared me.

  How could we ever have had anything remotely real with a foundation of lies?

  “Michele!” I shouted, and she froze. My heart was pounding, adrenaline bursting through me in waves. I forced myself to breathe, stopping on the sidewalk, only distantly aware of people moving around us.

  She turned to look at me, her face a white sheet of fear. It was obvious that she had absolutely no idea what to say, but her lips parted and she uttered just one word. “How?”

  “I’m - I’m sorry, Michele. I know - I know you’re probably freaked out right now. But can we please talk about this?”

  “How do you know my real name?” she asked me, ignoring everything I’d said.

  “I can explain that. I can explain everything.”

  Hurt, disbelief, confusion - they all flashed through her eyes as they searched mine. I wanted so badly to reach out and comfort her, but I didn’t.

  “I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?” Her voice sounded so defeated.

  “You always have a choice, Michele,” I said, aware that I was pleading with her but not caring. “I’m just hoping you’ll choose to listen to me.”

  “I shouldn’t.” She shuffled in place, indecisive, casting a fleeting glance across the street. As if contemplating running.

  “I’m not him,” I said, quietly. Hoping she’d understand.

  At the reference to Brandon, fresh fear washed over her face and she shook her head.

  “No - no, he’s not here, is he? Here to take me back?”

  “God, no. No, and he won’t ever be, if I can help it.” The words felt thick in my mouth, her panic causing me to panic a little, too. I knew I was making a promise that I couldn’t keep. Again. But something bid me to say it, to assure her that she was safe even when I had no way of knowing if it was true or not. But as long as she was with me, I would do everything I could to keep her that way. That much I could do.

  She appeared to be calming down a little, but her body was still poised for flight. There was no trace of any humor from earlier on her face, only steadfast alertness and fear.

  “Let’s talk. Quickly.”

  I held my hand out, a gesture of peace, hoping she’d take it. I didn’t intend to have this conversation in the middle of Times Square, but I knew the perfect place and it wasn’t far from here.

  “Not here. Let’s go to Central Park, like we originally planned. I’ll explain everything there.”

  She regarded me, distrust on her face, her eyebrows pinched. And then she softened, just a little bit.

  She took my hand.

  xxx

  The last time I was in Central Park, it was for an art festival that Emily had dragged me to before my last deployment. The park looked radically different now, all brown and gray and black with a spattering of people bundled up and traversing the paths. I huddled close to Michele, hoping she’d take comfort in my warmth.

  She said next to nothing as we walked away from Times Square, and she kept her pale, frightened expression. My heart lurched knowing that I was the one who’d caused it.

  “Well, we’re here. Talk.”

  We’d arrived at a fork in the path, and I gestured toward a bench and made my way to it. A crow screeched miserably from somewhere behind us, and once she sat, I cleared my throat.

  “I want to say, first, that I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t say anything to that, and I shook my head.

  “This is what happened, okay? Brandon and I knew each other in my early Army days. He saved my life when an IED exploded and projected me from my vehicle - the engine was on fire and almost blew my face off. He got me out of the range and, ever since, we’ve been buddies.”

  Michele said nothing. She looked sick, so I hurried through, hoping she’d hear me out and not ru
n off before I had the chance to explain everything.

  “We lost touch the last few years. He retired from the Army and got a job and got married. To you. And… I had my own shit.” I took a deep breath, not ready to tell her about Emily. “The truth is, I’m not a journalist. I’m a PI. People hire me to… you know. Investigate. Usually, I scope out cheating spouses and shit like that. But a few weeks ago, Brandon called me and asked me to find you.”

  She flinched at that, obvious discomfort rippling through her body.

  “At first, I was all for it. I always need clients, and this time, I was helping a friend. But his story… the one he told me, it just… didn’t feel right.”

  “What did he tell you?” she asked in a near whisper.

  “He told me that he gave you the world and you ripped his heart out.” She bit her lip, worry in her expression. I continued. “He said that you cheated on him, stole his money and ran off without even saying goodbye.”

  “And you believed him?”

  “At first, yeah. Why wouldn’t I? Brandon and I were close after he saved my life. I hadn’t heard from him in a few years, but I had no reason to not believe him. But… the photos he sent me, the things he said, they just didn’t add up. And then I ran into you on accident.”

  “That day on the street.”

  “Yeah. It was unexpected and completely unplanned.” I swallowed, remembering her stunned expression and her perfect, parted lips. I focused on them now and looked away, toward the path. “I didn’t mean to even say anything to you at all. Fuck, a legit PI wouldn’t have. But I couldn’t stop myself.”

  “Why?”

  I considered her question, turning back to look at her. She didn’t look as scared as before, but she still looked wary.

  “You looked so…lost. All alone on a street corner, unsure of where to go.”

  “Well, I was.”

  I smiled, but it felt false on my face, so I let it fall quickly. “Yeah. So… after running into you, talking to you, it threw me off. I couldn’t figure it out, but what Brandon told me about you and how you actually were didn’t add up. For a minute, I tried to convince myself that you were everything he said. But then I saw you again, by chance, going to work at Catfish.”