Page 250 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

He comes to an abrupt halt on the stairs. “What?”

Then it dawns on me how that sounds. “Oh God, no. I meant, I sleep there when I stay the night. I’ve not had . . .” I whisper, “sex or done anything else with someone in that bed other than wearing face masks with Natalie.”

Confusion digs into his brow but then disappears. “Good enough.”

We continue rushing up the stairs when I slow, bringing him to a stop this time. He looks back, his hair already a mess and falling over his forehead. My stay-all-day lipstick didn’t live up to its promise, so I reach up and run the pad of my thumb over his lips.

He kisses it. “Are you okay?”

“I am.” He’s so handsome with his endearing eyes, that strong, sharp jaw, and the straight bridge of his nose. Why am I stopping this from happening? Why do I torture myself for no reason?Oh right . . .“The party.”

“Right,” he says with a sigh, his lids dipping closed. Running his hand through his hair, he takes three steps down, giving me the advantage. Releasing my hand, he takes hold of my waist again. “I don’t want to lose this . . . whatever it is between us.”

His words play my heartstrings like a violin. I suck in a staggered breath as fear creeps in—the thought of being hurt, the unknown, and the disappointment that followed a perfect night in Catalina, and what might have been tonight. I swallow it down, deep inside me, refusing to let it get air.

Taking a step down, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him again. It’s not hurried or a goodbye, an end, or a kiss-off. It’s true and full of the feelings that I like better—the good ones that feed my ego and my well-being. “Would you like to come to my place tonight?”

A wry grin wriggles into place. “Yes.”

To the point. Much like Harrison Decker. For someone who I’ve overheard being called a shark in business, that’s not what he’s been with me. Not tonight, at least. “Then it’s a date, the kind with benefits.”

His deep chuckle fills the staircase. “We should get back.”

“I don’t want to make a spectacle. One’s enough for tonight.” I nod toward the top of the stairs. “And you should probably wipe my lipstick off your mouth.”

“Probably a good idea.” Rubbing his fingers over his wry grin is something I could watch all night, but I tear my gaze away and start down the steps as he heads in the opposite direction.

Standing on the landing, I ask, “Harrison?”

He stops at the top and looks back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

It’s not a grandiose reaction, but it doesn’t need to be. A gaze is exchanged, but he doesn’t ask what I’m thanking him for or to explain. He just accepts the offer with mutual understanding.

I straighten my skirt in the downstairs bathroom and then reapply my lipstick. Grabbing a vodka soda from the bar on my way outside, I catch my mom’s eyes on me first, a sinking feeling dragging the high I was riding down with it. Then I see everyone else looking.Great . . .

Typically, I’m the one on top of the bar getting attention, but this isn’t the limelight I desire. My mom gets up and meets me as I make my way back to my seat. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, darling.”

We step off to the side for any bit of privacy we can get. Though my stomach isn’t thrilled we missed the main course, I’m relieved when the other guests are served dessert. The chocolate cake is just the distraction I need to deter their attention away from me. “I don’t know why you’d humiliate me like that, but this is not a conversation we can have right now.”

“I was taken by surprise.”

“Imagine how I felt,” I snap. I’m never rude to my mother. Even through my rebellious high school days, I still managed to give my parents the perfect grades they expected. Now I know where I really stand in her eyes.

“We can meet for brunch tomorrow to have this discussion. Just not here,” I say under my breath.

She narrows her eyes a little but then agrees. “Brunch at Bistro 55. Eleven thirty.” At that, she leaves and walks back to the table, but I don’t miss the roll of her eyes toward my dad.What was that for?

I return to my seat just as Harrison sits down across from me. So much for timing. Who really cares? No one, most likely.

When I look up, I’m met with Harrison’s strength and a smile filled with confidence—not the arrogant kind, but the one he’s willing to share with me. He’s right. I shouldn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed. I turn to Natalie, who gives me the same grin. She trusts me with her child’s life. She sees something in me that I can’t. Maybe it’s time I tried.

“Try the cake. It’s divine,” Natalie’s mom, Martine, says sweetly.

“Excellent idea.” Chocolate’s always been a weakness of mine. Taking a bite of the decadence, I close my eyes as the sugar coats my tongue and softly moan in delight. I open my eyes to find Harrison’s glued to me, his lips parted, and if I’m not mistaken, the little chocolate on the side of his lips I wouldn’t mind licking off for him.

Leaning forward, he whispers, “We can skip dessert . . .” He signals toward the exit just in case I didn’t get his intention by “we can skip dessert.”

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