Page 27 of Lawsuit and Leather

He was slow to respond, leaving me unsure if he wanted to answer. “Almost three weeks. It’s casual, and if anything… harmless.” He returned to his pizza, “I just wanted to show you what you wanted. That living with me could be normal and that you don’t need to rush off.”

“Well, whatever that was, it wasn’t…” I wanted to say enough but couldn’t. I was lying to Parker now, at the expense of my own comfort. He couldn’t know the real reason I wanted to leave, and I couldn’t admit that my mother, whose words I despised, still affected my life. I was afraid of rejection, afraid of becoming her. “Camilla may not be like Alex Rivers, but if you get to worry about me, then I get to worry about you too.” I looked down at my pizza, solemn at the confession. “And that’ll never change.”

The entrance rang with a bell, people chattered softly, and plates clinked as a quiet moment passed between us. The noise was all a backdrop to the tension we shared, my tug of war of wants and needs.

“It’s been a hectic few months.” He sighed, “I’m happy just having you home. Honestly, all I wanted to do was make you feel better, but I’m afraid I made you feel worse.” He glanced up, chewing the inside of his cheek, reaching across the table to touch my hand but stopped just before doing so. “I’m sorry if I messed up. Not just here but before. I’m trying to be the thing you need me to be, what I need to be, but that can be challenging.” I was unsure what he meant, but the sweetness in his eyes showed he was genuine.

“I just need you to be you.” I nodded, “That’s all I ever needed.”

“That’s not enough.” He replied, “You also need an apology. I’m sorry for the oyster bar, I’m sorry for Mila. I’ve made assurances on her behavior. No one talks to you like that, not even her.”

He reached out finally, closing the distance to grab my hand. He squeezed it, an affirmation of his apology embodied in the tenderness of his touch. I knew I pushed him to this moment, and I couldn’t help but feel partially responsible for how disastrous our communication was on this topic. I wished it were simpler, that none of this were the case. I supposed that was why it was a fantasy, and not something real.

My phone buzzed at the table, sounding like an alarm at our touching hands. I pulled away, observing a calendar request for an upcoming meeting.

…

CASSOWARY HOTEL Fitting for Alex Rivers.

Prep for exclusive interview. Tomorrow 8:00 P.M.- Penthouse. (Details to follow.)

-Ivanna

…

It was a booking from Alex’s assistant. I wasn’t familiar with the location, and the time seemed later than expected.

“Have you been to the Cassowary?” I asked Parker, who suspiciously eyed my phone.

“What makes you ask that?” He replied, not giving me a yes or no. “That’s where Alex Rivers is staying. He can’t go back to The Pierre, not after what happened.” He dabbed his face with a napkin, pushing his plate to the side.

“Because of the lawsuit?” I asked.

“Yes. And he’s lucky to still be in the city, or even that any hotel will take him.” Parker didn't want to go into detail, not for the same reasons I held secrets, but because he was more professional than most.

“I have a fitting there tomorrow.” I revealed, gauging the reaction of his tightening lips.

“When?”

“At night… eight o’clock.”

“Unbelievable.” He shook his head, “Not you, Gem. It's just… it’s just what I expect from this guy.”

“He’s busy, I’m sure it's the only time he had available.” I said it, though I didn't believe it. Alex knew he couldn’t see me unless he booked me, yet he was adamant about taking me out. This was different though, this wasn't dinner, this was possibly the sexy penthouse of a posh hotel.

“Has he touched you?” Parker asked, the urgency in his voice was almost as surprising as the question.

“Touch me? Parker, why would he touch me?”

“Don’t tell me he hasn’t pressed you yet? He can be persuasive; I know he’ll try. He’s a womanizer. Have you seen how many models he’s been photographed with over the years?”

“He hasn’t. Even if he tried, he wouldn’t get anywhere with me. I can’t date my boss, and the womanizer isn’t my type anyway.” I admitted, but didn't he get close? What had he done so far? He’d been persistent, yes, but also patient. The way he said things with such conviction, such ambiguous sexual lure, left me unsure if it was for me specifically, or for everyone he met. I could sit here and excuse his behavior on personality alone, but it didn't explain everything. He went to Bushwick, a place where no one wanted to go. Did he visit the hometown of everyone he met? That seemed unlikely, but he had done this, not just for anyone, but for me.

“I’m looking for something familiar, something I saw the day I met you.” Those were his words when I asked why he went, and when I inquired for what he saw, his response gave me chills, “Something just like me.”How could he feel that way, just by looking at me, by what little we’d shared thus far?

“I’m not convinced,” Parker replied. “I know when you’re hiding from me, Butterfly. I don’t pry, but it doesn't mean I don't care. I’ll let this go because I know that’s what you want. But if he puts you in a situation I disagree with, I’ll have no choice but to react. I won’t let him hurt you, not once, not ever.” Parker slipped another pepperoni onto my plate.

“Thank you.” I said, not for the pepperoni, but for the apology earlier, for his commitment to be there, no matter what. I wanted to believe this because it fit with the fantasy I created, this little bubble of ours. There would be a day—if not tomorrow, or next week—where Parker would fall in love and leave me behind. How would he look after me then? He wouldn’t, and where would I be if I didn't take care of myself starting now? I reached for my phone, and his eyes locked on my hands as I confirmed the appointment with a text.

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