Page 26 of The Good Liar

“Don’t worry,” I say into the room. “I know what I’m doing.”

Jasper

“MY HEAD ISkilling me,” I complained, my bare feet slapping against the floor as I joined Cole in the kitchen. He pushed a steaming mug of coffee and a bottle of pain pills my way, but otherwise remained silent, drinking from his own ceramic cup. His beard, which he usually wore close to the skin, had grown exponentially since yesterday. Heavy bags dragged below his eyes, and he still wore his clothes from last night. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Not a wink,” he said. “How much do you remember from last night?”

“Snippets. And thinking hard about it hurts,” I said. Cole set his mug down, hugging it between his palms. “I remember Daniel not showing up for me, but you did.” I’d sent Daniel’s call to voicemail a little while ago, still not ready to deal with him. “I don’t remember how my shirt lost its buttons.” Vague flashes of a piano and a passionate kiss assaulted me, clearing that mystery up. I cut the memory off, compartmentalizing the guilt it summoned. My body didn’t bear any of the love wounds Cole liked to leave as souvenirs, and it didn’t feel used, so I knew things hadn’t gone further than a kiss. Cole wouldn’t have taken advantage of me in the state I must have been in, anyway.

I gazed at the t-shirt and sweats I now wore. They had been waiting on the bed for me when I got out of the shower. Cole and I were close enough in height, but he was broader, bulkier, so the clothes hung off my frame a bit. “I’ll get these back to you.”

“Keep them,” he said.

Asking him why he couldn’t sleep might have been the polite thing to do, but ignoring the elephant seemed to be the pain-free option. I chose pain-free over polite. “’Fia called. She said the remaining tickets were sold last minute. We had a full house, and some of the donors were ridiculously generous. She reached her goal. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“No,” he said, blowing into his coffee, reminding me about my own.

“Thank you,” I said sincerely. He nodded, and we drank and thought in comfortable silence. “So what are we doing today?” I asked, surprising him. “It’s Sunday. I don’t have plans, and I don’t want to go home yet.”And I don’t want to leave you, yet.“Thought maybe I could be your tour guide for the day.” I kept my tone light, cheery, even. An easy breezy invitation he could take or leave.

“I’d like that,” he replied.

While Cole showered, I dug through his walk-in closet for a pair of jeans to wear. He strode in, a towel drying his hair and one tucked around his hips. “You don’t own a pair of jeans?” I asked, patting myself on the back for containing my drool. A light dusting of silky hair coated his forearms and rock-hard abs, vanishing beneath the terry cloth dangerously close to hitting the carpet. I hadn’t been blessed in the body hair department. The blond peach fuzz licking up my calves and the slim trail of it below my navel were too fine to see with the naked eye.

“I spent the last six years of my life preparing for meetings, attending meetings, and leaving meetings. Denim didn’t fit into my schedule. Besides, I’ve been told I look sexy in suits.” The full force of his cocky grin came out to play. I had once told him he looked sexy in suits. Nothing had changed.

My eyes widened on his. “So does this mean you only have dress shoes?”

“Yes.” He laughed, his eyes and mood lighter than a mere hour before. “Aside from my sweaty running shoes. You’ll have to walk the streets in a suit and wingtips today.”

“Don’t joke like that,” I said horrified, to which his laugh turned fuller, darker. He went into the bedroom and came back with his phone.

“I’ll have something brought up for you from one of the shops downstairs.”

“Us,”I said. “Have something casual brought up for us both to wear.”

I thought he’d argue with me, but he gave an indulgent grin instead and made the call.

Thanks to the hotel staff’s efficiency, we were dressed and out the door in no time. Cole wore a slim-fitting heather gray sweat suit with designer sneakers, the hood untucked and draped over the neck of his navy pea coat. He looked like he’d hopped out of a fashion billboard. I wore my usual uniform of jeans and a t-shirt.

I took it upon myself to give Mark, who’d waited out front, the rest of the day off. “You and I are riding the subway today,” I said.

He breathed in the cold November air, and with a smile full of white teeth, he said, “You lead, and I’ll follow.”

We did the cheesy touristy stuff like take in the breathtaking views of the city from the Empire State Building observatory deck, then ran to catch the departing, red Big Bus Tour out front. We rode the open-roofed second level of the double decker, because you haven’t lived until the frigid bite of fall cuts into your cheeks at a mind-bending speed of twenty-five miles per hour. Even less when caught in a cramped pocket of midtown traffic.

We ended that part of our day eating hot dogs topped with sauerkraut and mustard while taking on the Herald Square crowd. Cole was astonished by the sheer amount of people overwhelming the sidewalks. I pointed toward the windows of Macy’s department store. “You should see how many people show up when they unveil their Christmas display. It’s done right before Thanksgiving. I hear this year’s theme is going to be A Charlie Brown Christmas,” I said with a mischievous grin. Part of the excitement was actually not knowing what the display would be until the unveiling, but teasing Cole with a not so fond memory for him was fun.

He groaned, no doubt remembering the times I’d watchedA Charlie Brown Christmason repeat with the volume on high just to piss him off. Cole had always been a grouch around the holidays, and I’d made it my mission to change that, even if I’d nearly lost a limb in the process.

“Are you thinking about—”

“Yes, I am,” he said. “You were so damn irritating.”

“And you were so mean,” I shouted to be heard over the saxophone player performing for tips a short distance from us.

Cole swallowed his last bite of hot dog, and I swiped a glob of mustard from the corner of his mouth, licking it off my finger without thinking, sending us into a freeze-frame not even the two squealing kids pushing between us could interrupt.

Cole snapped out of it first, wiping his mouth with a balled-up napkin. “I’m still mean,” he said, keeping the conversation rolling.

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