I took another deep breath, hating this, hating that I liked this.
She glanced at the table. “Looks like they’ve left to mingle. When the song is over, we can probably slip out without anyone noticing.”
I couldn’t wait to leave. I couldn’t wait to be in the car so it would just be the two of us. I couldn’t wait to be in my condo, to be wrapped in the silence. I couldn’t wait to get away from all these people, all these prying eyes, all these incessant questions.
The song came to an end and we stopped moving, but my arm lingered on her back because I didn’t want to pull it away. It was the same difficulty I had when speaking, when I couldn’t force the right words out of my mouth. I couldn’t pull my hand away, like it belonged there, like it was easier to keep it there instead of removing it.
But I dropped my touch and moved back.
“I’ll grab my clutch, and we’ll go.” She took the lead and reached across the table to grab her clutch.
I stared at her ass, watched her dress rise higher as she bent over, showing more of her toned thighs. “Fuck.” I dragged my hand down my face and forced myself to look elsewhere, not to be a perverted creep checking out my assistant like a douchebag. I did those things in bars, but the women were strangers, people I would never see again. They weren’t important to me…they weren’t my friends.
When she grabbed the clutch, she turned back to me. “Let’s go.” She pulled out her phone and texted the driver as we walked out. We made it through the lobby and to the sidewalk, cars passing on the busy street.
It was a cool evening because there was a breeze. Her long hair blew in the wind, bumps forming on her arms. “He’s circling the block.” She returned her phone to her clutch then crossed her arms over her chest.
When I understood she was cold, I let my jacket slide down my arms before I handed it to her.
“You don’t need to do that, Deacon.”
“You’re cold. I’m not. Take it.”
She smiled before she wrapped it around herself.
My hands moved into my pockets, and I stared at her as we waited for the car.
“I’m sorry you didn’t have a good time. I hate it when people do that…turn a conversation into an interrogation.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” She apologized for things she couldn’t control.
“I know, but it just annoys me. They treat you like some kind of spectacle, forgetting you’re a human being.”
That was an excellent way to describe it.
“But you did receive such an incredible honor tonight. I can’t blame people for being fascinated with you.”
Impervious to the cold, I continued to stare at her, watching my jacket cover her like a blanket.
“That’s so amazing, Deacon. You have a hospital named after you.”
“Maybe I’ll do my next set of clinical trials there.”
“Yeah,” she said with a smile. “Maybe. Did you tell your mother?”
I shook my head.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said with a chuckle. “You didn’t even tell me.”
“No, I showed you.” That was a higher honor, in my opinion. I could have flown my mother out here to see it, could have taken my brother if I’d wanted to, but I didn’t want to do those things. I wanted to take her.
She inhaled a deep breath, as if she understood everything those words implied. “I feel very lucky, Deacon. It’s been a privilege to have you as a client.”
The car rounded the corner and started to pull up to the curb.
I didn’t look away from her face. “My brother said you told him I was your favorite client.” I didn’t know why I said that. It wasn’t a question. It was just a statement that I wanted her to address.
Her eyes glanced down for a second. “Yeah, I did say that.”
“Why?” I was difficult, impossible to understand sometimes, and I was the worst person to have a conversation with. I wasn’t funny. I didn’t even understand jokes most of the time. Tucker took me to a comedy club once, and while everyone laughed, I just sat there. It was one of the times I’d felt so alone in the world, like I didn’t belong with everyone else. But she never made me feel that way. She was the first person who made me feel connected to another human being…and we weren’t related.
The car was there and the driver had opened the door for her, but he picked up on the intensity of our conversation and got back into the car so we could have our privacy.
She continued to stare at me, her arms across her chest. “All my clients are just clients. I care about them, make their lives easier, do my job. But you’re more than just my client…you’re my friend.”