“That’s because I only take male clients.”
“What?” She looked at me like I’d just told her the sky was purple.
“Male clients. You know, they’re like women, except with less drama and bigger di—” I quieted mid-word, hearing the front door open. “Are you expecting someone?”
“No. Why?”
“I just heard the front door open.” I stood and walked to the hallway. “Hello?”
A guy I’d never seen before popped his head around the corner from the lobby. “Hi. I’m looking for Emerie Rose?”
I squinted. “Who are you?” I was concerned that the Dawson douchebag had come back to start trouble. But this guy looked like the last trouble he saw was when the kids picked on him in elementary school.
I turned back to Emerie, who was already heading toward me. She joined me in the doorway.
“Baldwin? I thought that was your voice. What are you doing here?”
“Thought I would surprise you.”
The guy raised flowers I hadn’t noticed at his side; their color matched his crooked bow tie. They were lame—looked like he bought them at the Chinese market down the block for $7.99.
“That’s so sweet.”
Emerie stepped out of the doorway where we were nice and close and walked to the guy, giving him a hug and kiss. For some reason, I stayed put, watching it all.
After she took the flowers, she remembered I was behind her. “Baldwin, this is Drew. Drew, Baldwin is the friend I told you about the other day.”
I was confused, and she read it on my face.
“My TA in college. Remember, I told you all about him?”
Really? That guy? “Oh. Yeah.” I extended my hand. “Nice to meet you. Drew Jagger.”
“Likewise. Baldwin Marcum.”
There was an odd, awkward silence before Emerie broke it. “Isn’t the office beautiful?”
“Very nice.”
“Are you on your way to meet Rachel?”
“The show isn’t for another hour and a half. So I thought I’d check in on you.”
Baldwin was still looking around the office when he spotted the bottle of Glenmorangie and two empty glasses on Emerie’s desk.
He looked at her. “Is that scotch? At five in the afternoon?”
Emerie either didn’t catch the disdain in his voice or was good at ignoring it. “We had a rough day,” she said.
“I see.”
“Care for a glass?” I asked, certain he would decline after the sixty-second assessment I’d made. “It’s twenty-five and smooth.”
“No, thank you.”
I’d seen enough. “I have work to catch up on. Nice to meet you, Baldwin.”
He nodded.
An hour later, I was packing up my office when I heard the two of them laughing. The earlier events of the day still had testosterone pumping through my veins. Which was probably why, out of nowhere, I had the urge to punch the guy. An outlet was needed. Angry fucking. I need to get laid.
I knocked lightly on Emerie’s door before pushing it open. “I’m going to head out. You should try that sleeping technique I told you about again tonight so you’re on time again tomorrow.”
Emerie’s eyes widened as she attempted to hide her smirk. “Yes. Maybe I’ll do just that.”
Baldwin watched our exchange closely.
I waved and nodded. “You have a good night.”
I made it one step before Emerie called to me. “Drew.”
I turned back. “Yeah?”
She wrung her hands together. “Thank you for today. I didn’t say it, but I appreciate everything you did.”
“Anytime, Oklahoma.” I rapped my knuckles against her office doorframe. “Don’t stay too late, okay?”
“I won’t. I’m going to head out in a few minutes. Baldwin has plans tonight, so I’ll walk out with him.”
“Want me to wait? We can grab a burger at Joey’s again?”
Emerie started to respond when Mr. Bowtie interrupted. “Actually, I’ve had a last-minute change of plans. Why don’t I take you for some dinner?”
“You’re not going to the show with Rachel?”
“We can see it another time. I wasn’t aware you’d had a bad day. You can tell me all about it at dinner.”
Emerie looked to me, conflicted. I made the choice easier for her. Who was I to interrupt the happy couple?
“You two have a good night then.”
I might have been full of myself. After all, I’d been told on more than one occasion lately that my ego was pretty big, but I could have sworn Emerie’s little friend’s change of plans had something to do with me.
Chapter 14
Drew, New Year’s Eve, Five years ago
“Happy anniversary.”
Alexa sat on the couch flipping through a People magazine. I bent to kiss her cheek, then leaned down farther to touch my lips to my almost-two-year-old son’s forehead where he slept with his head on her lap. He was drooling. A big pool of spit puddled on my wife’s thigh.
I pointed to it and joked, “A few years ago, making you wet on New Year’s Eve meant something very different.”
She sighed. “I wish we could go out. This is the first New Year’s I’ve been home since I was a kid.”