Come Alive (The Cityscape 2)

“Maria.”

Oh, of course. Maria. Gorgeous, straight off the catwalk Maria. Since the first time I’d seen them together, her image had been seared into my memory. Maria, mocha-skinned with ribbons of caramel hair, in her siren red dress; Maria, his go-to girl, the one who was ever-present in his life – available for events, work functions and other things . . . .

“Well, obviously there’s Maria,” I said snidely. “That is a given.”

“As my friend, you should be happy that I have someone who I can call when I’m lonely.”

“As your friend, that isn’t a reason to sleep with someone random.”

“Maria and I have been close for years,” he argued. “She’s far from random.”

I scowled.

He stopped short in the busy sidewalk, sending pedestrians scattering around us. “What did you expect, Olivia?” he demanded. “You ran away and literally left me empty-handed. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

The world whirred around us, but we stood like statues, facing each other. “I don’t . . . expect anything. I do want you to be happy, but . . .”

I tried to read his expression. His eyes remained hard until something flashed in them. “Maria, Dani – they don’t mean anything. You have to know that I would,” he stopped, his face darkening. “But when I think about . . . about you and . . . you and him – ” He shook his head, and his jaw hardened noticeably. “I can’t go there.”

I grasped his forearm and dipped my head toward him, alarmed by the look on his face. “Me and Bill?”

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be,” he said with conviction.

It was my first indication that Bill and I weren’t the only casualties in this unfolding mess. That maybe David was hurting more than I realized. There was something sinister in his face; a tempest brewing inside him. I wanted to reassure him that I was also scared, that I had a dark place, and I went there too often.

As I looked at him, everything around us fell away. I had a powerful need to comfort him, to care for him like he was mine to make happy. I needed to tell him what I’d felt in the house; that my feelings for him might be morphing into something else, something deeper.

“The house,” I started.

He glanced up and fastened anxious eyes on mine.

“The house – ” I stopped, swallowing dryly. His entire presence narrowed in on me, inte

nsifying the expression on his face. “We didn’t get it,” I croaked finally.

He blinked his gaze up over my shoulder and cleared his throat. His face closed again and after a moment, he pivoted slightly to resume walking.

“Maybe I was being unrealistic,” I said, shuffling to catch up with him.

His expression was tight when he looked down at me. “That place would have been a lot of work,” he said with a hint of irritation.

“I know, but there was just something about – ”

“I really don’t want to hear about the house,” he snapped.

“Oh. All right.” I cleared some hair from my shoulder and made a point to look forward or at other people for the next few blocks.

It was dark by the time we approached Michigan Avenue Bridge. I pulled my jacket closer against the wind as we crossed the Chicago River. He asked if I was cold, and I said no, because what good would it do to admit that I was? He couldn’t hold me or give me his blazer, because it was all just too intimate knowing the things we had done together.

He stopped in the center of the bridge and motioned back toward the Loop. “Can you imagine the Great Chicago Fire on your heels, driving you across the river?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Your only objective is to get to the other side – but so is everyone else’s. All those people trying to cross at the same time. Panic is a phenomenal thing. You know that it went on for two days?”

“All because of a stupid cow.”

He smiled down at me. “Yes, that stupid cow.”

It felt so natural for him to brush his knuckles over my cheek that it happened before either of us had realized it. It was only a second, and he pulled back immediately. But it left my skin singing.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You can’t do that,” I said. “You can’t just do that.”

“I know. It just happened. I’m sorry.” He left down the other side of the bridge.

But oh, I wanted it to just happen again. My reprimand was not because I didn’t want that too, but because I was always on the verge of making a mistake with him. His touch was intoxicating, burning like wildfire through my body and straight to my core.

Helplessly, I followed, unsure of whether or not he wanted me to. When I caught up to him, I gestured to the right. “I’m going this way.”

“I didn’t know we had a destination,” he said, turning with me.

“I promised Lucy I would check on things while they’re away.”

He slowed to a stop. “And here we are.”

“Here we are,” I echoed, watching him closely.

He pulled a hand from his pocket and rubbed his chin, as though debating. He went to stick his hand back in his pocket but pulled the lobby door open instead. I looked from him to the door and back.

“I’ll walk you up.”

There was no question in his voice, and I didn’t protest. I hid my face from the doorman as I waved in his direction, and we rode the eight floors up in silence. I located the keys and turned to him, leaning my back against Lucy and Andrew’s apartment door. “Thank you. I don’t know why, but I enjoy walking with you a lot.”

“I know why,” he said.

“Okay,” I prompted, fighting back a smile.

“I’m not telling.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

“I’m omniscient when it comes to these things. A good guy to have around.”

“It doesn’t do me any good if you withhold your great knowledge.”

“True,” he said, placing an outstretched hand against the doorframe. “But I’m withholding it for your own good.”