"Come on, Mac," I say with a wry grin. "Macy doesn't do anything unless it's for attention. I mean... look at that party she threw for Aaron. No one-year-old baby needs a party with champagne and caviar. She threw that party for herself, not for you, Aaron, or Matt."
Okay, that came out way harsher than I imagined it in my head, and I know this by the fact that Mac's face colors red with anger.
"You shouldn't be so judgmental, Cal," she says quietly to me, and with just enough shaming in her voice to make me feel like shit.
Which makes me defensive. "The party was over the top, Mac. It was unnecessary. Surely you can admit that."
Mac gives me a shake of her head with a sad smile, and then shocks the shit out of me. "It was absolutely necessary, Cal. Necessary to Macy anyway, and I fully supported every decision she made about it, right down to the china pattern of the dessert plates I approved."
My jaw drops. "Are you serious?"
"It was necessary to Macy," she repeats slowly, and I know she's dead fucking serious. "And because I love her, I accommodated her."
Uneasiness bubbles within my chest because I know, without a doubt, that Mac is telling me--without telling me--that there's a deeper story behind Macy Carrington's motivations. It makes me feel guilty, and oddly... slightly intrigued.
I shrug it off though. While I may have fantasized every night for the past ten days about what an amazing screw Macy is, and I may have jacked off more than normal because of those fantasies, my gut instinct tells me to stay far away from her. Give it time and these fantasies will subside.
Haven't even thought once about taking her up on her offer for a repeat.
Nope. Not once.
Okay, not once past that first night after Aaron's party. Admittedly, I almost picked up the phone to call her, but then I was saved by Camille giving me a call to chat.
"Fuck," I exclaim as I shoot out of my chair, tucking the folder Mac handed me under my arm. "I completely forgot I've got to meet Camille."
"Hot date?" Mac inquires.
"She got tickets for us to Book of Mormon," I say absently as I grab my briefcase and head for her door. Calling out over my shoulder, I add on, "I'll look over this assignment tomorrow."
"Awesome," Mac says as I pull my phone out of my breast pocket. Before I can even look at it, she stops me dead in my tracks. "And Cal?"
By the tone of her voice, I can tell she's getting ready to tell me something that she's been utterly relishing inside that brilliant head of hers. I have no clue what she's going to say, but her tone is completely victorious before she even lays it on me.
"Yeah?" I ask hesitantly as I turn back to face her.
"That assignment," she says as her eyes flick to the folder under my arm. "Macy wants it to be an anonymous donation. She doesn't want any credit for it."
Fuck... that makes me feel even shittier. But I don't have time to apologize or make amends for my horrid thoughts about her best friend. I just give her a repentant smile and nod of my head before turning away.
Once outside of her office, I turn my attention to my phone. Ignoring the text that I'm sure is from Camille, I go ahead and call her as I head toward the lobby elevator.
She picks up on the second ring. Never one to pussyfoot around, she says, "Don't bother rushing. We'll never make the show."
I cringe over the anger laced with disappointment in her voice. "I'm so sorry. It's just been crazy at work today, and then I got stuck on an emergent issue with Mac."
Camille snorts. "Of course you did."
"I did," I insist, even though that's not exactly true. Macy's trust assignment is not an emergency. "Let me make it up to you. I can be there in thirty minutes, and I'll take you out to a nice dinner."
I jab at the elevator button while I tilt my head to hold the phone between my shoulder and ear. Managing to pull the folder out from under my arm, I shove it into a side pocket of my briefcase. With my arm now completely free, I take the phone back in hand and press it closer to my ear.
I'm not even sure why I'm trying to appease her at this point. My desire to reconnect with Camille has been lukewarm at best. After my encounter with Macy, it's cooled even more. But we have a history, and when we were good, we were really good, so I figured I should give it at least a decent effort to see if a spark can be rekindled.
With a deep sigh, Camille takes the guilt trip to an entirely new level. "This is about priorities, Cal. If we're going to try to make a go of this, you have to make me a priority. Especially when I have four-hundred dollar theater tickets."
I grit my teeth as the elevator doors open, and she's saved from what I really want to say as I see the car is full of people. I step in and move to the back, leaning up against the wall. With a low voice, I say, "Don't even go there, Camille. You do not want to get into a discussion on what priorities really mean."
I mean, fuck... she clearly didn't make me a priority when she jetted off to London in search of money and power.
Clearly, that still stings a bit, so I feel like I'm always poised to strike out at her when she even remotely questions my character.
The backpedaling starts. "I'm sorry," she says quickly. "You're right. I'm just disappointed we won't see the show. I've been dying to go."
As the elevator car descends, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know, and again, I'm sorry. I'll be there soon, and then we'll have a nice dinner. And I'll reimburse you for the tickets."
Camille's voice is bright and cheery. "Alright. I'll accept that. See you soon."
She hangs up, and my hand holding my phone falls away from my face. Christ... I do not want to go to dinner with her tonight. My mind is still swirling over Mac's cryptic statement about Macy, and whatever potential secret she's hiding. I'm pissy that Macy is even occupying my thoughts, and that my dick is still very much interested in her. Add on to that an irate ex-girlfriend who is trying to be my current girlfriend even though I'm not sure that's really what I want... and a night out is the last thing I want.
I'd rather just head back to my apartment and drink a six-pack of beer while watching some baseball on TV.
And maybe jack off while reliving that amazing blow job and finger fuck that Macy did on me last week.
Just the thought has my groin starting to tighten, and for the first time in nine days, I consider calling Macy.
No!
Get a fucking grip, Cal.
That woman may be the hottest fuck ever, but she is way more trouble than I want to take on.
Chapter 7
One week later...
Camille sits across from me at my dining room table. Her back is ramrod straight, one hand daintily in her lap while the other spears asparagus tips with her fork. She takes forever to eat because she believes in very small bites and chewing her food like forty times or some shit like that. I always finish way before she does, which lets me sit back in my chair and relax with a second glass of wine.
I need the fortitude tonight because it seems like it's actually a chore to spend time with Camille, and this makes me feel bad. I mean... I loved this woman once.
Didn't I?
But we are not reconnecting, despite how hard she's trying. It seems like all of our conversations are stilted and forced. I don't find her amusing anymore, and I'm not sure if this is something new that I'm seeing, or if she always did it and I just refused to acknowledge it, but she seems to fucking whine a lot about her lot in life.
Grady has a bigger office than I do, even though I've been at the firm longer.
The corner market stopped carrying my favorite mineral water, and I think I might die without it.
My hairdresser cut two inches off my hair rather than one, and I look horrid.
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
Damn... even when we discuss the law, a subject that I love and am well versed in, she sounds like a damn robot, just regurgitating the stuff she learned in law school. She has no passion... no spirit, and it's actually quite depressing to me. In fact, I'm betting that's exactly why she didn't get the partnership she was aiming for. I bet the selection committee could tell she didn't have that fire deep in her belly that makes a truly great lawyer.
So you may wonder why in the fuck is she in my apartment, eating a fantastic meal I just cooked her?
I'll tell you why.
Every date I go on with Camille is one more day in my life that I refuse to call Macy and take her up on her offer of a repeat fuck. Because despite my lack of connection and interest with Camille, I'm not the type of guy that will screw around on the person I'm seeing. Don't get me wrong... I like getting freaky when it comes to sex, but I am a monogamist to the core.
So I put up with Camille and our lackluster dates because she's my protection against Macy. The woman who I can't seem to get out of my mind. The woman who has intrigued me greatly, now that I know she's got some type of secret she's harboring that perhaps has made her a certain way. A woman who is overtly sexual with a dark past? It's too delicious not to be taken in by it.
But I can't go there.
Macy Carrington isn't the type of woman I need.