Fight or Flight

I hated the dull quality of his tone. It made my skin prickle in warning. “You assume correctly. This is technically our first date tonight. Moreover, Leo and I agreed we’re not looking for anything serious.”

He looked over his shoulder again, one eyebrow impressively raised in what I’d soon realize was disbelief. “So you’re telling me I’m not enough tae satisfy you?”

I rolled my eyes. “You know that’s not true. But I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon … or at all. I made plans and he’s a nice guy.”

“Quick work,” Caleb muttered, standing up off the bed, his back to me again.

Realizing that the warning prickle I’d felt earlier was in recognition of Caleb’s rapidly changing mood, I lay stunned. It was as if he was upset by this information. Which totally pissed me off, because I’d been trying for the last six weeks not to think about the plethora of women he’d probably already been with. And he was pissed I had a date? I seethed but kept it hidden behind a sardonic, “Are you saying you’ve been celibate for the last six weeks?”

I watched him, his back still to me, as he began to button his shirt. “I’ve been uprooting my life for the last six weeks. There wasn’t time tae find a woman.”

This surprised and warmed me. But I hated the relief that shuddered through me and I wanted him to turn around and look at me.

Instead he bit out, “I take it that means you’ve fucked other men while I’ve been gone?”

“Oh yeah.” I glared at him. “Because that sounds like me.”

His hands fell to his sides and still he didn’t turn to me. Finally, after a few tense seconds of silence, he spoke in that dull, horribly flat tone again. “Well, call me when you have time tae fit me into your busy schedule.” He turned ever so slightly, so I could just see his profile and the brittle clench of his jawline. “And if we’re both now good tae see other people, we’ll need tae get tested regularly.”

And on that rather unromantic and alarming announcement, he walked out before I could respond.

I flinched at the sound of my apartment door slamming shut. It wouldn’t surprise me to find the plasterwork cracked around the frame.

His last words reverberated around my head like a scream, and bitter tears filled my eyes. I didn’t want Caleb sleeping with other women! But I would have no right to demand that of him if I started sleeping with Leo.

Suddenly I couldn’t even picture the idea of having sex with Leo Morgan. How could I think he was even an option now that Caleb was back? I was in serious, serious denial about the state of my relationship with Caleb—I knew that. But after his cold reaction, I didn’t think I was the only one.

Groaning, I got out of bed, pulled on a robe, and wandered out to the living room, where my shoes and underwear lay on the ground. My purse with my cell was on the coffee table. Not looking forward to the task ahead, I found Leo’s number and called him.

The compulsion to speak to Caleb, to tell him I had no intention of sleeping with anyone but him in the foreseeable future, was too strong. Throughout the day, I attempted to distract myself from my mess of confused emotions. First I went for a long run. Then I texted Harper to see if she was free, but she was working since she hadn’t worked Saturday night. With that option out the window, I grabbed my sketchbook and walked to the Public Garden. I hadn’t had time to just relax and sketch in months.

Unlike Caleb’s brother Jamie, I wasn’t a painter, but I loved drawing. I’d been sketching the world around me since I was a kid, and one of my favorite things to do since moving to Boston was to find an empty bench in the gardens and lose myself in a subject. Sometimes it was the gardens themselves, but mostly I’d find a person or people who captured my attention and I’d draw them. Sometimes it was a loved-up couple whose closeness fascinated me, or a young woman sitting by the pond lost in thought. I liked to be able to soak up whatever emotion I found in them and bleed it back out through my pencil.

There was a small kind of accomplishment I enjoyed in being able to successfully transfer that emotion to the page. Plus, it relaxed me. When I was sketching, I didn’t think about anything else.

Unfortunately, I just couldn’t find a subject I felt like drawing. After an hour of wandering around, starting sketches only to scrap them minutes later, I gave up and went home.

Back at my apartment, I tried to read several different books, I cleaned the place from top to bottom, I did some grocery shopping, I cleared out clothes and shoes from my closet that I hadn’t worn in a while to donate to Goodwill. Moreover, I searched the Internet looking for a lamp I had in mind for my latest project with a young divorcée who was using part of her settlement money to redesign her new apartment in Jamaica Plains.

Eventually I found the lamp.

I did not find peace of mind.

Which was probably why I shot off a message to Caleb before I could get control of the compulsion. I asked him if we could meet. Thankfully, before I could regret sending the message, Caleb responded with an address on Northern Avenue. The text was terse and he only gave me thirty minutes to get there. A cab could get me there in about ten, fifteen minutes depending on traffic, but I still had to throw something on and call a cab.

Even though I was the one who had requested the meet, I bristled at his demanding bossiness and texted him back that I would be there in forty-five minutes.

He didn’t reply, so I assumed that was okay.

Throwing on the skinny jeans I liked so much along with a slouchy, off-the-shoulder sweater, I had just enough time to fix my makeup and hair before my cabdriver rang to let me know he was outside. I had stupid butterflies in my belly as I hurried out of the apartment.

It was clear to me that Caleb was pissed at the idea of me seeing other men, and I was definitely not amenable to him seeing other women. I didn’t know what that meant for us, or if either of us really wanted to analyze it too much. Quite willing to bury my head in the sand and just keep enjoying my time with the brooding Scot, I could only hope that whatever Caleb was feeling didn’t spook him out of any kind of relationship with me.

The address he’d given me was a luxury apartment complex by the water. It seemed to be made up entirely of glass, all the lights from neighboring buildings and traffic bouncing off it in the dark.

When I stepped inside, there was a woman at reception and a security guy standing near a bank of elevators. The main lobby was huge, with two separate sitting areas on either side of the reception desk.

“Good evening. Can I help you?” The receptionist smiled at me.

My step faltered, wondering if Caleb had called down to let them know I’d be visiting him. I had to assume this was his new place and wondered just how much this was cutting into that nice new salary of his. “Um … hi. Ava Breevort visiting Mr. Scott in apartment 16A.”

“Of course. Mr. Scott let us know you were on your way.” She turned and pointed to the elevators. “Go right on up. Floor sixteen.”

I nodded my thanks, smiled congenially at the security guy when he lifted his chin in greeting as I passed. The receptionist’s voice could be heard behind me saying, “Mr. Scott, it’s Angela at reception. Your guest is on her way up.”

Hmm. Swanky indeed.

The whole place smelled new and shiny, and if memory served me correctly, these apartments had only come on the market a little while ago. Stella had been interested in landing the account for the interior decoration, but they’d gone with a firm in New York. If the reception area was anything to go by, with its rich woods, touches of marble, and muted, modern pieces of furniture brought to life with pops of bright colors in the soft furnishings, our competition had done a good job. It was the kind of comfortable, modern aesthetic that had a commercial appeal.

Thinking about the interior of the apartment building took my mind off telling Caleb I wanted to be exclusive friends with benefits. For about thirty seconds.

The butterflies returned in force as the elevator drew to a smooth halt on the sixteenth floor. Ping went the doors, opening out onto a bright, expansive hallway with shiny white floor tiles and soft blue walls. My heels squeaked annoyingly on the floor as I strolled down the hall, and I was grateful to come to a halt in the middle of it at the sight of the dark blue door on my left. Two brass numbers and a letter told me I’d found Caleb’s apartment. That, and he’d left the door ajar for me.