Beautiful Mistake(59)

“Sorry. I’ve been busy—between O’Leary’s, school, and my new TA assignment—time is flying by this semester.”

“How’s the ogre working out?”

“Ogre?”

“The new professor you told me about?”

I’d forgotten that the last time I spoke to Riley was my first day as Caine’s TA. I looked up and caught his eye as he buttoned his shirt. “Turns out he’s not so bad after all.”

Caine’s brows raised.

“Oh good. I’m glad it’s working out,” she said. “You didn’t forget about dinner tonight, did you?”

I had totally forgotten. “How could I forget our monthly dinner?”

I shook my head, letting Caine know I was lying, and he chuckled as he tucked in his dress shirt.

“I work until seven today. I should be there about seven-thirty.”

“Okay.”

“Alright. See you later. I need to jump in the shower so I’m not late to work.” I was just about to hang up when I made a spur-of-the-moment decision. “Wait. Would it be okay if I brought someone?”

“You’re seeing someone and I don’t know about it?”

“It’s new.”

“Of course.” I heard the excitement in her voice. “I can wait to meet him.”

“I’m not sure if he can make it or not. I’ll text you in a bit. Okay?”

“Sure.”

Caine finished dressing and grabbed his phone. He’d called an Uber after he got out of the shower.

“Car’s almost here,” he announced. “I gotta go.”

I was still sitting on the bed, naked on top with a sheet draped around my waist. He walked over and rubbed his knuckles against my nipple as he leaned down to kiss me.

“I’ll pick you up at work at seven.”

“You’ll go with me to my sister’s?”

“I assumed from your conversation you want me to.”

“I do.”

“Then I’ll see you at seven.”

I smiled long after he was gone. He had no idea how much it meant that he’d agreed to come along without any prodding. It felt like we’d broken through to a new place together, and I couldn’t wait to walk on the other side.





Caine



I could get used to that smile greeting me. Rachel waved from the table she was helping when I arrived at O’Leary’s a few minutes early. It had been less than twelve hours since I’d been inside her, and yet I felt my body react to seeing her.

Charlie greeted me at the bar. He shook my hand with a firm grip meant to get my attention. “She’s floatin’ around this place. I take it that’s because of whatever the two of you got going on?”

“If you’re asking if we’re seeing each other, the answer is yes.”

“You ain’t married, are you?” He narrowed his eyes.

“No, I’m not married.”

“You do drugs?”

“No drugs.”

“Got a record?”

I was basically being interrogated by a cop—no reason to share something that happened years ago and no one had access to anymore.

“No record.”

Charlie spread his pointer and middle finger into a V and pointed to his eyes, then to me. “I got my eyes on you.”

Rachel appeared next to me. “Charlie, what are you doing?”

He grabbed a glass from a full crate and started to stack them behind the bar. He’d been in my face, but with Rachel he was kowtowing.

“Just talking with the good professor.”

She squinted. “Just talking, huh? Not interrogating?”

Charlie looked me square in the eye. “We were just talking about the Yankees. Third baseman got injured when he was trying to steal home. Should have stayed at third until he got the all clear from his coach. Right, Professor?”

Rachel rightly looked suspicious.

“Sure, Charlie,” I said.

I wasn’t sure if she believed Charlie’s shit or chose to ignore it. Either way, I was glad she had someone looking out for her.

“Table three is almost ready to close out,” she told Charlie. “I told them to bring their check up to you.” She looked at her watch. “Ava’s not here yet. You want me to wait? Table five ordered appetizers and hasn’t put in their dinner order yet.”

“I got it. You two kids take off.”

“You sure?”

Charlie thumbed toward the door. “Go on. Get outta here. I don’t want people to see your professor friend here and think the place is changing over to yuppies.”

I laughed. “’Night, Charlie.”

Rachel’s sister lived in Queens, and traffic was still heavy from the evening commute home. She was quieter than usual as we inched our way up the parkway.

“Busy at work today?”

“No. It was actually kind of slow.”

More quiet as she stared off out the window.

“Something bothering you?”

She shifted in her seat. “There’s something I should tell you about my sister.”

“Alright.”

“She’s a drug addict. Well, she’s in recovery. But I suppose that still makes her a drug addict, because once an addict, always an addict. It’s the same thing as an alcoholic, right? You still call yourself an alcoholic even if you haven’t had a drink for five years. Is there actually a time when you stop referring to yourself that way? Like maybe those chips they give out—one might signify that you’re sober? Do all of those chips mean different things? I thought they were timeline accomplishments—like one for a month, and another for a year? But maybe—”