The First Taste(12)

“Thank you.”

As I retrieve our things off the ground, she mumbles something.

“What was that?” I ask, standing.

“The first first kiss?” she says. “I lied. It was pretty up there too.”

I let my grin happen slowly, just to make her squirm. “So you were tricking me into a real kiss.”

“I don’t play games.” She takes her food from me and continues walking. Over her shoulder, she throws, “When I want something, I go after it.”

With a few long strides, I’m at her side again. “It’s Andrew, by the way.”

She looks over at me. “I guess that’s more convenient than calling you Sadie’s brother.”

Shit. Sadie! She and Bell should be at her apartment by now. I toss my empty beer to get out my phone, but I have no missed calls, no texts. Nothing.

“Is that Sadie?” Amelia asks, assuming I have a call.

“No, sorry.” I put my cell away, even though I’d like to check in with them. I can wait a little longer. Can’t I? It’s barely been an hour. That’s a whole hour without thinking about my daughter, and I’m not sure how to feel about it. Even when I’m working at the garage, I still wonder what she’s up to at school.

“Tonight stays under wraps,” she says.

I return my attention to Amelia. “Sorry?”

“This.” She nods between us. “I don’t want Sadie to know. I’m not only her boss—she also knows a lot about my history with Reggie.”

“Oh.” I rub my eyebrow as my mind shifts gears again, but not without some creaking. I’ve been at Bell’s beck and call for almost four years straight, ever since her mom left. Doesn’t that earn me a night off? I’m not sure it does, or that I even want one. “I don’t really keep things from Sadie,” I say.

I finish off my pizza and trash the plates. Then again, Sadie gave me about six months after Shana left before she got on my case about dating, even though I’ve repeatedly told her I’m done with relationships. For that reason, I don’t want her to know about Amelia, or she’ll make something out of nothing. “But yeah. I agree. That’d be best.”

“Thanks.”

“What does your history with Reggie have to do with it, though?”

Amelia shrugs. “I’ve confided in Sadie a lot. She knows how I feel about men.”

“Not good, I’m guessing.”

“I may have said some things about your gender, but nothing you didn’t deserve. I doubt she wants me anywhere near you.”

“Good thing I’m a grown man and can decide for myself.”

She bumps me with her shoulder and holds up her beer. “Want the rest?”

“You sure?”

She nods. “I’ve proven myself, haven’t I?”

I take her beer, swig the rest down, and throw out all our trash. “Dessert?” I ask.

She groans. “Give me a break.”

I laugh. “Come on.”

“I have something else in mind for dessert,” she says. “And besides—we’re here.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “Where?”

“My apartment.” She stops and looks up, so I follow her gaze up the high-rise.

“I didn’t know we had a destination. I thought we were just wandering.”

“I don’t wander.” She opens her purse and gets out a key fob. When she holds it up to a black pad, it beeps, and the door unlatches. She looks back at me. “Coming?”

I glance into the building. A uniformed man behind a desk reads The New Yorker. The marble floor is shiny enough that I can see my reflection from where I stand. I don’t exactly live in a palace, but I like my familiar, comfortable home that’s a little too worn in, a little too kid-friendly. “This is exactly the kind of place I pictured you in,” I say.

“All right.” She shrugs. “So?”

I put my hands in my pockets. I’ve been out of the game awhile, and aside from the girls I meet in bars, this is easier than I remember. “So nothing. We just go up and do it?”

She gives me a funny look. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yes. I just want to make sure it’s what you want.”

“It is. Don’t worry. I’d tell you if it wasn’t.”

I believe her. “Should we at least pick up some wine or something?”

She takes the plastic bag of things from me and nods toward the door. “I’ve got it covered. Come on.”

I get the door for her. “By the way, isn’t this his job?” I ask, nodding at the man in the lobby.

“It is absolutely his job,” she says, not bothering to lower her voice. “Isn’t it, Frank?”

Frank looks up, widens his eyes, and jumps out of his seat. “Miss Van Ecken. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s too late now. We’re already inside.” Her heels echo in the lobby as she strides toward his desk. She stops in front of him and waits. “Well?”

He looks to me, and I shrug. “I’m sorry?” he asks.

“I should’ve had a dress delivered today,” she says.

“Oh. Of course.” He fumbles the magazine, drops it, goes to pick it up, but decides to leave it. “One moment.” He hustles over to a door, opens it, and pulls out a long garment bag. “Here you are,” he says, shuffling back toward us. As he does, his shoe catches the bottom of the dress, and he stumbles.