The Hot One(61)

I drizzle some lavender massage oil on my palm and begin working on her shoulder. “Vi,” I whisper, astonished.

“What is it?”

“I can tell. You aren’t as knotted and tight.”

“See? I’ve behaved.”

I beam, and this is how I get Tyler out of my head. I focus on work, clients, and healing. This is the antidote to my morning. But even though we fought, my reaction was totally reasonable, wasn’t it? A proposal the morning after we sleep together is crazypants.

Oh shit.

I’m lingering on him again.

I shoo him from my brain once more as Violet says, “What about you?”

“What about me?” I ask as I dig my thumbs around her shoulder blade.

“Last time I saw you, you said that you’d been trying to break the habit of thinking about your ex-boyfriend,” she says, reminding me of my own words. I cringe.

“Right,” I say, guilty as charged.

“So . . .?”

I swallow and fess up. “Well, we wound up getting back together, actually.”

Violet flips up on her side. “You did?”

I tap the headrest, gently reminding her. “I can’t work my magic if you’re on your side.”

“I know, but tell me stuff. How did that happen?”

“I’ll tell you, but let me do it as I rub, okay?”

She returns to her front, wriggling around till she’s back in the position.

“Here’s how it started . . .”

I rub and talk. Violet asks questions as I go. “So what happened after the wig party?”

“We had earth-shattering, toe-curling sex.”

“Yum.”

“And I spent the night.”

“So what’s the problem, then?”

“In the morning, things started to go downhill,” I say, and then I tell her about the proposal. “It’s crazy, right?” I ask as I knead my hands over her lower back.

“Yes, it’s too soon to propose. He jumped the gun. He was pretty impulsive.” She breathes out heavily as I dig my thumbs along her spine. “But what if there’s a middle ground? Something in between you leaving and him proposing?”

“But I didn’t leave,” I insist. “I had to come here and work.”

“Sure,” Violet says, her tone understanding. “But to him, it might have felt like leaving.”

Leaving.

My chest hurts, a fresh, sharp pain.

I know how that feels. To be left.





27





Tyler



* * *



Carly pretends to toss a bone to the skeleton of the Tyrannosaurus Rex.

“Good boy,” she says, clapping. “Look, Tyler. He’s chasing after it.”

I point to the bone-retrieving dinosaur. “He’s almost got it. You can do it, boy,” I say as we weave through the lobby of the Museum of Natural History, one of her favorite places in the city.

She also happens to be a huge fan of Night at the Museum, so this trip is a total win-win.

The only problem is I’m not feeling like such a winner today.

I’m feeling like one helluva loser. As we stroll over to the bison exhibit, I try to pinpoint where I went wrong this morning. Asking her to marry me felt so goddamn smart, so fucking strategic when I walked into Katherine’s jewelry store on Fifth Avenue after my drinks with Simon the other night. With one grand gesture indeed, I was rewriting the past. Repairing all the damage that had been done. A clean sweep.

And I’d be keeping her forever.

Or so I thought.

I heave a harsh sigh as I rub a hand over the back of my neck. So much for my plans. I failed abysmally at assessing Delaney’s wants and needs. Proposing to her seemed brilliant. The best way to let her know I’ve changed. I’m not the man who walked away. I’m the man who’ll stay.

Carly tugs on my shirt. “Can we go see the capuchin monkey?”

“Let’s track down that banana eater,” I say.

Now is not the time to sort out my romantic fuck-ups. It’s Carly time, and for the next two hours, we do our best to play our own version of Night at the Museum as we wander through the exhibits. Along the way, I ask her how the big multiplication is going at school.

Her hazel eyes light up with excitement as she rattles off the new math facts she’s learned, and how much she likes her teacher.

Her words from the day at the park echo into my present dilemma.

“My teacher says the key is to follow the steps. Don’t cut corners, and take your time.”

Ding, ding, ding.

I grab tight to the brass rail in front of the stuffed buffalos to steady myself. That’s where I went wrong. Delaney was right. I treated her like a business transaction, focusing solely on the outcome. I thought I could slam dunk my way back into her heart. I didn’t take the time. I didn’t follow the steps. I cut all the fucking corners.

But a relationship is built on a foundation that needs corners.

As well as bricks, mortar, and plenty of time to shore it all up.

I skipped those steps, figuring I could apply my business strategy to romance.

But the truth is, I went only for the endgame with her. While I might go big in deals, I do so with meticulous strategy and preparation. I am a man with a playbook and a rock solid game plan. That’s why I can brave the risky deals for my clients, because I’ve done the homework.