Passion on Park Avenue (Central Park Pact #1)(51)

“How so?”

“I’m kind of sort of helping take care of Walter Cunningham.”

“Who? Wait. Oliver’s father? The one who slept with your mom and then threw her out?” Claire asked incredulously.

Naomi made a face. “Sort of?”

“Why? What do you mean you’re taking care of him?”

“He has Alzheimer’s, and as far as the why, I don’t really know. It’s like one moment I was reminding myself that I moved into the building to show them that the girl they kicked to the streets could buy the entire building they live in and then some. And the next . . . they’re not the same. I mean, Walter, obviously not, because of the dementia. But Oliver, too. And before I knew it, I had this weird urge to help an old man who’s sick, even knowing he’s a jerk. Used to be a jerk. Whatever. And now you think I’m crazy.”

“Not crazy,” Claire said slowly. “But are you doing it for Walter? Or for his son?”

Naomi’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”

Claire swirled her wine. “Meaning that we saw the way Oliver Cunningham looks at you like he doesn’t know whether he wants to kiss you or shove you against the wall, or shove you against the wall to kiss you . . .”

“Please stop,” Audrey said, dabbing her brow dramatically. “I haven’t been pushed against the wall ever. But seriously. What is going on with you two? You guys looked mighty friendly leaving my party last weekend.”

“Did we?” Naomi said sarcastically. “Or did we maybe look that way because you two conspired to set us up.”

“Claire’s the one who brought him.”

“You’re the one who made sure Naomi sat next to him,” Claire countered.

“And you both all but shoved Dylan in a cab so that Oliver would have to walk me home.”

“We didn’t want Dylan to be late to the airport,” Claire said innocently.

Audrey nodded in solemn agreement. “His job is very important. Super demanding. Did he not tell you once or a thousand times?”

Naomi conceded with a laugh. “Okay, I’ll grant that Dylan was a little . . .”

“Conceited? Invasive? Full of himself?” Claire said.

“He’s a good producer,” Naomi pointed out.

“That I’ll believe. He certainly was determined to get the dirt on you.”

Naomi winced. Dylan had been a little obvious in his attempt to get information about her from her friends that night. But he’d called later to apologize, and Naomi could cop to being a little pushy when she wanted something.

“Any regrets on signing the contract for the TV show?”

“Oddly, no. I mean, things are moving fast, but so far I haven’t had to do much,” Naomi said, taking a sip of her wine. They were right, she had given herself a plus-size pour.

It wasn’t the most responsible way to deal with the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about Oliver Cunningham, but it was effective.

“Tell ya what,” Naomi said, looking back to Audrey to change the subject. “I’ll give you the full rundown on Oliver if you fill me in on Clarke.”

Audrey blinked in surprise, then laughed. “Clarke? Clarke West? As in . . . Clarke?”

Naomi laughed. “Yes, as in Clarke. The Clarke. What’s the story there? Gay?”

“Definitely not.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve had a straight best guy friend who looks like that for twenty years? How does that work?”

“What she said,” Naomi said, pointing at Claire. “Wait, no, let me guess. You guys hooked up and had no chemistry but decided to be friends rather than exes. Ooh, or you’re secretly in love but aren’t ready to admit it to yourself?”

Audrey raised her eyebrows. “Those are my only two options?”

“Pretty much.”

“Says who?” Audrey demanded.

Naomi shrugged. “Movies?”

“Every teen TV show ever written,” Claire chimed in.

“Well, that’s true,” Audrey admitted. “But I hate to break it to you ladies, Clarke and I don’t fit into either of those categories.”

“He’s not gay. And not an ex? And you’re not secretly in love?” Naomi asked skeptically.

Audrey smiled. “No to all of the above. We really are just friends. When I was in first grade, a mean third-grade girl stole the locket my grandma had given me for my birthday. He made her give it back, then played hopscotch with me until I stopped crying.”

“How did you not fall in love then and there?” Claire asked a little dreamily. “That’s so romantic.”

“I was six, so not so much,” Audrey said. “I idolized him, but more in the big brother kind of way, since my actual big brother was much older.”

“Okay, but what about after you developed hormones,” Naomi asked. “Surely then you realized your best friend was ridiculously cute.”

“Yeah, but he’s a couple years older, so he got hormones first. By the time I figured out the whole boy-girl thing, he was already a ladies’ man, and I was smart enough to recognize a heartbreaker, even if he was my best friend.”

“Wait, he was a heartbreaker, at what, twelve?”