Cassidy Lane (9 page)

He cut another
piece of flan with his spoon. “I find that hard to believe.”

She smiled again
and wondered if he was flirting with her or just making an observation—she hated that she couldn’t differentiate between the two. She feigned confidence and replied, “It’s true. I, um…I haven’t been that lucky in love.”

“Broken a few
hearts, have you?”

“I wouldn’t say
I’ve broken any hearts, maybe bruised a few. And I’ve been burned myself a few times, but let’s just leave it at that.” She cursed herself for sharing too much—again. What was it about him that made her feel she could open up like this? Where was her aura of mystery? Everyone knew men loved an aura of mystery. Even her characters knew that.

“Have you ever
been close to getting married?” he asked.

Cassidy felt a
tiny pang at the memory of Dean. “I dated this one guy for about two and a half years, and I thought it was heading that way, but apparently he saw things differently.” That was about the best way she could think of to sugarcoat the experience of having been unceremoniously dumped.

“I’m sorry to
hear that.”

“Thanks.” She offered
a weak smile and looked down, suddenly feeling undesirable. Thinking about Dean always made her feel that way.
Ugh
. She took a sip of water and wondered how this conversation had gotten so off track. An hour ago she’d been floating. And flirting.

Now she was
flailing.

And failing.

She wished there
were a school somewhere that could teach her how to talk to men she found attractive. Maybe that was how all the happy women out there found doting boyfriends and husbands. Had they all taken some secret class?

“When I saw
you at the reunion, I was surprised to find out you weren’t married.”

She looked up
at him. “Why?”

He laughed. “Please.
You’re beautiful and smart and funny. Who wouldn’t want to marry you?”

She caught her
breath and felt her stomach do a little flip-flop
.
The questions started bouncing around inside her head again, as if they were inside a pinball machine.

Are we on
a date?

Is this a
date?

She was beginning
to feel as if she were engaged in two conversations at once.

Before she could
respond to his compliment, the waiter appeared.

“Can I get
you anything else?”

Brandon shook his
head. “Just the check, please, thank you.”

Cassidy reached for
her purse and stood up. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to run to the ladies’ room.”

As best she
could, she walked calmly across the room and pushed open the door to the restroom, trying to process what Brandon had just said to her.

You’re beautiful and
smart and funny. Who wouldn’t want to marry you?

She washed her
hands and saw the confused look on her own face in the mirror.

Is he interested
in me?

He must be
interested in me to say those things, right?

Or was he
just saying them to be nice?

She pressed a
palm against her forehead.

How can I
be thirty-eight years old and still have absolutely no idea how to read men?

“Thanks so much
for dinner, Brandon. I had a really nice time.”

“It was my
pleasure. Thanks for taking the time out of your busy schedule to see me.”

Cassidy rolled her
eyes. “I left my apartment for the first time at three o’clock today. My schedule is hardly busy.”

He held the
door open for her. “Did you skip your nap?”

She laughed. “I
guess I did.”

“Well then, let
me rephrase it. I appreciate your skipping your nap to see me.”

“No problem. Apparently
I’ll do anything for an old high-school friend, even one who never spoke to me.”

He held up
his palms. “Hey now, I think we established that you’re the one who never spoke to
me
.”

As they made
their way toward the subway entrance a block away, she wished the sidewalk ahead of them would magically elongate to prolong their time together. She stole a glance up at him as they walked, imagining once again what it would feel like to touch the stubble on his face. At the reunion she’d found him physically attractive, but tonight she’d been surprised by his intelligence and sense of humor. More than anything, the playful banter that had sprung up between them had caught her off guard. There was something undeniably magnetic about being able to joke around with a man she also wanted to kiss, and she wanted more of whatever it was stirring up inside of her. She wanted to suggest they go for a stroll around the West Village, or stop for coffee, or grab another drink, anything to keep this night from ending.

But she couldn’t
bring herself to speak up and make it happen.

Then again, he
wasn’t making it happen either.

Maybe that was
her answer. If she’d learned anything about men over the years, it was that when they were interested in a woman, they usually made it known.

But not always.

Which left her
at square one.

Much to her
chagrin, they reached the stairwell leading down to the subway. She stepped to one side so as not to block pedestrian traffic, then looked up at him to say good-bye.

They might as
well have been standing in front of her high-school locker, given how nervous she was.

“Well, I guess
this is where we part ways,” she said with a shaky smile. “When do you fly out?”

“Tomorrow morning. I
have to meet a client back in Palo Alto in the afternoon.”

“Got it.”
New
York will miss you
, she thought.

She stood there
for a moment, wishing he would do something, anything, to indicate that he was interested in her. She couldn’t be the only one feeling all this chemistry, could she? Was that possible? She didn’t believe in one-sided chemistry.

He put his
hands in his pockets. “It was really good to catch up. Get home safely, OK? Watch out for those armpits on the subway.”

She smiled and
stood on her tiptoes to give him a brief hug. “I’ll do my best. Have a good trip back to California.”

“Thanks. I’ll be
in touch.”

She waved a
bit awkwardly, then turned and quickly descended into the subway without looking back.

She swiped her
MetroCard at the turnstile and walked toward a bench flush along the wall facing the track. She plopped herself down with a sigh, and as she waited for the next uptown train to arrive, all she could think was one thing.

I’ll be in
touch?

What in God’s
name does that mean?

Twenty minutes later
Cassidy exited the subway at Seventy-Second Street and walked slowly toward her building. The entire ride uptown she’d been replaying the night’s events in her head, reliving the conversation, trying to figure out what it all meant, if anything.

Date or no
date, after spending two hours with Brandon she was certain of one thing: she liked him.

Liked
him liked
him, high-school style.

She balled her
hands into fists.
Damn it.

This is not
convenient.

She was half
a block from her building when she heard a man’s voice. “Hey, Cassidy.”

She looked up
and saw her neighbor walking toward her. “Hi, Harper. Where are you off to?”

“Headed to the
Ale House for a beer. Don’t
you
look nice tonight. Are you coming from a hot date?”

She laughed weakly.
“I’m not sure.”

“Say what?”

“We went to
high school together. He was in town for work and asked me out for a drink, so I think
maybe
it was a date, but to be honest, I don’t really know.” She frowned. “I’m so stupid about men.”

Harper held out
his arms. “Does Cassidy need a hug?”

She put her
hands on her waist. “Don’t tempt me. You know how much I love your hugs.”

He put his
arms around her and squeezed her tight. “Want to come have a brew with me? It’s still early.”

She thought about
it for a moment, then looked up at him and nodded. “Sure, why not? It’s not all that often I’m wearing a dress, much less on a Wednesday night, right?”

“That’s the spirit.”

They turned back
on Seventy-Third toward the Amsterdam Ale House, the closest thing Cassidy had to a regular watering hole, which for her meant dropping by once or twice a month. Harper was in there all the time, but he was only twenty-nine. She still enjoyed going out for drinks on occasion, but most days she’d gladly take a coffeehouse over an alehouse.

They sat down
at the bar, and Harper ordered them each a
hefeweizen
. He lifted his glass to hers for a toast. “I have some news.”

She clinked her
glass against his and took a sip. “Good news, I hope?”

“I think so.
I’ve decided to apply to business school.”

“No way. For
next fall?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you
applying? You realize that’s actually
bad
news if it means you’re leaving town, right?” Despite their age difference, she and Harper had been close friends since the day they’d met in the elevator nearly three years ago. She loved having a male friend, especially one who was still in his twenties. It secretly made her feel cool that he wanted to hang out with her so much, although she’d never admit that to him.

“Well, NYU and
Columbia are two of the schools I’m applying to, so if I get in to one of them, I may stick around. Will you help with my essays? I could use a professional opinion.”

“Of course, although
I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen a school essay of any kind.”

He gave her
a look. “Cassidy, you write books for a living. I stare at spreadsheets. Believe me, I need some assistance.”

She laughed. “OK,
I’ll help. Why do you want to go back to school anyway? Don’t you already make like a zillion dollars a year?” He also had an enormous trust fund.

He shrugged. “I
guess I’m a little bored.”

“You’re bored by
making a zillion dollars a year?”

“When you put
it
that
way…but seriously, I need a change, and going back to school seems like a good way to make that happen.”

She held up
her glass to his for another toast. “I’m all for change. I’m living proof of change.”

“Cheers to that.
So are you coming to my birthday party tomorrow? You didn’t respond.”

She put a
hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, I totally forgot. When’s the party again?”

“Tomorrow night in
SoHo.”

The thought of
attending a
thirtieth
birthday party at all was scary enough, and of doing so alone was unbearable. “Can I invite my friend Danielle?”

“Of course, the
more the merrier. I rented out the upstairs at Novecento.”