completed the job with Sophie and didn’t miss any assignments while I was away, she didn’t fire my ass. The only time I let myself out of the tower now is for work. I’ve been taking as many jobs as Elaine can find me, just for a reason to be somewhere else. So far, no more run-ins with anyone else I used to rub elbows with, and as far as I know, Sophie’s made good on her promise.
It also seems no one from Chicago’s tracked me back here. We’ve all watched for any of the telltale signs. New faces hanging around school or the house. Deliveries that we didn’t order. It’s been a month, and so far, nothing.
My current client is a British rocker I’ve listened to some. He and his band played a gig earlier and it’s after midnight. He’s currently wining and dining his girl at the table next to mine at this swanky Miami restaurant. I wish they’d bring me some toothpicks for my eyes.
I haven’t been sleeping much, so sometimes it catches up with me at inopportune moments.
But I’m suddenly wide awake when he stands up and starts belting out a song. His girl is all starry-eyed and blushing as he sings to her, and it takes me a second to recognize the lyrics to one of his songs about how some things are just meant to be. The whole restaurant, patrons and staff, have stopped what they’re doing and are watching the spectacle. He finishes the first verse, then pulls the iceberg that sunk the Titanic out of the pocket of his torn jeans and gets down on a knee in front of her.
“Baby, you’re everything, and without you I’m nothing. You’re my meant-to-be, and if you’ll marry me, I’ll spend the rest of my bloody life proving to you I’m yours. Will you?”
She says yes and they have this major make-out session while the whole place erupts into cheers and applause. It must be all the shit with Adri crossing my wires, but I feel myself getting sort of choked up too.
All the way back across the everglades, all I can think about is what the hell happens to a person when they feel like that poor schmuck—like someone is their meant-to-be—and it turns out she’s meant for better things.
Adri’s found all the decent parts of me and brought them to the surface, but could I ever be good enough? She says she doesn’t need the fairy tale. I deluded myself into thinking that was true. She deserves to be swept off her feet and loved right out loud. Can I do that?
My phone buzzes and I lift it, looking at the screen. It’s after one, so I’m expecting Elaine, or maybe Lee. The last person I expect is Adri.
I hold my breath as I open her text. It’s been a month since that Missouri hotel room. There’s not a day that’s gone by that I haven’t remembered every minute of it, including the fact that we rode bareback that night.
What if this is the fallout?
Meet me on the beach.
When? I text back.
Now.
My gut knots. I’m coming home from a job. Won’t be there for an hour.
I’ll be waiting.
She’ll be waiting. She’s waiting for me. To tell me she’s pregnant.
Why else would she want to see me after a month of silence?
“Step on the gas, old man,” I tell David.
He grins and does as he’s told.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m tripping down the path to the beach in my wingtips and monkey suit, on the edge of breaking my neck in my hurry. It’s a full moon, and in it, I see her, a white form glowing out of the middle of a dark blanket on the sparkling sand. I jog toward her.
She’s lying back on the blanket, arms overhead, totally naked. And fuck if I’m not hard as a rock for her in one second flat. She stands and steps in front of me. My tie is already loose around my neck. Without a word, she unfastens my buttons and pushes my shirt and jacket off my shoulders. They drop into the sand at my feet. She kneels and unties my shoes, pulling off one and then the other. I fight to keep my hands to myself as she starts on my slacks. When they and the boxer briefs underneath are both in the sand, she pulls me to the blanket.
She lays me down and straddles me, gliding her wet opening over my straining