Beside me, Jamie’s eyes are wide.
I clutch the phone tight, because I’m tempted. I’m so, so tempted. But I know what will happen. And on a plane, when he learns my secrets, there’s nowhere for me to go.
Slowly, I close my eyes. “I can’t,” I say. “The guy I’m dating—he’s coming back tomorrow.” I think about what Jamie told me. About Ollie asking me to move in.
And then I think that I need to go ahead and make that leap. “And, well, I’m going to move in with him.”
Silence.
Just dead silence.
Then I hear him clear his throat.
“Well, that’s a big step,” he says. “I wish you all the best.”
“Thanks.” My voice is so low and thin I doubt he can hear it.
“Right. Well, I had hoped. So I was planning to tell you this on the plane, but I suppose now will do. I’m sending over some revisions to your licensing agreement. Take a look. If you need to negotiate further, give Preston a call. I think it’s best if he handles the details from here on out.”
“You’re licensing my app? For Stark International?”
“I am. You’ll get the up-front payment as soon as the contract is signed.”
“Damien…”
I think about the size of that check, not to mention the quarterly fees that the licensing by a company that size will bring in.
Then I think about my office—my office—and how I’m going to decorate it.
“Damien,” I say again. “Thank you.”
“It’s business, Ms. Fairchild,” he says. “You have a product I need. And in business, at least, I can buy what I want.” And then, without a goodbye, the line goes dead.
“Wow,” Jamie says. She takes my hand and squeezes. “And I’m proud of you.” But she seems a little bit unsure when she says it.
As for me, I’m reeling. Both from the news about the license and from the indisputable fact that I have truly lost Damien Stark, a man I barely even knew, but whose loss I feel profoundly.
I’m still reeling at six-fifteen the next night when Ollie bursts through the door, then swings me around, making me laugh. “My parents say hi, and I have all sorts of gossip about people from the neighborhood,” he announces. “But first I have something to ask you.” He draws in a breath. “Nik, I think we ought to move in together.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” I say honestly. “Don’t be mad, but Jamie kind of told me.”
“I’m not mad.” He laughs. “I know you two. Hell, I should have expected she’d tell you,” he adds, reminding me once again of just how well he knows me. “So? You’ve thought about it?”
“I have,” I say, and I’m fully intending to tell him that I will move in with him. But in the space of time between the thought and speech, I see my life with him play out in my head. Long years that are fine, but not spectacular. Loving, but not passionate.
In other words, it’s an okay life, but it’s just a little off. And it’s not the life that I want.
“I’m sorry, Ollie,” I say as I glance at the clock. “I can’t. And I can’t stay to explain, either. I’m so sorry, but I have to go. Hell, I have to fly.”
Chapter 9
“Are you crazy?” Jamie asks, racing after me as I sprint toward my car.
“I made a horrible mistake, James. If I’m lucky and there’s no traffic—a minor miracle on New Year’s Eve—maybe I’ll get to the airport in time.”
“But—”
I pause long enough to hold her by the shoulders. “You’re the one who said it. I’m too smart not to know when I’ve got a good thing. But don’t you see? It’s Damien who’s my good thing.”
“You barely know him.”
“I know,” I agree as I fumble for my keys. “It’s crazy.”
“What about Ollie?”
I sigh. “That’s a hard one, but I can’t stay with him because I’m afraid of hurting him. He deserves real love, not best friend love. He deserves passion. And, honestly, so do I.”
“And the scars?” she asks as I’m unlocking the car.
That gives me pause, but only for a little bit. “It’s going to be okay,” I say, meeting her eyes. “He’s not going to care. He’s going to have my back, just like you and Ollie do.”
“That’s one hell of a leap of faith. How on earth do you know that?”
“I just do,” I say, and there’s not a doubt in my mind that I’m right.
Finally Jamie is all out of questions. “Wait!” she cries right before I slide into the driver’s seat. “I love you. If you’re really sure…”
“More sure than I’ve been of anything in a very long time.”
“Well, okay then.” She manages a crooked little smile. “Don’t get mugged in Times Square.”
I laugh, then realize I’m crying a little, too. “I have to go.”
“Then go.” She makes a motion as if to wave me out of a starting gate, and I start the car and peel out of the lot, then drive like an absolute maniac all the way to the Santa Monica airport. I must have a guardian angel—and that little guy deserves serious overtime—because I get there with ten minutes to spare and not even a dinged fender.
I’m familiar with the airport from a client that wanted me to do an app for his flight lesson students, and I find the plane near one of the Stark hangars. I throw the car into park, and am just about to get out and run to the jet when I see Damien on the tarmac—and Carmela is right there with him.