The Awakening of Nina Fontaine Page 7

  “You must travel a lot,” she said.

  He grinned. “Nice try.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not getting out of our conversation that easily. We were just getting to the good part, the honest part.” He hesitated. “Unless you really don’t want to talk about it, in which case, I’m happy to tell you about my travels.”

  He was being careful with her, letting her know he was interested in what she had to say, but the choice was ultimately up to her. It was a simple choice: treat her past with kid gloves, like a bomb that might explode in her hands, or own it.

  It wasn’t much of a choice. Shame wasn’t a good place to build something new.

  “I’m just figuring some of it out for myself,” she said. “I can’t promise it will be coherent.”

  “Coherent is overrated,” he said. “You were talking about being stranded.”

  She shouldn’t have been surprised that he remembered where they’d left off. Underneath his easygoing air, he clearly had a mind like a steel trap.

  “By the time you reach your mid-thirties,” she continued, “you’re an anomaly if you don’t have kids, in the suburbs anyway. Everything revolves around them — friendships with other adults and weekend activities and grocery shopping. It’s like everyone else has traveled to some exotic locale. They’ve come back different… expanded.”

  She braced for him to ask why she didn’t have children.

  “And you can’t expand if you don’t have kids?” he asked.

  She laughed. “Not where I was living.”

  “Is that why you moved to the city?” he asked. “So you could expand?”

  It was such a nice way to put her decision to leave the suburbs. At the time it had felt like she was running away — from all the expectations she couldn’t meet, from the suffocation, from the sorrow of dreams unfulfilled.

  She liked Liam’s version better. It spoke of running toward something instead.

  “I guess so,” she said. “I hadn’t thought about it that way, but given the choice of clinging to what I had — to something that wasn’t working — or reaching for something else…”

  “You chose something else,” he finished.

  He was right. She had chosen something else. No one had done that for her, and if she’d taken that leap once — and she had — she could do it again.

  He looked into her eyes for a long moment, that lazy smile creeping across his lips. “Well, Nina, I’m honored to be part of your… expansion.”

  She reached for her beer, hoping the movement would hide the flush she felt spreading across her cheeks, grateful he couldn’t see the heat blowing through the rest of her body.

  14

  The subway was quiet as they made their way back to her apartment, most of the workday commuters long since arrived home.

  They’d lingered over dinner, Liam allowing Nina to steer the conversation to him after the intimacy of her confessions. It was a relief to enjoy her food — which had been delicious, though not as exotic as the grilled squid with serrano peppers and fresh tomatoes ordered by Liam — while he told her about his most recent trip to Jordan, part of a magazine project to record crumbling historical sites around the world.

  It was a glimpse into another life, one where everything you needed fit into a backpack, where office buildings and traffic reports and picking up your dry cleaning fell away in the face of the blazing sun, logistics required to get from point A to point B, and food often provided by generous locals who were happy to trade for stories about the world beyond their door.

  He was a wonderful storyteller, and she’d been entranced as he brought his life alive for her. She’d felt like she was there with him, traveling in a rickety caravan of old vehicles to the city of Petra, carved into the hard rock in Jordan 11,000 years earlier.

  Now she was full and comfortable, a little sleepy as the subway rocked on the tracks. Liam’s body was solid next to her, his thigh leaning lightly against hers. He was a fascinating man, a man interested in everything and everyone. He had a peaceful energy, and she’d found herself settling into their time together, laughing at his stories, forgetting the self-consciousness that had plagued her at the beginning of their date.

  Maybe it was a product of his profession and the necessity of disappearing into the background so the subject could be front and center, but if she hadn’t nearly run into him — twice — she wondered if she would have noticed him in spite of his good looks.

  She had a feeling you only saw Liam if he wanted you to see him.

  He was as at home on the subway as he’d been at the after-party for Vincent Reynolds’s book, and she relaxed a little more, let herself be soothed by the motion of the train and the wall of Liam’s body next to her.

  The next thing she knew, she was bolting upright with the feeling that she’d missed something.

  “It’s okay,” Liam said next to her. “Our stop is next.”

  The train pulled out of the Grand Street station and she looked guiltily at Liam’s shoulder. “I was asleep, wasn’t I?”

  He smiled and held his thumb and index finger close together. “Just for a minute.”

  She laughed and leaned back. “I’m so sorry. It’s been a long day.”

  “You’d make a good traveler,” he said. “Not everyone can sleep sitting up, and sometimes it’s that or nothing.”

  “Let’s just file that information under Things We Don’t Need to Know About Nina,” she said.

  He looked down at her. “You never know. Maybe you’ll come with me sometime.”

  The train slowed down and he stood, waiting for her to follow suit before turning toward the subway doors. They waited for the train to stop and walked onto the concrete platform.

  Nina was surprised to find that it felt a little like home. All those trips to the grocery store three stops away, the journeys into the city for dinner with Karen or drinks or brunch with her and Robin and Amy, had served to make the Montrose Street station familiar. She even knew which exit to take to get her closest to her apartment.

  “Are you sure you want to walk with me?” Nina asked as they started for the stairs. “It’s not necessary.”

  He held a hand to his chest as if deeply offended. “I would never abandon a lady to find her own way home after sunset.”

  “I appreciate it, but I’m afraid I’ve been loose in the city after sunset already.”

  He draped an arm loosely around her shoulders. “And I’m sure the city has never been the same.”

  She laughed, resisting the urge to lean into him, into his warmth and the musky scent of his cologne and the solidity of his body. A moment later, he withdrew his hands and stuffed them into the pockets of his navy peacoat.

  “I’m a regular anarchist,” she said. “Getting groceries, buying coffee and sometimes even fresh flowers for my apartment.”

  He sighed. “I knew you were trouble from the start.”

  The sidewalk was mostly empty, street lights casting white orbs onto the pavement. The temperature had dropped at least five degrees while they’d been at dinner, and Nina ducked her chin a little farther into her coat and forced herself not to shiver. She should have worn a scarf.

  “It’s going to snow,” Liam said as they walked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “It is,” he said. “You’ll see.”

  “I checked the weather when I was deciding what shoes to wear,” she said.

  He looked down. “And you chose the boots.”

  She laughed. “But not because of snow. Because it’s cold. There’s no snow in the forecast.”

  “If you say so,” he said.

  “How far away do you live?” she asked him.

  “Not far. Four stops away off of Bedford.”

  “I think I stumbled onto it once when I was trying to find my way back to the subway from the grocery store,” she said. “If I remember it right, it’s nice.”

  “It is,” he said. “I
need to be close to the city most of the time for my work, but it’s a little less intense on this side of the river.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  They turned the corner and Nina’s building came into view. They’d just reached the stoop when the first flake fell from the sky.

  Liam didn’t even look up. He just grinned.

  She shook her head as more white flakes landed on his peacoat, turning into shimmering mini-puddles as they melted on the wool.

  “You’re going to say ‘I told you so,’ aren’t you?”

  “I would never.” He pretended to zip his mouth with his fingers.

  She looked up, feeing herself in a rare moment of magic: the sky black behind a flurry of white glitter, the city hushed, like it had known the snow was coming all along.

  She returned her eyes to Liam and found him studying her with an intensity that almost made her squirm. “How did you know?”

  “Just a feeling,” he said. “Probably a byproduct of being in so many different cities when it snows.” He tapped the side of his nose. “I’ve got a nose for it now.”

  “Good to know.” She looked around. The snow was falling faster, coating the street and sidewalk with a shimmery sheen. “It’s kind of magical, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he said, his eyes on her face. “It is.”

  The way he looked at her made it hard to breathe, her heart expanding in her chest until there was no room for her lungs. There was suddenly no doubt in her mind that this was a date.

  The realization sent a flurry of emotion pinwheeling through her body — excitement and fear and the strangest impulse to simply walk into his arms.

  It was paralyzing. She wasn’t ready for this, had no idea what to do, how to behave.

  He stepped closer and she held her breath, inhaling his scent mixed with the damp, cold smell of the snow falling from the sky.

  She braced herself for his kiss, wondered what it would be like to kiss someone who wasn’t Peter, but he folded her into his arms instead, holding her in a close embrace.

  She relaxed into him, his coat pleasantly scratchy against her cheek. She didn’t know how long they stood there. It felt like a long time.

  It felt like it would never be long enough.

  When he pulled away, he ran his index finger down the hollow of her cheekbone, briefly stopping at the corner of her mouth before letting his hand drop to his side.

  She needed to leave. Needed to get to the safety of her apartment where she could think straight, where she wasn’t intoxicated by something more dangerous than the beer they’d had with dinner.

  “I had a great time,” she said.

  “Me, too.” His gaze was still locked on her face.

  “Well… goodnight.” She turned and headed for the steps leading to her building, focused on getting her keys out of her bag, forced herself not to turn around and invite him up.

  She put the key in the lock and stepped into the foyer. When she turned to close the door, he was still there, seemingly oblivious to the snow falling around him.

  She hesitated too long, long enough to consider doing something rash, then closed the door and hurried for the stairs before she could give into the impulse.

  15

  The next day at Bergdorf’s, she handed over her credit card with her heart in her throat.

  “I can’t believe I’m spending this much on shoes,” she murmured.

  “Don’t be silly,” Karen said. “They’re marked down twice!”

  “They’re still seven-hundred dollars.” Nina felt faint just thinking about it.

  She’d been off-balance ever since her date with Liam. No, that wasn’t right. She’d been off-balance since the dresses had arrived from Jack.

  Who was she kidding? She’d been off-balance since moving to the city. Liam and Jack had just exacerbated the sensation that she’d stepped into another world.

  “That’s cheap for Louboutin,” Karen said. “And it’s not like you went for the acrylic platforms or the multicolored python.” She tapped the box on the counter just before the cashier slipped them into a bag. “These are practical.”

  “In what world are a pair of seven-hundred dollar black stilettos practical?” Nina asked.

  Karen sighed. “In my world. And in yours too. It’s a basic shoe. You’ll have them forever.”

  “I’ll be eating them forever too, since that was my grocery budget for almost two months,” Nina said, signing the credit card slip.

  “You’re being melodramatic,” Karen said. “They look gorgeous on you, and they’re perfect for the Jason Wu.”

  As much as Nina hated to admit it, Karen was right. After trying on all three dresses for Karen that afternoon, Nina had passed on the emerald green floral by Dolce and Gabbana and on the voluminous fire-engine red gown by Carolina Herrera. Both had been incredible — the Dolce romantic and sultry, the Herrera straight out of a historical romance novel complete with a long-haired pirate on the cover — but it was the black Jason Wu dress that felt most like her.

  Which wasn’t to say she was completely at home in it. With slender spaghetti straps dropping dramatically to a plunging velvet bodice that dipped low in the back, the dress showed way more skin than Nina was used to, not to mention the skirt made up of velvet panels alternating with see-through black mesh.

  But the structure was simple, the lines clean. Karen had pronounced it “luxe bohemian” and said it was perfect for Nina. Looking in the mirror at the apartment, Nina had to agree that it suited her.

  Karen sighed. “It’s the perfect dress.”

  “Yes,” Nina agreed. “It is.”

  The other two dresses felt like costumes, like an attempt to be something she wasn’t. The Jason Wu was like stepping into an unrealized version of herself — a version who hadn’t gotten married so young, who had moved to the city straight out of college with Karen, who had dated a string of handsome, powerful men like Jack Morgan and some adventurous, nice ones like Liam McAlister. This version of herself wore beautiful clothes and knew how to style her hair and do her makeup. She knew how to hail a cab in heels and how to shop for the lingerie Karen had made her buy earlier in the day. She took lovers and traveled to Paris to wander the streets alone simply because she felt like it.

  “Thank you for shopping at Bergdorf’s.” The cashier, a young man in a suit, held out the bag with her shoes.

  Karen slipped one of her personal cards across the counter. “Have them sent here, will you? Julia upstairs has some other stuff going to the same address.”

  Nina would have been embarrassed if Karen hadn’t been so sure of herself, but apparently this was how Karen shopped — with the help of the young, leggy, and gorgeous Julia, who helped choose the exact right things and then had them all wrapped up and sent to Karen’s apartment so she didn’t have to carry them through the city.

  “Of course.” The man took Karen’s card and lifted the bag off the counter.

  “Let’s eat,” Karen said, taking Nina’s arm. “I’m starving.”

  Twenty minutes and a cab later, they were tucked against a table at Michael’s, a restaurant that was priced well above Nina’s normal takeout allotment. They ordered oysters and crab cakes to share, then added a bowl of spring pea soup each.

  Nina was tucking her phone into her bag as the waiter filled their water glasses when a text came through from Liam.

  Last night was fun. Brunch Sunday?

  She hesitated, then tucked her phone into her bag without replying.

  “What’s that about?” Karen asked.

  “What?”

  “You were smiling just now when you checked your phone. And I know that brand of smile, although I’m not sure I’ve seen it on you before today,” Karen said. “Jack?”

  “Actually, no. It’s Liam.”

  Karen gave her a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin. “I see.”

  Nina laughed and reached for her water. “Don’t start.”

  “Start what?” Kar
en asked. “I wholeheartedly approve.”

  “Of what?”

  “Everything,” Karen said. “Jack, Liam, all that lingerie you just bought at Bergdorf’s.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Nina groaned and covered her face. She’d almost forgotten the humiliation of standing braless and in her underwear while the young, taut Julia had crowded into the fitting room with an older woman named Maureen wielding a tape measure.

  After determining Nina’s “correct” size (a not so subtle dig at the fact that she was apparently wearing a bra two sizes too big), Julia proceeded to bring a plethora of silky, lacy bits that Nina would never in a million years have considered in her old life.

  “Trust me, Maureen and Julia have already forgotten all about your tits.”

  Nina almost spit out her water. “Stop!”

  “I’m just saying. It’s not like they haven’t seen it before.”

  “Maybe,” Nina said. “But I haven’t exactly been showing it lately.”

  “Exactly, and it’s past time. Hence, the lingerie.”

  “That’s for me,” Nina said. “I have no intention of allowing anyone else to see me in it anytime soon.”

  The thought of exposing herself to Liam or Jack was horrifying. She was still getting used to the image of her body in the fitting room mirror, trussed up like a Christmas turkey, bound in scraps of lace and satin.

  No way was she ready for anyone else to see her that way.

  “That’s up to you,” Karen said. “But wearing sexy underthings will change the way you feel in your clothes, you’ll see.”

  Nina made a face and took a sip of her water. “I don’t think sexy is really my thing.”

  “What are you talking about?” Karen asked.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly young anymore.”

  Karen barked out a laugh. “Speak for yourself.” She sighed. “Sexy is a state of mind. Do you know what Sandra Bullock, Cate Blanchett, and Madonna all have in common?”

  “They’re all beautiful? And rich?”