“Monte, I love you like a stepbrother, but it’s time you got honest—if not with me, at least with yourself. Shawna would not want you living this way,” Brent said softly.
Monte was poised to get defensive and tell Brent that he really had no idea what he was talking about. He wanted to tell his friend to back off, but something stopped him. He leaned back in his seat and his eyes gravitated to the left, toward the credenza behind him. There was a picture of Shawna, the boys and him, taken about six months before she died.
“She’d give you permission to be happy if she could,” Brent added.
“What makes you think I’m not happy?” Monte asked, lifting the framed photograph from the shelf.
“I’m not saying you’re not happy. I know you love the boys, and for some crazy reason you even love this place. I’m just saying that you’re blessed, man, but all that’s missing is someone to share it with.”
“I’m blessed? Listen to you sounding like a brotha. Keep on hanging out with me and you’re going to get your white-boy card revoked,” Monte joked.
“See there, now your memory is fading. I already became an honorary brotha last Thanksgiving when your mom got me hooked on her collard greens and black-eyed peas,” Brent replied with a laugh. “On that note, I’ve got a meeting to get to. Just think about what I said and, after you do that, invite the woman to a harmless lunch.”
“Later, man,” was Monte’s noncommittal reply.
Left alone with his thoughts, Monte stared at the photo of his family. He couldn’t believe that he still loved Shawna as much as he did the day he’d married her, but there it was, sitting in the middle of his chest like a boulder. A love that once lifted him and made him believe he could fly now weighed him down and left him feeling like a drowning man. For the first few months after her death, he’d looked up to the heavens and asked over and over again why she’d left him. He never got a response so eventually he stopped asking. He’d heard that when people lost a loved one, they often felt that person’s presence, comforting them. He didn’t feel that. All that Shawna’s death had left was a hole that he’d believed could never be filled. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him that perhaps what Shawna had really left was a space and not a hole. Maybe she’d left that space purposely so that there would be room in his heart for someone new to love.
Monte spontaneously turned toward his computer. He struck a few keys on the keyboard and pulled up the firm’s client directory. Within seconds, Torie Turner’s name, address and telephone number appeared on the screen. He picked up the handset on his telephone, punched her digits into the keypad and waited. Her recorded voice came on after the second ring, urging him to leave a message.
“Hello, Torie. This is Monte…Monte Lewis. I just, uh, wanted to say thank-you for the flowers. A beautiful yet entirely unnecessary gesture, but you are more than welcome. Listen, I was wondering if you’d like to, uh, have lunch sometime. I know your schedule is probably pretty hectic, but if you have a free hour or whatever, give me a call. Okay, well, take care.”
Monte hung up and expelled the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. Uncertain as to if she’d call or how that would make him feel, Monte allowed the alluring scent of Torie’s roses to soothe him temporarily. He couldn’t deny that she’d touched him in a place that he’d thought no one would ever be able to reach again. He certainly hadn’t been looking for it, but it was precisely because he wasn’t looking that she’d appeared. While he was a man who’d long ago stopped believing in destiny and fate, he could not help but wonder if Torie Turner had come into his life and his elevator at precisely the moment when he needed her to.
Chapter 5
Cards on the Table
“So, Ms. Turner, have you hung out in any nice elevators lately?” Monte asked.
They were seated at an intimate table for two at an obscure Italian restaurant in walking distance of the Time Warner building.
“Ha-ha. Very funny, Mr. Lewis,” Torie replied.
Monte beamed beneath the warmth of her sunny smile.
“I’m just teasing you. How’ve you been?”
“I’ve been well, thank you. And for the record, I’ve been avoiding elevators ever since,” Torie answered.
Monte ordered a cabernet sauvignon by the bottle when the waiter approached. When Torie had returned his call, he was crushed to know that she was actually in California on business. She returned his hopes when she informed that she’d be back in town in a couple of days and would love to have lunch with him. They made plans to meet on Friday, two weeks after their fateful night together. For the days leading up to their date, Monte found himself wafting between moments of elation and others of despair. He didn’t want to make too much of her acceptance of his invitation, yet he couldn’t help but think that it meant, as Brent stated, that she was interested in him. Seated across the table from her now, he felt like a goofy teenager, unsure of himself.
Torie gratefully accepted the glass of wine poured by the waiter. She took a protracted sip, quenching her dry throat. She chided herself silently, annoyed at how nervous she was, seated across from Monte. That morning, with their date looming before her, she’d changed her outfit three times before finally deciding on a long-sleeved animal-print blouse and white slacks. She wore minimal makeup as usual, opting for a subtle shimmer on her eyes and a tinted lip gloss. She wore her shoulder-length bronze-copper hair pulled back from her face and held in place by a silver comb. Confident in her appearance, Torie wished that some of that confidence would calm the butterflies that were flitting around in her belly.
“I’ve got to tell you, those flowers you sent me caused quite a stir around the office,” Monte said.
“Really? Why is that?” Torie asked.
“Well, it’s not every day that I get elaborate floral arrangements from a female.”
“Oh? So do you usually get them from a male?”
“That’s cute. Okay, I guess I set myself up for that one. What I meant to say was that it was an unusual sight and people were curious,” Monte said.
“Were they interested in who they were from or what you did to deserve them?” Torie asked.
“Both.”
“What’d you tell them?”
“Absolutely nothing. I figured I’d keep them guessing.”
“I see. Well, next time, maybe I’ll send you some balloons, instead. All right?” Torie laughed.
“Definitely all right…especially that part about next time,” Monte said.
His meaning was not lost on Torie. She took another sip of wine and smiled at him. It was so difficult not to be captivated by everything about Monte—his eyes and his smile drew her in like a spider’s web. She’d wanted to resist him and the feelings he had ignited in her, but denying herself the pleasure of the company of a man like Monte proved more difficult than she had imagined it would be. When she’d set her mind to avoiding romantic entanglements for the foreseeable future, she had not encountered the likes of Monte Lewis. There was a calm that surrounded the man like a cloak, traveled with him and pervaded the mood of anyone who came into contact with him. She liked the way she felt around him, and going against her previous stance did not seem like such a high price to pay to enjoy that feeling.
“Can I ask you a question?” Monte asked.
“You just did.”
“Wow, are you sure you’re an actress and not a comedienne?” Monte retorted.
“I’m sorry.” Torie laughed. “I have this bad habit