“Mr. Charles, let me make this clear. You can either continue to see me, or you can rethink your position with the company. It’s your choice.”
“You really think they’re going to pay for me to sit around and do nothing but talk to some shrink about my feelings?”
“Actually, that’s exactly what the fire captain has told me he’s willing to do. And I prefer the term psychiatrist.”
Cade let out a heavy breath as he carefully clicked the door shut behind him. “Mr. Charles?” the receptionist asked. “Would you like to schedule your next appointment now or—”
“I’ll call you,” Cade said as he grabbed his jacket. He felt the dark storm that brewed inside him begin to grow.
As Cade slammed his car door and started toward his new, tiny apartment, he spotted Lily across the street burdened with three shopping bags. Something about seeing her lifted his spirits. She nearly tripped on the uneven sidewalk, stopped and glared at the ground.
“Hey! What’s up?” he asked as he rolled up beside her.
She made a face. “My car crapped out again, so I’m walking home.”
“Walking? In those?” he asked and looked pointedly at her heels.
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “There was a special event at the bakery today, and you know French men. ‘A woman should always be in heels.’ At least when they’re representing Jean-Michel’s croissants, at least.”
“I actually don’t know French men that well. But can I give you a lift?”
She looked skeptical and shifted her weight to the side.
“Come on,” he said. “It’s on my way, anyway.”
Lily sighed and nodded. As Cade leaned over to push open the door, he noticed the top button of her blouse had come undone from carrying the bags. Beneath the ironed white shirt he could see the top of a light pink lace bra.
Kind of like the one she was wearing when we hooked up, he thought.
He could still clearly imagine the pinkness of her nipple, how it had hardened instantly when he wrapped his lips around it.
Cade took the bags from her and set them on the small bench seat in the back. As she climbed in, he tried his best not to stare at her long legs that jutted out from the fitted black skirt.
Lily looked at him, embarrassed, as she realized her top was undone and tried to discreetly button it while she buckled herself in.
He stared straight ahead and clenched the wheel tightly.
“Where to?” he asked.
“Oh. Right. You don’t know where I live anymore. Southeast Hoyt,” she said.
“Fancy.”
“Not really,” she said. “You’ll see.”
Lily chattered nervously as he made his way toward the Richmond neighborhood. She talked about the events coming up at the bakery, Jean-Michel’s obsession with cleaning up the graffiti on the building, and plans for Easter brunch with friends, but Cade couldn’t find anything to contribute.
“Well, this is it,” she said.
“You live at a mechanic shop?” he asked.
“No! I live in the apartment above it.”
“Oh. Isn’t it noisy?”
“During the day, probably. But by the time I get home they’re usually done.”
Cade reached back for the bags, uncertain whether to offer to carry them up or not. It would be the polite thing to do, but would she think he had ulterior motives?
“Would you like to come up?” she asked so quickly it sounded like a single word.
“What?”
“I mean, I was going to order some Chinese takeout. So…”
“Didn’t you just get a bunch of groceries?”
“Not really. This is all stuff to practice patisseries at home.”
“What happened to the veggie and coffee kick you were on?”
She blushed slightly. “It’s a cheat day.”
Cade was hesitant. “I don’t know…”
“Oh, come on,” she said, suddenly insistent. “We can order from that place you used to love. Yan Yan, right?”
She remembered that?
“Okay,” he said. “You know I can’t say no to Yan Yan’s.”
It’s not like you have anything else to look forward to at home besides a microwave dinner.
He followed Lily up the narrow staircase, the smell of grease in the air. Her ass was right in his face, swaying rhythmically side to side. When Cade realized he’d started to stiffen, he forced himself to look at his feet.
When she opened the door, it was to a warm, cozy apartment worlds away from the dark stairwell. And it was totally her.
She tried to tidy up as she ushered him toward the kitchen.
“It’s not much,” she said. “Just a one-bedroom.”
“It’s great,” he said as he set down the bags, and he meant it.
The main room was set up as a combination kitchen, living room, and dining room with an ornate round wooden table painted and distressed in white. A makeshift chandelier hung overhead, a circle of faux crystals that encased the bare lightbulb on the ceiling.
“Creative,” he said.
“Jean-Michel calls it ‘French shabby chic,’” she said as she kicked off her heels.
“You two are pretty close, huh?” he asked. Cade felt a tug of jealousy.
“Yeah, I guess,” she said. “I mean, he’s teaching me how to actually bake like a French chef.”
“You didn’t get enough of that in culinary school? You went up to Portland, right?”
“Ugh, it’s nothing like what he knows.”
Over her shoulder, he could see her bedroom. The canopy bed was covered in fluffy white down comforters with oversized knit baby pink throw blankets.
“Want me to look up the menu and call it in?” he asked. Anything to stop thinking about what could happen in that room just a few feet away.
“Sure. I’m going to change. Be right back,” she said, and disappeared into the bedroom.
He pulled up the menu, happy to see his favorite combination was still there.
“Hey, Lily? You know what you want?” he called.
She poked her head out of the bedroom door. “Uh, some kind of spicy shrimp and noodle something,” she said.
“Okay.”
She reemerged just as he’d placed the order, drowning in a huge Le Cordon Bleu sweatshirt and tiny shorts that could pass for underwear.
“What do you call that outfit?” he asked. He had to work to swallow the lump in his throat.
“Comfy clothes,” she said. “You try working in a starched shirt and heels all day. Wine?”
“Uh… sure.”
He watched as she hunted for a bottle in the cupboard. As she stretched on her toes, the shorts hiked up even higher. Cade could see the swell of her cheeks