Entangle Page 10

  “Hey, Jacob, can we...talk later? I’m getting ready to head out.”

  “For lunch?”

  I’m distracted, searching in my bag for my car keys when I answer. “Uh-huh.”

  “Perfect coincidence. That’s why I’m calling. I just got out of a meeting not far from you. Can I join you?”

  I don’t answer right away, walking out of my office and heading toward the front doors. I see a trickle of people in the hall, coming out of the conference room.

  “Are you there, my friend?”

  I hear a cheerful sarcasm in his voice. The awkwardness of my silence is funny to him.

  “Yeah. Maybe next time, I’ve already left the building and I don’t plan on being out long.”

  “I’m already in my car, ready to meet you wherever your heart desires.”

  I reach my car, shaking my head at his determination. When I said we’d be friends, I was thinking the type of ‘friends’ that never seem to find the time to actually speak or see each other. But the distinction feels trivial now. It shouldn’t matter either way, seeing him or not seeing him.

  What’s the harm? I don’t feel threatened by Jacob, not in any sense of the word. He’s good company and I am heading to lunch, anyway. Besides, being on work time coupled with the light of day makes the idea of meeting with him feel stark and ordinary.

  “Julian’s Pizzeria,” I tell him and end the call.

  “Do you have any sisters?”

  I narrow my eyes at Jacob in response and he puts up his hands.

  “What? I’m just asking.”

  “I do. Her name is Emily and she’s way out of your league.”

  “Is she? More than you?”

  I take a small bite out of my food, but even that can’t deter me from bragging about my sister. “She just got out of law school and landed a job with a major firm in San Francisco.”

  “Where do I sign up?”

  “Trust me, you couldn’t handle her. You’re too tame.”

  He cocks his head. “That kind of hurts my feelings. But anyway, I was kidding. I wouldn’t be interested. I’m already smitten by a fair maiden.” He lifts his slice of pizza to his lips but, before he takes a bite, his voice warps without warning into an accent. “Whose beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.”

  I let out a chortle into my glass of water.

  “Seriously, what’s with you and the British accent?”

  “Some things just sound better in a British accent.”

  “And the Shakespeare quote?”

  “Caught on to that, huh?” He smirks. “Beauty and brains.”

  “I have a feeling your tastes require only one.”

  He flings a hand to his side as though struck by an arrow.

  “Wow. You really don't think much of me, do you?”

  I consider him for a moment, his impeccable features, boyish grin, and easygoing attitude. His smile seems genuine, but clever at the same time.

  “You know what, Jacob, I’m not sure what to think about you.”

  “I’m flattered you think of me at all.” He bites his lower lip and gives me a shy smile.

  “See.” I pause to point at him. “This is what I mean. You’re all womanizing charm and yet…”

  He waits, but I don’t finish the thought. I take another bite of my calzone and glance around. The place still feels crowded. My office is right down the street, along with a dozen other office buildings. This pizzeria is the only decent place to get food for over three miles. The peak lunch hour crowd is quickly dying down and more tables are opening up around us.

  “So Julia mentioned you’re divorced?”

  My eyes snap back to his. His intonation makes his statement sound like a question, but I know it isn’t one. Even though I want to feel annoyed at his personal intrusion, I can’t bring myself to. Jacob is impossible to frown at.

  “Is that your idea of a smooth segue?”

  “I’m curious. It would help explain some things to me.”

  I wipe grease from my mouth with my thumb. I know I shouldn’t take the bait, but I don’t feel the need to be leery with Jacob. It’s not just because he’s so approachable. I don’t understand why, exactly, but I don’t feel as guarded around him as I expect to.

  “Explain what things?”

  “That whole…” He wavers in his thought before continuing, “Commitment phobe thing you’ve got going on.”

  “Just because I don’t want to date you doesn’t make me a commitment phobe.”

  “See, but that’s exactly what a commitment phobe would do: refuse to date me. I mean, come on, just look at me. I’m adorable.”

  “As adorable as you might be, you can’t go around calling me names. You know next to nothing about me.”

  I glare at him as I rip off another chunk of my food, but my threatening gesture, albeit playful, just makes him grin.

  “Let’s say I’m good at piecing things together. Julia mentioned a divorce a while back, when she first suggested to introduce us. Sometime later she let slip to my mom that you haven't been in a relationship since.”

  Let slip to his mom? Great. Thanks, Julia. Did you give the entire family a calendar of my cycle as well?

  “O-kay. I don’t see how any of this adds up to anything that should matter to you.”

  “Never said it did. All I said was I’m curious. A woman like you, I doubt you have trouble meeting men.”

  “You’re right. I don’t.”

  “You just instantly friend-zone them.”

  “That’s correct.” I nod. My phone buzzes as a message comes in. “Hang on a second—”

  I glance at my phone. It’s Leo.

  [Tonight?]

  A smile tugs at my lips.

  [Can’t. My sister’s coming into town. We’re going to dinner.]

  [When?]

  [I’ll let you know.]

  I put my phone away.

  “There’s a loophole in there somewhere, I just need to find it,” Jacob says, snapping me back to the present moment. He’s staring off into the distance as he chews, lost in thought. I’m not even sure what he’s talking about anymore.

  I turn my gaze to the other side of the room and I feel my mouth go dry. Leo is here. He’s sitting at a corner table in open view of us, eating lunch. Alone. Did he already notice me? I don’t think so. He seems relaxed and unaware of his surroundings, his attention on the phone screen perched on the table beside his food. I look back at Jacob and see he followed my eyes and is now looking at Leo as well.

  “Is that someone you know?”

  His tone is as casual as ever. I try to mimic it in my response, but fail.

  “Yeah. New guy. Works for me. Well, relatively new.”

  I say it too quickly and I don’t know why.

  “Okay,” Jacob says.

  I start standing up because I’m suddenly ready to go.

  “So soon?” Jacob asks, also getting up.

  “I’m sorry—I’ve got to get back to the office.”

  I throw my napkin onto my plate and pull my purse over my shoulder a little too fast. It swings into the table and makes contact with my glass of water, causing it to topple over onto my plate with a clunk.

  Jacob has quick reflexes and swoops up the glass before much of its contents can spill.

  I glimpse back to where Leo is sitting and find him staring back at me. His expression is unreadable as his eyes move over to Jacob, before returning back to his own food.

  I tear my eyes away from him and feel thankful that Jacob is setting napkins over the spreading puddle and not looking at me. Because, from what I’ve witnessed of him thus far, he is likely to comment on my discomfort and bring attention to it. He would probably find it funny.

  I walk out of the pizzeria, Jacob following behind me, and feel my phone buzz with the alert of another message.

  XVIII

  Alexis

  Later that day, my sister drives down from San Francisco and comes straight to my offic
e to peel me away to dinner. Thanksgiving is next Thursday and she’s staying with me through the following weekend.

  “I’m starving. Do you have anything to eat?” she asks me as she scavenges through one of my desk drawers.

  “Emily, get out of there—” I swat a hand at her. “Just hang on. I’m almost done here.”

  She waits around as I scramble to wrap up for the day. Next week is going to be a short week and I won’t be able to get any real work done—the office closes Wednesday afternoon for Thanksgiving break. I want to spend as much time with Emily as I can so I’m going to work from home and only come in as needed for meetings, Monday through Wednesday. For me, that’s a full-blown vacation.

  I peer up at my sister as she takes in the details of my office with an air of boredom. She still looks like me, despite having dyed her hair blonde. Her eyes are the same shade as mine, except hers have a few more speckles of gold in the middle. She plops down onto the chair in front of my desk and the simple act reminds me of when she was younger.

  I turn my attention back to my computer screen, contemplating how easily we fall back into our big sister, little sister routine, regardless of how long she’s been away.

  “Well, hello there,” I hear Emily say, her voice a few octaves lower than usual.

  I check and see Leo hovering by the doorway. He has a folder in his hands, something I requested from someone else earlier in the day. I wonder if he made a point to deliver it in hopes of catching me alone. Disappointment whisks past his eyes.

  Emily is smiling at him, shamelessly. I resist the urge to roll my eyes as I reach out for the folder he hands to me.

  “Thanks, Leo,” I say to him as coolly as I can manage.

  He looks from me to Emily and in response to his curious expression I say, “This is my sister, Emily. Emily, this is Leo.”

  Emily gives him a lazy wave from where she sits. I feel a trickle of embarrassment, wishing she would get to her feet and shake his hand. Then I remember it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t care about impressing Leo. Those are the things I would care about if he and I were more than just...whatever it is we are.

  “Nice to meet you,” Leo says, giving her a short, polite smile before walking out again.

  Emily’s eyes follow him out. She even tilts the chair back to see farther out of the door as he walks down the hall. She plops the metal legs back on the floor. With a smirk, she mouths the words ‘Holy shit.’

  “Who is that?” she asks.

  I don’t answer her and start shutting down my computer and clearing out my desk.

  “Man, he’s fucking hot.”

  “Emily, stop.”

  My sister has two volumes: off and loud. The carelessness in the way she speaks often grates my nerves. But she isn't looking at me; she can't see the annoyance creeping into my expression. Her gaze still lingers out toward the hall as she lets out a low whistle.

  “What I wouldn’t give to sit on his face.”

  “Emily! That’s enough!” I snap at her, louder and meaner than I intend.

  She blinks away her surprise. I don’t lose my temper like this often. Her eyes grow slowly wider and her mouth drops open. Then she leans forward and says, “You want him.”

  I grab my purse from under my desk.

  “Let’s go.”

  “You totally want him,” she taunts as I ‘shhh’ her and push her toward the door.

  She resists me and I finally say, “I’ll tell you about it at dinner.”

  “I knew it!” she laughs as we walk out onto the hall.

  “You’ve got the hots for your employee. How naughty of you.”

  Emily is smiling at me from behind her glass of wine.

  I sigh and preoccupy myself with refolding the napkin in front of me, but find myself resisting the urge to smile. Her response is amusing; she beams at me, threatening to tear at the seams from anticipation.

  “Okay, wait a minute,” she says suddenly. “What happened with Jacob?”

  “How do you know about Jacob?”

  “Julia told me all about him.”

  I throw my head back in exasperation. Of course Julia told her.

  “Lex, please tell me you’re giving him a chance. He sounds fucking great.”

  Suddenly I’m not sure who she is talking about. She must notice the confusion in my eyes because she blurts out, “I’m talking about Jacob, you little slut!”

  A couple from a nearby table shoots a fleeting look in our direction.

  “Emily, keep your voice down,” I whisper at her.

  “Oh, whatever, I don’t hinge my mood on other people’s opinions. Opinions are fleeting,” she says, waving her hand in the air as though to illustrate her point.

  I clear my throat and say, “Jacob is nice, but there’s no real chemistry there.”

  Emily looks at me like she wants to strangle me.

  “Oh my God. You always do this.”

  I feel a surge of irritation. I didn’t think the topic of the dinner would shift to this. “Yeah. Got it, please let’s not get into this.”

  “Can I ask you something, then?”

  “Okay…”

  “You have that chemistry with Leo?”

  I can’t even lie. I nod. “Yes. It’s like out of this world.”

  She must see the way my eyes glaze over because she lets out a loud gasp. “Holy shit, Lex, you fucked him already.”

  I want to shrug, but instead I cringe.

  “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.”

  Emily doesn’t speak for a few seconds, squinting at me like she barely recognizes me. “Wow,” she finally says, a look of hesitant amusement spreading across her face. “I thought being attracted to your employee was a stretch for you. But actually fucking him…that’s really unlike you.”

  I pull my lips between my teeth, then let them out. “I know. I just…” I look away, not wanting to discuss my sex life with my sister but also needing her to understand. “I’ve always played it safe. And now I just…I feel the urge to make a bad decision for a change. Does that make sense?”

  She nods. “You want drama.”

  “No, of course I don’t—”

  “You’re bored, Lex.” She pauses, rolling her eyes at the way I continue to shake my head. “Whatever. Just be careful what you wish for. When it rains, it pours.”

  “There’s no drama. It’s just fun.” I cast my eyes down. “I know it’s not ideal. It’s risky. But it’s fun.”

  “I get it. I should probably be the responsible sister for a change and talk you out of it, but I’ve got no words of wisdom for you. Because I saw the guy and he is…ridiculous. I mean, who walks around looking that good? He’s asking for whatever you’re giving him, trust me.” She laughs when I shut my eyes. “Oh, come on, Lex. Lighten up. You’re a grown woman and perfectly entitled to have sex with whomever you choose. Besides, that guy looks like he’s hiding a yummy secret.” Leaning in, she lowers her voice to a dramatic whisper. “I bet it’s his huge cock.”

  I’m never prepared for the things that come out of my sister’s mouth. I know she enjoys making me cringe.

  Emily starts drinking her wine again, but this time she bops her head from side to side, dancing to music playing inside of her head. It’s sick that she can be this excited by the prospect of me getting laid. I change the subject.

  “How’s the new job?”

  Her mood instantly deflates, though she tries to hide it. “I hate it.”

  “Seriously?” I ask.

  She rolls her eyes. “I thought I busted my ass to become a lawyer, not a secretary. I’m too embarrassed to tell you what I do on a daily basis. Let’s just say my legal brain cells are slowly dying.”

  “I’m sure it’ll get better. You’re fresh out of law school. You have to pay your dues first.”

  “Fuck that,” she says, slapping the words in mid-air. “I paid my dues already. A long time ago.”

  A beat of silence passes between us.

  “Wh
at else is new?” I ask.

  She answers immediately, “Mom called.”

  The lightness of the prior moment screeches to a halt. Her phrase crashes between us, yet she says it like it’s a normal occurrence.

  I let the silence drag out before I speak again.

  “What did she want?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  “You didn’t talk to her?” I ask.

  “Oh, I talked to her, alright. She asked about my Thanksgiving plans. Besides that, I got the whole ‘how are you, sweetie? how’s everything, honey?’ guilty conscience bullshit.”

  “You think she has a conscience?”

  She frowns at my statement.

  I say, “I can’t believe she does. Actually, I have to believe that she doesn’t. I don’t want to think someone with a conscience treats their own children the way she treated us.”

  Emily looks down. “Let’s not have this discussion—okay? I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “Emily—I just don’t understand why you answer her calls.”

  Her eyes dart upward and she draws in a sharp breath.

  “Christ, Lex, I know you want to pretend like you hate her, but hating her isn’t going to make her go away. And it’s not going to change the fact that she’s our mother. Even if she’s a piece of shit, she’s our piece of shit mother. And look at you—the simple mention of her and your skin erupts into spikes. Do you know why? Because as much as you want to and regardless of how hard you try, it’s impossible to truly hate your own mother. That’s why I answer her calls. Okay? I can’t pretend the way you do.”

  I divert my eyes, thinking to myself that it’s not impossible, that I do hate my mother.

  Even on her best days, even in the moments when she attempted to atone for her sins, my mother was a despicable woman, selfish, self-centered. She only pretended to care for things that could benefit her in some way.

  When we needed her, when we were just children, we were useless to her and she couldn’t bother. But now that we have both found success and are doing well on our own—suddenly she wants to pretend that she was some part of that?

  I should know better than to argue with my sister, who is trained in the art and as feisty as they come. But I can’t stop myself.