CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Breaking Up Is Hard to Do (Again)

Breakfast on the hotel balcony was just about romantic-movie perfect. Not too chilly, no splash of yellow in Henry’s egg white omelette.

Except for one persistent pigeon, and Nick, the morning foretold another great day for rekindling romance.

“So, what have you planned for today?”

Henry’s question was casual, but I tensed inside. The bar was now set so high that a sea-salt scrub and a picnic in Central Park might not elicit the gleam that had lit his eyes last night.

Fortunately, the suite’s phone rang, and I escaped without answering.

The voice on the phone was smooth, polite, and solicitous. “What time will you be requiring your picnic lunch basket delivered?”

What time? The simple decision left me speechless. What if I chose a time too early? Too late?

“Ma’am?”

“Noon.” Can’t go wrong with noon. Unless it was too predictable?

“Very good, ma’am.” Was that a hint of condescension? From the hotel staff?

Nick sat on the couch, organizing his case of lenses. “You better get ready, or you’ll be late for the spa appointment.”

“Oh ye of little cash.” I wagged my finger at him. “They’ll come to us.”

He laughed softly in appreciation of the convenience. “Sweet.” He frowned at his lenses, and swapped out one for the other. “I’ll only need this baby, then. Until we hit the park.”

“Shh.” I glanced to where Henry sat sipping coffee on the balcony. “I haven’t told him yet.”

“Worried about disappointing him, now that he’s having such a grand time?”

“Nonsense. This is an assignment.”

He smiled. “Then why are you twisting your hair around your index finger again? I haven’t seen you do that since you kicked Henry to the curb.”

Crap. He was right. “I’m worried about disappointing Olivia if you must know.” Much safer to admit that small truth than the larger one. I’d climbed right back on the Please Henry at Any Cost Train. It was like I’d never jumped off.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just lifted his camera and took a few snaps of me in my hair twirling misery.

“Stop that. I haven’t even showered.”

He grinned. “You should, it’s a pretty great shower.”

Nick was right. By the time I’d done all the scrubbing, rinsing and repeating, the bathroom was filled with steam and the two masseuses were set up in the dining room and ready for work.

Henry was still in his robe. Being a man, he had not felt the need to shower and scrub before a sea scrub massage. After all, we’d have to shower again when they were through with us.

He seemed pleased at the sight of the two well-muscled and scrub-wearing professionals. His eyes swept over the supplies they had laid out, and a tiny frown appeared between his eyebrows. “Sea scrub, hmmm, not mud?”

“And so it begins,” Nick murmured as he knelt to get the masseuses from a lower angle. “Hope you don’t lose as much hair as last time.”

“Sea scrub is all the rage.” This was true, but it was futile. Henry, disappointed, was not likely to be convinced by the opinions of others.

He waved his hand, as if to dismiss my attempt at apology – not that I’d apologized, but clearly he’d taken it as such. “Of course. I can’t complain. I’m being treated like a king.”

“Never stopped you before,” Nick murmured quietly as he moved to a new spot in the room.

The sea scrub nearly wiped away all traces of Henry’s disappointment – from my memory, at least. I tipped each of them $50, as Olivia’s assistant Tina had instructed me to do. When Olivia got the bill for this one weekend, would she freak? Would I have to take the rest of my exes for fast food and runs in the park?

Maybe that kind of date would be a true test of whether or not the spark was real, or just VIP-treatment-induced.

After we had showered and dressed, we came out into the living room to discover that the elegantly packed picnic basket had been delivered, along with a tray of bagels, lox, and a silver coffee pot.

Henry’s eyes lit up when he saw the beautifully pink lox, but he frowned at the sight of Nick, shoving a liberally cream cheese slathered bagel into his mouth. “I think that was meant for us.”

“Diana is on a low-carb kick. She won’t eat hers.” There was something challenging in the way Nick offered the truth. After all, he could have pointed out there was enough for five people on the tray. Why did he have to bring up my new low carb eating plan?

“Really?” Henry looked at me.

“The magazine did this article on low-carb, and it seemed like a good idea.”

“I thought you were looking a little more trim. Good girl. Don’t want to let the pounds creep on as you get older.”

Nicked finished the last of his bagel and wiped his hands on a linen napkin. “You’re missing out on a great snack.” He grinned. “Isn’t free food naturally calorie and carb free?”

Henry put a thin layer of cream cheese on his bagel. It looked like onion, my favorite. “Leave her alone. She knows what’s important.” He piled lox on his bagel.

“Yes. I do.” I gave Nick a squinty evil glare and poured myself a cup of coffee.

He lifted his camera, and murmured, “Twirling.”

I untangled my hair from my index finger and fixed myself an onion bagel, with lots of cream cheese. I ignored Henry’s little sigh of disappointment.

“We’re going on a picnic to Central Park,” I announced. I didn’t care if he liked the idea or not.

His eyes lit up, though. “A picnic?” He glanced at the basket. “Packed by this place?” He smiled. “Better than a carriage ride, by far. I didn’t know you had such a romantic streak.”

I started twirling my hair again. I didn’t have a romantic streak. I had a job to do, and I’d done everything I could to create a weekend that would please Henry. And I had pleased him. So well that the rest of our relationship would be a fast slide into street cart gyros and day old donuts.

Henry had his good points, but I didn’t want to live a life of “remember when…?” There was a very good reason for my commandments against stealing confidence and killing dreams. And that’s what any life with Henry would mean.

I glanced at the ornate clock that sat primly on the mahogany end table next to the couch. Four more hours. Once again untangling my finger from my hair, I lifted the basket. First, the picnic. Then, the goodbye.