Manhattan was an easy place to follow someone. On every block, at all hours, there were people out and about. Aidan spent days on the husband’s tail and got good at melting into crowds. He would find that perfect doorway to duck into. Or step into a bus shelter, drop behind a parked delivery van, peek out from behind a dumpster, lurk behind some scaffolding, you name it. Nobody ever noticed a thing. He would find a diner, or worst-case scenario a Starbucks (friggin’ coffee cost enough to fix his car), with a big window, and sit and wait forever, nursing the one coffee he was willing to pay for. It was easy, though granted, the hours were long. He would do that all day, then drive out to the island for the late shift. Clock in at the Red Anchor at four, clock out at midnight. Up at dawn the next morning, get in the car, drive back to the city, take up his spot outside Caroline’s apartment by eight thirty, when the husband would leave. And do it all over again the next day. It took its toll. The time, the money. Gas, parking, coffee while he sat and watched. So far, he hadn’t seen much. But he did it for Caroline.
It was a warm, blustery day. The winds were out of the south, smelling of summer still, but picking up yellow leaves that had fallen from the trees and swirling them on the sidewalk. He pulled Caroline into an alley between two buildings. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, and his tongue found hers. The kiss was so intense that he was hard in a second.
She pulled away, eyeing the bulge in his pants.
“Oh, my,” she said, glancing up and down the street, giggling in a way that sent chills through Aidan. Like she wanted him. Thank God, too, because he was starting to wonder.
“Can we go back to your place?” he said, reaching for her again.
She dodged his hands. “No. You know that’s not smart.”
“How about a hotel then?”
She’d have to pay, though. That did bother him. The man should always pay, but he couldn’t.
“We have to be careful. I told you. Have you found out anything about Jason yet?”
“Nothing concrete. But I’m on it.”
She nodded. “Good.”
“He’s living with you. In your apartment. I don’t understand.”
“It’s part of my strategy. The lawyer says not to move out because I might give up my claim to the property.”
“But it’s the beach house you really want, right?”
She put a finger to his lips. “Don’t you worry about those things. I have it under control. We’ll be together soon, I promise.”
“When?”
“Once the divorce is resolved.”
“Okay, I guess.”
“You need to keep doing what you’re doing.”
“I am.”
“Good. Now, I have to go. I’m going to walk away. Don’t leave here until I get to the end of the block.”
“I miss you,” he said.
She stepped out of the alley and was gone.
That was four days ago, and it was the last time he’d touched her. He’d seen her, since. He saw her every day, from a distance. Watched her. Imagined his hands on her body, his mouth on hers. He was getting antsy.
Now he sat in a mostly empty Starbucks, eyes trained on the entrance to the building across the street. He looked up, and the barista smiled. She’d flirted with him before when he bought his drink. A goth girl with dark eyes, blue streaks in her hair, and a tattoo of a snake crawling up her arm. Before Caroline, he would’ve been all over that. All over any attractive woman who let him know that she was interested. But not anymore. Amazing how Caroline had changed him, and in such a short time. He felt different. He felt alive. She’d given him hope, and now he couldn’t imagine being with anyone but her. What was it about her? Only everything. The way she made him feel. That crystalline beauty—the eyes and cheekbones, the body. All her ways. That plummy, rich-bitch voice, the way she moved, the classy clothes, the luxury car, her discreet perfume that he wished would linger on his clothes longer than it did, but it wasn’t some cheap drugstore pisswater. Her house, of course. So, yeah, it was her life, and all the things that came with her. Caroline’s life was the one he’d dreamed for himself, always, watching from the other side of town as the weekend people came and went as they pleased. They were untouchable, and free, like he ought to be. He was tired of sucking up to everyone in the world—his brother, the cops, his boss, the customers at the restaurant. He was the better man, but they never would see that. Well, Caroline would make them see. She would make things happen for him, once the obstacles were out of the way. He had to earn it. But it would be worth whatever it took. He wouldn’t shrink when the time came.
The barista was coming toward him with a cup in her hand.
“I made you a fresh one. On the house,” she said, smiling.
The name written on the cup wasn’t Aidan, like the one he’d paid for. It was Samantha, with a phone number. He stared at it, disbelieving. She set it down on the table before him, and then she caught the expression on his face.
“Is something wrong? Not cool to give you my number?” the girl said, shuffling her feet nervously.
“Oh. Right, that’s your number. It’s fine.”
“I wasn’t trying to harass you. I thought you were cute. I’m sorry. Don’t tell my manager?”
“No, really, it’s nice of you,” he said, but he choked on the words. “See, Samantha was my girlfriend’s name, and she—we … things didn’t work out.”
“Like I said, I apologize. Keep the drink.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Stark emerge from a building across the street.
“Gotta go,” he said, jumping up.
“Okay, well, enjoy the drink. And have a great day.”
He left the drink behind, even though it was free, and he wanted it. The name on the cup was an evil omen. Samantha had cheated with his best friend, and the aftermath of that left Matthew dead. It wasn’t Aidan’s fault what happened, but it destroyed his life as sure as it did Matthew’s. He’d lost hope that he’d ever recover—until Caroline. She was like the pot of gold, out of reach at the end of the rainbow. If this chance slipped through his fingers, it would never come around again. There’d be nothing left for him on this green earth. He might as well walk into the ocean and not come out.
But no. He was letting the dark feelings suck him under. And why, because some idiot blue-haired girl hit on him with her poisoned name? No. Today was a good day. The sky was brighter, the wind was warmer. Things were different now. Caroline was loyal and kind; she had class. Nothing like Samantha. And he was different than he had been. He wasn’t a dimwit pushover like he’d been as a kid. He was somebody who reached out and grabbed life and took what he wanted.
“Thanks,” he said, and hurried out the door before he lost Jason Stark in the crowd.