I arrive at Sterling’s building at exactly seven with a smile on my lips.
I spent a ridiculous amount of time getting ready for this non-date/hang-out session tonight. After leaving work early, I rushed home to shower and redo my makeup. Now I’m dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans, and since the fall air is cool enough to warrant it, my favorite deep V-neck ivory cashmere sweater with my secret weapon underneath—my lace push-up bra in the softest cream silk. Once I added some layered gold necklaces, I was set. I felt pretty without being overdone.
The building’s doorman asks for my name and ushers me inside like he was expecting me. I’m instructed to take the elevator to the tenth floor, and go to unit 1001.
Taking a deep breath, I step onto the elevator and punch the button for the tenth floor. I have no idea what hanging out with Sterling will involve, but I’m nearly giddy with anticipation. I stop at his door and knock twice, my mouth already twitching with a smile.
After waiting about a minute with no answer, I press my ear to the door. It’s quiet inside, no sounds of music, no footsteps, so I knock again.
And wait, my smile fading.
Still nothing.
I twist the doorknob, and finding it unlocked, let myself inside.
Sterling’s place is compact, but modern and classy. It suits him. After a quick glance around the living space, I spot him on the balcony outside, just beyond the glass doors at the far end of the living room. He’s facing away from me, his hands gripping the railing, his head bowed.
My smile from moments ago is gone. Seeing him like this—looking distraught—brings the reality of our situation crashing back.
Sterling suddenly turns and we lock eyes. A thousand emotions are revealed in his eyes, but mostly there’s anger. There’s also a sadness in his gaze that I’ve never seen. It’s haunting.
I swallow a lump in my throat, wondering what’s going on.
“Sterling?” I ask, slowly approaching the balcony.
It’s beautiful—plush pillows and twinkling lights, and a chilled bottle of white wine all nestled together in a romantic picnic for two.
He lets out a heavy sigh and runs one hand through his hair.
“This is beautiful,” I say since he hasn’t spoken, hasn’t even moved from the spot where he’s rooted, and his stony silence is killing me. “Are you okay?”
“Just fine,” he says curtly, his gaze looking past me.
He doesn’t seem fine. He seems off. Why go through all the effort if he’s just going to act sullen and withdrawn?
And what could have possibly changed in the twenty-four hours since we last spoke on the phone? He seemed so excited—like he hadn’t a care in the world. Now it seems he doesn’t want me here.
“If this is a bad time, if tonight doesn’t work . . .” I trail off, my voice suddenly shaky.
“The meal’s already prepared.” He brushes past me, headed toward the kitchen.
Unsure what to do, I follow behind him.
He’s acting like he doesn’t want me here, and I suddenly feel so stupid for getting all done up tonight. I’m not going to stand around and embarrass myself by begging for his attention.
“You know what? Never mind. This was a bad idea, anyway. I’ll see myself out.” I turn and head for the front door, anger and rejection dueling inside me.
It takes all of three seconds before Sterling’s long strides catch him up to me by the door. His grip around my wrist stops me. “Wait.”
I turn and face him. I’m halfway between wanting to flee and staying to hear his explanation.
He releases a heavy exhale. “I received a phone call just before you arrived.”
With him so near, the combination of his clean soap and his spicy cologne intoxicates me. Memories of our intimate dinner rush back. But apparently tonight is not meant to be a repeat. Waiting to see what he’ll say next, I inhale and hold my breath.
When he doesn’t continue, I ask, “Is everything okay?”
“I think so,” he says, recovering quickly. “It was just my uncle Charles. There’s some family stuff going on, and he was reminding me of the importance of this inheritance.”
“I see.”
Looking down at my feet, encased in the cutest pair of brown suede high-heeled boots I own, I suddenly feel like an imposter. All the optimism I had vanishes. This can’t work.
“I should go.”
Sterling’s warm palm comes to rest on my cheek, and my protest dies on my lips. The conflicted look in his eyes grips something deep inside me. The part of me that believes in true love and happily-ever-afters wants this spark between us to be real, but how can it when he’s destined to marry someone else in a matter of months?
He slides his thumb along my jaw, and in that moment, the only thing I’m sure of is that he wants to kiss me, and if he does, I will totally let him.