I sent Chase the address to my last meeting for the night, which is at a posh rooftop bar on the top of a boutique hotel in downtown Chicago. For a Thursday night, the bar is crowded with young professionals starting the weekend off early. I sit at the end of the bar and sip on water, waiting for his arrival. I know exactly the moment he arrives as I see numerous females turn their attention toward the entrance. I watch in wonder as Chase ignores all of the beautiful women he passes in search of me. When his eyes find mine, I feel their spark and the heat of his smile radiates throughout my body. My heart starts to hammer harder in my chest as he makes his way to me and I realize that I’m actually excited to see him.
And I’m one hundred percent completely sober.
As Chase reaches the seat I saved for him, I push down my usual feelings of guilt for being interested in someone other than my husband. I take in his attire of a thin hunter green V-neck sweater, charcoal pants and black ankle boots. His hair is wavy from air drying and he has a day’s worth of stubble growing. My hunger for dinner has now changed to a different kind of hunger.
You are doing nothing wrong, Layla.
Charlie would want you to move on.
It is just one drink with a friend.
“Hello, Angel,” Chase says in his seductive voice and kisses me on the cheek, lingering longer than a friend normally would. I can’t stop from inhaling his scent, the smell of his cologne making me cross my legs from the tingling sensation that he evokes from me.
Friends don’t react that way toward friends.
“Hello yourself,” I respond back and smile fondly at him. He sits down next to me, moving his chair as close as it will allow him to be.
“Is this place one of your clients?” he asks, his eyes taking in the speakeasy style decor that makes this bar so unique.
“Yes, it is. The owner and manager are very nice. They are probably some of my favorite clients to work with.”
“Very cool. I like this place.” His gaze is appreciative as he examines the light fixtures above our heads.
“I thought you might,” I say, as I signal for the bartender to come take our drink order.
“See, you know my tastes already,” he teases with a sexy smile.
“No...” I say slowly as I take a look around. “This place just looks very masculine.” He chuckles at me and I grumble, “What, it’s true,” not wanting to state the obvious with the dark decor when the bartender arrives. I introduce Chase and we place our drink orders.
“How was your day today?” Chase asks, when bartenders leaves to make our drinks.
“Tiring, but really good,” I respond as I recall my meeting with Cal and how much better I feel about him.
“What did Cal say to you in your meeting with him?” he asks as if reading my mind.
“That is none of your damn business!” I retort, shocked at his audacity for asking.
“Did he mention me?” A flirtatious smile plays on his lips. “He did, didn’t he?”
“We had more important things to discuss than you,” I lie, hoping it sounds more convincing than how I feel. I need to steer this conversation in a different direction to avoid any more of his questions. “So, you mentioned today was a bad day. What happened?” I ask, as I twist my body to turn to face him and give him my attention.
“Just an unpleasant conversation with my brother,” he smiles tightly at me. I raise my eyebrows at him, signaling that I’m waiting for more. He stares at me for a couple of seconds longer before sighing. “Things at home are not very warm and fuzzy right now.”
“Why is that?” I ask, wanting to hear more.
“Because when my father unexpectedly died, I should have taken over the family business. Instead, I ran away like a coward and left it all on my brother’s shoulders,” he says, his tone bitter.
“So, go back and help him,” I suggest, not fully understanding why he is making this sound difficult.
“I wish it was that simple,” he says, before taking a big gulp of his drink that the bartender put down in front of us.
“Why can’t it be that simple?” I counter, wanting to hear what his excuse is.
“My mother and brother hate me.”
I look at him skeptically. “Why would they hate you?”
“Because I killed my father.” He looks me straight in the eyes and downs the rest of his drink.
I stare at him, not believing the words that just came out of his mouth. There is no way he would be sitting here with me if he truly killed his father in cold blood. I scan his face a little harder and see how tired he is, along with something else in those turbulent eyes.
Pain.
I shouldn’t care about what is going on in his personal life. I should be staying far away from him and concentrating on my own self-healing. But I can’t ignore the hurt that he can’t hide when talking about his family. I don’t like to see it. I don’t want to see it.
“This isn’t an appropriate environment to have this conversation. C’mon, let’s go back to my place.” I reach for my purse to extract my wallet to pay the tab.
“You’re inviting me back to your place already? But we just got here,” Chase says in mild shock as he places two twenty dollar bills down for the bartender before I could even get my credit card out.
“Yes, but you are coming over as a friend with zero benefits,” I say firmly, making sure that he understands that there will be no sex in store for him tonight with me. “We are just going to talk.”
“Looks like there was a silver lining to killing my father after all,” he jokes as we get up to leave.
“That’s not funny and I don’t believe you!”
“It’s true, Layla, so if you don’t want me to come over, say the words now.” I look at him before answering, the warning bells in my head going off at full blast, screaming that this is a bad idea. But, I can’t ignore that haunting look of despair and pain that I see in his eyes.
The same exact look that stares back at me from my own mirror.
Part of the healing process is forgiving. I forgave this man and now I want to help him.
“Let’s go!” I command as I grab his hand to lead him out of the bar to my apartment.