Page 88 of The Secret
I sigh at this and look down at my phone. How am I supposed to do that? Fuck.
“Could I leave a note?”
“Of course.”
He didn’t say it was pointless leaving a note, did he? She’s here or she’s been here and is coming back. I’m sure of it.
“Okay. Thanks.” I take the pen and paper the receptionist offers me and scribble down that I’m here and I want to talk to her.
“My name’s Dan Falinsburg,” I say.
“I’m sorry,” the guy says quietly.
I study his face, but he’s giving nothing away, so I head out of the door into the cool afternoon, and stare up at the building.
Are you in there, Liss?
I should hang out and wait for her here. I turn my phone over in my hand. The door next to me flies open and I’m nearly knocked off my feet by a group of students who are messing about as they come through the doors and spill out onto the sidewalk.
“Sorry, man!” One of them waves at me as the others start laughing and a girl shrieks, “Oh my God, Dean!”
I smile and wave my hand as they mill around goofing about. They begin to split up from each other, and I catch the word “café” and suddenly a decent coffee while I’m waiting sounds like the best idea in the world. I need to regroup, think a little, and decide my next steps. Maybe buy her a cookie as a peace offering. I trail after them, head down on my phone, so they don’t think I’m following them.
When we get to the café, I hesitate as they head through a set of glass doors. Will I require a security or a student card of some kind? I stare off down the sidewalk and then back through the window of the café, eyes roaming the queue and the tables.
A dark-haired woman is seated at a table next to the window and my heart starts beating out of my chest.My God, is that …? It’s Liss. I start forward at the same time that I realize that she’s not alone. A gorgeous dark-haired man is sitting opposite her. He’s so good-looking, it’s almost painful. Tousled hair, trendy clothes. I couldn’t look as good as him in a million years.
He leans toward her, talking and focused on her in a way that makes my heart light on fire. All the concerns I had about other guys, about her life being a series of flings, about whether she had someone back here, come roaring back. And here I am in New York having come after her.Again.I’m a fucking idiot.
Do I go in? Do I walk away? I can’t tear my eyes away. His hand covers hers on the table, and she shakes her head and bites her lip. She looks away from him straight toward the window, toward me.Fuck.Her eyes snag mine and widen incredulously.Oh shit. My limbs lock up as her mouth drops open, and she half rises out of her chair. The guy says something urgent and stares at the window too, eyes finding me before leaning over again to say something. Her hand flaps at him.Oh shit, oh shit.I whirl around—fuck, fuck—then my feet are moving up the street. I do not want to confront him and her together.No way. A shout echoes behind me, and I speed up, half jogging along the sidewalk.
I hear my name. And again, closer this time. But I don’t clock the running footsteps until someone grabs my arm and the noise of pounding feet fades back in.
“Dan?”
I swing back to find the guy from the café, and I step away from him, mouth open. He’s even better-looking close to. A heat, hot and sharp, makes me recoil, but his hand on my bicep presses insistently. How does he know my name? He tilts his head, eyes roaming over my face.
“Who are you?” I bark at him and watch his face melt in relief, and then something else,amusement? The burning inside starts to take over my whole body.
“Dan!” My eyes swing over his shoulder when I hear her voice. She’s running up the sidewalk a few yards behind Mr.-Tousled-Hair. This gorgeous lover of hers. Her curls are a wild disarray around her head, and it’s so like how it is in the morning that my eyes tighten uncontrollably.
“Where are you going? What are you doing here?” she stutters out on a breathless exhale.
I shake the good-looking bastard off my arm. My skin prickles like someone took wire wool to me, sharp and raw, and I hunch over as I crumple inward.
“Is he another one of your lovers or the permanent one you have at home?” I lean into her and hiss, unable to keep a hold of myself, of the anguish and panic of this day, of the fire inside, and stop it from pouring out all over her.
She reaches out and touches my arm, and I flinch. She flinches too when I do it, but she gestures to Mr.-Good-Looking.
“This is Janus. He’s married to my friend Jo.” Her voice is level, the weight of her gaze like a soft but insistent pressure. She’s holding herself still, as if waiting for a signal, some cue from me.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. What do I do now? Is this true? What the hell have I said? He examines me steadily.
“I’m Janus Phillips. I run a software company here. Liss is best friends with my wife. Look me up if you don’t trust her.” He gives me a half smile and pats Liss’s arm. “You’re a very lucky man to have her. Don’t fuck it up.”
I turn away, running my hands through my hair, and he murmurs something to Liss. When I spin around again, he’s gone. His tousled head is farther down the sidewalk, weaving through the crowds.
“Dan,” Liss says, and my gaze swings down to find her wide eyes, a flicker of pain shining through, a vulnerability that makes my stomach churn.
