Friends to Lovers (Aisle Bound) Page 27

  “So soon?”

  “There’s no time for a leisurely transition. I’m leaving in a week.”

  “Maybe.” She waggled her clippers at him.

  Christ. If Gib honestly believed there was any shot at staying, he wouldn’t have spent half the morning restarting a life in London. Arranging for a phone. Sifting through realtor sites for a flat. Booking movers through the Cavendish HR office. “Look, I appreciate your optimism, but you need to balance it with a hefty dose of reality. I’ve made calls. Nobody is hiring. I know we agreed not to talk about it—”

  “Then don’t. What’s wrong with the new guy?”

  “He’s a selfish wanker.”

  Daphne giggled. “That’s your professional opinion?”

  Professionally? Gib was sure this guy was capable of rotting the Cavendish Grand Chicago from the top down. “Christian’s based in Los Angeles right now. He went on and on about moving to the prairie.”

  “Is he expecting covered wagons? Log cabins?”

  “More or less. First he complained about missing all the movie stars. I pointed out that we host famous actors, politicians, titans of industry—he didn’t care. Then he asked what he was supposed to eat out here.”

  “This man’s the general manager?”

  Of course not. Because thanks to this ridiculous new corporate policy, five managers around the globe were being repositioned. And none of them in countries that did him any good. “Nope. Only an assistant manager. This is a big promotion about two years too early for him. Told him I’d get our concierge to set him up with a list of restaurant recommendations. Turns out he was more interested in the nearest spray tan salon.”

  She pulled a new fistful of roses out of the bucket of water. “Did you discuss hotel business at all?”

  He’d tried. Had asked him to fly out early to spend the day going over transition details with Gib. Christian had laughed. Actually laughed and vowed not to set foot in the “frozen ninth circle of hell” until absolutely necessary. “Not once I mentioned the weather. Christian hung up to go get measured for a tailored parka that wouldn’t make him look puffy.”

  “So he’s not excited about moving. Cut the guy some slack. Neither are you, remember? I’m sure he’s not all bad. After all, you’ve got the Cavendish in such good shape, it practically runs itself.”

  Ben ribbed him about that all the time. It poked at Gib with the nagging fierceness of an impacted wisdom tooth. “Why do you people keep saying that? It looks easy because I work so bloody hard at juggling all the moving pieces.”

  “Sorry.”

  He’d poured years of his life into shining the Cavendish into a sparkling star among the luxury hotels. Gib feared it would begin to tarnish in a matter of days under Christian. “My staff is exemplary. But after talking to him for fifteen minutes, I’ve no doubt Christian will find a way to bring them down.”

  “Goodness, you are out of sorts. What can we do to cheer you up?”

  “That’s an easy one.” He surged forward. When he lifted her by her waist, Daphne dropped the roses to the floor. Gib walked her back until she was supported by the wall. She wrapped her legs around his hips. “You want to cheer me up? Just follow my lead.” Gib slid his hands around to her ass. Her perfect, heart-shaped ass that he loved to nibble on.

  “Gib, we’re not alone here.”

  “Yes, we are. Milo left for the day. I locked up behind him. Julianna and Ivy are out at a final walk-through with a bride. Just you, me and the anemones.”

  “Anemones and roses that need to be turned into bouquets before I can quit for the day. Sorry.” With a quick nip at his neck, she slid down his body until her feet touched the floor.

  The bloody wedding wasn’t for another three days. Couldn’t she see that he needed tending to before the blasted flowers? Now that he’d jumped with both feet into an official relationship, Gib wanted to realize some of the perks of that status. “Or, you could take a fifteen-minute break now.”

  “You say fifteen, but we both know the kind of break you have in mind won’t clock in under forty-five minutes.”

  She had a point. Daphne made him insatiable in a way he’d never experienced before. And not just for the sex. The lying in bed after, talking and laughing had become the favorite part of Gib’s day. “Fine. Be a boring, responsible business owner. I’ll wait.”

  “Don’t wait. Why don’t you go to the gym? Run off your frustration with Christian on a treadmill. By the time you finish and pick up Chinese, I should be finished.”

  Not a horrible suggestion. “My idea was better.”

  “By far,” she agreed.

  “But this will have to do.” Maybe he’d call Ben. Hassling his friend into sweating his ass off always put him in a better temper. Ben had a tendency to whine like a little girl during a workout. Always cracked Gib up. “Then dinner? I was thinking Bistrot Zinc. I’ve a craving for their cassoulet. Plus, you can’t show up there in jeans. I’m more than eager to spend the evening ogling you in a dress and stockings. Any chance you’ve got a garter belt?”

  “Perhaps I’ll make you wonder all night. Will your night end with me wearing nothing but heels, a garter belt and a pair of pearl earrings?”

  “A man can dream.”

  She touched her fingers to her ear. “Oh, that reminds me. I left my earrings at your place. Hope you didn’t think Milo had turned into a cross-dresser.”

  “Not at all. We had that talk when he moved in,” Gib said absently. His mind freeze-framed on the dangly blue earrings he’d seen on his dresser, but not processed. “Told him I didn’t want to find bras and slips in our laundry.” She’d left her earrings. At his place. Hadn’t immediately called him in a panic. Knew she’d be back to get them soon enough.

  Christ, but he was in trouble. In over his head. He’d been happier in the last few days than in as long as he could remember. As if tiny soda bubbles buoyed his every step. Or, to reach back to the A levels in English lit that he earned at Cambridge, petals of contentment now cushioned his heart. Part of him had taken for granted the add-on of mind-blowing sex to his best friend relationship with Daphne. A simple upgrade. Like switching from DVDs to Blu-ray. Assumed nothing would change. Even as his entire world changed with one swipe of the bureaucratic sword.

  Now she’d committed the cardinal sin a woman could make. The leave-behind. Classic gambit to force a return to the bedroom. Many women had tried. Gib never stayed in bed as a woman put herself back together. No, he did a full sweep through the apartment, making sure she didn’t leave so much as a tissue behind.

  With Daphne, he hadn’t bothered. They were constantly in and out of each other’s places. She had the better television, whereas he had the well-stocked kitchen. A week didn’t pass that one of them wasn’t at the other’s apartment. It never occurred to him to do a sweep after Daphne. Especially since she spent the entire night—also a first for Gib.

  To be fair, he didn’t for a second believe she’d done it on purpose. She didn’t play those games. Never tried to use her considerable wiles to trick the opposite sex. No doubt the earrings were an honest mistake. But they signified so much more. As bright as neon, the earrings were a sign that she and Gib were morphing from merely a serious relationship to the kind that led somewhere. The kind with a future. And a future here in America was just what Gib didn’t have.

  “This isn’t going to work,” he said abruptly. Grabbed the counter for support as his world reeled.

  “You don’t think we’ll be able to get in without a reservation? No big deal. I’m just as happy with grilled cheese sandwiches. As long as we eat them in bed. Naked.”

  “No. Not naked.” Why? Why’d she have to leave behind a stupid pair of earrings? Why did they, of all things, make him realize that he’d fallen in love with her? So swept up in the sheer joy of being closer t
o her than ever that he’d ignored what a selfish bastard he’d been to take her to bed. As soon as Gib learned he had to leave, he should’ve stopped all forward momentum with Daphne. Instead, he’d given in to curiosity and need and desire.

  He hadn’t bothered to worry about what would happen when his plane inevitably took off. Well, hadn’t let himself worry about it. Hadn’t thought about how fucking much more it would hurt to walk away now that they’d escalated things. Now that he—God help him—loved her. The crack beginning to tear his heart in two threatened to engulf Gib. He’d barely be able to choke out the words as it was. If she kept nattering on about sex, he’d lose his resolve.

  “Geez, you’re really fixated on that garter belt thing, aren’t you? If we stay home, I can put on a lingerie show for you.” Daphne slipped the corner of her shirt down her shoulder just long enough to tease with a glimpse of an apple-green bra strap. “How’s that for a compromise?”

  Gib couldn’t beat around the bush. He couldn’t ease into it. He had to put his spanking-new realization out on the table. “We have to stop seeing each other.”

  She laughed. “Is this like your whole no-touching thing from the other night? If you see me in a garter belt, you’ll lose all willpower and ravish me on the floor?”

  Yes. Absolutely. “Stop. Listen to me.” He guided her around the worktable to sit on a stool. Time to put his own wants aside in order to cushion Daphne’s heart. He’d promised her, he’d promised the guys—hell, he’d even promised himself. Above all else, he wouldn’t hurt Daphne. Yet already they were deep into a real, committed relationship. Gib didn’t know how it had happened. He only knew that he couldn’t let it go any further. Not because he wanted to be apart from her for a single minute. No, not for his sake at all, but for hers.

  For the very first time, Gib would be leaving a woman while still entranced by her. Before he’d had his fill. So many years of platonic friendship. An utter waste, now that Gib knew how famously they got on in bed. But instead of being an easy add-on, sex had become a catalyst. And he cared for her far too deeply to allow that final transformation to occur.

  “This thing between you and me? The being lovers on top of being friends? It has to stop. Immediately.”

  The laughter in her eyes vanished. “What are you talking about?”

  Why did he have to spell it out for her? They usually ran on the same wavelength. But now, Gib’s throat choked almost closed with the pain of his sudden realization. At the strength of the love that tightened his lungs and threatened to drown him.

  “We have no chance of sharing a future. None. The clock is ticking. In seven days I must return to England. Us not talking about it doesn’t change the basic facts. With such short notice, I haven’t been able to line up any other jobs. I won’t be able to. Period. We’re both fooling ourselves if we contemplate any other resolution.”

  “Such a drama queen.” But her voice trembled beneath the sassy sneer. “You’re moving to England, not the moon. This doesn’t have to be the end.”

  “Yes, it does.” Christ, she was going to make him hammer his point home with a bloody sledgehammer. “We both have demanding work schedules. You can’t skip a few weddings in order to visit your boyfriend, who lives a seven-hour flight away. And I’ve already been almost fired once. I’ll have to buckle down like never before, just to claw my back up to manager.”

  Bounding off the stool, she paced between the cooler and her table. “There are such things as long-distance relationships.”

  Gib wanted to agree. Wanted to cling to the solution she offered. Wanted to snatch at every precious moment she’d grant him. But that would be selfish. Daphne deserved more. She deserved every bit of happiness in the world. She deserved a man who would be her partner, at her side every day, building a life together. And if he had to hurt her a little today to ensure she could find a lifetime of true love, well, so be it. He just couldn’t tell her the whole of it. Divulging his newly discovered feelings would be nothing but cruel. Might even make her hang on out of sheer stubbornness, trying to find a way to make it work. Gib loved her enough to not let her put herself through that.

  “Those are people fooling themselves. People who don’t have the courage to live the lives they deserve. A relationship is built on what we’re doing today. Waking up together. Venting to you, then sharing a dinner that erases all the madness of the day. Finding comfort in each other’s arms at night. You can’t video chat your way through a relationship.”

  “That’s only one side of the possibility coin.” She threw her arms out to the sides, voice desperately rising. “You could get a job offer and be back here in a month.”

  “Or not. Work visas don’t grow on trees. Much easier to renew than to get accepted for reapplication. Other companies might follow the example the Cavendish is setting. We have to face facts. I’m as good as gone.”

  Tears trembled on her lashes. “Don’t force me to give up on you.”

  He couldn’t take her tears. Wouldn’t be able to keep going if they trailed down her cheeks. Gib all but leaped for the tissue and gently blotted her eyes. “I don’t want you to. But we have to do this immediately. A surgical strike, to save ourselves from getting in any deeper. To stop the pain from getting any worse than it is right now.”

  She snatched the tissue from him. Fisted her hands on her hips. “Is this all a ruse? Now that you’ve had me, you’re ready to dump me? Is this what you see as an easy way to let me down?”

  Tempting to let her think that. To let her righteous anger burn away the hurt. But he couldn’t lie to her. Gib couldn’t let her think she was anything less than amazing. Wanted to tell her those three words engulfing his heart that changed everything. But that would be beyond cruel. A burden he alone would carry. “God, no. There’s nothing easy about this. Not spending every last second with you that I possibly can is impossibly hard.”

  “Then why?” Daphne reached for him, but Gib sidestepped her hands. Much like her tears, the temptation of her touch might derail all his good intentions. “Why miss out on those moments? Embrace what little time we do have left.”

  “Every touch, every smile, every kiss weaves us closer together. I can’t do that to you. Not when each extra second of goodness makes it exponentially more excruciating when I get on that plane.”

  Those soft, pink lips hardened, and twisted downward. “Cutting me off is a favor?”

  “It’s a kindness.” A kindness that was killing him with every word. “I’ll still come to your competition. I promise. I’ll watch you wipe the floor with Sheila Irwin’s hackneyed designs. Because you will. I’m so proud of you. For being talented enough to be offered this shot, and being brave enough to take it.”

  “So this is it? We just go back to being friends? You’ll post pithy comments on my Facebook status updates? We’ll both pretend that’s a way to stay connected?”

  “Something like that.” Except he wouldn’t. Gib couldn’t watch her post funny reviews of new restaurants without wishing he’d been there with her. He wouldn’t be able to abide, as the months went by, seeing her mention date nights—probably with that Adam fellow. They couldn’t be lovers anymore, but they probably couldn’t still be friends, either. He loved her too much to take that backward step. He loved her enough to let her go.

  It had to start right now. Gib brushed a kiss on her cheek. Swallowed past the pain of a thousand nails flaying his heart to pieces. “Goodbye, Daphne.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Flowers leave some of their fragrance in the hand that bestows them

  ~ Chinese proverb

  Daphne had done flowers in every five-star hotel ballroom in the city. Most of the four stars, too, and a good number of the three-star hotels. She’d lugged her dolly stacked with boxes of flowers in and out of service elevators. Crept in when the rooms were quiet and left as the cate
ring staff rose to a harried din as they finished setting the tables for dinner. Put a centerpiece in each hand, and she felt as at home in any of Chicago’s famous hotels as a high-class call girl. But today was different. Today, she was the centerpiece.

  The Millennium Knickerbocker Hotel had quite a history. Al Capone’s brother was reputed to have run a casino and speakeasy in the penthouse. It hosted the Republican National Convention when Nixon became the surprise pick for vice president. The Rolling Stones stayed there. None of these facts intimidated Daphne. Nor did the twenty-five-foot gilded ceiling to the Crystal Ballroom. Not even the illuminated and raised dance floor where she’d be waging war phased her. What scared the spit right out of her mouth were the ten cameras ringing the floor. Were they all going to be pointed right at her?

  From beneath an archway outlined in gold paint, her dad raised a hand in greeting. Next to him Marge waved about a hundred times more exuberantly. “How are you doing?” Stuart kissed her on the cheek.

  “Contemplating throwing up.” Daphne hugged both of them. “Although that would be a waste of the good-luck Belgian waffles Ivy made me.”

  “You listen to that practical streak of yours,” said Marge. A tiny white rosebud nestled over her ear, almost hidden by the crimson tower of curls. “Puking makes you pale, too. Not worth it.”

  “Thanks for the advice. And thanks for coming. It’ll help to have my own personal cheering section.”

  “This place looks like it holds five hundred people. I’ll bet there will be lots of folks cheering for you.”

  “Closer to seven-fifty,” Daphne murmured. She didn’t take any pride in knowing the seating capacity. It was just one of those things she learned by osmosis from sharing an office with Ivy. “The balconies hold a lot of people. Since the cameras take up so much space, they’re making the general ticket holders sit up there.”

  Her dad brandished their tickets in his fist. “Good thing I’m related to one of the stars. Marge staked out our chairs already. We’re right in front of your station.”