“Okay, I’ll text you the address tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
I tried not to panic.
“Is that too soon?”
“No, it’s fine.”
“Great! Well, let’s go find ZK and get another drink,” she said, instantly brightening. She was in her bubbly-party-girl mode again.
Across the terrace, ZK was wearily heading our way. Despite my better thoughts, I wanted to hold him. I wanted to tell him everything.
38
“Lisbeth, would you mind if I had a word with you?” ZK asked. His impeccable white shirt had been replaced by another identical impeccable white shirt. Looking more handsome than ever against the turquoise and pink alcove wall behind him, he still seemed exhausted.
“See you two,” Tabitha said. “Don’t mess with my girl, ZK.” He nodded.
“Be careful,” she whispered to me before leaving.
ZK and I sat close on the love seat, watching the party unfold. He was quiet.
I peered inside my purse and turned my cell phone back on. It buzzed repeatedly. I saw that all the messages were from Mom, six of them.
Sitting under the painting with the cryptic French words, “Je ne rien.” I felt very rien at the moment. The lively partygoers with their outbursts of spontaneous laughter contrasted severely with our subdued and utter silence.
Seriousness pooled in his hazel eyes. No matter, he was still pleasing to look at. Searching for any imperfection, I found none. There was no blemish, no freckles, only a tiny scar above his left brow, but even that seemed perfect.
“I should have known better,” he said, tugging at the cuff of his sleeve, adjusting it, pulling at his jacket and readjusting it as he spoke.
“You mean being with me tonight?” I asked.
“No.” He seemed annoyed at the thought. I’m certain he saw the skeptical expression on my face. He went back to adjusting his cuff and then his jacket sleeve until it was perfect.
“I meant getting involved with her to begin with.”
“Why? She’s elegant, obviously intelligent, and…”
“Quite wealthy,” he finished my sentence. “I do admire her. She knows what she wants and gets it. I’m just not that way.”
“Which part?” I asked.
“Let’s see, you choose: her wealth, getting what she wants, and my utter lack of ambition.”
“Phew, that’s a long list to choose from,” I said, and he laughed, flashing that million-dollar smile for a split second.
“Well, I think we should start with my utter lack of ambition,” he said. “That’s the most intractable problem.”
“Why did you run after her?”
“To tell her again what I’ve told her before.”
“And that was?”
“That we’re finished. She never believes me.”
Well, given a chance, I would raise my hand to be a member of the club that would never let him go.
“I’m so sick of living here. This city is old news,” he said. “I had an offer to move to L.A. I should have taken it.”
“Really? You’d leave everyone you know in New York?” I asked.
“Lisbeth, I live in a tiny fishbowl where everybody knows everything about my family, my love life, my net worth. You’ve managed to stay off the radar. I envy you.” Try living most of your life in South End.
“So, Dahlia is a more formidable ‘force of nature’ than you expected?”
“I’m sorry I thought I could handle her,” he said. “The problem is Dahlia thinks like a man. She thinks she can have whoever she wants whenever she wants.” ZK exhaled, exasperated, and I noticed something I hadn’t noticed before.
There was a haunted aspect to his eyes that struck me as lonely. Could the most dashing and sought-after bachelor in Manhattan feel that alone? On the couch, our fingertips made the briefest of contact, and flickers of warmth sparked beneath my skin. Startled, I drew away. ZK’s pleading eyes met mine. We both felt it. That much was clear. But I also felt wary and over my head.
“It’s okay,” I said. “You don’t have to put yourself through this for me.”
“Don’t say that,” he said, looking orphaned. I moved my hand toward his, and he held it gently. His soft hands felt warm; I sighed, hoping it wasn’t noticeable.
“You know what’s funny?” he asked.
“Nothing appears funny at the moment, do tell,” I answered. The night had turned so completely serious, not my Audrey fantasy at all, and I felt hugely guilty. I was play-acting, and this guy, who seemed above and beyond me, was spilling his heart out, having sacrificed a relationship with one of the wealthiest, most dazzling women in America. A relationship that perhaps he and his family needed.
“The funny thing is that the person who will be most disappointed is my father.”
“Really? Has he been vicariously living off your love life?” ZK gave me the most confused expression. “I was just making a joke,” I said biting my lip, “maybe not a good one.”
“If you knew my father, you’d know how utterly serious and demanding he is. My father expected a bit more of me.”
“Expectations are overwhelming,” I said. “I had a mother like that.” Oh great, now I was speaking about my mother in the past tense. I must have become light-headed with all the stress.
For a moment, he became extraordinarily serious, as if he were calculating something in his head. I thought he might be tempted to tell me the secret I already knew, about his family’s recent troubles. I couldn’t imagine the shame he felt in being the son of the man who squandered one of America’s greatest family fortunes. But I assumed it hung over his head the way my mom’s drinking and South End hung over mine.
My mother had expected me to become a nurse-practitioner; ZK’s family tasked him to restore the billions his father lost in a Ponzi scheme. Not the same but similar.
His eyes dropped down to our hands, our fingers entwined, and the seriousness lifted. He noticed Nan’s bracelet pooled at my wrist.
“What an interesting bracelet,” he remarked. “May I?”
“I suppose,” I said, then slipped it off and handed it to him, feeling inexplicably naked.
“Tuam tutam tenebo,” he read. Jeez, of course he could read Latin.
God, I hope he doesn’t ask me what it means, I’ll look like an idiot, I thought, realizing I never asked Nan what the inscription meant.
“‘I will keep you safe,’ but who is Sammy G?”
“A rap star?” I said, making another joke. “It was my Nan’s. I see your Latin isn’t rusty,” I added, hoping to cover for my abject ignorance.
“My Latin teacher literally beat us with a ruler until we learned every word of our lessons,” he said and returned my bracelet. I slipped it back over my wrist. I was surprised at how exposed I felt without it.
ZK rose from the love seat. “My apologies, Lisbeth, for a night of drama. You’re more than generous not to be screaming at me right now,” he said. “Allow me to get you a drink and we can discuss more pressing issues, like why El Schnabel hasn’t made an appearance at his own opening party in his own penthouse. People must be having fun somewhere … let’s find them.”
I rose to go with him but thought better of it.
“I’d love to, ZK, but I think I better go home,” I said, not believing my own words.
“Ah, now I’m really flying solo. Can’t I convince you otherwise?”
There really wasn’t a choice.
“Well, at least allow me to arrange a taxi for you.”
We silently walked to the elevator and rode down to the first floor. Outside, standing at the curb, he didn’t seem to know whether to hold my hand or not. I didn’t know what I wanted either.
A cab stopped at the curb, and at the last second ZK turned to me, my face gazing up into his golden-flecked eyes. He gently brushed an eyelash from my face and, catching me unprepared, kissed me, our lips pressing together, his arm sweeping around me, pulling me in with sudden urgency, making me want to open my mouth and close my eyes, my whole body molded around him. His kiss was so focused and intense that my fingers clutched for something to hold on to—his jacket, his hands holding my face, his hair.