It Feels Like

She was out the door of Hotel Chantelle and sucking in a breath of the cool evening air when she heard someone behind her.

“Keri, can I talk to you?”

She closed her eyes, not daring to turn around. She didn’t need to see him to know that he was standing there looking gorgeous in his perfect suit. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

He cleared his throat. “But I have something to say to you.”

“I don’t really want to hear it, Brad.”

“Would you just turn around and look at me? Please?”

She sighed, but stared resolutely at the street in front of her. “I don’t have time for this. Thank you for helping me out with my career. I couldn’t have done it without you, and I appreciate it. But that doesn’t fix what you did by just... leaving.”

“Go to dinner with me so I can explain.”

“Not interested,” she said, just loud enough for him to hear, before she hurried across the street and toward the subway.

“Just dinner. Nothing else.” He was jogging behind her. His hand on her upper arm made her entire body stiffen. She felt herself flashing back to him pulling her into his lap after dinner so they could kiss lazily while enjoying the view.

“Let go,” she snapped, jerking her arm away. “Just let me go.”

Without ever looking at him, she continued down the sidewalk and turned the corner. He didn’t follow. Mostly, she was grateful for that. But a small part of her wished he’d have tried a little harder.

**************************************

She didn’t hear her phone ring, so she didn’t have to make the decision as to whether she should answer his call. When she glanced at her cell that evening after leaving work, it told her she had missed a call from him. She tucked the phone away and hurried home with an odd mixture of a heavy heart and a fluttery anticipation. Keri hated that he still made her feel that way.

She was home by seven o’clock and her fingers were restless, wanting to check her voicemail. After she pulled out the container of beef and broccoli and added some steamed rice to a plate, she turned on the speaker and listened to the message he had left her that afternoon.

”Hi, this is, uh, Brad. Please don’t delete this. Listen, I really need to talk to you. I know it doesn’t excuse my behavior, but last season was... really hard. I think you know that. And it got into my head and... when you found out who I was... I was ashamed because I knew that you knew how shitty I’d played all season. And I ran away because I couldn’t... I didn’t want you to think I was some washed up hockey player who can’t do his job anymore. So, yeah. This is the worst apology ever. I don’t know what I’m saying. Can we have dinner sometime? Tonight, maybe? I’m going to be out of town until Tuesday. The season just started recently, so... Yeah. I’m sorry. Call me.”

She listened to his message three times before putting her phone down and staring at the plate of Chinese food in front of her. She’d lost her appetite.

He’d apologized. And it sounded sincere. But did she want to get involved with that again? His life was a roller coaster of highs and lows, traveling, intense pressure. She hadn’t realized what she was getting into when she first started talking to him that night in the diner. Truth be told, she still didn’t know what she’d be getting into if she agreed to dinner.

She glanced over at her twin bed with rumpled sheets and flashed back to him sprawled out on it, looking at her with dark eyes, asking her to come closer. She hadn’t been able to think about any guy since him. It’d been almost four months. She’d been asked out a couple times. She’d even been asked out by his business partner, Norman. And she’d easily told them no because deep down she was still hooked on secret agent Brad. Except now he was Brad Richards and all his secrets had been revealed. Or at least most of them.

Maybe when he got back it town after the away games, she could give him the time of day. She would be strong and keep her pants on and let him apologize in person. Because she deserved that. And she could pick his brain about what possessed him to give her financial backing without any promise of an investment return.

Taking a deep, bracing breath, she dialed his number and pressed the phone to her ear.

“I thought you weren’t going to call me back,” he said as soon as he picked up the phone.

Keri closed her eyes. His voice. She’d missed it. “Good evening to you, too.”

He was silent for a moment before he said, “Good evening, Keri,” in a soft voice.

“How is your new season going?”

“It’s, uh, it’s going. Better than last season, but still not great.”

“Lots of pressure, huh?”

He gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Yeah, there’s a good chance I really will lose my job if I can’t perform this time around.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t call to talk about work,” he said.

Keri smiled sadly. “Old habits die hard.”

“Would you believe me if I said I’ve missed you?”

“No,” she answered.

“Why?”

“Because you could have called me any time during the last four months.”

He cleared his throat and paused, letting an uncomfortable silence hang between them. “I’m calling you now,” he finally said. “And I’d like the opportunity to explain. Over dinner. Tonight.”

“No,” she said again.

“Keri, I...”

“We can have dinner when you get back in town next week,” she told him, cutting off his protest.

“Good.” He sounded relieved. “Tuesday night. I’ll pick you up.”

“Dinner at a restaurant,” she clarified. If he got her back to his condo, then her will power might slip. She remembered all too well alternating sips of wine with deep kisses that involved his tongue inside her mouth.

“Of course. Seven o’clock? Are you still in Brooklyn in the studio?”

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t you moved?”

“Because I want to pay you back first.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Yes, it is,” she said. “Goodnight, Brad.”

As soon as he told her goodnight in his soft murmur, she disconnected.

***************************************

It was the first week of October and fall was descending on the City. Days were warm enough, but the evenings were becoming chilly and going outside without a coat on was uncomfortable. She was sitting by the window in her red wrap dress, watching for his car. Like old times, she thought.

He pulled up a few minutes before seven and called her phone. When she answered, he said, “I’d come up like a gentleman, but the main entrance to the building is locked.”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” she told him.

She sat in her dark apartment by the window for several long seconds, looking down at his sleek, black car. This was either the best or worst idea she’d ever had. But she had to hear him out; she wanted to hear him out. Leaving things the way they’d been left in May was too painful. Keri was just hoping that reopening the wound four months later wasn’t a mistake.

She grabbed her purse and took her time descending the stairs. He was standing outside, hands casually in the pockets of his pants. He was in a suit and he looked stunning. When she opened the door, she realized he was wearing a suit jacket she’d recently sold to Odin. His cufflinks reflected the lamp light as he extended a hand to her.

“You’re wearing one of my pieces.”

“I am.” He curled his fingers over her hand and helped her down the three steps to the sidewalk. His touch was too familiar.

“Why?”

“Because I like it.”

“Are you trying to suck up to me?”

Brad smiled and the sincerity of it took her breath away. “I’d do anything to get on your good side again, Keri.”

She pulled her hand out of his as they walked across the street. Carefully, she settled into the low seat of his sports car. Brad drove them to a swanky place in the Upper East Side and gave his keys to the valet. He was greeted by name at the entrance to the restaurant, and the hostess showed them to a tiny booth, tucked away in a secluded area. There were taper candles lit and the napkins were folded just so.

The booth forced them to sit almost side-by-side. He probably asked for it on purpose just to test her will power. Their waiter brought a bottle of wine and let Brad taste it before giving his approval. Her stomach was in knots. Brad plus wine plus her equaled make-out session.

“It’s Chianti. One of my favorites,” he said, nodding at her glass. She wondered if all he could think about was kissing.

She took a small sip and sat the glass down in front of her. Brad turned slightly and moved his arm over the back of the bench, just behind her head.

“What do you taste?”

She watched him lick his lips. She wanted to taste him. And it irritated the hell out of her that she still felt that flame of desire. “Cherries.”

He never took his eyes off her as he took another sip from his glass. “All I can think about is kissing you,” he admitted after he dropped his gaze to the table.

At least she wasn’t the only one.

“Old habits,” she agreed.

They ordered and waited in stilted, uncomfortable silence for their food to be delivered. There were so many things Keri wanted to say or ask, but she didn't trust herself.

Finally, Brad appeared to have had enough. He cleared his throat and turned toward her, his hand still resting somewhere behind her head. He could easily drop his arm around her shoulders. And then she'd probably come undone because she had missed him.

"I guess I should talk since that's the reason for you being here."

She nodded and watched him with suspicious eyes.

"I, uh, I apologize for the way I... left things at the beginning of summer. Last season was tough. I guess you don't know because you don't follow hockey, but interviews and the media can be overwhelming. I'm...a big name for the Rangers and they look to me for interviews pretty regularly. And when I started the short season off so badly, it was just...nonstop. They were asking me about my performance every game. There were articles and discussions and commentary. And you can't get away from that." He paused and looked up at her.

Keri nodded for him to continue.

"It's embarrassing and frustrating enough to... well, not be able to perform like you've performed in the past. But to be forced to talk about it every single day..."

"Pressure on top of pressure," she said.

He gave a short laugh. "Yeah. Exactly. When I realized you had no idea who I was and still wanted to talk to me... I, I don't know how to describe that. It was like freedom, especially because I wanted to run away from my job. And then you and I, we talked and...stuff."

Yeah, she thought, and stuff. That stuff was real nice.

"And I enjoyed spending time with you. I mean, I still do. When you aren't cursing me in your head. Are you cursing me in your head?"

She chuckled and looked away from his frank face. "No, not this minute."

"Good." He took a sip of his Chianti and continued. "When you told me that you knew who I was after we were eliminated... All I felt was shame."

"Shame?"

"And embarrassment that you knew exactly how bad things were. That you knew an entire industry was talking about how I sucked at my job. So, I..."

"Ran away," she finished.

"Right."

Keri shifted to face him more fully. "You used me as a distraction."

Brad hung his head, looking at the light bouncing off their wine glasses. "I did, but that's not all you were. You were my... safe house. And suddenly the world had encroached on my safe house." He tilted his head. "Does that make sense?"

Actually it did, Keri thought begrudgingly. It made perfect sense, but it didn't change the fact that she was still hurt. "It does. But that doesn't mean that you weren't wrong."

The waiter appeared with their plates, stalling the conversation. When he left, Brad said, "I agree."

"Good. Just as long as we're on the same page." She picked up her fork and turned her eyes to the food on the table. Finally, she said, “So, what was with the money and Norman Rainey?”

Brad pushed the food around on his plate. These conversations didn’t lend themselves to big appetites. “I felt like shit after I left you. And I kept thinking about how amazing you are and how talented you are. And I knew I had messed things up with you, but I thought the least I could do was give you a shot at your dream. I told Norm what I wanted to do and let him control the rest. I swear I haven’t checked up on you until just recently.”

“The money pissed me off,” she admitted.

Brad smiled softly. “Yeah, Norm told me. You said I’m an asshole.”

“You are.”

“I’m trying to be better. For you.”

Her stomach flipped over at his words. Damn him for knowing just the right thing to say.

Notes