Work of Art (12 page)

“Yes,” she said, feigning exasperation. “I tell you, sometimes I don’t think you listen to me at all, Ryan Carson.” She finally released me and walked over to the refrigerator. “I’ll be so glad when this wedding planning is over and we can just concentrate on being husband and wife.”

Yeah, because that’s what’s been holding me back from being a good listener.

“I’m actually looking forward to our honeymoon,” I said, getting up from my seat and moving behind her where she stood staring into the vastness that was our refrigerator.

I landed my lips on her neck and started to suck gently, and I couldn’t help it. I was so fucking horny, that I inadvertently poked her in the ass, which garnered all sorts of dirty thoughts and succeeded in making me want to rip her clothes off even more.

She immediately squirmed away from me as soon as she felt how hard I was.

“Ryan!” she cried, spinning away from me, but at least she was grinning.

I grinned sheepishly back at her. “I can’t help it. I missed you.”

“You are awful. Control yourself. It’s only
four more weeks – less than that actually.”

I groaned. “
Four weeks. That’s practically a lifetime. Can I at least get a blow job?”

I hated to ask. It sounded so pathetic and a little insensitive since I’d always been in the mindset that pushing a girl’s head toward your crotch was just rude, but it had been two months since anyone but me had touched me below the waist.
It was getting a little ridiculous. We lived together, slept in the same bed, and had sex before!

Trish gasped in astonishment at my request. “No. Ryan, that’s gross.”

“Since when? You used to do it when we were dating.”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Yeah, well, I’ve never been a big fan of it.”

Um, does that mean no blow jobs for the rest of my life? Seriously?

“Come on, baby. You’re good at it. Please.”

She sighed. “Ry, I’m feeling really crampy okay. I’m starting my period tomorrow, and I need to get to the gym. I barely worked out all weekend, and I’m feeling all fat and bloated.”

Eww
. Didn’t need to know that much detail.

She grabbed
a water from the fridge and moved past me.

“Sex is a workout,” I called after her.

“Love you,” she called over her shoulder as she headed to the bedroom.

I growled und
er my breath as she walked away from me.

* * *

The next day at work I was having trouble concentrating. I’d never realized it before, but if I stood at the corner of my office and looked left, I could just see the corner where Harper’s tattoo parlor was located. So I’d subsequently spent the entire morning on the phone with clients, standing at the window just waiting to see if she’d appear. She never did. Of course I was also ten stories up, so I might have missed her.

Right around twelve-thirty, my phone rang.

“Ryan Carson.”

“Hi
, it’s me,” Trish said.

“Hey baby. What’s up?”

“I wanted to see if you might be able to have lunch today. I feel bad we didn’t get to see each other this weekend, and I know you’re probably working late, like usual, so I figured I’d see if I could squeeze in some Ry Time.”

I smiled. I liked when she called it
Ry Time. It made me feel important.

“Yeah, sure, I can get away for about thirty minutes.”

“Great! How about sushi?”

I’d eaten sushi the day before with Brandon, but she didn’t know that. I was actually craving an Italian sub, but that was probably because there was a deli I’d been staring at all morning as I’d been playing creepy stalker. It was directly across from Harper’s parlor.

I couldn’t believe I was actually going to suggest it, but I reasoned that it had been in my line of vision all morning, so it had nothing to do with Harper. I just wanted a sub. Brandon had reintroduced me to a whole world of foods that I’d forgotten I loved, and I planned on re-exploring all of them.

“Actually, I’m kind of craving a sub. Can we go to the deli that’s around the corner from my office?”

“A deli? Do they have low carb options?”

I’m guessing no.

“Yeah. I’m sure they do.”

“Okay,
good, because I’m really dieting this week. Seriously, no carbs and no sugar of any kind. I was so bad this weekend!”

“Hon, you look great. Don’t kill yourself over trying to look perfect.”

She laughed. “That’s my job, especially as your future wife. You’ve seen the women attached to guys at your firm. I want to make sure you’re always proud to have me on your arm.”

She was mostly referring to my firm in Boston. The San Francisco office was much more
relaxed.

“Trish, you look beautiful. I’ll always be proud to have you on my arm.”

“Aww, you’re sweet, but I’m still not eating carbs.”

“Fine.
Do whatever you want.”

I’m sure as hell eating carbs. I might even go to McDonalds.
Things could get crazy!

“I’ll meet you in ten minutes,” she said, as my partner, Melinda sidled into my office and settled down on the end of my couch.

“See you soon.”

“Lunch with the
wifey?” Melinda asked with just a touch of bitter in her tone.

She was irritated because the guy she’
d been dating for the past five months had broken up with her over the weekend. She’d told me all about it over coffee that morning. And I told her that had I known I would have told Brandon to call her while he was in town. She’d always had a thing for him. I was pretty sure she was mad at me now because we hadn’t called her to hang out. Melinda was cool. She was a true guy’s girl, and when the three of us had worked together in Boston, she’d been right there with Brandon and me pounding back beers. I enjoyed her.

“Yes, Trish is meeting me
in a few minutes,” I said, somewhat coldly.

Melinda and Trish had never really gotten along. Trish
didn’t know what to do with Melinda and her aggressive, no-holds-barred personality. Trish had never had many male friends, and she couldn’t understand why Mel would want to be friends with me and not sleep with me. And I could never sufficiently explain it to her.

“Enjoy. Will you be back by one-thirty?”

“Yes,” I said, easing back in my chair. “I haven’t forgotten we’re going over the presentation for tomorrow’s meeting. I’ll be there.”

“Good,” she said
as she rose to her feet. “Because I’ve been a little worried about you lately. You’ve been off your game for the past month or so.”

I sat up all at once. “I haven’t missed one deadline.”

She cocked her head to the side. “You also haven’t put in the same effort you used to. I want to be sure you’re not losing your edge.”

“I’m in at seven every day, and I’m here until almost nine every night,” I defended.

Hell, I’d hardly seen Trish I’d been working so much.

“And I’m always here until
at least ten,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly. “But it’s not always about how much time you put in but how much effort you expel, and I’m here to tell you, you’re slipping, and the higher-ups are noticing.”

“That’s bullshit,” I said, rising to my feet.

“You know it’s not, Ryan. I’m telling you as a friend that I just think you need to take a step back and really examine how much you want this. You used to be a lot hungrier.”

I could have responded, but she was right. I used to love what I did so much that I’d lived and breathed my job. Hell, I’d even uprooted my life and moved across the country
for it, but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure she wasn’t right. In the past few months, something had changed.

“I’ll be
back by one-thirty, and I’ll meet you in your office,” I told her, not giving her the satisfaction of a response to her accusation, mostly because I wasn’t exactly sure what to tell her.

Ten minutes later, Trish and I were walking hand in hand to the deli I’d been eying all morning. When we got to the corner, my heart started pounding, and I fought the urge to turn and look in the window
of Harper’s shop, hoping I might be able to catch a glimpse of her.

When I fi
nally turned around, though, her shop was dark and the sign in the window said they didn’t open until two on weekdays. My shoulders sunk involuntarily, and Trish nudged me forward before I could gawk at the shop any longer. There was a sketch of a butterfly next to the words ‘Art Studio’, and it reminded me of the tattoos I’d noticed now decorated Harper’s arms.

Once we were settled at a table in the corner and the warm smell of baking bread, meats and cheeses was filling my nostrils, I looked up to appraise Trish. She was sitting across from me, her face pinched as she took in her surroundings. I was in heaven, and she was in hell.

“Are you sure you’re okay eating here?” I asked her for the fifth time.

She nodded. “Yes. I’m sure their salads are delightful. Although I hope you don’t make a habit of ordering what you did. I don’t want you to have a heart attack at forty.”

She said it jokingly, but I knew there was a level of seriousness behind it. I’d been on a major health kick for the past few years, and she was one of the healthiest eaters I knew, so I knew the fact that I was deviating from my once rigid standards around what I would put into my body was throwing her for a loop. But I’d forgotten how good food that was so bad for you could taste, and I’d been depriving myself for way too long.

“Don’t worry. I was just having a craving. I’ll be good for the rest of the week.”

Yeah, probably not.

She smiled, so I decided
to test the waters on something else I was contemplating changing. I couldn’t sleep the night before, so I’d lain awaked in bed thinking about nothing and trying to fall asleep when a conversation I’d had a two years earlier with one of my business school professors came back to me.

I’d run into him at an alumni function at UMass, and we’d started talking about how I was enjoying my career. At the time I’d been the hungriest I’d ever been in terms of my job, so I told him I loved it. He’d eyed me pensively for a few seconds before he told me I might not always feel that way and to call him if I was ever interested in using my degree to teach. I’d assumed he was nuts at the time, but now I wondered if that might be a viable solution to my problem.

That morning I’d even looked him up on the UMass website, figuring I could call him to talk about my options, but I hadn’t seen his name listed. So I called the department and learned that he’d transferred out to Stanford two years earlier.

Now, I’m not a big believer in fate and destiny, but if there was ever a time for me to start, it was then. The information was too coincidental. So I’d called and made an appointment to go out and see him for lunch the next day, and I figured I should tell Trish what was going on.

“What would you think of me, potentially, leaving the firm and going back to school?” I asked tentatively.

She cocked her head to the side and looked at me in wonder.
“For what? You already have your MBA.”

I sucke
d in a breath to gather courage, wondering why I was having such a hard time expressing this thought. “I’m actually thinking of getting my PhD.”

“But why?”

“So I can teach at a collegiate level.”

She looked at me in sheer confusion. “Why would you want to do that?
”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Lots of people get burned out in banking, so they use what they know to teach. The hours are better, I’d be helping people, and I think I’d
really enjoy it. One of my UMass professors worked for about fifteen years before he got laid off after September 11
th
, and he went back to school. He said it was the best decision he ever made.”

“But you love your job,” she said, taking a long pull of her unsweetened iced tea.

“No, I really don’t.”

“But they pay you really well. Don’t college professors make meager salaries?”

“Is money really everything?”

I wasn’t su
re we really needed any more fifteen thousand dollar pieces of furniture, but she actually laughed a short, non-humorous laugh, and I should have known better. Trish and I came from the same world where you were taught that money really was everything, but I was starting to think otherwise.

“Um, it’s something,” she responded curtly. “
Have you even talked to your parents about this?”

I looked at her in confusion. “Why would I do that? I’m twenty-
nine years old.”

“Yeah, so.
Your dad’s been in banking for years, and look how successful he is.”

“Yeah, and he also hasn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in thirty years, he looks ten years older than he is, and he’s angry and sullen all the time. Do you want that to happen to me?”