Page 36 of Puck King
“Glass half-full,” I whispered to myself as I stared at my small closet, filled with the clothes that I’d bought in the past week. I was starting from a clean slate, from scratch. Marie Kondo herself would’ve been prouder than a peacock to see how stark our new place was. I’d only bought pieces of clothing that, in her words, sparked joy. And there weren’t many that did that.
Colton’s drunk text had sat unanswered on my phone for five days. I didn’t know what the hell it meant. Was it literal? Did he want me to meet him for a sandwich, or a sando as I heard the guys call them? Or did it mean something else – the usual something a drunk ‘three in the morning’ text meant?
My very grown up response had been to not answer it. I hadn’t decided if I was going to pretend that I just hadn’t seen it, or hope that a super witty response would come to me and I’d text him back. My reaction to watching him play had scared me. I had just broken up with a cheater. The last thing I needed was to fall for someone who had cheating in their bloodline.
Now that Colton was back in town, we were back on schedule. And tonight was a big one – a fancy dinner and our first official public display of affection.
In preparation for my ‘date’, I’d decided to get something classic and simple. It was my version of a little black dress, but in my favorite color – olive green. It had taken some convincing from the sales clerk to buy it. The one-shoulder, curve-hugging, slinky silk dress had seemed too…much. But she had convinced me that with a proper blazer, it could look either sexy as hell, or demure. Whatever I wanted. And for the date with Colton, I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I belted the blazer and turned in front of the mirror. It was a trendy look, one that I would not have chosen myself, and for a split second I didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror. I tried it without the jacket and the bias cut fabric shone in the bare bulb glow of my bedroom. I ran my hands down my waist and hips and then pulled my hair back from my face. The sales clerk had called me a Nicole Kidman look-alike, and until that moment, I hadn’t seen it.
“Too much,” I whispered and put the jacket back on. It felt safer.
The clock on the stove read one o’clock, which based on the fact that it had been dark for a few hours, was either running way early or way late. I hadn’t worn a watch in years and I patted the duvet to find my phone. It was one minute to eight. I quickly scribbled a note to Hollie, who’d gone out. Then I finished my look with a black wool coat, added some deep-red lipstick, and waited for the buzzer.
My phone pinged instead. It was Colton.
There’s a car waiting out front for you.
Although I was relieved that I wasn’t going to be seeing him right away, the part of me that had been nervous was disappointed. “What did you expect? Flowers and a cocked elbow like it’s 1963?” I muttered to myself. But truthfully, yeah. For being twenty-seven, Colton had so many old-fashioned chivalrous habits that I’d half-expected him to arrive wearing a fedora, rather than sending a driver.
Relieved that I didn’t have to figure out how to greet him, I took a deep breath and started the journey down the four flights of stairs, my boots echoing against the worn marble stairs.
The driver was waiting outside a stretch limousine, not a town car. “Miss Moffat.” He tipped the brim of his hat at me and then opened the door.
“Thank you.” I focused on holding up the hem of my silk dress so it didn’t hit a pile of slushy snow, and carefully slid into the limo.
A bouquet of red long-stemmed roses sat on the back seat. The limousine driver took his place at the wheel and looked in the rear-view mirror as he spoke to me. “Mr. Colton regrets not meeting you personally, Miss.”
“That’s fine. Where are we going?”
The chauffeur put the car into gear. “I’ve been instructed not to tell you.”
“Oh,” I whispered.
The tinted partition between the driver and me slid up before I could ask him any more questions that he wouldn’t answer.
An open bottle of champagne sat on ice. It seemed weird to drink it by myself, but I was so nervous I poured myself a glass. I smoothed the silk fabric against my freshly shaven legs and stared out the window as I sipped the champagne, watching for landmarks and trying to figure out where the limo was taking me.
It didn’t take long to guess that we were headed to Colton’s loft. The chauffer opened the door and I was met with the doorman from Colton’s building. When I only saw two photographers lurking near the door, I breathed a sigh of relief.
The photographers got their shots as the doorman accompanied me to the elevator, where he punched in the button. It was the one above ‘P’ for penthouse. “Where are we going?”
“Mr. King would like to meet you on the roof.” My stomach dropped as the high-speed elevator shot into the sky, its doors opening to a brightly lit hallway.
“What are we doing on the roof?” I mused, mostly to myself. Visions of a candlelit dinner made me shiver. It was the middle of winter.
“I’m not at liberty to say,” the doorman replied.
Colton opened the heavy door as he saw us approaching. “Thank you, Reggie.” He smiled at the doorman who nodded and slipped back into the elevator, leaving me alone in the cold with Colton. My hair whipped my cheeks and I pulled my wool coat a little tighter around my neck.
He was ready with a big down blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders. The warmth of his body and the puffy blanket dampened the wind chill, but I could still feel my teeth starting to chatter. “Are we having dinner up here?” I looked around for the telltale signs of a cheesy rom-com dinner – rose petals, a violinist – but other than the lights on the building, it was as dark as the night sky gets in the city. Snowflakes swirled and landed on his wool hat.
“Up here?” He laughed. “God, no. It’s colder than the practice rink in Wichita on this roof.”
“What are we doing up here then?”
“I have a surprise for you.”
The contract had specified that we were to go to a high-end restaurant and be seated in a very visible spot. “Is the surprise that Nobu has relocated to your roof?” I laughed. I wasn’t up to speed on trendy restaurants, but I was pretty sure that Nobu had been big at some point in the last twenty years.
