Page 17 of Saltwater Secrets
“I don’t.” The guy shook his head. “But I’m sure it’s not the first time a man has entered a business meeting with coffee all over his shirt. Right?”
Aria seized with panic. Remembering her walk-through of the Greenwich Village brownstone, she thought of the closet of clothing in the upstairs bedroom. There had been men’s clothes, if she remembered correctly. Maybe she could save the day.
Before she could stop herself, she suggested it. “I live around the corner.” Live was a loose word here, but she decided to roll with it. “I have a few men’s shirts there. They aren’t, um…” How could she translate that the shirts didn’t belong to a romantic partner of hers, that she was (for the first time in years) single and (maybe) ready to mingle?
Was she? Ready?
“I mean, they don’t belong to anyone I’m dating or anything,” Aria said, her cheeks burning. What was she saying?
The man laughed outright, but not in a cruel way. “Did you steal those men’s shirts?”
Aria’s thoughts swirled. He was playing with her.
“I’m calling the cops,” he said, upping the fake stakes.
Aria waved her hands, which she now saw were covered in cream cheese. “No! Don’t! I swear, I’ll take them back.”
“Back where?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“They belong in a museum!” she said, parroting an old film her mother loved.
The guy got it. He barked with laughter, so much so that he had to put his smashed bagel on the table Aria had just vacated. Aria giggled along with him, feeling out of her mind. She understood the scene must have looked like two people who’d known each other for years, putting on a show of their ease and friendship. But they were strangers. Aria had to remember that.
“Well,” he said finally, taking a breath, “I have to admit, this meeting later is pretty important to me. If you have a spare shirt, I can’t refuse it.”
Aria grinned. “Let’s go check it out.”
Back at the brownstone, Aria and the stranger took off their shoes in the foyer and went immediately to the kitchen to wash their hands of cream cheese and assess the damage. During the five-minute walk, they’d somehow neglected to tell one another their names, and now the weight of that lack of knowledge felt heavier than it needed to be.
“What kind of meeting is it?” Aria asked him, suddenly worried that, like Gina and Philip Wagner, this handsome and charming man was in the business of money.
“It probably sounds really lame,” the guy said, trying to unpeel the paper bag from the smashed bagel.
“I can’t imagine it would,” she said.
He laughed. “How good is your imagination? I’m sure you can stretch it a little and see me, flailing like a caught fish in front of some of these producers. They’re going to skin me alive.”
“Producers?” Aria was intrigued, still dripping wet with coffee while scrubbing cream cheese from her cheek.
“I’m an illustrator,” he said finally, offering his position prior to his name. “I’ve made a film, and I don’t know if anyone willever want to give me money for it, let alone show it anywhere. But I’m a romantic, unfortunately. I have to make my art. No matter what.” A split second later, his face crumpled, and he groaned. “I sound so lame! I can’t sound like this in front of those producers.”
Aria couldn’t resist. She reached out and touched his shoulder. The man didn’t flinch but instead turned his head slowly so that his gaze rested on her hand. He took a breath.
“You don’t sound lame,” Aria said softly, slowly returning her hand to the counter.
There was a long moment of silence. Aria had no idea what he was thinking. Would he tell her outright that he had a girlfriend and he was out of line for coming here in the first place? Would he tell her that he’d come for the shirt and only for the shirt and never wanted to see her again? Could he see that Thaddeus had left her so recently? Did she wear the heartache like a battle wound?
“By the way,” he said finally, breaking her anxious thought spiral, “my name is Logan.”
Aria had never heard such a striking name paired with such a handsome face. “I’m Aria,” she said.
Logan smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Aria managed a very small, “You too.”
Before long, they were upstairs in the bedroom that housed the men’s shirts she’d seen yesterday. Aria could feel Logan’s curiosity mounting.
“This is a great place,” he said. “How did you get it?”
