Ruthless In A Suit: Book Three Part 2

I've fantasized about running into Levi a million times over. In most of the fantasies, I dressed him down so thoroughly that he was barely the sh.e.l.l of a man when I was done. Sometimes I broke down crying, which still (at least in my fantasies) broke him. More than once I imagined balling up my fists and clocking him in that gorgeous face of his.

I certainly never imagined his dog his dog! leaping into my lap, and then me inviting him to sit down and catch up. And yet from the moment I first see him, racing after the galumphing yellow lab who's racing towards me, all thoughts of malice disappear from my mind.

Levi's wearing a pair of relaxed khaki pants, a navy sweater, a pair of brown leather hiking boots, and a black coat that hangs open. I can see the way his clothes still hug his body, particularly around his chest and broad shoulders.

I notice that his hair has grown a little longer and is a little less tamed, the curls falling over his forehead with more ease. I can see the shadow of stubble across his still razor-sharp jaw.

He looks just as I remembered, and yet somehow even better and more relaxed. I can tell right away that there's something different about him, and not just that he's gotten himself a dog.

I try and rekindle some of my past anger, some of my burning fury that's kept me away from him for so long. Because looking at him now, I can already feel myself going to putty.

Don't fall for it.

Just because you miss him more than someone dying of thirst in the desert misses water-just because seeing him again is like breathing again after a lifetime of holding your breath--don't allow yourself to have hope.

Levi will take that hope and use it against you. He'll never change. He will only hurt you again.

But I can't help it.

I'm just not that strong, and the way he looks at me, the kindness in his eyes-it feels too good and too real to walk away so quickly.

Instead, I ask him to sit with me, and tell me this long story of his life over these last few months. He blinks at me for a moment, then quickly drops down next to me.

It takes only a moment for Oliver to realize that their walk is on hold, and he curls up at our feet instead.

Meanwhile, I sit in stunned silence listening to Levi tell me about leaving Maxon Law and starting a new firm with Logan and Julia. He tells me about his pro bono work, and how he's really enjoying taking it to crooked landlords and bosses trying to fleece their undoc.u.mented employees.

He has that same flash in his eyes from his days of high-powered corporate takeovers, the same fierceness, only now there's more humanity in his voice as he speaks.

He tells me about locating the new office in his old house, and how he divided the property to accommodate the firm, leaving him with the upstairs rooms as an apartment.

Levi Maxon, living in an apartment?

As I watch him, his arm slung casually over the back of the bench, talking about taking immigration cases, I can't help but feel like he truly is a changed man.

My heart surges. If only this was the man I'd met in the very beginning.

Why couldn't we have started like this? Two people meeting in a park.

Why did it have to start in such an ugly way between us?

"And so yeah, I'm still basically working insane hours, but when you literally live at the office, it doesn't seem so bad," he says, coming to the end of his tale. He reaches down and gives Oliver a pat on the head, sending the dog's tail thumping on the pavement in delight. "And I've got this guy to keep me company when I'm working late, so that helps."

I realize that he's done and that it's my turn to speak a beat too late.

I fear I've made it awkward, or maybe shown my hand. Because over the last few minutes I've felt it all creeping back in. I want to keep those feelings at bay I've done such a good job shoving them down and hiding them from view.

But this is all too much.

He's just as I remembered, and yet better. He's done all that I would have asked him to do, but without me doing the asking. And it's clear that it wasn't because of me.

Because as we sit there in that moment of silence, I feel him start to get uncomfortable, too. He's getting nervous, awkward, a strange look for Levi Maxon to be wearing. He clearly didn't expect to ever see me again.

Little did he know that for the last month that I've been temping at a publishing house on Boylston, I've been taking my lunches out here in the Public Garden, enjoying the last bit of outdoor time I can before winter descends for a dark, cold four months.

And I'd be lying if I didn't wonder if I was lunching right in his path, if there was a possibility I might see him. Sure, I had a book in my lap, but I almost never got through more than a page or two, my eyes always scanning the pa.s.sing crowds, looking for him.

And now here he is, sitting next to me, looking as devastatingly handsome as I remember.

"That sounds amazing, Levi," I say, finally, when neither of us can take the silence any longer. "You seem happy."

He shrugs, and his jaw muscle twitches. "I'm okay."

I sigh, knowing I've hit on the thing we're not supposed to be talking about. And now I don't know what to say. Have I ruined it? Is this where we part, exchanging pleasantries about keeping in touch but both knowing this will be the last time, because it's all too painful? Have we come to the end?

"Well, you seem good, Levi," I muster, my throat dry. I will myself not to allow the tears to fall down my cheeks. Please don't cry. Not now.

At least wait a few minutes until he's gone, I tell myself.

"Cadence, there's something I have to say."

I suck in a breath.

"Okay," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. I force my gaze to meet his, and for a moment I see a glimmer of the old Levi, the one who was filled with determination. The one to whom no one said no. And even though that Levi nearly broke me, he's also the one I fell in love with. And seeing him there in this new package breaks something open inside of me, something I'm not yet ready to name.

Levi leans in. "What I did to you was absolutely inexcusable. I could spend the rest of my life apologizing for it, and never even come close to doing my penance. I'm surprised you're even speaking to me right now, to be honest," he says. "But I'm so glad that you let me sit and tell you about what I've been doing. Because my life is so much better now than it was, and I wouldn't have anything if it weren't for you."

"Oh Levi, I'm sure that's not " I say, but he cuts me off.

"It's absolutely true. I was headed down a dark road, and the fact that I concocted that horrific plan to begin with was evidence of how bad it had gotten for me. I was going nowhere. I was a miserable man with nothing meaningful or good in my life. And you changed all that. You showed me who I was, and what I was becoming. And I did fall in love with you. Harder than I ever thought possible."

"Levi, please," I say, and my voice is shaking now. My entire body is shaking. Because this is officially too much now. I can't.

I can't be strong when he's saying these things to me.

But Levi presses on mercilessly. "I don't blame you for leaving. You absolutely should have. It's who you are, and it was why I loved you in the first place. And that's why I gave up the money and the estate."

I let out a long, slow breath that I didn't even know I was holding. My thoughts are swimming around in my head as if they're the little flakes in a snow globe after a child has given it a furious shake. I'm trying desperately to grasp one just one and yet it's all too much to take in. His admission, the things he's saying and how different he even sounds. This changed man who I loved once, and who, if I'm completely honest, I never really stopped loving.

I don't even know where to begin. "This is a lot to process," I say.

But it's more than that. I'm also terrified. Terrified to allow myself to feel this way again, knowing how badly I could be hurt again as well.

"You don't have to say anything," he says, sensing my confusion. "Really, if you want, I can just get up from this bench, continue on my walk with Oliver, and we can leave it at that. But I just want to say one last thing before I go."

I can feel the itch behind my eyes, telling me they're on the verge of welling up with tears. I don't trust my voice at this moment, so I simply nod.

"Once I started loving you, I never stopped. Not for a moment. And not now. But I know that what I did hurt you too much to ever pick up where we left off." His voice is brittle, and I know he's trying to wrestle his own emotion at this moment. "But if you think there's a chance, I'd like to start over."

I suck in a ragged breath. "What would that even mean, Levi?" I ask.

"Let me take you out. On a first date. The kind we never had, because I f.u.c.ked everything up so royally. But, maybe...maybe we can get to know each other."

It's so absurd that I can't help but bark out a laugh, which makes Oliver's ears perk up at our feet.

"I'm sorry, are you really asking me out on a date?" I say, dazzled by what's happening right now.

He shrugs, knowing it's the only card he's got left in the deck, so he may as well play, and play it hard. "Yes, I really am asking you out on a date," he says. The corner of his mouth quirks up into a hint of a smile, and he looks at me from beneath impossibly long eyelashes. "Cadence Fallon, will you go out with me?"

Every part of me is screaming no no no no! While every part of me is simultaneously screaming yes yes yes!!! are you kidding? of course I will!

Again, I have to pause to let my thoughts catch up with my speech. And when they do, I show him that I've got no poker face at all. All I've got is a wide grin.

"If you're free tonight, you could pick me up at seven," I reply, and then his smile matches mine, watt for watt.

LEVI.

I can't remember the last time I was nervous before a date. In fact, I can't remember if I've ever been nervous before a date. But as I stare into the mirror in my bathroom, trying for third time to tie my tie, I realize that this is what it's like to really feel.

To actually give a s.h.i.t about what happens in your own life.

"Get it together, Levi," I mutter at myself in the mirror.

"Seriously, dude, you're acting a little bit insane."

I glance up and see Logan in the mirror, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. I rarely lock my apartment door, and since I rarely have visitors, Logan and Julia have taken to wandering in and out as they please when they're working in the evenings.

"Don't you people knock?" I ask.

"Family doesn't knock," he retorts. He nods to my tie. "Having trouble there?"

"Where are you two going, anyway?" Julia asks, suddenly appearing behind her husband.

"Sportello," I reply, naming my favorite Italian restaurant in Fort Point.

"In that case, ditch the tie. Sportello isn't that fancy, and neither are you anymore." Julia reaches for the end of the tie and gives it a yank, sending it whipping off my neck and pooling in a puddle on the floor.

I huff out a sigh, trying to release the tension that's wound inside me like a spring. It's no use.

"Julia, he looks terrified," Logan says.

"He does," she nods. "It's sweet, isn't it?"

"You better put that ring in your pocket for dessert," Logan says with a wink.

"You two shut up," I say, turning around to face the firing squad. "I'm not f.u.c.king this up again. We're taking it slow, ok?"

"Sure thing, boss," Logan says with a little mini-salute. "Best of luck to ya."

"He doesn't need luck," Julie replies, the two of them now focused on each other as they wrap their arms around one another's waists, pulling each other close. "He's got love."

"No s.e.x in my house," I say as I roll my eyes at the two of them. I squeeze past them through the door to grab my coat. I've got twenty minutes to get to the address Cadence gave me, an apartment deep in Somerville. "You two can let yourselves out."

Her new apartment is just outside of Union Square, a shabby neighborhood on the verge of getting cool. She lives on the top floor of a rickety triple-decker that's been chopped up into way too many apartments. She told me to text her when I arrived, but I climb out of my car and head up onto the porch to ring the buzzer.

"I'll be ready in a sec," she calls through the ancient, crackly speaker. "Come on up."

The door gives a low, electronic buzz, and I begin my climb up a dim, narrow wooden staircase to the top floor. With the dingy walls and the squeaky stairs, this place looks like it's been staged for crime scene photos. Gruesome ones.

Cadence's apartment is one of two doors at the top of the landing. I knock on number six, which she noted was hers. The door flings open, and as soon as she opens it, she's darting across the floor back towards the bathroom. "Just one second!" she calls as she disappears behind a closed door. It gives me a moment to look around her place, which is a tiny studio with one bay window at the end, a narrow galley kitchen at the other. She's got a bed, a shabby armchair, and a dinged coffee table that looks like it was picked up on the side of the road. In the corner by the window stands a small easel, a canvas rested on it and a palette of paints on the floor next to it. The canvas bears the image of a red line train as it whizzes across the Longfellow Bridge towards Cambridge.

Just behind the canvas I notice the blinds on one of the windows are detached and hanging at an angle. After standing there for a full minute, I can no longer take it, so I cross the floor and reach to fix it.

"Ugh, thank you. I've been meaning to fix that, but I'm too short, and I just haven't had the get-up-and-go to slide my coffee table across the floor to stand on it," she says. I turn and see that she's dressed in a pair of dark wash skinny jeans, brown boots, and a soft gray sweater that hangs off one delicate shoulder. If this were four months ago, I'd cross the floor and gather her in my arms, planting kisses along that line from her shoulder, up her neck, and to the spot she loves behind her ear. Just the thought of it makes me hard, and I shift and shake my head to erase the image. This is, after all, a first date.

As if she can read my mind, she c.o.c.ks an eyebrow at me, but doesn't say anything. Instead she reaches for her coat and her bag. "You ready to go?"

"I am if you are," I tell her.

She gives me a smile, and just that smile is enough to wash away months of pain and loneliness.

G.o.d, even if I only have just this one night with her-I'll savor each moment for the rest of my days.

I follow her down the stairs and out the door.

"Where's your car?" she asks, scanning the street.

"It's that one," I say, pointing to a black Volvo sedan.

She raises her eyebrows. "d.a.m.n, you really have changed."

"Oliver wasn't a big fan of the sports car, and I wasn't a big fan of muddy paws all over the seats," I explain. "So I traded it in."

"Smart," is all she says in response. I unlock the car and open the pa.s.senger seat for her, and she slides in. So far, so good. I think. Though of course we're only about five minutes in. There's still plenty of time for me to f.u.c.k things up.

The drive to the restaurant takes about fifteen minutes of light conversation that feels charged with electricity.

I keep trying to remind myself that this isn't a normal first date. I have, after all, already seen her naked. But that only makes things worse, because it sends my mind down a fantasy slip and slide of memories of being inside her, and how much I want that again.

The restaurant is loud and bright, which is exactly why I picked it. I didn't want low lighting and soft music to give us too much time to get awkward. Sportello is arranged like a high-end diner, with patrons sitting around an enormous bar, the waiters walking around to serve drinks and take orders from behind it, and the kitchen staff preparing all the meals in an open kitchen along the back wall. It's like being in a Waffle House, if Waffle House made truffle risotto and penne alla vodka from scratch. I give the hostess my name, and she leads us to a spot right in the center, where we'll have a great view of the chef to distract us from any awkwardness that might occur.

But Cadence has other ideas.

"No private room? No bottle service? My, how you've changed," she says.

"Well, I've got a little less money than I used to," I reply.

"Oh? Where did all that money go, anyway?"