Lost and Found (22 page)

She folds her arms across her chest as her eyes go very squinted. “Hilary never told me about an engagement ring, and trust me, if she ever got one from you, I would have heard about it.”

I lean back in my chair, trying to flow the whole thing off. “Obviously they have me mixed up with someone else. I never gave Hilary a ring.”

“I’m not so sure,” Veronica says, dropping her arms and turning to face me. “They said they have it on file under your name with your credit card. I verified the number, James. It’s your purchase.”

My face goes red, part with embarrassment and part with anger. How dare she push me like this. I’m her employer. It’s not her business who I buy things for or where or what they are.

“Tell them I’m not interested.”

“But it’s a diamond ring. A pretty substantial one from what I’m getting over the phone.”

“I don’t care.” My temper is flaring up again and it comes out in my tone. “Tell them I’m not interested.”

I turn my chair away from her, taking a file off the top of the pile at the corner of my desk. “Let me know when my next patient arrives. And shut the door behind you, please.”

She huffs out a loud breath, but says nothing. I’m really glad, because finding a new assistant on short notice like this would be a real bitch. She slams the door behind her, leaving me with a thousand thoughts tangled together.

 
Who the hell is at Cartier saying they’re my ex-fiancée? It can’t possibly be Hilary. She doesn’t even know about the ring. Something strange is going on here, and I’m absolutely sure I don’t want to know what it is. My life is fucked up enough as it is.

My plan solidifies in my mind at that moment; deny, deny, deny. If anyone else asks me about a ring, I’m going to play stupid. The good news is that it shouldn’t be that difficult, considering how completely confused I am right now.

Chapter Forty-Three

IT’S MONDAY AND I HAVE a headache that will not quit. Eight hundred milligrams of ibuprofen isn’t touching it, and I have a surgery that starts in two hours. I have my head down on my desk when the intercom goes on and Veronica’s voice comes over it.

“James, there’s a woman at the front door.”

I wait for more, but apparently that’s it.

“So? What do you want me to do about it?” I’m not in the mood to be polite. It doesn’t help that Veronica’s been bitchy all morning and came back late from lunch. I’m being punished for something she’s imagined I’ve done that’s completely none of her fucking business.

“She says she wants to see you, but I don’t recognize her. She looks like a gypsy or something.”

My heart stops beating. “A gypsy?” I barely get the words out. Flashes of the woman who called me Helen come to mind. But what would she be doing here? It can’t be her.

“Yeah. She looks crazy. Should I call security?”

I jump up from my desk and practically run through the door to Veronica’s desk. The surveillance camera is picking up a figure at our main doors and displaying it on a small screen on my secretary’s computer monitor.

“Son of a bitch,” I mumble to myself. It
is
that Leah Betty person!
How in the hell…?
Is she stalking me? But why would she be? It’s not like we’ve even exchanged a single pleasant word with one another. Maybe after seeing me in the hospital she wants to consult with me as a physician. That’s the only explanation that makes sense.

“Who is she?” Veronica asks.

I panic. The lie bubbles up and flies out of my mouth. “I have no idea. Send her away.” Seeing her as a patient just feels wrong. I know instinctively that I can’t do it. Nothing good will come of me seeing that woman’s breasts in a professional environment. I’ll lose my license with the things I’ll be wanting to do with them.

Veronica presses the intercom button that communicates with a box outside our main doors. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to make an appointment if you want to come in.”

My eyes are riveted to the monitor. The woman stands there with her arms hanging at her sides, her mouth open. I can see she’s offended, and it makes me smile. My panic subsides in the face of her expression. It’s not that I’m happy about being rude, but she’s kind of cute when she’s mad. It’s that hair of hers, flying out all over the place …

“Okay, I’ll make an appointment now,” she says, chin up in the air. “Book me in.”

Veronica snorts in disgust. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that at this time.”

I glance at my secretary, wondering where that tone of voice is coming from. Usually whenever I hear her, she’s practically simpering she’s so polite. I’m not sure I like this new person I’m seeing at my front desk. She reminds me of someone. Hilary.

I stare at the back of her head, wondering if she was being honest with me when she said they weren’t friends anymore. I never realized before how alike they were, but now it’s clear. Two peas in a pod. They could be sisters.

“Why not?” the girl asks.

“We don’t have any availability.” Veronica sounds very happy about that, like she’s just thwarted a rival.

“Then why did you tell me I had to make an appointment?”

Good question. I wait to hear what Veronica has to say to that.

“Because you do.” Not very brilliant repartée, but it does the job.

The girl’s hands ball up into fists. Then she reaches out really fast and grabs the door handle. I watch it wiggle from the inside as she tries to get in.

Veronica puts her face very close to the speaker. “Please don’t touch the door.” Her voice is so loud, it echoes inside the office and outside it too.

The girl pulls her hand back quickly. Then she looks up and she’s staring right into the camera. The image on the screen is slightly grainy, but even so, I can see she’s beautiful when she’s mad. It makes me want to have an argument with her naked. The make-up sex would be phenomenal, I know it would. My lower half starts to heat up at the idea.

“Are you spying on me?” she asks, obviously offended by the idea.

Veronica responds without hesitation. “We use surveillance to keep people out of our offices who don’t belong.”

My heart lurches at little at that comment. The comment and the tone in which it was delivered were designed to take the woman down to the lowest peg, and I feel bad when I realize she’ll think it came from me. She might be a little on the scrappy side, but I don’t believe she’s lower than me or anyone else. Something about her says diamond in the rough to me.

“You’re really rude, you know that?” She turns around and leaves the foyer, her black bag swinging out and hitting her on the butt. She grabs it and holds it close as she presses the button for the elevator that will take her back down to the lobby.

Veronica turns her chair around slowly and looks up at me. “Who in the hell was that?”

I shrug, suddenly angry that she’s talking to me in that tone and that she felt the need to be such a bitch, but absolutely sure I don’t want to alert her to the fact that I kind of know this person … this crazy woman who keeps showing up in my life being ridiculous, making me think stupid things like how she might look angry and without clothes.

“How am I supposed to know?” I say, playing stupid. “She’s not a patient.”

“But she wants to be one.” Veronica starts tapping a pen on the desk.

If I know nothing else about women, I do know one thing: when one of them gets curious and you don’t satisfy that curiosity with something they can sink their teeth into, they’ll start investigating, and there is no detective as skilled as a suspicious woman. This I know from personal experience. Hilary hacked into my voicemails and emails more times than I care to think about. I make a mental note to change all my passwords
again
.

“Okay, listen, I don’t
know her
, know her, but I have seen her around.”

“Around where?”

I frown, annoyed I’m being pressed for more details. I can’t look Veronica in the eye, so I stare at her monitor. “I don’t know, around. She bumped into me a few times.”

“At a bar?”

“No, not like that.” I move my gaze to Veronica now, so she can see I’m being honest. I feel like I’m being let off the hook, portraying this situation as merely happenstance. I can’t feel guilty over something I can’t control, right? “She literally bumped into me, outside. First near a fountain and then outside a subway stop.”

“You don’t take the subway.”

“Normally, no, but last week I did and I ran into her.”

“So what … you guys had some coffee, chatted…”

I run my hands through my hair. “No, Jesus, nothing like that. I mean this literally.” I put my hands out in front of me and try to mime two people running into each other. “Like this.
Bam
. We ran into each other.” I clap my hands together and let them fall away.

Veronica smiles. “Ohhhh, you mean you
literally
made impact.”

“Yes!” I smile too, holding my hands out flat. “See? That’s it. That’s how I know her.”

Veronica’s gaze narrows and she loses all hints of humor. “So how did she know where you worked if all you’ve ever done is literally run into each other?”

I have to think about that for a few seconds. “I have no idea. Maybe she looked me up at the hospital.”

“What?”

I’m nervous, like I’ve been caught lying. “I also bumped into her at the hospital.”

Veronica folds her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up over the top of them. I’m sure it’s intentional, and I try not to stare.

“So you bumped into her there too, is that what you’re saying?”

I let out a long sigh. “As unreal as it sounds, yes. She was there to visit a patient, and I was there for Jeremy.”

“How do you know she’s not just stalking you? Seems kind of crazy that you’d
literally
bump into the same person
three
times. There’s like a billion people walking around Manhattan.”

“I know she’s not a stalker because I asked one of the volunteers.”

“Ohhhh, so you’re interested in her?”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?!” I yell.

Veronica lifts an eyebrow. “Who else is saying it?”

I spin around and leave her behind. “Never mind. Drop it.” I rush into my office, grab my suit coat off the hook behind my door, and go out into the lobby. It feels like the hounds of hell are nipping at my heels.

“I’m going to the clinic,” I say distractedly. “Text me any messages that come in.”

“But your surgeries don’t start for two hours,” she calls out at my back.

“I have things to do first.” I shut the main doors behind me without waiting for a response.

It’s possible I shut them too hard, but I’m pissed. I feel like a kid who’s broken the rules, being called to task by his mother. Since when does a secretary get to make her boss feel that way?

Since I started letting her.

Goddammit!
My first order of business when I get back is to have a little talk with Veronica. If she can’t keep her nose out of my personal business, I’m going to have to replace her, that’s all there is to it.

I hail a cab and head to the clinic. As the car crawls down the street, I catch a glimpse of a girl in a multi-colored skirt about to turn the corner, five blocks up from my office. I crane my neck to watch her walk down the sidewalk as the cab slows in traffic. It’s Leah Betty, and her head is hanging down. I feel like the world’s biggest asshole as I watch her wipe away some tears.

Did I do that? Did I make her cry? I wonder how I could possibly be at fault as the cab accelerates and takes me away from her. I’m tempted to tell the driver to stop so I can run after her, but I resist. She’s just a girl from a different world, and I’m a guy who can’t afford the complication.

I face front and lean back into the seat as my brain pounds away painfully in my skull. Today has not been my day. I definitely need to go piss in that fountain.

Chapter Forty-Four

MY CELL PHONE RINGS AS I get out of the cab at the clinic. It’s Hilary, and I hesitate about answering it, but instead decide to get it over with. I’m sure she’s calling to bitch at me about something. Maybe she’s changed her mind and she wants to try and fight me for my condo.
Good luck with that, bitch.

“Hello,” I say, not very warmly. The last thing I want to do is encourage a conversation.

“James, sweetie, hi.” Her voice is saccharine sweet, immediately putting me on my guard.

“I’m going into surgery, what’s up?”

“Babe, do you have a minute?” Her voice has gone soft, as if she’s about to cry. I know this routine very well, and I’m not going to fall for it. I don’t know why she’s even bothering to try it on me; this method hasn’t worked on me for months.

“I have one minute,” I say, “what’s up?”

“I just wanted to apologize.” She’s crying for real now, or at least there are tears present. I can hear her going stuffy and sniffling.

“For what?” I could list about eighty things she should be apologizing for, but instead I wait to hear her version of things.

“For what I did … for Jeremy … for all the times I didn’t listen to you or give you the space you needed to come to terms with your feelings for me…”

I hold the phone out and stare at it. Never in our years together has she ever apologized for those things. She always apologized for
my
feelings, like she was sorry I felt the way I did, or she was sorry I was angry, or sorry I had taken things the way I had. As if whatever reaction I was having was to be regretted by everyone around me, as if my emotions or reactions to her behaviors or words weren’t valid. I always disliked that about her, but now I downright hate it. The only person who can apologize for my feelings is me, and I’m not sorry for anything. This relationship needs to be killed with fire.

I put the phone back to my ear. “I don’t get it, Hilary. What’s this all about? We’re through. It’s too late for this garbage.”

“It’s not too late, James! It’s not! It’s never too late for love and commitment.”

The word
commitment
has alarm bells ringing in my head, clanging away and making my headache ramp up to migraine levels.

I sigh, trying to send the pain out with my breath. “I’m sorry, Hilary, but I can’t do this right now.”