Page 2 of American Love Story

I knew he’d been back over the winter to visit Nesto, but he never made any efforts to get in touch or let me know he was in town. So when I heard from a friend in common he’d taken a job at Cornell, I was elated, thinking we’d be able to reconnect. A part of me even foolishly thinking his decision to take a job here had something to do with me. I’d texted him to congratulate him, but he’d responded with a thank-you, and never contacted me again. It stung, but once I received the message he wasn’t interested, I’d vowed to keep my distance.

Now that he was here in front of me, I realized staying away from Patrice Denis was going to be much harder than I’d anticipated.

He cleared his throat and I realized I’d been spacing out.

So smooth.

I looked up at him and managed to produce a smile as I tried to read his expression. “No worries. I know how it is. Never thought you’d end up here. It’s a nice surprise.” I dearly wished I could sound neutral when I was around Patrice, but “thirsty and parched” seemed to be my only settings when it came to him.

This time he averted his eyes before answering me. I wondered if he was a bit more affected by me than he let on. “Hard to say no to a job offer from an Ivy League school.”

Okay, not exactly a romantic revelation. I barely contained a frustrated sigh before I nodded. “Sure. Congratulations on that. It’s a big deal. How are you getting on? Did you find a place?”

He pursed his lips, decidedly unhappy at the mention of his living situation. “Yeah, but I won’t move in there for another week or so. I’m staying with Nesto and Jude until then.” His best friend Nesto was coupled off with Jude—the local hottie librarian—and living in pre-marital bliss.

“How is Nesto? I haven’t been by the restaurant in a while,” I said, barely repressing a groan. “I’ve been acting as interim DA since my boss had to take leave after having heart surgery. Not much time for longer lunches lately.”

That was the understatement of the century, but I did not want to deviate the conversation and my mining Patrice for intel on his living situation to talk about my work stress. But to my surprise, Patrice raised an eyebrow.

“Congratulations to you. Is the plan for you to run?” Patrice sounded genuinely interested, so I considered what to say for a moment.

He wasn’t the first person to ask me this, of course, half of Ithaca was of a mind that I was a shoo-in for the position, but I was still not sure I wanted to take that step. I was good at my job, but I wasn’t sure that I’d be good at the politics, and I didn’t want my work tainted by bullshit.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. Cindy, my boss, is still considering coming back.” I shrugged and looked up at him. He was only a few inches taller than me, but his massive frame made me feel almost dainty. Something I found intensely hot. “Being a politician is not my thing, but I can’t say I won’t throw my hat in the ring if there’s a special election.”

He nodded, considering my answer in that way he did. That was something that had captivated me about Patrice from the beginning—he took his time with things. He mulled them over, letting silence stretch out for minutes sometimes as he found the words he needed.

“You won’t take your job lightly,” he proclaimed, catching me by surprise. Then he grinned, and it was all I could do to not get closer. “And I can’t say seeing posters of you all over town is going to be a hardship.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said sincerely. I had no idea if it was a joke or not, but I was very fucking close to shoving my cart to the side and making extremely salacious propositions. I wasn’t in the mood to get shut down, so I went with something benign instead. “Is your place in town?”

Also, I had no shame.

He gave me a funny look, but after a second, he nodded. “Yeah. It’s that old building behind the co-op; I rented the apartment on the top floor.”

I kept my expression neutral but was surprised. That place catered more to students than faculty. He didn’t look very excited about the apartment, and I didn’t blame him.

“I signed the lease months ago, but they’ve been delaying the move-in date for weeks now.” He scowled, obviously frustrated, an interesting departure for someone who always seemed unfazed by what was going on around him. When he spoke, it was clear he wasn’t happy about the situation. “They seem to have some issues with the building. I’m starting to think I mayneed to look for something else. But housing here is such a hassle. I’m not sure I’ll be able to find something close to campus this late in the game. Classes already started.”

I should have left it alone, but the temptation was too strong and before I knew it, I was blurting it out. “Landlords in Ithaca can be a pain in the ass. If you do want to look for other options, let me know.” This time I was the one clearing my throat and feeling awkward, but I pushed through. “My building has a couple of units open.”

He perked up at that but almost immediately went back to his calm, cool, and collected demeanor. I could tell he was interested though. He’d been to my place a few times last summer and knew it was in a nice location and that the apartments were pristine. Still, I braced for him to turn me down.

In the interest of not coming off like a full-on creep, I decided not to offer up the fact that I owned the building. I fidgeted with the kale I had in my cart as I figured out how to proceed. It wasn’t like “my money” was a secret. Patrice and I had talked about my family’s vineyard when we met, he’d seemed interested but not exactly impressed by my status within the one percent. I didn’t want to give Patrice another reason to run in the opposite direction by reminding him about that, so I kept my mouth shut while he considered my offer.

He thought about it for another minute and then nodded. “I might call you up to ask for the landlord’s info. If I can’t move in this week, I’m going to start looking for another place.”

“Sounds good. Listen?—”

I was about to take my shamelessness to the next level and ask him out for a drink or something when I saw him jump and then pull his phone out of his pocket. He smiled when he looked at the screen and spoke before I could.

“It’s my mom. We’re supposed to Facetime tonight. I should get going,” he said, giving me another smile, but this one was not at all inviting. “It was good seeing you, Easton,” he said, as he hurried away without giving me a chance to say goodbye.

I stood there wondering if I really could read people as well as I thought. Because from the first moment with Patrice, I thought we’d shared something big, something worth exploring. I could lie to myself about how it had been the same for him when he was a few hundred miles away, but with him here, maybe it was time for me to accept I was probably the only one who’d felt that way.

Patrice

“Well look who finally made it into town.”