Page 33 of A Really Bad Idea

The front door opens, and Christian walks through. His navy-blue suit makes him look leaner, and those greens are covered by sunglasses. A slow smile builds on his face as he walks straight to the back where his office is.

Okay, that wasn’t so bad.

The next few hours pass in a whirlwind. I manage to assist Thomas and keep him from running too far off schedule, which he does easily since he likes to talk with his patients. I usually grab a coffee at two o’clock, but today, I sneak into the kitchen at one thirty. While I like to eat my lunch at the break table, I run out and grab a quick bite from the deli on the corner. And, when the last patient leaves, I change into my spin gear, grab my bag, and make my way outside.

Bethesda Fountain is packed, as it’s a seasonably high-eighty-degree day. Kids on skateboards are doing tricks around the promenade. Lovers are canoodling on benches. Families are looking at the ducks in the lake. Commuters, like me, are just passing through.

With the sun setting on my back, I look at the angel atop the statue dipping her toe into the water, just enough to connect her to the earth, and follow the water as it falls to where four cherubs play at the center level. They represent temperance, purity, health, and peace. For me, they bring tranquility.

“They say, if you sit here long enough, you can see the entire world pass by,” I hear Christian’s baritone behind me.

I turn around to the devil in a blue suit. He’s no longer wearing his sunglasses, so his look of accusation is clear.

“You’re avoiding me,” he says coolly.

“I was swamped today.”

“You left without saying good-bye.”

I point to my leggings. “I’m on my way to spin class.”

He lifts a brow. “You seem like you’re in a rush.”

I try to think of a witty comeback. When nothing comes to mind, I close my eyes and lower my head in surrender.

He laughs. It’s deep and smooth, like warm honey. He takes a seat on the edge of the fountain and looks up at me with a smirk.

Conceding, I follow and sit beside him. Digging into my purse, I clutch on to a shiny penny and toss it over my shoulder.

He holds out his hand. “You have another one of those?”

I rummage through my purse and find a nickel.

“Ah, five times more powerful,” he says, taking it from my hand. He holds it up to his forehead, closes his eyes, and looks to be praying. With a kiss to the coin, he tosses it into the water.

“What did you wish for?” I ask, assuming he won’t answer.

“That my favorite girl will stop running away from me.”

I look the other way. There’s a group of children playing with bubbles that a street performer has set up. The bubbles are coming from a machine that is running on a continuous loop, making it rain soap. Christian touches a finger to my shoulder. I turn to see the residue of the bubble he popped.

I look up into his emerald-green eyes, so honest and understanding. The guards I didn’t realize I had up fall. “I’m not avoiding you.”

He doesn’t look convinced.

I roll my eyes and smile despite myself. “It’s not like you’ve been ringing my phone or beating down my door either.”

“I was giving you space to think. I assumed you’d at least share a coffee with me today. Maybe even let me treat you to sushi on your break.”

“I had a busy day,” I defend because, now, I’m feeling shitty after purposefully being everywhere he was not today.

His knees spread open, as his hands are folded in between, and he looks out into the crowd. “There’s a gala at The Plaza. It’s a fundraiser for St. Xavier Children’s Cancer and Blood Center.”

An image of Christian in a tux appears in my mind. It’s possibly my most favorite look on him, all chic and sophisticated. It makes him look like James Bond. Mix that with the venue of the nineteenth-century landmark hotel, and it sounds like an amazing night.

“That’ll be fun. Natasha will look killer,” I say, laying my elbows onto the ledge of the fountain behind me and leaning back.

“I’m not taking Natasha.”