"I'd be happy to see her step into that role," I said. I knew Zeke was only mentioning this so I'd have the okay from him. He was still wary of discussing Lola around me.
"Where is she?" I said.
"Uh, in the cellar," said Andy. "Stock check on all them old Beaujolais we got down there."
"You want me to get her?" said Zeke.
"No," I said, "I'll say hi."
I stepped down into the cellar. It was a warm day in New York, in the low seventies, and inside the cellar, it felt cool. I wandered among the racks of wine, my feet sounding quietly on the flagstones.
Then, I saw Lola. She was working in the back office of the wine cellar, a small, cramped room with a standing desk and computer, with a stock sheet on the desk. I watched her bending intently over the sheet, strands of hair falling from her otherwise neat ponytail.
I came to the doorway and stood there, leaning against the frame.
"Good afternoon," I said.
Lola looked up quickly, in shock. "Oh," she said, standing up. "Hi. How are you?"
"I'm good thanks," I said, then added flirtatiously, "all the better for last night."
Lola looked away. She was blushing, her cheeks turning a gentle shade of pink at the sight of me. I smiled, but she didn't meet my eyes.
"Are you okay?" I said.
"Yep," replied Lola.
I grew impatient, and stepped into the office.
"Need any help with anything?" I said.
"Nope," said Lola brusquely.
There was silence between us, and I felt the atmosphere thicken with tension.
"You know," I said, "I'm always here."
Lola didn't reply.
"Zeke and Andy have a lot of nice things to say about you," I said. "They tell me you're really good."
"That's nice," replied Lola curtly, and carried on studying the document. I was beginning to grow frustrated, and eventually, I just came out with it.
"Last night was nice."
Lola looked up at me curiously.
"Nice?" she said, incredulously.
"Well, better than nice," I replied.
Lola looked away, and in her green eyes, I could see the glare of the computer screen reflected.
"You know, I'm kind of busy."
"Can't we talk? Even for a bit."
Lola sighed, and looked up at me.
"Last night was a mistake, Alex."
I stood still, and felt my heart pound a little faster.
"What? What do you mean?"
"I mean, we shouldn't have done what we did. It wasn't right."
"But that's not...I mean, how can you say that?"
Lola shrugged. "It's the way I feel."
"Look, if this is about the job, or anything, I get that. I understand. And I know we're on thin ice. But I want you to know-"
"Alex," said Lola. Her shoulders had straightened. She was still smiling-Lola was always smiling. But this time, the smile was hollow. It felt like an act she was putting on for me.
Not like last night, where her joy and her happiness had been plain to see, where I could feel the pleasure I'd given her. Last night she'd been an open book but the woman in front of me today was a stranger. And her face was closed to me.
"Can't we even talk about it?"
"What is there to talk about," she said, sighing and standing up. "It was a mistake. I have a daughter at home, Alex. Please don't come near me again."
She stood up and walked past me, and as she did, I smelled her perfume, the heady, lingering scent that left me breathless.
"If that's the way it's going to be," I growled.
I turned my head to follow her. Lola stopped.
"It is," she said, and then I saw her marching up the stairs.
Out of my grasp once again.
Lola
An Impossible Situation Had Arisen. Alex knew now. Knew that I found him attractive, knew that I still wanted him. And yet, we both knew that what we'd done was wrong. Somehow, without meaning to, we'd crossed a line.
I wanted to blame him: wanted to accuse him of taking advantage of me, at a weak moment. But the truth was I'd never have slept with him again unless I felt something for him.
But what did I really feel? Alex and I couldn't stand one another. We bickered and argued. My smiling annoyed him-his scowling annoyed me.
Like I said. Impossible.
I hated Alex. Hated him for what he'd done, hated him for abandoning me. During my pregnancy, I'd pictured him countless times, the cruel thing he'd done by leaving me alone to raise his child. Alex didn't know that Macy was his daughter and I was happy with him not knowing. I'd decided I'd take the secret of Macy's dad's identity to my grave. When my parents asked me who the father of my child was, I spoke in vague terms, suggesting that it was a love affair gone awry. I never lied. But I'm not sure I told the truth, either.
But if I hated him so much, why was the next week so awkward? Why were we exchanging glances so frequently? Before that night, that night when I'd given myself up to him, surrendered myself to the intense and wonderful lust I felt for him, it was easy to ignore Alex. He wasn't especially likable, even if he was still handsome. Even if he looked just the same as he had six years ago.
But now it was like we were avoiding one another. Alex didn't even subject me to the usual list of petty grievances and pointless criticism. He stayed away from me, keeping his distance, sulky and jealous. Like a caged animal patrolling his cage.
That Friday, I had another evening shift to work, and as usual, Luca was in with his cronies. He'd always been a regular guest at the restaurant-the perks of being the owner, I guessed. But even I was shocked when Andy flounced upstairs from the bar with a bottle of champagne in an ice-bucket. He came over to me while I was mixing a few drinks for another table, and whispered in my ear.
"Luca," he said, "just asked for my last bottle of 2015 Moët."
"Holy cow," I said. "How much does that stuff cost, anyhow?"
"Five hundred dollars," he groaned. "Alex is gonnaflipwhen he hears about it."
I shrugged. "What can we do? He's an owner."