Chapter 10
Kate went for her wine and tipped some back, held the glass steady at her lips until Lanie's fit of laughter eventually died out. It went on for several sips.
"Now that made my week," Lanie snorted. "Definitely worth the wait. I guess old Madame Pink Walls knows a thing or two about love after all. I'll take that 'thank you' whenever."
"Maybe slow down with the pinot, okay, Lanie? Christ, no one said anything about love. It's just…"
She could see how much Kate was struggling with it, hear the battle between her heart and her mind in the tone of her words, and that didn't come as any surprise. She'd been her closest friend and confidant for years, had watched a man or two come and go from her life, possessed a deeper appreciation than most of how the death of her mother had forged the armor she still wore and rarely removed.
That a thing of such magnitude-love or otherwise-had now touched her life and had done so seemingly well beyond her control would of course have her spinning. Clinging to control was how Kate Beckett survived most days.
"What is it just? He's different," Lanie continued into the weighty silence. "You know he is and it's freaking you out."
"But that's crazy, right? It doesn't make any sense. I barely even know him."
Lanie smirked, blew out a puff of air. "Yeah, you saw that fine man bare," she teased. "And if you ask me, the psychic thing is the crazier part. It will make for one hell of a how-we-met story, though. Besides, when has love ever had anything to do with sense, Kate?" Her hand went right up. "Love. Not love. Whatever. Look, regardless of what your buddy Lady Raven told you-either of you-or how Rick ended up in your life or your bed, you feel something for him and, obviously, he feels something for you."
Kate let her head dip back against the chair, pressed her fingers against her eyes.
"This is all your fault, you know. I didn't even want to go to stupid brunch."
"Hey, don't you get mean now." Lanie clicked her tongue, poured her some more wine. "Things happen to people, Kate. Sometimes they're shitty things. You and I see that all the time. Sometimes they're incredible things. You want me to explain to you why you have a connection to this guy like it's some autopsy report I'm writing up. I can't do that. I don't have a magic pen. I can't dissect something you feel. I can only tell you I get why it's hard for you that you feel it, and that I think you owe it to yourself to find out what this thing is."
Kate pulled her hands away from her face and dropped them into her lap, cracked one eye. "Esposito's hot for you, by the way, in case all the drool running down his chin every time he sees you hasn't tipped you off. He's been hounding me to give you his number for months."
"Some avalanche this is turning out to be. I'm finding out there's a whole lotta shit you don't tell me." She grinned wickedly. "Well, you haven't said anything, so I guess Javi didn't drop this one on you. He's coming to my thing on Saturday night… as my date. See what happens when you avoid me for a week? You miss stuff, too," she explained on Kate's look before bringing her glass to her lips. "And guess who just bought herself a new mattress?"
"Oh my god, stop right there. I beg of you, whatever you do, please do not share any of my partner's sex secrets with me or I will never have a normal day at work ever again."
The two shared a laugh.
"Okay, back to you. What are you going to do about this man?" Lanie nudged. "Have you seen him again since you two did the dance?"
Kate's forehead crinkled at the pick of euphemisms. "No. I haven't even talked to him." Like a switch, Lanie's expression flipped from curiosity to something resembling offense. "Relax. I haven't talked to him. He's tried to talk to me. I didn't know what the hell to say, Lanie. We had this night and then I practically shoved him out the door and threw his clothes out after him."
"Well, a hello might work for starters. Girl, you think you always have to put on this tough-as-nails act- like nothing bothers you, like you don't need anything or anybody. That is some prime BS, and we both know it. You don't need to have all the answers on the first night. How could you possibly? Like you said, you only just met. But, Kate, what if? You must ask that all the time with your cases. Why can't you give yourself permission to ask that question with love?"
Her eyes glistening with unshed tears, Kate got up and excused herself to the restroom, leaving her phone behind. Once Lanie heard the click of the door, she did what any meddling but well-meaning best friend who'd consumed too much wine too quickly would do, which was to pull up Kate's contact list and copy Richard Castle's phone number into her own.
xxxx
He was at his laptop in his office late the next morning, banging away at what was to be the final episode of Derrick Storm's literary saga in defiance of how much his ex-wife-cum-publisher had unsparingly spent the last two weeks slamming him for it. Not even an hour before, she'd left him yet another voicemail, declaring the decision "moronic" and insisting everything awful short of the sky falling would come of it. It was no wonder he'd begun declining to answer when her name popped up.
He could only give thanks they were no longer living under the same roof.
The cold truth of it was that Rick didn't care, about the calls or the messages or the boo-hooing. Moronic or not-and he left room for the possibility-the scales of work and fun had some time ago started to tip in favor of the former, and with it his interest. The craving for something new had all but reached the boiling point.
When his phone rang for the second time, he instantly hoped it was Kate, just as he had each ring and buzz all week. Despite the number of times he'd reached out to her to no response, she remained there at the forefront of his mind, of his fantasy. As the patter of his heart suggested, her residency seemed unlikely to expire anytime soon.
"Hello?" he answered to the number he didn't recognize.
"Hi, this is Rick Castle, right?" She went on when he confirmed. "I got your number out of Kate's phone-Kate Beckett. This is Lanie… Parish. I'm her-"
Before she could manage out the rest of the introduction, Rick jumped in. "Is something wrong? Is Kate okay?" His unreserved concern endeared him to her immediately. It confirmed there was something deeper between the two, and not just from Kate's side.
"She's fine. Nothing's wrong," she reassured. "You can breathe. I was just going to tell you I'm her best friend, so you didn't think some crazy person got into her phone and just started calling people's numbers."
Rick did as she advised and exhaled a long-drawn breath to calm himself. "Hello, not-some-crazy-person Lanie, and yes, I think it's probably obvious now I am Rick Castle. To what do I owe the pleasure this morning?"
His voice was just as sexy as the package it came wrapped up in. She couldn't help but notice.
"Okay, look, one thing about me is that I'm a straight shooter. I don't see a lot of reason to waste time tiptoeing around stuff. I work with dead bodies all day, and I know what a capital B time can be. I also know a thing or two about Kate that most other people don't. She's trying to make sense of what happened the other night. She really is, and I know she wouldn't be doing that if she didn't think there was something special about you."
After a long moment, he returned one of the grandest understatements of his life. "I think she's special, too."
"You're damn right she is, so this is what I'm doing about it. I'm having a small thing at my apartment tomorrow night. It's not a big deal, it's casual, just a few friends for dinner and drinks. Kate's going to be there. I thought it might be that you could be there, too, and she may not forgive me for this for a long time, but I'm taking the chance on you. I want her to be happy. That's the most important thing for me."
"I can be," Rick said gently. "I can definitely be there. Thank you for this, Lanie. All I want is a chance to talk to her."
Before he ended the call, he asked her to send him a text message with the time and her address.
xxxx
Martha barely got a foot into Rick's office before he came stomping out of his bedroom, phone to his ear, jacket it hand.
"I'm not going to keep having this argument with you, Gina. Read what I sent or don't. I've got plans and I'm hanging up." And he did.
"My, my, what was that all about?" Martha, who'd frozen in place, resumed her path inside. "Honest to god, kiddo, your relationships with your ex-wives make me about as dizzy as that music Alexis listens to. What's got your persnickety publisher's hair in a twist this time?"
Rick was plainly agitated, but that only scratched the surface of what he was. Agitated was merely next in the line of temporary numbing balms he'd applied to his nerves across that afternoon. He'd also given frustrated, irritated, critical, and bored a go. Coincidentally-as well as unfortunately-they'd all stepped in to offer help while he'd been working on a chapter for the book.
"It's nothing, Mother," he snarled and dropped his phone into one of the jacket's pockets. "She's been up my ass since I told her about ending Storm."
She shot him a motherly scowl. "How charming, Richard, thank you for that. The price one pays for raising such an eloquent son," she muttered tartly. "You look nice." He'd kept it within the realm of casual: dark jeans, black button-down, sport coat. "Where are we off to this evening? Someplace to take your mind off the business at hand, I hope."
He finally stopped fidgeting, gave her his attention. "Thank you, Mother," he said acknowledging the compliment. "And I'm sorry. I'm just…" With too much to explain and too little time, he left it. "I'm headed to a friend of a friend's place for a dinner party. It was a last-minute invitation."
"All right, well, good for you. I'm in for the night, I'm afraid. Alexis invited Jessica to stay over. They're upstairs in her room with that music." She straightened his lapel when he pulled on his jacket, cupped his cheek with a tender hand. "I'm proud of you for doing what you know is best for you. If Derrick Storm isn't what makes you happy anymore, so be it. Persnickety publishers be damned!"
Rick drew his hands up. "Please, my virgin ears, Mother."
"Wise guy," she chuckled. "Now is that cologne I smell? Does this dinner party perhaps involve a date? Have you finally heard-" She cut herself off when his eyes answered the question he already knew would follow. "Go on then, get going," she said instead and followed him out of the office. "You enjoy yourself, darling. I'm sure I'll be asleep when you get home, so I'll see you in the morning."
When he got to the door, he turned back over his shoulder, left her with the most convincing smile he had in him.