by Shen, LJ
“Anything your family needs, I’m here.”
“Will you come today? Talk to Dad? He’s really beside himself. Mom, too. We feel like you were a part of us. Because for the longest time, you were. Grams loved you so much…”
“Not a good idea, everything considered.”
She looked up and blinked at me.
“The item in the paper,” I clipped. That you leaked, I refrained from adding. If I brought it up, I’d have to tell her what I thought about her version of our story, and now wasn’t the place, and certainly not the time.
“Oh, I talked to them. They’re willing to forgive you.” She disconnected from me to wipe her tears quickly.
And the Botoxed bitch returns. “How kind of them.” My sarcasm was pretty much dripping on the floor.
I glanced at my watch behind her back. I needed to get those reports out. At the same time, I couldn’t go about my day, business as usual.
Maybe because I’d tried to do it when Camille died.
Went back to the office after the weekend of her funeral.
Buried myself in work.
Didn’t talk about it with anyone.
Built a higher, stronger, thicker wall between me and the world, making sure no one could get through it.
Camille hadn’t deserved it. Hell, Madelyn hadn’t either. After all, she was the woman who’d given me the very best advice I’d never bother to take. It was after we’d exited Phantom of the Opera, arm in arm. We’d sauntered into our favorite Italian restaurant. She’d asked me if I thought I’d marry her granddaughter.
“Probably. It’s what expected of me.”
“But what do you want?”
“To make Lily happy.” And my father, who might finally accept me for making the right decision. And my mother, who normally didn’t particularly care.
“And yourself? Do you want to make yourself happy?”
“I don’t think I can be.” I hadn’t. Not then, and not now.
Madelyn’s face had fallen, and she’d squeezed my bicep between her fragile fingers. “Then you need to keep looking, because my granddaughter isn’t the one.”
“I’ll come,” I told Lily, taking a step back. Fuck the bigwigs and fuck the network. I needed to pay respects to the woman who’d put my happiness before her family’s.
Lily’s red claws sunk into my skin, and she pulled me into an octopus hug.
“Thank you.”
On the way to work, Leonard Cohen told me in my earbuds that we’re spending the treasure that love cannot afford, and I nodded, not only to the rhythm, but the sentiment. My Chucks were blood red, and I’d spent the train ride dying their laces black with a Sharpie.
I walked into the office not knowing what to expect. The professional side was going to be evidently extra depressing. But last night, Célian and I had showcased our hearts like they were on a window display when we touched—crawled into each other’s mouths and seeped into each other’s souls. Then I’d left, without a message or a phone call. Not my most mature moment, but I was sure he needed time to think, too.
I walked the hallway, ignoring the judgy looks and raised eyebrows people tried to pin me with. Jessica passed me and winced. She didn’t say anything, but one look at her face told me I was in for an unpleasant surprise.
Uh-huh.
My phone beeped twice before I got to my station, and I dumped my backpack under my seat, swiping the touch screen.
Grayson: Girl. We love you. We’re here for you. And just remember—he can take your joy (temporarily), but he can never take your good hair.
Ava: I heard his dick was too big, anyway. Jokes aside, those things only look good in porn.
What the hell is happening?
I decided to take it up with Célian, who was clearly the root of this weird behavior toward me. I stormed out of the newsroom and stopped when I got to his open door. His back was to me, and he was hugging Lily, who peeked behind his arm. She smiled at me, triumph glittering in her eyes, clutching the fabric of his shirt and nuzzling her nose against his arm.
He took her face in both his hands and leaned down, asking her something intimately.
She nodded, sniffed, and buried her head back in his chest.
His hands on her.
Her hands on him.
Red. My Chucks were red. My heart was black. My mind was white, thick fog.
I was a fool. An idiot. I was the other woman, who’d just gotten dumped very publicly, and as per usual—without notice.
I was able to hear them clearly through the open door.
“Can we go now? I don’t want to wait another minute,” she whined, smoothing his shirt with her palms. The act looked so natural on them. Like they’d done it a thousand times before.
They probably have, Jude.
“Yes,” he said. “Of course.”
I snuck into the room next to his office before he could see me. The last thing I wanted was a public showdown with a side of Korean-drama-worthy catfight. Already LBC was in deep trouble, and everybody looked at me like I’d screwed my way into the Laurents’ royal family. No reason to give them even more ammo against me. Besides, maybe it wasn’t as bad as it looked. I flipped up my phone and shot him a quick message.
Jude: Everything okay?
I went to my desk and switched on my monitor, ignoring the nausea that slammed into me out of nowhere. The room, which was spinning at the corners of my vision, was also eerily silent, and I knew why. If Célian was right about one thing, it was the fact that he’d never forced me into anything. I’d willingly slept with him. In my desperate, sad haze, I had even initiated this affair. I’d made my bed, and the fact that it now crawled with slimy creatures, eating at my reputation and feelings, was my fault and my fault only.
He answered at noon, long after he’d left the office.
Célian: Something came up.
Jude: Elaborate?
Célian: Family.
Of course. Lily was family.
And of course, I was the mistake he’d left behind.
Célian didn’t come to work the next day, or the day after.
The rumor mill was in full swing, with Mathias poking his head down from the top floor and hanging out in the newsroom like it was his second house. He tapped Kate on the shoulder and made suggestions, walked up to Elijah and shot him orders, and tried to coax Jessica into having lunch with him. It was clear he was trying to screw with us as much as he could before Célian came back, which made me believe he knew something we didn’t—maybe that his son had gotten back with his ex-fiancée.
It was a disaster in the making, and I had VIP tickets. On the flip side, he did ignore me the best he could, and I tried to disappear into my monitor and not lift my head from the keyboard until it was time to go home.
When I had a second to breathe, I ran to the fifth floor to Ava or Grayson’s desk. Phoenix, who was a freelancer, didn’t have to show up at work every day, but he did because I was in breakdown mode.
“You don’t know what’s happening yet,” he tried to reason with me.
“What’s to know? The Laurents do what they want to do.”
“Exactly. And he doesn’t want to do Lily. Hasn’t for a while now.”
“He wants his network, and that’s what he’ll get. I’ll be a blip in his history. Nothing but a stain.”
“Stain!” Grayson huffed, slapping his desk. “I hope you tarnished his whole life.”
According to Gray, Célian had been seen going in and out of Lily’s apartment building twice in the last forty-eight hours. At this point, I’d stopped trying to communicate with him and had gotten the general idea. The message had finally hit home.
I was disposable. Maybe not a one-night stand, but definitely a short-term one. I was past my expiration date, thrown aside for Lily to take over. He was patching things up with her family and spending time with her.
Phoenix, of all people, remained impartial.
“Célian Laurent is every bad t
hing under the sun, but he is not a pussy. If he wanted to get back with Lily, he would have given it to you straight.”
Grayson filed his nails, rolling his eyes. “Then I guess he gave it to her gay when he kept mum on his engagement the night they met.”
“He didn’t think he’d see her again,” Ava pointed out.
“But then he found out they were working together,” Gray stressed, unwilling to give Célian any slack. I couldn’t blame him. He’d been working here for four years, and Célian still didn’t know his name. “Plenty of time to clear things up.”
“It didn’t make any difference. They weren’t together, and he was trying to set boundaries with an employee, seeing as his father is a first-class douche with blurred lines when it comes to female coworkers,” Phoenix shot back, picking at his takeout with a set of seriously short chopsticks.
“Why are you defending him?” I blinked. “He’s been nothing but horrible to you.”
Phoenix shrugged. “Because he’s sorry.”
“About what?” Ava asked.
“About everything. About what happened to Camille. About keeping us apart. The guilt practically pours from his face when he passes me in the corridor. He knows he screwed up, and he wasn’t even the one doing the real damage. I don’t like him—not even close—but then again…” He dropped his takeout box in the trash can, even though it was still half full. He shook his head, knotting his fingers behind his neck on a sigh. “Camille loved him. He protected her fiercely. He gave her the love and guidance their parents didn’t. And I refuse to believe that’s the same man who pulls shit like this.”
“I haven’t heard from him in almost three days.” I cleared my throat, looking down at the takeout box in my lap. What the hell had I ordered, anyway? I’d thought it was orange chicken and noodles, but now that I looked, it was stir-fried seafood and rice. I’d eaten a quarter of it without even tasting it. Just how messed up was I?
My heart is not a lonely hunter.
My heart feels. It beats. It loves. It breaks.
It breaks. Oh, God. It is breaking right now, to pieces, and there is nothing I can do to patch it back together. I’m falling apart right along with it.
My phone pinged. I refused to look down and chance everyone seeing how my face twisted in agony and disappointment when I found out yet again that it wasn’t Célian. I took a sip of my water.
Another ping.
Then another.
Then another.
Phoenix’s phone started pinging, too, but he wasn’t a coward. He pulled it out of his pocket and frowned. “Jude?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Kate. There’s an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. NOAA is freaking out, and there’s an official statement coming in half a second. We need to go upstairs right now.”
We both shot from our seats at the same time. Adrenaline pumped in my veins. Phoenix took my hand and tugged me into the elevator. He didn’t let go, even once we were in inside. When our eyes met, he squeezed my palm.
“Want the truth?” he asked.
I grimaced. “Getting tired of the lies, that’s for sure.”
“That day, when I met you at the library, I wanted to hit on you. I thought, for the first time since Camille, that I’d found something good.”
My eyelashes fluttered, my breath hitching. “Oh?”
“Then the next day, I saw you at your desk. Célian walked over to you. He looked down. You looked up. Your eyes met. He fought a smile. I had a déjà vu moment. Because the last time his face lit up like that was when Camille busted his balls for one thing or another. No one else ever made him smile. So I couldn’t do it to him. Or to you. Or to me.”
He let go when we arrived at the newsroom. Kate was ushering people to the conference room for an emergency meeting.
Célian wasn’t there.
Mathias was.
Half my co-workers ended up spending the night in the newsroom to cover the oil spill. All evening people ran around asking where Célian was, but no one had an answer. I overheard stories from the same folks who’d so kindly made false assessments about my motives and personality when my boss had announced we were dating.
They said he had never missed an important item in his life, that he’d once shown up to work with a fever and lung infection to cover the Michael Flynn case with the Russians, that he was probably really eager to get back with his beautiful, albeit crazy, fiancée.
Kate sent me home when the clock hit eleven. She probably had mercy on me since I didn’t live around the block. She also knew about Dad, and I wished she didn’t, because I didn’t want to be the token charity case.
“Jude, grab your things. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“I can stay,” I said, and I meant it. I didn’t mind pulling an all-nighter. I hadn’t slept much during my first year of college, between working two jobs and keeping my grades up.
Kate momentarily tore her gaze from the monitor she stared at. “No. You’ve already gathered all information I need. I want you to go home.”
Arguing with her was just going to eat away her precious time, and besides, she wasn’t wrong. I needed to check on Dad. I grabbed my bag and walked toward the elevator, a pang of guilt slicing my conscience as I watched everyone else still hard at work.
I’d called the elevator when a hand clasped my shoulder, swiveling me around. It was Kate. Her normally snowy cheeks were red, and she looked flustered and out of sorts.
“If I knew where he was, I’d tell you,” she said, her breathing heavy from running.
“I know.” I smiled softly. “But I wouldn’t expect you to. Whatever Célian does with his life is none of my business, and it will not affect my performance here.”
Kate pressed her forehead to the cool wall beside us, squeezing her eyes shut. She looked tired. I got it. She was sans Célian and short on staff. “He’ll have some serious explaining to do once he finally gets back here.”
The elevator slid open and I stepped inside, giving her a thumbs-up. For the very first time I thought, and explain he might, but I will not be listening anymore.
I was about to round the corner and turn onto my street when a limo pulled up at the curb and the passenger door flung open. My eyes widened, and I stopped in an instant. My dad was no Liam Neeson, and if I was going to get kidnapped, I very much doubted I could be saved. I turned around to look at the person getting out of the vehicle. It was Lily, dressed to impress in what looked like a cocktail gown. She seemed to be alone.
“Can I help you?” I cocked my head. I wanted to be strong, but I was tired, hungry, and annoyed. And pissed at myself—so pissed that I’d let myself get carried away with a man like Célian Laurent. I usually made smart choices. I was a salad girl, and he was a deep-fried cake.
“Me? No, though I’m sure you’ll do it at some point once you get fired and have to become a waitress to support your slutty ways.” She walked toward me on her high heels. The limo driver looked the other way, like he couldn’t watch the scene. Her sentence hadn’t even made any sense. I folded my arms across my chest.
“Why are you here?”
“To tell you to back off.”
“If Célian doesn’t want me, he’s welcome to tell me himself.”
I didn’t agree with any part of that sentence. I was no longer sure I wanted him anyway, and at any rate, it wasn’t entirely clear we were even together. But I’d be damned if I’d let her boss me around like that.
Lily kept coming until she was chest to chest with me. She was much taller and a little leaner. Most of all, she was meaner.
“You’re ruining his life, Jade.”
“Jude,” I corrected. She’d seemed to love my unique name before she’d known her fake fiancé was sleeping with me.
She rolled her eyes, like I was an idiot for even pointing that out. “Whatever. You butting into his life means he’s losing everything he cares about. He doesn’t have any family of his own. We were his family—not to men
tion the network. You are toxic to him, and he’s trying hard not to hurt your feelings, but whenever I call him, he comes back.”
My face heated, but I said nothing. I didn’t believe her—not completely, anyway. Yet her words got to me. I started walking toward my house, bypassing her on the sidewalk. I felt her turning around behind me.
“He’s going to be back in my arms by the end of this week.”
“Good luck,” I shouted back, not turning around to face her.
“You’ve always been a fling! A meaningless one-night stand that got stretched into more because of the circumstances.”
I smiled bitterly. Yes. That I believe.
At home, I made Dad his vegetable soup for tomorrow, following the recipe they’d given me through his program. I was cutting a carrot into depressingly small pieces when my dad hollered from the living room.
“Would you look at that? Your boyfriend is famous.”
The first thing that popped into my head was that Milton had been arrested for killing a prostitute. He was so clean cut and morbidly middle class, it seemed like something he’d be capable of doing. I nicked my little finger when the thought of Célian sprung into my mind.
Was he in trouble? More importantly—was I supposed to care this much?
“How do you mean, Dad?” I tried to keep my voice light.
“He looks good in a tux, I’ll give him that. Of course, if I was as tall as LeBron James, I would rock a designer suit like nobody’s business. You have to see this, JoJo.”
I placed the knife on the chopping board and wiped my hands on my jeans, walking over to the living room. I stood behind the sofa, so Dad couldn’t see me. Good call, considering the horror I knew had plastered itself on my unsuspecting face as I realized what I was looking at.
It was a gossip show rerun from earlier in the day. Some New York socialite had celebrated her birthday and rented out half the left wing of some glitzy hotel. She’d ordered a cake the size of a house—literally, an actual house—and someone from the Guinness Book of World Records came in to measure it. As the camera spun around the horrendous excuse for a sponge cake (“It took over five hundred sacks of sugar and six hundred pounds of flour to make the cake…”), it caught some of the guests at the party. And there was my very own Waldo, who’d been missing in action for the past three days.