“I do my best.”
Chapter Two
Work is uneventful for the rest of the day. No surprise visits from Oliver, no more Noelle trying to convince me to confront him. Just Gavin texting me, trying to make plans for our next date. I do my best to blow off Noelle’s words from earlier, but I can’t. The more I think on it, the more I feel like I need answers. I can’t bring myself to make plans with Gavin until I find out how Oliver knows about us. I formulate a plan towards the end of my workday.
When I finish up for the day, I take the elevator back down to the lobby. It’s emptied from earlier, most people going home to be with their families. Instead of heading straight out to hail a taxi like usual, I take a left and walk down the hallway I’m not entirely familiar with. I’ve only walked it a few times since the first time Oliver led me this way. I don’t often have a reason to visit the parking garage.
I step out, the air is chilly in the underground concrete structure. I stand in the doorway, looking around for Oliver’s familiar black car. This plan will only work if he’s still in the building. I haven’t seen him since this morning, but I also haven’t been looking for him. I try to actively avoid being around him when possible. This is a ballsy move, but I need some answers.
I see his car and I head towards it. I find the concrete wall in front of his car, and I take a seat. I put my bag down by the wall, putting my hands on my thighs. I tap my fingers expectantly, just waiting. I don’t know what I’m going to say, I don’t even know how long I’m going to have to wait for him to appear. All I know is I have to do this. Once I’m determined; I go through with it. No matter what it is.
I lose track of time, but soon enough I see Oliver approaching his car. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees me, dangling his keys from his index finger.
“Cassidy.”
He greets me plainly. He’s not making eye contact in that instance.
“Do you need a ride home?” he asks in a way that I wonder if he would give me one or not. I wonder if his hatred toward me has grown to that depth.
“No,” I say. I stand up, my legs have grown numb from sitting so long. Standing on them feels weird and I have to keep myself from falling. I wipe off the back of my skirt as I look up at him. I try to make eye contact, but he won’t meet my gaze.
“I have a question for you,” I tell him.
He stops spinning his keys. Oliver leans against the side of his car, this way he doesn’t have to make eye contact with me at all. I wonder if he’s even going to acknowledge it.
He finally sighs and says, “Yes?”
This is it. This is what I came here for. Just a simple answer to a question that has been bugging me all day, the buzzing curiosity only growing stronger since Noelle brought it up.
“How did you know about Gavin and I? Only a few people know we’ve been...” I pause, trying to find the right word, “seeing each other.”
Oliver can make himself entirely unreadable. His face goes blank and I can’t tell what he’s feeling underneath the bravado he puts on for the world. I hate it.
“I saw you two,” he finally admits under his breath, as if he doesn’t want the world to know. As if he doesn’t want me to know.
“You saw us?” I ask.
That only brings up more questions than answers.
Has he been stalking me? Was he at the restaurant last night? I wrack my brain for all of the times that Gavin and I have been in public together, wondering which was the time he saw us. It’s possible the paparazzi picked up on it...but what would they care? Gavin is just a reporter. I just work in PR. It’s not like we’re people with Oliver’s status.
While his face remains emotionless, I can tell that he doesn’t want to explain. I can tell he wants to get in his car and drive away. Nothing’s stopping him from doing so. He owes me nothing.
“Last night. I...” he looks upwards, running a hand over his face. “God, do we have to talk about this, Cassidy? What’s done is done, isn’t it?”
This is bothering him so much more than I thought that it would.
“No.”
My voice is small because I don’t mean it.
I do have to do this. I need to know or else it’s going to eat at my guts, begging for answers.
“You’re right. What’s done is done,” I say. “It was stupid for me to ask at all.”
I take a step forward, starting to walk past him and away from his car. I don’t know what I was expecting. For Oliver to tell me the truth? He couldn’t even do that when we were together. Why should I expect that of him now?
Just as I reach the end of the car, Oliver speaks again. “I was going to stop by your place last night, then I saw you in the car with him.”
Something about the way he says that sounds pained. It’s only there for a brief moment, a flicker in time. I wonder whether I should push forward, asking him more. I wonder if he’ll explain. My back is still turned to him, no longer searching his face, no longer trying to figure out how he feels underneath.
“Why?” I ask.
More silence. The kind of silence that says everything between two people. The kind of silence that tells you that things are over. There’s nothing left to fight for.
“I wanted to see you. You...you left a scarf at my place and I wanted to give it back to you.”
The excuse sounds weak. He knows it and I know it.
“You couldn’t give it back to me at work?”
“It didn’t feel like a ‘work’ thing” he says. “I’ve tried to keep our relationship professional.”
I can’t help but scoff.
“Oliver, you’ve never tried to keep our relationship professional.”
It’s not a jab. It’s the truth. From flirting with me from the minute he hired me, to consistently hooking up in our place of work. We’ve never been able to keep things professional between us.
“There’s a first time for everything.”
I think there’s a laugh hidden in his voice and a part of me aches to hear the real thing. This is the most we’ve talked without arguing since I walked away from him at his father’s party after deciding I couldn’t be with him any longer.
More than anything, I realize I miss him. I’ve known all along, honestly, but talking to him right now, being this close to him...it only hits home harder. Nothing is the same anymore...but I wish it were.
“You’re right,” I respond.
I still don’t turn to look at him because I know it’ll be hard to look away. I know I’ll get lost in his grey eyes; I know I’ll want nothing more than to melt into him.
“Is that all you wanted to ask me?”
No. I want to ask him how he’s doing, how he’s really doing since his sister Allison left. I want to know if he’s been okay since our breakup. Is he eating? Is he sleeping? Has he been seeing anyone else?
It’s Oliver Windsor, of course he’s seeing somebody else.
I nod.
“Yeah, that was just bothering me. Wanted to make sure you didn’t hide cameras at my place.”
“Do you think I’d admit that if I did?” he asks.
Before I can whip around and question him, he continues, “I’m kidding, Cassidy!”
Then he asks, “Are you sure you don’t need a ride home?”
I hate cab rides and they’re beginning to put a dent in my bank account. At the same time, this is my ex. I feel like getting in the car with him would be a huge mistake. I keep my back to him, racking my brain, trying to think of how to respond.
“I don’t expect anything from you if you accept my offer,” he says, noting my silence. “I’m offering to be nice.”
The Windsor family hardly does things to be ‘nice.’ Everything with them has an ulterior motive. I stay still, knowing it’s getting ridiculous at this point. It’s a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question.
I swallow hard.
“Sure.”
Maybe I’m making a huge mistake. Maybe I’m throwing away all the progress I’ve made wi
th distancing myself from him, all the progress of attempting to get over him, to get over us.
A part of me is waiting for this all to be a joke, for Oliver to start laughing and tell me that he was just joking. He doesn’t. He pushes off from the car and walks to the passenger door, opening it up.
“Let’s get going then. Unless you have more questions that you want to hound me with inside the parking garage.”
“I wasn’t hounding you,” I say, rolling my eyes as I finally turn back around.
I look at him and the emotionless façade he put on has faded away. He looks playful. This is a side of him that’s so rare, but a side I always enjoyed. I get into the passenger’s side and he closes the door behind me.
Every motion between us feels natural. We’ve done this a thousand times before. It’s been months, but we still know each other. We fall into place just like we always have. Oliver pulls out of the parking garage, reaches forward, and turns the radio on to the pop station I always listened to in his car.
Right now, the silence between us feels strange. I feel like I should be telling him about my day, venting about something or another. I feel like no time has passed between the two of us. I hate how natural this all feels.
“Allison’s doing well,” he says, reaching forward to turn the radio down. “She doesn’t talk to me much anymore, but she checks in every now and then. She’s traveling the west coast with some friends.” His tone suggests he doesn’t like this much.
“You’re worried about her,” I say, stealing a glance in his direction.
“Of course,” he agrees. “She’s my younger sister. I’ve looked out for her since the day she was born...but she hasn’t been drinking as much. I think she’s doing better being away from here.”
“Maybe a change of scenery is exactly what she needed,” I say.
I don’t want to say what I’m really thinking. That the toxic environment that Alan created for his children to grow up in was what was driving her to drink. Oliver has always seemed to thrive in that environment, following in his father’s footsteps. Allison was sinking in it.
“Yes,” he says. “But I think you can tell father isn’t taking losing her well. She was his pride and joy.”
“At least he still has you,” I say reassuringly.
“He has me to kick to the side,” says Oliver. “He has me hosting meetings with current and potential authors for the company. I have no decisions to make. He types up questions he wants me to ask and I ask them. I’m just a pretty face.”
“I’m sure he’ll step away again. He’s just working through his grief,” I say.
“I suppose you’re right.”
Silence falls between the two of us again. I feel for Oliver. He went from running the company to being pushed to the side. Alan couldn’t even bother to give him a titled position. Although, Oliver has no real idea how to run a company. I’ve always been surprised that it didn’t go under during his time as CEO.
The silence between us lasts until Oliver turns onto my street. Instead of pulling up to the curb, he pulls into the connected parking garage.
I pause, and tell him, “Oliver, I can walk up just fine.”
“I’m well aware of that, Cassidy. You’ve been perfectly independent. It just doesn’t sit right with me to let you walk up alone. If you insist, be my guest...but I’ll be worried about it all night.”
I scoff.
“Now you’re just guilting me into letting you walk me up.”
He grins and I melt in the passenger’s seat. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. I didn’t want to feel this way towards him. I didn’t want to see him as someone who wasn’t a monster. I really wish I would’ve just taken a cab.
“Guilty as charged,” he says, turning the car off and getting out. I follow suit.
We walk into the building in silence, and take the elevator up together. Oliver walks with me until we reach the front door of my apartment and I search through my purse for the keys.
“Thank you,” I say as I turn the keys in the lock. “I appreciate you today.”
“Don’t mention it,” he says, shaking his head. “I think I owe you. At least just a little.”
He owes me more than ‘just a little,’ but I decide not to touch on that. We’ve gotten this far this afternoon without an argument. No need to start one now, right?
“Well, thank you anyway.”
I push the door open, and start to step inside.
“Cassidy,” Oliver says my name and I stop, turning around to look at him. “Panton best be treating you right. If he isn’t...I’ll have to have a talk with him.”
I look at him, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. I never thought I’d hear him say something like that. I find it unsettling. From what I know about Oliver and his connections, I don’t trust how his ‘talks’ work. Even still, I find myself smiling. I look at him and slowly shake my head.
“He’s fine.”
Fine, but not perfect.
Oliver nods at that. There’s really nothing left to say between the two of us, is there? We have nothing to argue over, no small talk to make.
I think that hurts more than the breakup. I think it hurts more to know that there are no conversations left to be had. Nothing to fight about. Nothing to fight for. It hurts to know that despite how I feel, despite how I think Oliver feels...it really is over.
“Goodnight Oliver.”
I go to close the door because looking at his face hurts. I know I did what I had to do at the time. I keep reminding myself of that, but it doesn’t ease the pain in my chest; the hate I feel for the choice I made.
I wish he had never put me in that position.
He looks at me like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. Oliver fought for things to be different between us. I just never gave him the chance because I couldn’t. I knew things were over for me as soon as I found out that the Windsor family paid off the jury, I knew as soon as I found out that Oliver set up a murder. I knew that I couldn’t live with that on my conscience.
“Goodnight Cassidy,” he says and I close the door.
I don’t watch him leave.
I drop my things by the door, walk to my couch, and give myself permission to fall apart.
A few days later, I’m out to dinner with Gavin. It’s another Italian place in Brooklyn, another one that he raves about.
“Do you eat anything other than Italian?” I had asked him with a smile when he told me about it.
I’ve done my best to push the feelings that Oliver rekindled in me earlier this week to the back of my mind. I didn’t mention to Gavin about seeing him, because I know that would only make him worry. Not that he needs to, I made my choice.
We’re sitting across from one another, a candle between us on the table. It’s a romantic setting so I try to force myself to at least appear as though I feel it too. Gavin’s looking at me with his honey-colored eyes, full of fondness and possibility. Does he realize that mine don’t match?
We make small talk. Work, the weather. I don’t feel the need to dive in about my life story to him. He only knows the basics about me, but he’s never pushed for more. He’s never pushed to get inside my mind and figure out who I really am. He’s taken me at surface value.
I should be thankful. He’s given me all the time and space I could ask for. He’s taking things at my speed. He’s been perfect, but not for me.
The waiter appears with our food. He carefully places the plates down in front of us. My spaghetti with crabmeat and shrimp looks delicious, but as soon as the scent hits my nostrils, I feel like I’m going to be sick.
I press my lips firmly together, straighten myself in my seat. It has to be because I’m just tired of Italian food. I never thought I’d say that in my life, but it’s all I eat with Gavin. I start to take a bite but as soon as the food touches my tongue, the nausea I felt at the scent is back with a vengeance.
I can’t even excuse myself as I leave the table and run to t
he restroom.
I retch into the toilet, a hot sweat taking over me. I need to lay down and I have to stop myself from doing so on the cool bathroom tiles. I wash my mouth with a cool paper towel and then dab it on my forehead. I look at myself in the mirror and realize that I’m a complete mess.
I try to regain my composure as I step out of the bathroom. Gavin is waiting by the door, concern etched on his handsome features.
“Are you alright, Cassidy?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“I’ve already paid. Let’s get you home.”
He reaches out and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me into his side. His touch feels overbearing, but I know he’s just trying to be nice. He allows me to lean on him as we leave the restaurant, and helps me into the passenger’s side of his car for the first time.
He drives me back to my apartment and stops by the curb.
“Do you need me to help you up?”
Everything in me wants to say ‘no.’ It’s nothing against Gavin, but I’ve kept this boundary between us. Is now really the time to break it? Yet...I don’t think I’ll be able to get to my apartment without vomiting again or just dropping onto the floor.
I swallow my pride, my need to keep boundaries and lines between the two of us.
“Can you?” I ask him quietly.
“Of course.” He doesn’t sound bothered, but a part of me wishes that he did.
It would make keeping this line between us so much easier.
Gavin turns the car around and pulls into the parking garage. He parks, helps me out, and walks with me into the building. I tell him what floor and what apartment number and he takes it from there, even looking through my purse for my keys. I realize that this man is an angel and I’m missing out.
Maybe me getting sick is a sign. Maybe this is my punishment for not appreciating what is right in front of me.
He helps me into my bedroom, yet another line I wanted to keep between the two of us. He’s nothing but respectful of me and my space, making sure I’m as comfortable as I can be. He sits at the foot of my bed, placing his hand on my ankle.
“Is there anything I can do for you? Anything I can get you?” he asks. “Do you think you’ll be okay alone?”
Fake Love Rich Boss Series Page 17