by Leigh Lennon
“Josephine Westbrook.” All eyes are on me for an explanation. “I don’t know when, but somewhere in Pennsylvania, an older woman who looked maybe seventy sat down next to me on the bus. I’d been asleep when I woke to her. She didn’t say much at first, but as my text messages were dinging all around me from you three”—I swing my hand around, pointing at each person individually—“she became annoyed.” Jared laughs, and if I look close enough, his one eye waters, but he wipes it away.
“Anyway, she warmed to me eventually, asking me if I was running from something.” I lower my head in shame. “I was running from the best thing that has ever happened to me. When we entered the city, she spoke of a decision that reshaped her life, giving up her one love in return for a man who never had her heart like someone else. She was proud of the life she built but always wondered what-if.”
Jared interrupts me. “You say Pennsylvania?” I nod. “It’s where Lee Dimer is buried. They weren’t married, so his kids picked the place. After he died in a plane crash, Jo never flew again. She took the bus once a month, and Chadwick hated it. She had enough money to have a private driver, but the woman was so stubborn. She did what she wanted whenever she wanted to do it.” Everyone begins to snicker.
“Yeah, I now see the similarities in Eve and Chadwick’s grandma,” Taya teases.
I huff at their jokes, but there’s truth to it. “Anyway,” I stress, and all eyes are back to me. “She told me, ‘I hope you can make a decision you can live with.’ And when I saw her face on the screen and made the connection to Chadwick, I knew in my heart that he’s the one I couldn’t let get away. I’d never fully listened to him, made assumptions, and hadn’t given him a chance. My dad tried to control me, and he still pops up from time to time to detonate a grenade in the little bit of a life I’ve built for myself to destroy it, only for me to have to start over again.”
Taya kneels by me. “Have you told him this? He’s not unreasonable.”
I stare at her, and she returns a little smirk. “This is the same man who renamed his secretary so he wouldn’t have to remember a new name,” I remind her.
Taya laughs, holding her hand out, telling me to give her a minute. “Okay, let me rephrase this. He’s not unreasonable when it comes to you and keeping you as his.”
He’d told me he was willing to concede, but I didn’t believe him. “So…” I turn my gaze to Jared. “Are you going to allow me to see him now?”
His face turns to stone, and his neck stiffens. “Um, he’s left. He needed to get away.” I attempt to rise from the couch, a little light-headed and with a lot of determination.
“I’ll go to him.” In my declaration, Jared’s stoic expression changes, and a broad smile takes over his face. He pulls Kira into his space, and I almost want to inquire about their story, but I will listen to it when they’re ready to share it with me.
Taya holds onto me because I’m a little shaky on my feet. Jared has his phone out already, barking orders to the airlines.
Placing my hand on his shoulders, I stop him with one shake of my head. “I have to do this on my own.” And thanks to the stubborn man I love, he’s given me the means to make this happen—regardless of my choice. He loves me so much, he gave up something of his to make sure I’d be okay.
I’d never unpacked from the shit Jared had shipped over from the club. I’d been planning on hitting the road and putting Chicago in my rearview mirror. I hurry to the back bedroom and pull out one of the suitcases. When I open it, it has what looks like normal everyday clothes. After adding a toothbrush, the little makeup I own, and cramming a pair of Converse in the bag, I’m at the door. Taya and Kira pull me into a hug at the same time. “Go get your man,” Taya commands.
“I’ll fight like hell for him. That’s what you do when you love someone.”
“What do you mean you’re booked?” I ask, my debit card in my hand at the counter of one of the major airlines.
“Ma’am, we can put you on standby or…” She trails off, and I wish I had taken Jared’s offer from earlier. I wait for her to finish as a couple to the side of me holds one another close, peppering kisses on the other every couple of seconds.
They catch my gaze watching them with the most amazement but envy at the same time. When the young woman smiles at me, I smile back, and she whispers, “We just got married. We’re leaving on our honeymoon.”
“Oh, congratulations.” Their happiness stings. I’d been so close to the same thing, and once again, my past with my parents has bitten me in the butt. However, I can’t blame them this time. No, letting go of Chadwick is all my doing.
I turn my head back to the ticket attendant. “Ms. Lipton?” she calls out to me as I’m in my own little world. “I have a seat in first class, on the Concord, but it’s close to seventeen thousand dollars,” she whispers in a voice that could not be categorized as a whisper. Ouch, this is a big chunk out of my money, though, honestly, I want to give it back to Chadwick even though I know he won’t take it. I know him well enough to understand this.
“When’s the next flight you can get me on?” I ask, tapping my fingers, not caring that with each click of my nails on the counter, the tic in her jaw becomes a little tighter and tighter.
“Um, I can get you out tomorrow morning.” Tomorrow morning? Who knows where Chadwick will be tomorrow morning? Today, he’s in London. I know this much. Passing my form of payment over to her, I confidently say, “I’ll take the first-class ticket.”
Chapter Thirty
Chadwick
I’ve met with my top three valuable customers, having them numbered at each club. They are the ones to sponsor new elite members, eat in my restaurant upstairs, own private rooms, and are not bothered that their membership is three times that of everyone else. But with the hefty fees come perks, like having lunch with me and pretty much the run of the club.
I search through the open memberships Anton has ready for my approval, but as much as I try to throw myself into my job—and I try like hell—my mind wanders to my loss. I will forever miss Jo. She had pretty much been the only person who showered me with affection and loved me for the messed-up man I am. But it’s Eve. The loss of Eve hurts more than I have the understanding to express.
The door to my office opens, and I smile at one of my boys. Out of all of them, I’m probably the least close to Anton, but that’s not to say I wouldn’t donate a lung to the man. We are just enough alike and then enough different that we haven’t bonded like I have with the others.
“Hey, wanted to drop by and…” He doesn’t know what to say. No one does.
“I’m okay. I really am.” I pause because I just lied. I’m not okay, not in the least, and it has everything to do with the curvy vixen who has somehow stolen my heart.
“Cut the bullshit, Chad. I know we aren’t as close as we could be. But at the end of the day, you’re still my brother and one of the few I’d kill for, so you might as well admit what we all know.”
Anton has never been one to sling the f-word around like the rest of us. He never swears. I remember one time, Jo caught us up in the hay loft, the one area we’d always find trouble, and we were throwing the f-word around like it was a or the, and we’d all stopped, embarrassed by our actions. Jo didn’t miss a beat and started off from the last person’s comments about the fucking math class we hated.
She had emerged into the loft in her heels, pearls, and makeup perfect. We all gasped when the first thing out of her mouth was, “Well, that fucking sucks.” We all laughed but not Anton. He’d never said the f-word or a bad word in general since that day, so I know how much he cares if he says bullshit.
“Okay, what do you want to know?” I take a pull of my bourbon on my desk.
“Lindsay is here tonight. You should have seen the pearly whites she sported and the grin that could light a small country. Heck, she was so excited. She loves to play with you, as you know.” I used to love playing with Lindsay. One of the reasons in the past I’d c
ross the pond.
“But I knew you wouldn’t. When you never called for her, she is as sour as a kitten drinking piss.” I’ve never heard that saying before, but he makes his point. “According to Jared, Eve’s been trying to get ahold of you.”
Again, he speaks truth, but I don’t know what to say. “I don’t want to be a pity fuck, Anton. I want her to find me because she wants me, not because she’s sad Jo died.”
“But maybe it’s more than pity. You never know. It could be more.” He turns around, and I stop him because I’m not the only one going through some shit. For all the shit both Maddox and he are going through, I have to pull my head out of my ass and concentrate on their own hell.
“Anton, what’s going on with you, brother?” I ask.
He places his hands in his pants pockets. “Um, another day. I’ll save it for another day.” I give him a knowing nod, and he leaves me in peace with both my scotch and bourbon.
The little flat I own in London was once my grandmother’s. She loved to spend weeks on end in the heart of this city, but after Lee died in the plane crash, she never flew again. I bought it from her for one dollar, and entering the little foyer, it still smells like Jo even though she hasn’t been here for almost eight years.
I’d not been in any sort of frame of mind to schedule a grocery delivery or maid service. No, I’m on my own, and honestly, I don’t want another person in my home right now. Looking in the fridge like food would materialize out of thin air, I turn on my heels and head to a bistro down the road I frequent. I need to get out of my own head for a while, and a little walk will do just this.
Taking my time on the stroll, I stop by a little market and pick up wine, cheeses, and some fruit. This and my dinner wrapped in a white paper bag will keep me content until I can do some decent shopping.
I’m in my own world as the wind blows around me just enough but not too hard. I turn to the large spacious steps ascending to my flat and stop. A girl and her luggage are on the bottom step. Not just any girl—my girl.
I’ve missed her fiery fits of temper, the sparkle in her eyes, and the way with one sweep of her gaze my way, my insides are set ablaze. But she is the same woman who left me with a note when I had been ready to give her the world, my world, and give as much of myself away as I could to keep her.
She doesn’t see me at first because her head is cradled in her hands, so I take a moment to look her over. She’s in a pair of jeans, not too tight. She’d once told me they were a boyfriend style, whatever the fuck that means. Her turquoise Converse are on her small little feet. She’s wearing an almost matching hoodie covering her gorgeous chest, and her honey brown hair is pulled up in a high ponytail like a genie. I can’t take my eyes off her and the brightness she’s brought into my life.
I sit down, and with the whoosh of air around her, she comes out of her coma of sorts, whipping her head toward me. “Are you lost?” I question, but it’s not in my flirty type tone.
She adjusts her gaze to mine. “Hell, Chadwick.” Her words are breathy, and her facial expression can’t be read. “You scared the fuck out of me.”
I have so many comebacks I can say, but I remind myself I’m mad at her, and the asshole in me won’t mind seeing her sweat a little.
“Hey, Kitten.” It’s not said in my normal seductive way. It’s matter-of-fact. She’s been my kitten before, so how else would I refer to her? Ms. Lipton? This would show her how pissed off I am. But I don’t. She’s tamped down my assholeness, a little. At least, around her.
“Chadwick…” She trails off. “I fucked up.”
With this declaration, it gives me grounds to come back with the most obvious reply. “Yeah, Kitten, you did.”
She looks away, and a part of me wants to take her in my arms and ask if she’s back to stay. The other half has me attempting to stand my ground.
“You’re right, but I need to tell you a story, and afterward, maybe there’s a chance you can forgive me. Can you give me this much?”
I don’t verbally answer her, but I nod my head.
“Imagine a young girl, never getting a happy ending and finding a man who seemed too good to be true.” She pauses, and I want to ask if this is make-believe because it’s eerily familiar to her and me.
She stares straight at me. I can sense it from my peripheral vision. I swing my gaze to her, and when our eyes meet, Eve begins her story again.
“So the girl made the only choice she could imagine because she’d never been given any choice in her life growing up. For so long, the little girl had been at the whims of her parents who made horrible choices for her that put her in harm’s way. And when this little girl grew up, she swore she’d never be under anyone’s thumb again. But her father kept coming back, draining everything she’d worked hard for. He stole her rent money. It’s how this broken woman found herself before the most forceful yet compelling man she’d ever met.”
She takes a breath, and my mind is catching up with her story. I’ve seen the worst in people my whole life. And my brewing anger is not a surprise but rather the product of my emotions because her father broke the woman I love. She inhales deeply and continues.
“He pushed her, stretched her imagination, and dare I say, he fell in love with her. But she couldn’t give him what he needed, not thinking the one thing he needed was the girl, herself. But she realized she needed him just as much.” She stops, and I think the story is over. I’m about to reply to this fictional fable so familiar to our own, but we know it’s as real as the love we share.
She’s not done, though, and continues her story. “And imagine this broken young girl is on her way home to pick up the pieces of her broken heart. An older woman sitting next to her on the bus could sense her pain. She’s had a life full of memories to impart on the young woman. She shares slivers of her own life, the life where she hadn’t picked love. It was from her very poignant words that this young woman could realize how much she truly fucked up. The older woman gave her the wisdom that made her realize she needed to beg for this man’s forgiveness. As a matter of fact, she said, ‘I hope you can make a decision you can live with.’”
“What did you say?” I ask as the words I’ve heard so many times permeate my own mind.
“She told me, ‘I hope you can make a decision you can live with.’”
“What?” My mouth dries, and beads of sweat form at the nape of my neck because I’ve heard this little bit of wisdom from the only other woman I’ve loved.
“I met a woman who introduced herself to me as Jo, but I think you know her simply as your grams.”
My hands fall to my sides, and when she reaches to hold one, I don’t yank it away. “It was your grandmother who gave me the courage to pull my head out of my ass. She shared a sliver of her life, giving me the courage to hold onto what I want, and that is you, Chadwick Westbrook.”
My grandmother was never secret in her favoritism of me. I sometimes wondered if I was the only one in our very dysfunctional family she ever really liked. And it may be because, unlike everyone else, I’d always been honest with the type of person I am. I didn’t hide my depravity, and she didn’t look down on me because my needs were a little different than the general population. Pulling Eve up by her dainty little hand, I grab her luggage, and she follows me into my house. The beginning of us. My grandma unknowingly gave me her last gift in the earthly world, and it is Eve. My temptation.
Chapter Thirty-One
Eve
He’d told me once that his flat in London had been his grandmother’s. It’s fitting, with symbolism I can’t ignore, that we are here as he takes my hand and leads me into his home.
“I’m so sorry,” I declare, and he pushes me up against the wall nearest to the door. “I can’t lose you.” My words are breathy.
He cups my face with both of his hands. “Are you mine? Are you here to tell me you’ll never leave me again?” I’ve never heard the quiver in his timbre before. “Because I can’t lose you. You�
�re my lifeline, the beginning and the end of me. With you is the most hope I’ve ever felt in my life.”
His declaration isn’t of the Chadwick Westbrook I left in New York. Like me, he’s had a vision of his life without the two of us together.
“I can’t live without you either,” I begin. “You’re the only person to show me I’m good enough to be loved. With you, I sense it, like my own pulse.”
Lifting me up to wrap my legs around his waist, he carries me up the steps, peppering kisses down my neck.
Kicking a door open at the top of the stairs, he gently deposits me on the bed. “I know we need to talk, but if you think I can resist worshipping your body, then you are…”
“Worship me. Take me any way you want.” His left eyebrow rises higher than the other.
“Kitten, be careful what control you offer.”
He’s removing his belt, but I stay still, waiting for his instructions.
“Why do I need to be careful? I trust you with every fiber of my being.” This stops him, his gaze connecting with my own, and in it, our intimacy grows.
“Fuck, Kitten, you’ve just given me the keys to a brand-new Bugatti.”
I assume this is an expensive car since I’ve never heard of it, but I go with the analogy. “Drive me any way you want, Sir.”
With his title, he strips, pulling my jeans from me, then grabbing for his tie. “Hands on the headboard.” When he binds them, my smile cannot be contained.
“You’ve wanted this for a while, haven’t you, my naughty little Kitten?”
Nodding at first, I remember his command for actual words. “Yes, Sir.”
“Like last time, I can’t be gentle, but, Evelyn Lipton, I’ll make love to you, but for now, I need to ravage your body like the lion I am.”