I could hear him following behind me. “Cherie, wait. Let’s talk about this. We can work through this. I’m sorry I upset you earlier. I apologize.”
I reached for the door handle. “Don’t. Don’t say anything more.”
He reached over me and pushed the door closed. “Stop and talk to me.”
I turned to look at him before pulling my eyes away. I couldn’t look him directly in the eye. “We’ve said enough. I’m leaving, Evan. I want to go back to my old life. I don’t want this world. I don’t want the private planes and private islands. I want to go back to being me. I want to be able to grab a coffee without anyone looking twice at me. I want to go out to dinner. I just want to be normal.”
“I can do all that,” he argued. “We can do that together. We’ll figure something out. You can be normal with me.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t want to. I don’t want this life. I was much happier before you and I got together. I’m miserable with you. I can’t live in this world.”
He took a step back. His eyes were filled with hurt. I nearly lost my resolve. I hated saying the hurtful things, but I had to make him hate me. It was the only way he would leave me alone. I knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted.
“Miserable?” he repeated the word.
“Goodbye, Evan,” I said before opening the door.
He didn’t try and stop me. I got in my car and damn near left rubber in the driveway as I sped away from his house. I had barely made it to the end of the driveway before I burst into tears. My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest. Breaking up with him the second time was so much harder than the first time.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmured.
I apologized to my unborn child, myself, and Evan. I had to believe it was the right decision. I was sure once the dust settled and we both got back into the grooves of our normal lives, we would all be better off. I needed to think about getting prenatal care and making some changes in my life to get ready for my child.
I knew the drill. I would hurt for a little, cry for a while, and then one day, I would wake up and it would be a little better. I doubted I would ever truly get over him, but the pain would lessen a little. I pulled into my driveway at home and made it into the house before the tears started flowing in earnest. I would have killed to be able to drink a glass of wine.
Unfortunately, I had to settle for a glass of orange juice. I consoled myself with the knowledge it had worked out well for us the first time. We’d both found some level of happiness and would find it again. Although I would not be happy to find out he got back together with Amber.
Chapter 31
Evan
My head hurt. I hadn’t slept in days and my entire body was feeling the pain of the heartbreak. When people said they had their heart broken, they weren’t being completely honest. It was a full-body, soul-crushing ordeal. I knew I looked like hell. I couldn’t muster up the energy to give a fuck about shaving. I had barely managed to comb my hair and put on a tie.
I was still grappling with the way things had gone down between me and Cherie. I was pissed at myself for falling right back into old habits. I had let myself get caught up with her again and I was right back to where I had been so many years earlier. It was much worse this time around. A hundred times worse. I had convinced myself that fate had brought us back together because we were supposed to be together.
I had let myself get caught up in the fantasy of us getting our happy ever after. She had certainly played along. She had led me to believe she had been happy. I knew she had been hesitant at first, but it had changed. We had changed together. Our relationship had soared to new heights. Things were good between us.
And then Amber had come along and destroyed everything. I was still confused about how the situation with Amber had ruined my relationship with Cherie. I knew I had gone after Amber pretty hard, but that had been the only way to make her stop.
Part of me believed Cherie was using the Amber thing as an excuse. She wanted a reason to break up with me and Amber had been the perfect patsy. It infuriated me to think I had been taken for another ride. I should have known better. I should have taken it slower. Unfortunately, where Cherie was concerned, I didn’t have a lick of sense.
There was a soft knock on my office door. I had shut the damn thing because I didn’t want to be bothered. I had made it very clear I wasn’t taking any calls or meetings, which meant it could only be one person. Only one person was brave enough, or dumb enough, to defy my orders and bother me.
“What?” I snapped.
David popped his head around the door. “Don’t shoot. I come in peace.”
I wasn’t amused. “What?” I asked again, not interested in his stupid jokes.
He walked in, closing the door behind him. He was staring at me like I was an injured wild animal. He approached slowly, sliding into the chair and folding his hands over his chest. “Shit. You look like hell. I mean, I’ve seen you puke your guts out for twelve straight hours and come out looking better than you do now.”
“Thank you for your recap on my appearance. What do you want?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Let me see if I can put this delicately,” he said. “You’re being an asshole. A world-class dickhead. Pull your shit together. And I say all of that with love.”
“Fuck you.”
“Funny, I heard that’s exactly the two words you used this morning when someone tried to talk to you in the lobby. Not exactly the kind of behavior our mother would be proud of.”
I glared at him. “What the fuck do you want? I don’t need a lecture from you, and that dude was giving me shit about my carbon footprint or some shit.”
He slowly nodded. “You’re not making a very good impression on anyone.”
“Like I care. I asked to be left alone. Why do I always have to be happy? I’m not happy. I’m here to work and keep everyone paid. I don’t have to be a fucking sweetheart.”
He grimaced. “You’re so far from sweetheart at this point. I think horns have actually sprouted. Although I can’t really tell because your hair is sticking up all over the place. You look like hell.”
“You already said that.”
“It’s the truth. Someone has to tell you.”
“No, they don’t. Why are you here? I really don’t need you giving me shit right now.”
David blew out a long breath. “I say this from a place of love. Go home. Get out of here. You are doing no one any good. Your foul mood is going to cost you some good employees. You are in no shape to see other humans. Go home and get your head in the right place. Take a few days. I’m not going to say I warned you, but dammit, Evan, I fucking warned you about this.”
I stared him down. “Thanks for that. I needed to be reminded you were right, and I was wrong. It certainly helps the situation.”
He softened his expression. “I get it. You’re hurting. I’m sorry. I truly am. I wish things would have worked out for the two of you. I liked seeing you happy. I haven’t seen you like that in a long time. Unfortunately, shit happens. I know you’re going to be okay, but you need to work through this. You don’t need to be here. We’ve got your back. We’ll keep things running while you take some time. I hate seeing you miserable.”
I knew he was right. I hated admitting defeat, but I was defeated. She’d broken me. Again. I needed to get my head together and decide whether or not I wanted to fight for her. I had a feeling it would be a losing battle, but I was still struggling with the idea it was over.
“You’re right,” I said, conceding defeat. “I can’t be here.”
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. This is on me. I created this mess and now I need to deal with it.”
“Okay. If you need anything, let me know. I’m here for you. I am truly sorry you’re going through this shit again.”
“Thanks.”
He stood up and l
ooked down at me. I looked up and could see the concern in his eyes. “I could take a few days off as well. We could take a short trip, get away from everything. Maybe go up to New Orleans and blow some money in the casinos. We’ll get wild and forget all about the stuff going on here.”
“No thanks. That’s about the last thing I need. I’m just going to lay low for a day or two.”
“All right. Take care of yourself. I’ll check in later.”
I nodded and watched him leave. I knew he cared and was only looking out for me. I appreciated the concern, but I didn’t want company. My misery preferred to be alone. I packed up my things, let Bonnie know I would be gone for a few days, and left. By the time I got home, my mood had only darkened further.
I headed upstairs to change into something more comfortable. That was a mistake. I could smell her in my room. It was a light, fruity smell. The smell of her shampoo. I quickly changed and went back downstairs to try and find something to occupy my mind. Everywhere I looked, I saw her. I could see her sitting on the barstool in the kitchen, swinging one leg as she sipped her coffee.
I could see her outside, lounging in the chair that had kind of become hers. She was everywhere. I couldn’t stay in the house with her ghost. An hour later, I was flying out to my island. Her presence wouldn’t be nearly as strong there. I was hoping I could get some peace from the memories.
“Leave me alone,” I silently pleaded as I unlocked the door of the house and let myself in.
I was praying there weren’t any memories of her waiting to jump out at me. I didn’t smell her, and the bulk of the memories made on the island had been at the cabana. I would burn the damn thing to the ground.
“Drink,” I muttered, dropping my things on the floor and going straight for the bar.
I poured myself a glass of straight Jack before picking up the bottle and walking out to the patio. I flopped down in one of the lounge chairs and sucked down the whiskey. It burned all the way down. My eyes watered and my blood heated.
It wasn’t enough. I needed more. I wanted to dull the pain I felt. I wanted to block out the memories of what we had and avoid thoughts about a future I would never have. I just wanted to sink into oblivion and forget about all of it.
I blamed myself for thinking I could have my cake and eat it too. I was wealthy. I had everything a person could want—except love. I didn’t get to have both. I doubted many people did. Money changed things. I had spent the first part of my twenty years on earth praying to have enough money to keep me and my family living comfortably for the rest of our days. I had prayed to never have to worry about making the rent. I didn’t want to live like my mother had for too long. She often had to choose between food and paying the electric. I never had to worry about that, and neither did she, but did any of my wealth matter if I was destined to be alone?
What good was having billions of dollars if it couldn’t be shared and enjoyed with someone you loved? I wasn’t sure what it was about me that Cherie just couldn’t quite take. Back when I was young, I thought she didn’t want me because I offered nothing. I had convinced myself my lack of funds had made me undesirable. I remembered when that first investment opportunity came up. In the back of my mind, I thought about Cherie. I had made the investment thinking I could go back to Everglades City and show her I could give her a nice house and a comfortable life.
I had never expected the investing thing to turn out the way it did, but with every win, I thought about her. How fucked up was it that even now with all my riches, she still didn’t want me? I wasn’t good enough for her.
“Fuck,” I growled, pouring another full glass of the whiskey and drinking it down. I could feel the desired numbing effect coming on and poured another.
I laid my head back on the chair and stared up at the sky. I should have stayed in the Air Force. I could have trudged along, doing what I loved and living a normal life. I could have retired young and gone back to Everglades City. I could have afforded to buy a small house and live a normal life just being a nobody. I supposed I could still do it. I could give the company to David, donate a shit ton of money to every charity I liked, and go back home.
Maybe I was destined to be a swamp rat and I had fucked with my destiny by stepping outside the lines. I wasn’t supposed to be anything more than what I had been born into. Was there a chance I could find true love if I climbed back into the box I was supposed to have stayed in?
I didn’t want just any love. I wanted Cherie. I wanted the one woman in the world who didn’t want me. Talk about a blow to the ego. I didn’t know what to change to transform myself into the man she wanted. If she would just tell me, I would do it. I would do anything to make her love me.
It was the last thought I had before the alcohol pulled me into the blissful blackness that I had been trying to achieve. It was the only way I could block out her image from my mind.
Chapter 32
Cherie
I kept telling myself tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow, I wouldn’t feel like I had ripped my heart out and trampled all over it. I had done that to myself. I assured myself it was better that I did the stomping. Evan would have done it if I would have given him the chance. I had told myself over and over it was better to rip off the band-aid. Get the pain and heartbreak over with so I could move on.
I had a baby to think about. I had to make sure I was in a good headspace in order to take care of my child. After all, I would be all he or she had. It was just going to be me. I couldn’t be a blubbering idiot when I was trying to take care of a baby.
I had done enough crying the last few days to last me at least a year. I had thought I was ready for the pain. When I made the decision to break things off, I had assured myself I had lived through it once. I could do it again. Boy, had I been wrong. The second breakup was far worse.
I felt like I had lost a piece of myself. I knew I would one day wake up and not feel like total shit, but I knew I would never fully recover. Not this time. We had crossed through the gates of our own little heaven and there was nothing in the world that would ever compare. I had tasted what could only be with him. There was no going back.
I had no one to blame but myself for what I was feeling. I had ended things. I had been the one to break it off again. I had to believe it was for the best. I knew it was. It would get better. It had to get better, and once my heart felt whole again, I was going to make some different choices.
I decided at some point in the last couple of days, I was never getting involved with a man again. I could not deal with the breakup, and with my experience, I knew there would always be a breakup. I wasn’t cut out for relationships. It was going to be me and my child from now on.
I had to tell myself over and over that I had made the right choice. I couldn’t be with a man that would use his money to get revenge on someone that had wronged him. He had endless resources. I didn’t stand a chance in a fight against him.
I didn’t want to go up against him. I didn’t want to be enemies. He had gone after Amber with both barrels. That disturbed me. I was not siding with Amber, but damn, that had been harsh. There was no coming back from that kind of thing. They would be enemies forever. At least, if I were in her shoes, I would hate him.
I didn’t like the idea of having an enemy. I was a lover, not a fighter. I didn’t want to hate my child’s father. If, and I prayed it didn’t come to that, there was an issue with custody, I wanted to keep the peace between myself and Evan. It would be a lot easier to work through the logistics if we were on speaking terms.
I tried to tell myself I didn’t know the ins and outs of the relationship between Amber and Evan. There was clearly some history. I didn’t know her or how vindictive she could be. There was a chance Evan knew something I didn’t. Not a chance—he did. He knew her well enough to think she was deserving of his treatment.
I had no choice but to go off what he said. My gut told me he was probably right, but still, could I be with a man I didn’t completely trus
t? I was imperfect. I knew I made stupid decisions on occasion. Would one of those decisions piss him off to the point where he turned that fierce anger backed by billions on me?
“You’re being dumb,” I told myself, pouring a glass of orange juice. “He’s not like that. Evan wouldn’t hurt you.”
I took a drink of the juice. I had been flip-flopping back and forth between I was being hasty and overreacting to I was absolutely doing the right thing. I didn’t want my child to grow up with a father that might disown him for making a stupid mistake. I had seen movies and television shows about that kind of thing happening. I wouldn’t let my child be forced to toe the line laid out by his father or lose everything. The way I saw it, it was better to never have than to have and lose.
“Not going to happen,” I said, feeling fierce. “Not my baby.”
I was already feeling like a ferocious mama bear. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt my child, including his own father. My child would not be dependent on Evan’s money or anything else. I would figure out how to be the best damn single mom there ever was, which meant I needed to do some research into child rearing.
Before I could go down that little rabbit hole, a noise coming from the side of the house caught my attention. I opened the kitchen drawer and grabbed the flashlight I kept on hand.
I opened the back door and shone my light in the direction of the noise. I heard it again and realized it was something messing with my trash can. “Dammit, get out of there!” I hollered. I assumed it was a neighborhood cat or dog. It had happened before. I had been left with a hell of a mess.
I rounded the corner and froze. There was a man with a camera hanging around his neck. I saw a giant lens, like the kind I had seen the photographers at a football game use. I didn’t think twice about it, except that it was odd. “What are you doing?” I shouted.
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