Chance (The One More Night Series)

by Christina Ross

  I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t say anything. He’d just sidelined me.

  “Shit just got real, huh?”

  What could I say to him after that admission?

  “What are you afraid of, Abby?”

  “I’ve told you. This not working out. Being hurt. And potentially hurting you. I’d never want to do that to you. Or to me.”

  “I think it goes deeper. I think you’re afraid of taking a risk.”

  “With my heart? I agree. It’s been broken twice. It took me a year to recover from the last time it was broken. He cheated on me. When I commit to another man again, I want to make sure that it’s going to work out.”

  “How can you ever be sure?”

  “I think that—”

  “How can you ever be sure?” he insisted.

  “I guess I can’t.”

  “Your problem is that you’d rather be in this safe, secure prison than tackle the unknown.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I whispered to him.

  “Because I want more of you. Because I think you’re worth the fight. Because I want to see what happens between us.”

  “At what cost?”

  “At all costs. You keep saying that we’ve only known each other for two days. Well, I knew Beth for one day, and we were together for four years before she was stolen from me. It didn’t end because we were no longer in love with each other. It ended because she died. What don’t you understand about that?”

  It was too much. None of this was going the way I’d planned. He was putting up more resistance than I’d imagined, and was becoming visibly angry with me. He was fueling this with arguments that I hadn’t anticipated. I felt unhinged at that moment. Lost. In my heart, I honestly couldn’t see how any of this could work out between us. If I could, I’d stay. But I couldn’t, so I got up to dress and leave before this really ended on bad terms.

  “You have a plane to catch soon,” I said.

  “I have four hours before I need to catch that plane, which happens to belong to me. I can cancel the flight whenever I want. Not that it matters. I can see that you want to leave, so I won’t get in your way.”

  “I’m sorry, Chance.”

  “About what?”

  “That this isn’t going to work out.”

  He waited for me to reach the bedroom before he said, “Who says it hasn’t? Who says it won’t?”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, I left Chance Caldwell behind.

  When the door to his suite clicked shut behind me, it was with a gentle push—but it still sounded final. I quickened my pace as I walked down the hallway to the bank of elevators.

  I still felt sick to my stomach. I was questioning everything that had just happened between us. Had I done the right thing? In my heart, I felt that I had. I’d been honest with him, which was critical to me. I’d told him my concerns, which he’d answered. But how would I ever know if he could meet those concerns?

  That’s what’s going to haunt you, Abby.

  And that was probably true. But I didn’t want to risk my heart again, not with so many uncertainties in place. I didn’t want to go through that pain again. Ever since Brian, I’d lived with it for too long. I wanted to be free from it. I deserved to be free from it. I wanted to live again. There were other men in this city, many who were happy to call Manhattan home, not just a base. Men whose lives weren’t as complicated as Chance’s.

  I can get beyond this, I thought.

  Can you?

  I have to.

  Good luck with that. You’ve just made a mistake. That man was perfect for you. That man could fall in love with you.

  Neither of us knows that.

  Maybe not. But either way, not knowing what could have been is going to consume you. What would your aunt have done?

  She would have taken the risk.

  Then why didn’t you?

  Because, despite last night, I guess I’m more like my mother than I thought.

  You can change that.

  Could I? Long ago, my mother put her stamp on me. She was so deeply entrenched in me, I wasn’t sure that I could see my way clear of her influence.

  When I stepped out of the hotel and into the morning air, my bank account told me I should take the subway home, but my emotions told me differently. I needed to be in the back seat of a cab, not surrounded by strangers, who would clearly see that I was upset. And so when I left The Plaza, I crossed over to Fifth, hailed a taxi, stepped into it, and gave the driver my address.

  As the cab lurched into traffic, my emotions took hold of me and I started to cry.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  When the cab dropped me off at my apartment building, I paid the driver, stepped outside, collected myself on the sidewalk, and then took the five flights of stairs to our apartment. It was already past nine, and I knew that the girls would be up at this point, which was a blessing because I needed to talk with them about this.

  When I entered the apartment, the first thing I smelled was fresh coffee, which reminded me of Chance because we’d just shared a cup together. From the living room, I heard Brooke say, “Somebody’s home!”

  But when she saw me—and then when Elle saw me—each came to my side out of concern.

  “What’s happened?” Elle said.

  I dropped my clutch in the entryway and felt tears sting my eyes again. “Everything you anticipated.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “No—I hurt him. And myself. It’s a mess, it’s over, and I’m the one who’s to blame for all of it.”

  They gave me a hug.

  “Come and sit down on the couch,” Elle said as she pulled away from me. “Sit over here. That’s right. Give me your shoes. Just relax. We’re here for you. Would you like some coffee?”

  “Actually, I would—if I can keep it down. I’ve already puked once this morning. You probably should also bring over an empty bucket, because with the way I’m feeling, none of this is going to be pretty.”

  Brooke sat down on the edge of the chair across from me. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m sorry, Abby. I hate seeing you so upset.”

  Elle sat next to me and put her arm around my shoulders. “It’s going to be OK.”

  “That’s just it—I don’t know if it is. I don’t know if what I just did was right or wrong. It’s so fucking confusing. I’d pull my heart out if I hadn’t already kicked it to the curb.” I looked at her. “I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have seen him again. How could we have become attached so quickly?”

  “Sometimes it just happens,” she said. “You’re not the first.”

  “But over the course of just two days? Really? I’m not that person. I’m slow to warm up to someone. You both know that. I thought that all of this would be just one big roll in the hay. Obviously, I’m more naïve than I thought.”

  “Abby,” Elle said. “If you need time alone to think, Brooke and I can step out and give you your privacy. Or we can sit with you if you’d like. We also can listen to you and talk this through. You can tell us everything that happened since we last saw you, but that’s up to you. Just know that we’re here for you.”

  I wiped my eyes and tried to pull myself together. “Why am I crying? I never behave like this.”

  “It’s fine to cry,” Brooke said. “You’re upset. There’s a reason.”

  “Yeah, like I screwed up.” I looked at them both. “If you don’t mind, I actually would like to talk about what happened, and I’d especially like for you to hear what he said to me. I need some perspective, because I can promise you this—I have zero perspective at this point.”

  “Of course,” they said.

  “Let me grab a cup of coffee first.”

  “I’ll get it,” Elle said. “You stay put.”

  When she left, I looked over at Brooke, who had a troubled look on her face. All of us were so close at this point in our lives that we felt each other’s pain. I wanted to reassure her that I’d
get over this eventually, so I said, “Don’t look so upset. It’s going to be fine.”

  “I’ve never seen you like this.”

  “That’s because nothing like this has ever happened to me.”

  “I know it hasn’t. We’ve been through Mark with you, and through Brian with you. This is different.”

  “Something in the back of my mind keeps telling me that I blew it back there.”

  “We don’t know that yet. But we’ll discuss it together and figure it out, OK?”

  When Elle returned with my coffee, I thanked her for it, and then spent the next hour telling them everything that had led me to this point.

  We talked about what had happened at the diner—the conversation we’d shared, the things we learned we had in common, and the surprise he’d pulled on me when he’d brought me to climax in public. I told them about the limousine that was waiting for us when we left the diner, and exactly what had taken place there. I told them how he’d seemed irritated with me when we first had sex in his suite at The Plaza, and how his mood shifted when he said that he wanted to show me what it was like for someone to really make love me—which he had. I left out no detail. When I told them about the conversation I’d initiated this morning, the experience was still so fresh, I was able to recount almost every word of what had transpired between us.

  “Jesus,” Elle said when I was finished.

  “What does that mean?”

  “That I didn’t see this coming.”

  “What did you see coming?”

  “I was worried that you might become attached to him on some level, but not on this level. And then there’s his side of this. He’s attached to you, Abby, and in a major way. So are you.”

  “So, what are you going to do?” Brooke asked.

  “Move on. Try to forget him. What else can I do?”

  “Are you serious?” Elle said. “I’ve changed my mind about this. After what that man said to you, and after what you’ve just told us, you need to fix this. You need to trust him. And you need to meet him at the airport before it’s too late. What time does his plane leave?”

  “I—”

  “What time does his plane leave?”

  * * *

  “What are you talking about?” I said to her. “This coming from you? Of all people?”

  “It’s obvious that he’s crazy about you. Did he exactly come out and say so? No—but that’s just a man thing. Before we go forward, the question is how crazy you are about him. So, let’s hear it—how crazy?”

  “It’s complicated,” I said.

  “All right, so while we’re at it, let’s also cut through the bullshit. How crazy?”

  “I think you already know.”

  “Fine, so you’re over the moon. Good. Great. I get it. And he feels the same, even though neither of you have said as much.”

  “Not in so many words, but it was pretty much implied. We were walking on eggshells during the conversation—well, at least I was. I could tell that he was frustrated with me because he was more certain about this than I was. He was pointed. More reasoned. But my fear got the best of me. The last thing I said to him was that it wouldn’t work out. And yet he was unshaken by that comment. Before I left, he countered by saying, ‘Who says it hasn’t? Who says it won’t?’”

  “Well, there’s that,” Brooke said.

  “Just let me get all of this straight,” Elle said. “He said that he was willing to move here for you?”

  “He said that a couple of times.”

  “And when you asked him how he would cut back on traveling, he said that he needed time to sort that out?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you balked?”

  “I did. Why wouldn’t I? He gave me no timetable. Am I supposed to just wait a year or more for him?”

  “How did you come up with that figure?”

  “I don’t know—I just assumed that given his position, it would take that long.”

  “Based on what?”

  “Based on nothing, I guess. I’m the first one to admit that I don’t know his world. But big business is big business. At the very least, I thought I was being fair.”

  “This man has the means to do whatever the hell he wants in whatever timeframe he wants. So, let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. If he’s being honest with you, then I have to agree with him. He runs an international corporation. If he were serious about exploring something more with you, then he’d know that he’d have to hire someone to take over those duties for him, and that would take time. There’s nothing unreasonable about that. In fact, it only makes sense. But it goes deeper than that. From what you’ve told us, this is a guy who can have any woman he wants. So, why would he go to all of this trouble to convince you to give him a chance if he didn’t mean it? That’s what’s given me such pause. Why bother if he didn’t mean it? If he was only after sex, he wouldn’t be acting this way. He wouldn’t have said that he wanted to work this out. Instead, he would have just casually moved on to the next woman—that’s how it works with most guys. But pay attention—that’s not what he said.” She held up her hands. “I think he meant every word of it.”

  “So I messed up,” I said. “Great.”

  “No, I just think everything he threw at you this morning was too much. You weren’t prepared for it. I think you got scared.”

  “That’s what he said. And both you and he are right—I am scared.”

  “Why? Because you might get hurt again?”

  “That’s part of it, but not the biggest part.”

  “What’s the biggest part?”

  “I can’t wrap my head around why he’s willing to change his life for someone he’s only known for two days.”

  “All right, you need to get over that. Like I said, sometimes these things just happen. It also sounds like he’s saying he would have done the same thing for Beth when they met. And that he feels like what he has with you could be like what he had with her. If we’re taking him at his word—which I think he deserves at this point because it would have been easier for him to just move on—he hasn’t had a meaningful relationship since her. But here you are, suddenly in his life. Brooke and I know how special you are. He’s seen that, too. So, let me ask you this—now that we’ve talked this over, how do you feel now?”

  “That I’ve made a mistake.”

  “Do you want to fix it?”

  “How can I possibly fix this, Elle?”

  “Because of what he said to you before you left. So, just answer my question. Do you want to fix this or not? Do you want to give this guy a chance, or do you want to move on? It’s your choice. There’s no pressure. Brooke and I will support you either way. But time is running out. Tell us what you want.”

  “To fix it,” I said.

  “Then let’s do that.”

  “How?”

  “You said he’s leaving for L.A. today. On a private jet?”

  “He said he owned the plane.”

  “Then it’s a private jet. When does he leave?”

  “When I left him, he said in four hours. But he also said that he could cancel that flight at any point.”

  She got up from the couch. “The problem is that we don’t know whether he will, which means we need to get out of here fast.” She turned to Brooke. “Find something for her to wear. Iron it. Something pretty—that white summer dress of hers would be perfect.”

  “Which white summer dress? She has a few.”

  “The one you’re always trying to steal from her. The one with the roses on it. There’s no time for a shower, but she doesn’t need one. I can make her hair and her face look as fresh as if she’d just taken a shower.” She turned back to me. “We’ll do this together. We’ll take you to the airport so you can intercept him before he leaves.”

  “But I don’t know which airport he’s leaving from,” I said.

  “Shit,” Elle said. “Brooke, how do we find out?”

  “I can Google which ai
rport his company generally flies out of. If that doesn’t work, I’ll call each airport and find out that way. It’s not a bit deal, and it shouldn’t take long. I’ll get on it.”

  “Then get on it. There’s no time to waste.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “He flies out of LaGuardia,” Brooke called from our bedroom.

  “How do you know?” Elle asked. She already had fixed my face, hosed me down with antiperspirant, and given me just a touch of perfume. Now she was scrutinizing my face while she freshly flatironed my hair.

  “Image searches. News stories. Press releases. Whenever he’s made a major acquisition in New York, the media sometimes finds him at LaGuardia and interviews him there. It’s LaGuardia. I’m certain of it.”

  “Fine. It’s LaGuardia. Then we need to get to LaGuardia.”

  When she finished with my hair, she put the flatiron in the sink, put her hands on the tops of my shoulders, and took a step back to study me. Then she smiled. “There,” she said. “What do you think?”

  “That you’re a genius. That I’m glad that you’ve been a slave to fashion magazines pretty much since I’ve known you. And especially glad that you work for Vogue.”

  “For the time being at least, but yes—I’ve learned a few tricks during my time at that particular sweat shop. Now, let’s get you dressed so we can get the hell out of here. We’re lucky that it’s Sunday in July. Everyone’s in the Hamptons. The traffic should be light, which we need at this point. It’s pushing nine-thirty. We need to be at LaGuardia by ten at the latest.”

  “That’s pushing it.”

  “And that’s why you need to get dressed. STAT.”

  But when I got up to go to my bedroom, I heard my phone ring in my clutch. Elle and I looked at each other as Brooke flew out of the bedroom.