Point of Release

by Remy Landon

  “Here are the sales figures broken down by territory as you requested.”

  “What would I do without you?”

  “You would probably hire a young, highly-attractive, former college cheerleader with an annoying laugh who types twenty-five words per minute.”

  “I'd do no such thing. She'd have to type at least fifty.”

  “It's heartening to hear that you have standards.”

  “I'd never be able to replace you.”

  “No, you wouldn't.” Her lips twitched. “I've been working some on Gianna's wedding plans. I still can't believe our little girl is getting married in just under six months.”

  “You and me both. She's too young, Estelle.”

  “Only in her big brother's mind. She's ready. She knows Jordan is the one.”

  Estelle was looking at him intently behind her blue glasses. He busied himself with flipping through the resumés on his desk, keeping his tone light. “So you and Martin are spending Thanksgiving together.”

  “Yes...we're going to his sister's in Reading.”

  “Nice. Already in with the family. Next thing I know, you'll be walking down the aisle.”

  “That's a bit premature.”

  “But not out of the question.”

  She pursed her lips, trying to look stern.

  Carlo chuckled.

  “We still would love to have you join us. Do you have any plans?”

  “I'm probably going to spend the day with Gianna and Jordan.”

  “Please don't do that.”

  “What? Spend the day with my sister and her fiancé?”

  “Lie. I can always tell when you do it. You make this barely audible sniff right after you say an untruth. You don't need to lie to me, Carlo. You're a big boy, and if you choose to spend the holiday alone, you can do that.”

  He managed a grin. “I'm choosing to spend the holiday alone.”

  “May I ask if there's any progress with Cassandra?”

  “Yes, you may, but there hasn't been. It's not for lack of trying, though.”

  “Good. It will take time. I know it feels like it's been ages, but it really hasn't been that long. Keep at it.”

  “I plan to.”

  “I'm glad. Oh—” Estelle frowned. “I almost forgot. Olivia Malstrom called while you were in the meeting with Wayne. I put the phone message in the folder.”

  Carlo nodded, picking up a pen and twirling it with his fingers. So Liv had called. This would be the first contact since that night.

  “She has quite a reputation of being a real go-getter,” Estelle remarked. “And I hear she's very attractive.”

  “I met her at the trade show. Didn't really get a chance to spend much time with her, though.” He sniffed. Damn.

  Estelle raised an eyebrow and sighed. “Some might think it's not my place to say anything here, but as someone who loves you very much, I believe it is most certainly my place. Please don't let Olivia, or any woman, distract you from your ultimate goal, Carlo.”

  “I appreciate your caring, Estelle. I really do.”

  “I won't bring it up again, but if you change your mind about Thanksgiving, even the day of...let me know.”

  “I will definitely keep that in mind.”

  He watched her leave. He knew her invitation was sincere, and he also knew he wouldn't accept it. Maybe someday, the holidays would hold something else besides dread for him, but for the past three years, he'd slept and drank his way through them.

  Carlo woke his laptop from sleep mode and checked his email. He couldn't seem to shake this pensive mood he was in. He'd allow himself a few more minutes of reflection and then it would be back to work.

  The last good Thanksgiving had been four years ago, because all the people he loved most had still been here. He'd picked up Gianna at Villanova the day before the holiday. The entire ride home, he'd had to listen to her talk about the guy she'd just met. Don't you have anything else you want to discuss, Gi? he had teased. Like classes, your professors, the Middle East?

  Nope, she had replied, her dark eyes shining. Just Jordan.

  He had shaken his head and chuckled, but he was glad for her—that she had found someone who had so totally captivated her. The way he had been captivated by the one he had loved.

  That Thanksgiving, his mother had made her traditional sweet potato casserole with pecans and marshmallows, Scott had prepared his homemade gravy and carved the turkey, and the highlight of the day was when Gianna had tripped over the threshold into the dining room and landed on the strawberry-rhubarb pie she was carrying. Everything, even the ruined pie, was as it should have been. The sounds of warm laughter, the treble and bass of voices and the cozy smells in that kitchen had lulled him into what had turned out to be a false sense of security. If he had known that would be the last Thanksgiving he would spend with them, he'd have paid closer attention.

  Cherish your memories, people told him, after each of his losses. They had meant well, of course, and what else would they have said, other than words you'd find inside sympathy cards? Not to mention he didn't know what he needed to hear.

  Losing them had sliced deep grooves within him, and after a little time, when the shock and numbness wore off, pain rushed in to fill those grooves.

  The first loss had cut him the most deeply.

  Just this one time, Carlo, she had said. It will be my last ride for a while.

  For a while had turned into forever.

  Forever without her had seemed an interminable, searing ache. Until Cassandra. In her face, in her eyes, he had seen hope: for the two of them, and for him.

  That was before she had learned he had betrayed her. And he had, no matter the reason, no matter how much his past had fucked him up—he had betrayed her. He would continue to try to make it right, but now...he may have to face the fact that it would be forever without her, as well.

  Carlo looked down at the folder Estelle had left for him, suddenly remembering the phone message from Liv. He grimaced, thinking of calling her back. No big deal; he would be friendly, but keep things courteous, professional. Wish her a happy Thanksgiving.

  He wondered what Cassandra would be doing for the holiday, and if she was feeling as despondent as he was. He knew she missed her mother, and she had insinuated that she and her father were estranged, so in essence, she was parent-less, as he was. Ironic that they could have so much in common, yet be unable to share any of it.

  Christ, would he stop brooding? He had sales figures and applications to peruse—real tasks that needed his attention and that didn't involve any twisting of his gut. He'd have to step up his exercise regimen. It had saved him before; he would stop at the gym on the way home and push himself. The physical always helped with the emotional: strong body, clear mind, calm heart. Unfortunately, the physical at the present time would not include sex, and with his libido, this was excruciatingly difficult. If there was one area where he was weak, it was that one. Olivia was enormously tempting, but he would try like hell to keep her at bay.

  Opening the folder, he found the pink memo with the message Estelle had taken and picked up the phone to call Liv. The courteous, professional relationship would start now.

  chapter twenty ~ Cassandra

  Calculating gas costs to Wilson College had made Cassandra realize that it really would be best to start with an online class...see if she could keep up with her studies and her two jobs, and then go from there. But, she admitted, let's be honest; part of her decision to opt for online was based on nerves—starting over again in a new place where she didn't know a soul. So she had decided to register for Business 101, a requirement for the equine studies program. She did need to meet with an advisor, though, so she could map out her other courses. If she checked in with her advisor from time to time, she could get a feel for the campus and ease into it...hopefully feel more confident about becoming part of the whole college scene again.

  A priority was to keep expanding her social life, and she was proud of he
rself for working on that tonight, driving to Nocturnem to meet Teal and friends. Teal's boyfriend's band was playing, and although Cassandra wasn't really into blues, Garrett could sing, and Nocturnem had a cool, funky atmosphere that made you feel like you were in a bar on Bourbon Street instead of in some old converted building in downtown Manheim.

  She'd bought an off-white, loose-fitting cable sweater on sale at Gap—one of the few purchases she'd made since putting money away for tuition—and was wearing it tonight over a pair of boot-cut jeans, dressing it up with a long, gold and ivory chunky necklace. She dug out her pair of like-new cowboy boots she'd gotten at Goodwill last year, and as she tucked her jeans into them, she thought unexpectedly of Joshua Bennett. Then, when she was scrunching her damp, moussed hair into loose curls, she thought of Carlo Leone.

  Overall, she was feeling more optimistic than she had in weeks. She had made it through Thanksgiving, spending the day at Teal's in Lancaster with Teal's dysfunctional family: her high-maintenance, shrill-voiced, heavily-jeweled mother, her silent, morose father and her ADHD, freckly teenage brother who was trying his hardest to hit on Cassandra when he wasn't engrossed in Minecraft. But it didn't suck. She knew Teal was grateful, and it was better than eating Tofurkey and mushroom gravy alone in her apartment, thinking of He Who Should Not Be Named and picturing her father carving a turkey for his new family.

  So one holiday down, one big one to go. She could do this.

  Opening the door to Nocturnem, the sounds of a saxophone and Garrett's gritty, soulful voice greeted her. It was dim and crowded, but she quickly spotted Teal's bright blonde hair at a table in front of the band. She was sitting with two other people.

  “Wow, the place is packed!” Cassandra gave Teal a quick hug before slipping off her coat and taking a seat next to the stocky girl whom she remembered was Whitney.

  “I know,” Teal grinned proudly. “My guy really knows how to bring 'em in.”

  “Definitely! He sounds great. You must be loving the whole girlfriend of the lead singer thing.”

  “Yup. He is sooo going to get laid later tonight.”

  Cassandra grinned.

  “How are you, girl?” Kevin reached across the table at her, his thick eyebrows arched behind his dark-framed glasses.

  “I'm good, thanks.” Their waitress appeared with a cocktail napkin. Cassandra ordered a Mich Ultra with olives.

  “Olives?” Kevin wrinkled his nose comically.

  Teal rolled her eyes. “She's weird like that. She makes unique food choices. Pseudo-vegetarian, yet she's a Ring Ding slut.”

  Cassandra nodded. “It's true. I had an expired one for breakfast.”

  “I love Ring Dings,” commented Whitney, sighing. “I'm so glad they're back.”

  “Hey—I just thought of something.” Teal looked at Cassandra, smirking. “Maybe the president of Drake is single.”

  “Or maybe...” Kevin pointed in the direction of the door and sighed dramatically. “He is. Oh em gee, what a fine specimen of a man.”

  Cassandra turned to look and drew in her breath. Holy crap. It was Josh.

  Minus the hat, he still looked the all-American cowboy in a green plaid shirt, navy jeans, leather belt with a large buckle and cowboy boots, his brown leather jacket slung over one arm. He looked relaxed and happy, his hand tapping the side of his leg in rhythm with the music as he scanned the throng of people.

  Cassandra quickly turned around before Josh could see her. She didn't want to be rude, but if she said hi, then what? He might want to join them, especially if he was alone. And she just wanted to hang out with Teal's friends without anything getting complicated.

  Teal was staring at her curiously. “Hey. What's the matter? You're looking kinda freaked out.”

  “That guy is the new barn hand at Windswept.”

  “Seriously? Well, invite him over then!”

  “I don't know if that's a good idea.”

  “Are you on crack? Why wouldn't it be a good idea? He looks like a total stud. And you know what they say...the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

  “I'm not interested in anyone right now.”

  “And why is that?” Teal narrowed her eyes. “A little too hung up on the CEO, maybe?”

  “Uh, no. I just need a break from men.”

  “This guy doesn't really count if he's going to be working with you. You''ll be seeing him a lot, right? It would be rude to just ignore him.”

  “She's right, cupcake.” Kevin nodded, his dark eyes large behind his glasses. “Plus, there are some of us at this table who might enjoy talking to him, even if you don't. And by talking, I of course mean groping.”

  “Okay...you guys win. I'll go invite him over.” Cassandra huffed, exasperated, but she couldn't hide her smile. She needed to stop taking things—life—so seriously. This Kevin was hilarious. She was quite sure Josh Bennett was as straight as an arrow, but it would be amusing, if nothing else, to see Kevin try to hit on him. And she really didn't want to be rude to Josh. It looked like he had come in alone, although he seemed pretty at ease with that. But from the way a few of the women were stealing glances at him, he wouldn't be alone for long.

  She got up from the table, cleared her throat and pushed back her shoulders to make her look (and feel) more confident as she headed toward Josh. He was standing at the bar, chatting easily with the attractive female bartender.

  A tiny ember of irritation began to glow within her. So he's all set, then, she said to herself, and clamped down on the thought seconds after it materialized.

  Hesitating, she was about to turn around and walk back to their table when Josh noticed her.

  “Hey, Cassandra!” His face broke into a wide grin, blue eyes bright with surprise. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

  “Me neither. I mean, I didn't expect to see you here. I expected to see me here because I kind of planned it.” She laughed weakly, cringing inside. Effing moron!

  He chuckled. “I guess that would make sense.”

  The bartender slid a tall glass of beer toward him, and he nodded and thanked her before taking a sip. Cassandra found herself watching his mouth and hastily averted her gaze.

  “Band sounds great, huh?” Josh was leaning against the bar on one elbow, his hand curled around his beer glass. His other hand was resting casually on his hip with his thumb hooked in his jeans pocket, looking so totally at ease that she felt as though she was the outsider here.

  “They do...my friend Teal's boyfriend is actually the lead singer.” She paused, pointing in the direction of her table. “She's over there with a couple other friends. They wanted me to invite you to join us.”

  “They did? So you're not included in the 'they?'” His dimples deepened.

  Jesus. “Oh! I mean, we wanted to invite you. Which would include me.” Seriously, could she be any more awkward?

  “I'm just teasing you, Cassandra.” His gaze was warm upon her.

  Being close to him under the recessed lights of the bar, she could see that his eye color was really very striking. There was what looked like a starburst of gold around his pupil which blended into the pale blue of his iris, the outer rim a slightly darker blue. He had light eyelashes and brows, which was much different than Car—

  The realization that she was not only staring at Josh, but comparing him to someone she was supposed to be over, made her face hot with embarrassment and frustration.

  He seemed to sense the change in her. “I had just planned to hang out at the bar by myself, so your invitation sounds much better. Lead the way.” He lifted his beer glass and grinned, preparing to follow her.

  And just like that, things weren't awkward anymore. Her face and emotions cooled, and she was able to flash him a quick smile before turning to walk toward her table.

  Teal and company were all engaged in a lively conversation until Kevin spotted Cassandra and Josh approaching and scooted his seat over, grabbing an empty chair from a nearby table.

 
; “Hey guys, this is Josh Bennett. Josh, this is Teal, the girlfriend of the amazing lead singer, and this is Whitney, and Kevin.”

  Blinking rapidly behind his glasses, Kevin extended his hand for Josh to shake, then addressed him solemnly. “I have two words for you. Brokeback...Mountain.”

  Cassandra's mouth flew to her hand to stifle a laugh as Josh turned to look at her quizzically in a classic WTF expression. She shook her head, giggling, as Teal and Whitney burst into laughter.

  “Are you sure you still want to sit here?” she asked him, still giggling.

  He nodded and grinned. “Oh, yeah. I'm sure.”

  Well, then.

  Between the drinks and the laughter, Cassandra found herself feeling what could only be described as light and carefree. Josh was extremely easy to talk to, hitting it off with everyone—even Kevin, who unabashedly flirted with him, despite it being very apparent it was going to be a one-way street.

  She was finishing her third Mich Ultra and was quite buzzed when the band started playing a slow song. Josh set down his beer glass and held out his hand, looking at her expectantly.

  “Wh-what?” she stammered, although she knew what he was asking.

  “Come dance this one with me.”

  “But there's no one else out there.” She could feel Teal's eyes on her, heard the words Teal was silently screaming at her. For Chrissake, just go for it!

  “Then we'll get it started.” He was still holding out his hand, waiting patiently.

  Hesitantly, she rose to her feet, took his hand and felt his warm fingers close around hers as he led her to a spot in front of the band. Garrett was holding the microphone with both hands, eyes closed, his voice soft and mournful against the backdrop of the acoustic guitar and deep thrum of the string bass. Josh stepped closer until they were toe-to-toe and wrapped one arm around her waist, holding one of her hands in a waltz position. She rested her free hand lightly against his shoulder, hoping she didn't appear as stiff as she felt.