“Give her a break, will you.” Francis looks over at Trevor. “It’s Becca. She wouldn’t just jump into shit without thinking about it.”
“That’s right,” I agree with Francis. “But to answer your question. I don’t think this is a horrible idea.” It hurts to even think that it is. “It’s a guy and a girl enjoying each other’s company.”
“It’s not a merger,” Francis says. “You don’t have to be all technical and shit. Just say I like him.”
“Fine,” I huff out. “I like him.” I look at both of them. “A lot.”
“How do you think other people will feel about this?” Trevor asks.
“It has nothing to do with anyone but us.” I sit up straight.
“People might think you give him special treatment,” Francis points out.
“That is the furthest from the truth,” I tell them.
“I know that, and you know that,” Trevor says. “But all of them.” He points at the office. “They don’t know that.”
“Well, then that’s a them problem. I’m not going to let people dictate who I can and can’t date.” I look at them. “Also, this isn’t up for discussion. I didn’t ask you to come in here to get your approval.” They just look at me. “I asked you to come in here so you don’t get blindsided in case someone sees us.” I don’t leave room for them to say anything.
“Thank you,” Trevor says, getting up. “Also, off the record, if he hurts you, he is going to kick his ass.” I laugh.
“You don’t get your hands dirty,” I point out.
“I didn’t say I was going to kick his ass.” He laughs. “I’m going to send Francis after him.”
“I have been hitting the weights pretty hard lately,” he says, getting up and walking out of the office after Trevor.
My phone pings with a text.
Nico: Might be late tonight. I’ll know more later.
Chapter 24
Nico
Checking my schedule once I get in, I see I have a meeting with the events people to discuss the coming months activities. I put my phone down as soon as I send the text to Becca. My eyes never leave the screen with her reply, a smile filling my face.
Becca: Thank you for the flowers. Let me know later.
The sound of someone knocking on my door makes me look up. “Hey,” Lizzie says, coming in and closing the door. “So.”
“So what?” I say, my heart beating a million miles a minute. I close my eyes, the throbbing starting to pound in my temples.
“What are you going to do?” she asks, sitting down in front of my desk in one of the empty seats.
“I have no fucking idea,” I say, my chest getting tighter and tighter. I just had a meeting with Laurene. “I guess I have no fucking choice at this point.”
She looks at me. “She would do it for you without thinking twice.”
“I know that,” I say. “One hundred percent know that if the roles were reversed, she wouldn’t even think twice about it.”
“I don’t get it then,” she says to me. “What’s the problem then?”
“It’s just …” I say, but I don’t know what to say really. I don’t know how it happened or when it happened, but Becca has crept her way into my bones. Everything about her makes my chest fill up and my face break into a smile. But not just any smile, the kind of smile that hurts your face. I look at my phone again, and just seeing her name makes my stomach sink. “It’s just bad timing.”
“Is there ever a right time for this?” Lizzie asks. I want to stand and throw something against the fucking wall. I want to yell at the top of my lungs.
“Yes, actually,” I say, my voice coming out pissed off. “There is a fucking time for this, and it was a month ago or even two months ago.” Basically, it was before Becca was in the picture.
She just looks at me, and I know she is trying to help, but right now, it isn’t helping. Nothing is helping by knowing that. I stand, going over to the window and look out. The dread just sinking into me. “I’m sure,” Lizzie says, and I shake my head.
“Don’t,” I say, and a knock on the door has Lizzie getting up. I don’t have time to sit and think of a solution because something else comes up, and by the time I look out, it’s close to seven.
Lizzie pokes her head in. “Are you heading out?” she asks, and I nod my head. “See you tomorrow morning. The plane is leaving at eight.”
My stomach sinks again, but nothing can prepare me for the way it hurts when my phone rings, and I see it’s Becca.
“Hey,” I say, putting the phone to my ear.
“Well, hello there,” she says, and the smile comes automatically. “Are you still at work?”
“Technically, yes,” I say, pressing the elevator button. “But I’m on my way home now.”
“Did you want to get dinner?” she asks. “I can pick something up, or we can not.” She sounds nervous.
“How about you meet me at my place?” I say, getting into my SUV. “I have meals delivered, and if not, we can get something ordered.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, and her voice goes low. “It’s fine either way. I’ve had a long day anyway.”
“I’ll send you the address. Go there now. If you get there before me, I can give you the code for the gate.” She laughs. “It’s twenty-five twenty-six. For next time or this time or whenever you want to stop by.”
“I’ll see you soon.” She hangs up, and I forward her my address. She replies that she is twenty minutes away.
We get there at the same time. I walk over to her, wrapping my arm around her waist. “Hi,” I whisper right before my mouth claims hers. My tongue mixes with hers, and I don’t want to let her go. She molds into me and wraps one arm around my neck and the other goes to my chest.
“Hi,” she says when I finally release her. I turn, putting one hand around her shoulder as we walk up the steps to go into the house. “How was your day?”
“Good,” I lie. “Long. What about you?” I ask when we walk into the house. My arm never leaves her shoulder. She sets her purse down on the table in the middle of the foyer. I slip off my jacket and toss it on the table next to her purse. I stand here for a second, looking at her stuff mixed with mine.
“It was good. The same.” My hand reaches out, linking my fingers with hers. “I told my brothers about us,” she says, and I look down at the floor, not ready to look up yet. The heaviness in my heart gets stronger and stronger.
“What did they say?” I ask, looking over at her and then looking away as fast as I looked at her. The pain is too much to look at her right now.
“Normal stuff I guess,” she says as we walk into the kitchen. I let her hand go to go to the fridge. “Obviously, they weren’t happy-ish with the news.” I look over at her and see her eyes down, looking at her fingers in front of her. “But it’s not their decision. It’s mine.”
The lump in my throat forms, and all I can do is nod. I fucking nod. I grab two meals, not knowing what it is and just pop them into the microwave. “Are you okay to eat out of the container, or do you want to plate it?”
“I’m good with the container,” she says, pulling out one of the stools at the island counter. “This kitchen is huge,” she says, and I turn to the sound of the microwave beeping. I check and add more time.
“Do you want something to drink?” I ask, going to the fridge and seeing if there is an open bottle of white wine. “I have wine, beer, soda.”
“I’ll have water,” she says, and I hear the sound of her shoes coming closer to me. “Do you want me to get the forks and knives?” she asks from beside me. I look over at her, and my heart speeds up because she takes my breath away when she looks at me. Her eyes light as she comes closer to me. I tilt my head down a bit, and she leans in and kisses me.
“Let’s eat,” I say when the microwave beeps. I sit next to her, not even caring what I’m eating. I don’t think I taste anything.
“Do you have a busy day tomorrow?” she asks, and I nod.
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“I have a flight at eight,” I say. “Then I have a meeting before the hockey game.”
“How long are you gone for?” she asks, and I shrug while I chew.
“I think two days,” I say. “I didn’t really check.” I take the phone out of my pocket and check. “Yeah, I’m back in two days.”
The rest of dinner is awkward, or at least, I think it’s awkward. “I think I’m going to head out,” she says when I close the dishwasher, and I look over at her.
“What?” I ask, shocked. “Why?”
“Well,” she says, looking down, “you seem like something is on your mind.” I want to kick myself for making her feel uncomfortable. “I don’t want to bother you.” She smiles, but I can see that her eyes have darkened a bit. I walk to her and put my hands on her face.
My thumbs rub her cheeks. “Stay,” I say softly, her hands going to my waist. “Please.”
She looks down and then up again. “If at anytime you want me to leave or things just get overwhelming, it’s okay to want alone time.” She smirks. “Trust me, I get it.”
“You mean that, don’t you?” I don’t know why I’m shocked about her being even more awesome than I thought she was.
“Well, yeah,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Sometimes we have a day when we just want to go home, sit on the couch, and destroy a whole pint of ice cream.” She laughs, and I put my lips on hers.
“I want you to stay.” We walk up the stairs without saying anything. We walk into my bedroom, and I turn on the soft lights and pull her to me. The kiss is soft and slow. Her hand goes to my shirt, untucking it from my pants. My hand goes to her waist, taking out the black tight shirt I saw her put on this morning. I pull it over her head, our mouths separating only for a second until her shirt is off. I feel her fingers slowly move their way down my shirt, one button at a time.
We take our time undressing each other, our hands and mouth always touching. When I lay her down in the middle of my bed, my kisses linger from her mouth to her neck, slowly sucking in. I make my way down to one nipple. Sucking it deep into my throat and taking the other one. I spend my time making sure that I kiss every single inch of her.
I make her come twice before she turns, then sits up and pulls me up to kiss my mouth. “Sit,” she says, and I turn, sitting in the middle of the bed with my back to the headboard. She takes my cock in her hand and slowly slides her mouth down it. I move her hair to the other side so I can see her face. I want to watch her all night long. She works me over and over and when I come, I whisper her name.
Rolling over to the side, I grab a condom and slide it down my cock. She puts her leg over my hips and then slides down. Neither of us says anything, and it’s the strangest thing. It’s almost as if she knows I can’t talk. It’s almost as if she knows I need her to just be here. The only sound in the room right now is our heavy breathing.
She wraps her arms around my neck, and my hand wraps around her waist while the other reaches up her back to grab her neck. I bury my face in her neck as she throws her head back. She moves up and down. I don’t push her and let her lead the whole way.
The whole night, I don’t sleep. I just watch her, reaching out to touch and hold her and silently tell her how I feel about her. I get up right before I know her alarm is going to go off and set it for later.
I get dressed, picking up my bag and walking over to her. She still sleeps, the white shirt at her neck, one arm out and the other around her waist. I lean forward, kissing her softly and hoping she wakes up, but she doesn’t. I’m not surprised since I barely let her sleep last night.
I grab a paper and leave her a note telling that I’ll call her later. I put it right on top of her phone. I know I should turn around and walk out, but I don’t. I take one more look at her and give her one more kiss. Then I walk out, hoping like fuck I can survive this.
Chapter 25
Becca
My eyes slowly open, and I see the sun coming in. Turning my head to the side, I see that I’m all alone. “Nico?” I say his name, sitting up and looking to see that it’s past eight thirty in the morning. “Fuck,” I say, grabbing my phone. The white note on top slips to the floor. I pick it up and see his writing.
Turned off your alarm. You worked out enough last night. I’ll call you later.
N
I get out of bed and call Erika first. “Good morning,” she answers, and I know she’s at her desk.
“Sorry, I had an early call this morning,” I lie, walking over to my clothes in the middle of the bedroom. “I’ll be in a bit later.”
“No worries,” she says, and I get dressed. I walk over and fix his bed, not knowing if he has a cleaning lady coming in or not.
I walk out of the house, trying not to think about last night too much. It was a quiet one. I know he had something on his mind because I felt it the whole way during dinner.
I felt it every single time he reached for me, but I gave him whatever he wanted. I make it to my house and get into the shower, then decide I’m going to just work from home. The day is slow and quiet, and when I go to bed, it’s without a word or a text from him. I wake up a couple of times during the night and check my phone to see if he called. There is nothing there, not even a text, so I end up tossing and turning most of the night.
When my alarm rings the next day, I reach over and turn it off. I slip into my gym stuff, grabbing a bottle of water on my way to the gym. I get on the treadmill, taking the remote out.
I press the power button as the sound fills the room. SportsCenter shows the highlights of the game last night. They start talking about the game and how they won in overtime. A screen shot shows Nico putting his hand in a fist, celebrating when they win. I smile, thinking about how much I miss seeing him.
Then it happens so quickly I don’t know it’s actually happening.
“Well, the Oilers won the game on the same night their owner secretly got married.” I almost fall and smash my face when my head snaps back so fast. The sound of the remote falling out of my hand and onto the treadmill smashing into the wall behind me. It’s the same sound my heart makes.
This is not happening. My heart starts to beat so fast it echoes in my ears like a herd of bulls charging down the streets of Spain. I rewind the show and listen to it again. The words replay over and over again as I run out of my exercise room toward my computer in my home office. It takes a minute to open, but in that time, I feel like I’m going to throw up. I start pacing back and forth and when the screen saver comes on, my hands shake so bad I can’t type in the words that I’m going to google.
Nico Harrison is married. I press enter, the first search coming up is Page Six news.
I scan the headlines: Dallas Oilers Owner and Most Eligible Bachelor is no more. Nico Harrison marries oil heiress Laurene Christy.
My knees give out, and I fall to the floor, my hands stopping my face from smashing into the floor. I have just enough time to grab the garbage can before I throw up.
My phone rings from somewhere in the house. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Getting up, I don’t even notice the tears on my face. I don’t notice until the sob rips through me, and I have to hold onto the wall as I walk to my bedroom. The phone rings again and again, but my eyes and feet are too scared to move in its direction. I feel the room spinning around me, or maybe it’s my head that is spinning.
Along with the phone ringing, I hear my front door open. I look in shock and afraid in case it’s Nico. The echoing sound of my breath fills my ears. I don’t know if I should run or stay. I’m like a deer caught in the headlights when I see it’s Francis. He stands there in shorts and a T-shirt. I hated it when he bought a condo in my building, but I’m thankful for it right now. “So I take it you heard the news.”
I don’t say anything. Instead, a sob comes out of me. My hand flies to my mouth to stop it from escaping, but I’m not fast enough. My body starts to shake uncontrollably. I feel like I’m falling, but I don’t crash into the
floor this time. Instead, Francis is catching me. He’s picking me up off my feet. “That motherfucker,” he hisses as my phone rings again.
He looks at me as I bury my face in my hands. “This can’t be happening,” I say in a whisper. “It can’t be.”
I look at Francis, whose phone rings. He picks it up. “Yeah, I’m with her now.” He looks at me. “It’s Trevor,” he says and then listens to what Trevor says. “How the fuck should I know?” he yells. “From the looks of her, she didn’t know anything.”
I reach for my phone, seeing the missed calls. Twenty-three calls from Nico. All this morning along with voice mails.
My hands shake, and I get up on auto pilot. I walk to my closet, taking down a bag. “What are you doing?” Francis asks.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I say, wiping tears away with the back of my hand.
“It looks like you’re running away.” He baits me and I shake my head.
“I guess you can say I’m running away.” I start putting things in the bag. “I have a couple of kids I need to go and meet,” I say, not even sure I know what I’m packing. I’m just throwing shit in my bag.
“That’s a good idea,” he says, his phone beeping again. “Did you know?”
“Are you kidding me, Francis?” I hiss at him. “Do you think I’d be involved with him? I was with him two days ago.”
“He didn’t tell you?” he asks again.
“Francis.” I say his name, and he holds up his hands. “I think I would remember him saying, ‘Oh, hey, Becca, come over to eat dinner because I’m getting married tomorrow.’”
“Are you going to talk to him?” he asks, and I stand here with my heart shattered in my chest. Literally, it feels like I’m walking on shards of glass with no shoes on.
“I don’t think there is anything that I can say to him,” I answer, and the pain rips through me again. My hand goes to my chest to stop the pressure. “I have nothing to say to him.”
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