by Amelia Wilde
I only wish Jax was by my side to see it with me.
38
Jax
Cate is gone.
She flew away on the private plane that I offered to her without a second thought, like I’m a whipped idiot who’s in over his head.
I am in over my head.
Was.
When she leaves, her back retreating out the door, I go into the kitchen. I tell Laurence to take the rest of the night off. I send Gloria an email letting her know that I won’t be needing her in the morning, and I tell everyone else on staff except for Peter that I’ll contact them in a couple of days.
I don’t want to see anyone.
The first night she is gone, I mix a drink so strong it could be paint thinner. I sit on my couch alone, watching some shitty movie about car racing that I didn’t like when it came out and I don’t like any better now.
The next day, I try to work out with my trainer and act like everything is fine, but the guy seems like something’s bothering him.
“Should we end the session, Carl? You seem distracted,” I say, sounding far more like an asshole than I intend.
“Nope. I’m all good to go. Sorry about that. I have a friend on my mind today.”
“Let’s focus on the workout then.”
“Fine by me.”
Carl is the only one, aside from Peter, who comes and goes—and that’s only because if I’m going to allow myself to wallow like this, I at least need to stay in some semblance of shape. And Carl is divorced from every other aspect of my life, so there’s not much chance of awkwardness.
As the second day passes, and then the third, I retreat farther into my penthouse. I let Gloria return on the fourth day, but I leave when she’s there, haunting the city in my Aston Martin like a pathetic ghost, a billionaire who still found a reason to feel sorry for himself.
Aside from giving my staff an inexplicable vacation and spending my evenings drinking in front of the TV, I put all my effort into playing this whole thing so cool that even I almost believe it.
But the truth stabs at me with every single heartbeat.
Cate is gone.
And I’ve given her no reason to come back.
It would be so easy for her to send a moving service to her apartment. They could pack up everything that’s not here and send it home. At least, to wherever she decides home is. Once Cate’s done being royally pissed off at me, she’ll be able to get a job wherever she wants. Seattle. Chicago. Her options are endless.
Selfishly, the one place I want her to be is in New York City, preferably in my penthouse, her gorgeous body pressed up against mine.
I don’t text her.
I don’t call her.
The situation with her sister sounded serious, and I’m sure the last thing she wants is to be interrupted by a desperate ex.
That’s what I am now.
Her ex.
For some reason, I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that it’s over. That Cate is the one who ended it and walked out without a backward glance, without an apology text, without so much as a note saying that her plane touched down successfully.
I know it did. It’s my plane, after all. But it would have been nice to hear it from her, to get another chance to talk to her…
Thinking about her consumes me, even when I’m pretending to be wholly absorbed in other work.
I sign contracts while I think about her. I review the numbers from Basiqué while I picture the sway of her ass in a tight skirt. I place orders with Laurence and my favorite carryout places while I picture her face, flushed with pleasure as she grinds her sweet, sweet slit up against my hand until she finds her release. I order coffee from the shop down the street—a last-ditch attempt to give myself something to do—while I remember the sensation of my hand coming down across the firm expanse of her ass and hearing her sharp intake of breath, pain and delight all wrapped up in the most beautiful package the world has ever seen.
And the one thing I can’t escape: this is all my fault.
Cate had every right to be furious. I can’t blame her for not wanting to listen to me. I would have been pissed. I would have said worse things.
Hindsight is twenty-twenty, as they say.
I could have handled it differently. I could have waited longer to approach her about it, could have sweetened the deal in advance instead of planning some stupid gesture that she probably wouldn’t accept anyway, could have made it clearer to that bitch Sarzó what the next steps would be instead of leaving the details in her hands to the extent that I did.
Since I graduated from college, I’ve had nightmares where I arrive at my office only to find out that someone has taken everything: my name, my fortune, everything. I wake from those dreams soaked in sweat, shivering, heart pounding.
How is it that I managed to force the only woman I’ve ever loved to endure one of my nightmares?
Yet I did.
And even at the end, when her eyes were flashing with rage and she was spitting her fury at me, I should have fought harder.
I should have insisted on taking her to the airport. I should have gone with her into the elevator. I should have run out into the street after her car, waving my arms and making such a scene that the driver would have had no choice but to stop.
I should have fought it every step of the way.
Instead I let her go, like the world’s biggest jackass.
Every day, I see more clearly how dull and colorless my life is without her.
And there’s nothing I can do about it.
39
Cate
Days go by in the strange zone that’s known as hospital time, where the meals are served according to a schedule but you can still lose track of what day of the week it is. I spend my time shuttling between the hospital and Bee’s house, bringing things they didn’t think to pack, getting food from their favorite places, and generally being…useful.
After my year with Sandra, it seems unthinkable to sit down and do nothing.
So I do everything I can think of.
Aside from the first day, Bee is a post-op champion and so in love with her daughters that I cry when I see that, too. The nurses wheel her carefully down to the NICU and she and Dex take turns holding the babies up on their chests. My gorgeous sister cannot get enough of them, or her husband.
“Look!” she says to him over and over, her delight filling the room. “Look at what we did, Dex!”
“Don’t give me any credit,” he says, and laughs. “You did most of the work.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“I wouldn’t have done it with anyone but you.”
“Uh, guys,” I say, teasing. “There are other people in the room, and we’re all about to be sick.”
A nearby nurse gives me a look. “You keep being in love, honey,” she says to Bee. “It’s the best thing for you.”
The days go by, and despite all the medical drama surrounding birth, the twins don’t need to stay in the hospital. They’re discharged the same day as Bee, who has been under observation for longer than the usual period. I don’t understand exactly what happened to her, and I’m positive I don’t want to look it up online.
I’m the one who drives Dex and Bee’s car home from the hospital so they can both sit in the back, oohing and aahing over the babies the entire time.
“You’re the perfect Gabriella,” says Bee to one of the twins. “Nobody could be a better Gabriella than you.”
“Did you know? This is the perfect Isabel!” says Dex, and in the rearview mirror I see him steal a kiss from his wife.
My stomach clenches.
We pull into the driveway and I help them unload their bags, stowing everything carefully in its place, and bring them a tray of snacks that I got from the store while they were waiting to be discharged.
Bee snuggles up on one end of the couch, Dex on the other, both of them holding a perfect, tiny baby.
I’m the fifth wheel.
“Well,” I say, putting my hands in my pockets. “Is there anything else you guys need?”
Bee gives me a huge, tired smile. “I think you’ve given us everything there is, Cate. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Okay,” I say, fighting back the urge to cry. I want to stay with them, but I know it’s only because there is a huge, painful wound in my life where Jax used to be. “Call if you need anything. I’m always available to babysit.”
Bee leans her head back against the armrest and closes her eyes against the afternoon sunlight. “You’re the best, Cate. When are you heading back to New York?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” I tell her, not realizing until I say it that it’s true. Without Basiqué—without Jax—what do I have in New York aside from an expensive apartment I can no longer afford and friendships that I’ve long since let lapse? “But I’ll keep my cell on. Doesn’t matter if it’s late.” That’s something that Bee and I have said to each other over the years, even if we don’t take advantage of it much.
“Doesn’t matter,” Bee says, opening her eyes and smiling at me again. “Go get some rest. At least you can!”
The soft sounds of their voices follow me out the door, and then I’m standing on the sidewalk in the gentle summer heat.
Where to now?
I’ll start with my parents. I’ve been so busy the past few days—the past few months—that I haven’t had a lot of time to visit. I send the same text to both of their phones.
My mom is out with her friends, my dad writes to me, and then she’ll be going over to Bee’s house, but he’s free for dinner and a beer.
My dad meets me at a sports bar in downtown Beechford, where Dex and Bee live. We grew up in Winthrop Harbor, which isn’t far. I could drive my rental car there, no problem, but he insists on coming to me. My hotel is down the block from the restaurant—it doesn’t make sense for me to drive. I’ve done enough, he says.
Twenty minutes later, he slides into the booth across from me and grasps my hands in his. “You’re an incredible woman, Cate.”
My dad’s voice unlocks something in me, and everything comes rushing out of me all at once. Well…almost everything.
“…and I got fired from my job. I don’t work at Basiqué anymore.” A few tears spill onto my cheeks.
Dad waves his hand in the air and takes another bite of his burger. “It’s a job.”
“A job?” My voice shrills high enough to make me sound absolutely ridiculous.
“Of course, Cate. It’s not the end of the world. And this guy—Jock?”
“Jax.”
“He sounds like he cares about you. Maybe he’s a little pretentious, but what rich guy isn’t? That job was killing you anyway.”
“‘That job’ was going to be my ticket to some security in life, Dad. You of all people should know how important that is.”
He puts down his burger and stares me in the eye.
“Cate, you’re as smart as they come, but I’m going to tell you this anyway. There’s no such thing as a guarantee.”
“But you—”
“Circumstances happened with my career that I couldn’t plan for, and in other ways I didn’t plan enough. But I’m all right! I’m still here, aren’t I?”
I nod, my throat tight. “I don’t want that to happen to me.”
My dad laughs out loud. “Oh, Cate, my favorite Cate in all the world. That’s not going to happen to you. You schedule out date nights, for God’s sake. You’re going to be fine.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“There aren’t any guarantees, but I know—I know, Cate—that you could stand to worry less. Plan a little bit of your life out, if you want, but I think you might have learned the wrong lesson from how I went into retirement.”
“I did?”
“Yeah, you did. The important thing isn’t to invest your life in your job.”
“It’s not?”
“No. The important thing—” He reaches across the table and pats my hand, giving me a grin. “—It’s always the people, Cate. People that love you. People that you love. No job can compete with that.”
40
Jax
I’ve dragged myself out of the penthouse and to a series of clubs with Christian, and with every passing moment I regret this decision even more.
Everything grates on my nerves, from the laughter around the table at the Purple Swan to the women dancing in the club we’re at now—I don’t remember the name of it. Christian has a standing reservation for a luxury booth here, which is why we came, but none of the women hold the slightest bit of appeal for me now.
The music booms from the oversized speakers near the turntables. I can’t escape it, so instead I order another drink.
The crowds come and go around the booth, kept a short distance away by velvet ropes. This club is about a hundred steps down from the Purple Swan, but even the Swan isn’t good enough for me tonight.
Where do I want to be instead?
In my penthouse with Cate.
I’d even settle for watching some horrible rom-com.
But what I’d really like to do is tear her clothing off her body and worship every inch of her skin like I’ll never get another chance, spread her legs wide and taste the sweetness there, lick it all up, lick and suck her until she gushes a new wave of wetness into my mouth, tug at her nipples with my teeth, turn her over on her hands and knees and drive my cock into her hot core…
One of the women Christian has collected throughout the evening breaks into my thoughts by shouting into my ear.
“What’s it take to impress a guy like you?”
“What do you mean?” I shout back, already disgusted by the aroma of alcohol on her breath, by the fact that she’s not Cate, by the fact that I brought this on myself.
“You’re way richer than Chris. That’s what the girls said.”
I shake my head. “We don’t need to—”
She barrels on. “So I want to know what it would take to impress you. You’ve probably got an entire building to yourself, and I’d keep you company if you wanted to head home.”
“No.”
I don’t remember her name. I can’t remember the first thing about her. I want nothing to do with this woman, who wants to be able to say she’s slept with me. If she’s lucky, she’ll make it onto the gossip sites like Victoria—Vivian?—did.
Without another word to her, I stand up and leave the booth, stepping around long legs and high heels and bodies that sway from drinking. I don’t even bring my drink with me. I don’t want it anymore.
I don’t want anything but Cate, and it’s killing me.
How much longer will it be before I can stand it? Or, better yet, forget it and move on?
Moving blindly toward the exit, I push people out of my way, my only mission to get through the crowd and outside.
Thirty feet from the door, the sidewalk is blessedly empty.
I text Peter to bring the car.
His response comes quickly. Five minutes.
A hand on my shoulder startles me. I whip my head around, wondering if it’s going to be some asshole shoving a camera in my face, but it’s Christian.
“What’s going on with you, man?” he says, looking half concerned and half irritated. “You made quite the scene, leaving like that. You’re lucky none of those photographers are here.”
I roll my eyes. “Those photographers were lucky that time at the Swan because your girl Vivian called them and gave them the address of the club.”
“That’s—” He only has the grace to look a little ashamed. “Seriously, is something up? It’s not like you to walk out on a perfectly good party without even saying goodbye.” His tone is light, but I think he does want to know. His playboy ways notwithstanding, Christian is a decent guy, and a good friend.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
“Spit it out. There are women waiting for me inside. Women, Jax.”
&nbs
p; “You remember I told you I needed to forget someone? The woman from the magazine?”
“You couldn’t forget her, could you?”
“No.”
“How far are you in over your head, Jax?”
“Underwater.”
Christian purses his lips. “So what happened? Did you cut her loose?”
“No. I got her fired from her job.”
“Jax,” Christian says, starting to laugh. “What have I told you about fucking women in the office?”
I decide not to tell him about that part.
“I got her fired from her job.”
Christian’s mouth drops open. “What the—”
“It was killing her, man. She was going to lose it. The only thing is, I didn’t get a chance to tell her about the plan I had.” I run my fingers through my hair. “She got so angry at me that she dumped me, and then she had to run home for an emergency with her sister.”
“Jesus, Jax. And you haven’t gone to talk to her yet?”
“She left New York.”
“So?”
“So, she’s in a different state with her family.”
“And you have a private jet.”
“She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
Now it’s Christian’s turn to roll his eyes. “People say stupid shit in the heat of the moment. Are you absolutely sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
“That doesn’t sound a hundred percent to me.”
“What the hell do you expect me to do?”
Christian slaps me on the back like I’m his junior employee and he’s a sixty-year-old CEO. “Well, Jax, I tell you this as your best friend in the entire world: stop being such a controlling jackass and trying to take over her life. Also, if you miss her enough to interrupt parties over her, go see her. It’s never too late for love.”
“Shut your mouth. Never too late my ass.”
“Are you coming back in or not?” Having imparted his wisdom, Chris is already turning to head back into the club.