Love Heals

by Dinah McLeod

  I was used to it, show no fear had been my personal motto for years, but even I had to admit it was becoming exhausting. Look where it had gotten me this time around, telling lies at every turn to cover up the ones that had grown suspect. Once upon a time, lies had been as much a part of my armor as my poker face, but Brandon had changed me in ways I'd never thought possible, to the point where I found it physically painful to lie to him.

  "Nice work today, Karen."

  I whirled around to see Mr. Fern standing behind me. I'd just gotten done fixing the copier—and was, I'll admit, a little proud I still remembered how to after all this time—and my hands were streaked with black ink. To my surprise, I noted that he didn't look in any way smug or superior. He certainly was teaching me a thing or two about humility. "Thank you, Mr. Fern."

  "I think I'm going to have you moved to marketing tomorrow and see if you have any fresh new ideas."

  I winced, for more reasons than one, but tried to cover it with a smile. "I appreciate the opportunity, sir."

  "Why don't you get cleaned up and go on home?"

  I glanced at my watch. "It's only five-thirty, I still—"

  "Go home, Karen. You're not going to win any medals on the first day for wearing yourself out."

  I bit back a snappy retort and nodded. "Yes, Mr. Fern. See you tomorrow."

  "Goodnight, Karen."

  It wasn't until I was in the car and driving home that I realized how tired I truly was. The job I used to hold had been more mentally draining than anything else and my body was telling me with every ache how different this was. And yet, I hadn't raised my blood pressure once today. It was hard, exhausting work, but I felt cleansed somehow, as though I truly was earning my way back.

  For once, looking at Brandon didn't riddle my heart with guilt. Perhaps because I was too drained to feel anything but relief at being home. I plopped down on the couch beside him and reached for his hand, not even noticing that he hadn't gotten up to let me in, but had instead let me fuss with the lock until I'd finally managed to work it open.

  "How was work?"

  "Fine," I exhaled in a long, nearly contented sigh.

  "You like working for Mr. Fern?"

  "You know what? I think I do. I hate to say it, but he's certainly a better boss than I ever was."

  "Hmm."

  I tilted my head back and looked up at him. I wasn't used to him sounding so noncommittal, especially about something like this. "Is everything okay, Brandon?"

  "Of course. What could be wrong?"

  Something about the way he asked it raised the hairs on my arms. "Tell me about your day."

  "Sure." He turned toward me on the couch, propping his leg up until his knee brushed mine. "Actually, I had the strangest morning. Guess who I ran into at the bakery?"

  "Who?"

  "Mark Patterson."

  His voice didn't change an octave, but when he locked eyes with me, his blue depths so stern and serious, I felt a sharp chill of realization shoot through me. He knew. I knew he knew. "Oh? What did he want?" My voice was a shrill squeak.

  "It's interesting, actually. At least, I found it to be. He seemed to have very different ideas about the termination of your employment."

  I swallowed hard and blinked back the tears of contrition that had risen the moment I realized I'd been found out. I was in for it now and I didn't relish the prospect in the least. "Brandon, I can explain."

  If I'd expected anger, passion, or emotion of any kind, I was sadly disappointed. Brandon's face stayed as neutral as carved stone and that was perhaps even worse. "I'd love to hear your explanation."

  "Okay. Well, I wasn't exactly…h-honest with you." My throat clogged with tears and I swallowed again, trying hard not to break into sobs. He deserved better than that—he deserved to hear the truth without having me break down on him, forcing him to go into White Knight mode. "Mark did kiss me. Or, I kissed him. I'm not exactly sure."

  "You're not sure?" he echoed, level and calm.

  Somehow, seeing him so rock-steady made me feel even more off-balance. "No, I'm not. He…I mean, he kissed me, but I…but I kissed him back."

  He looked back at me as placidly as if I'd said I thought it might rain.

  "I think I even wanted him to kiss me," I blurted out before hanging my head and giving into the lip quivers.

  "This was when you wore that dress to work?"

  "Y-yes."

  "You wanted him to kiss you. I assume you thought you could somehow blackmail him into giving you your job back?"

  "I didn't think it all the way through," I admitted tearfully.

  "No, you certainly didn't. What if he wanted to do more than kiss you, Karen?"

  "I…"

  "What if he'd wanted to take it much farther? What would you have done? Gone along with it?" His voice was still calm, but turning stonier all the time.

  "It was stupid," I whispered pitifully.

  "No kidding."

  I raised my head to look at him, but the pain in his eyes made me sob. "I'm so, so sorry. It was the stupidest, most low-down thing I've…Brandon, please. I'm so sorry."

  "What do you want me to say, Karen?" He didn't sound angry, just tired and it was my undoing.

  "I want you to tell me you f-forgive me!" I wailed, covering my face with my hands and crying into my cupped palms.

  "I forgive you. Now I'm going to give you a ride to your apartment. I think it would be best if we spent some time apart."

  "N-no, that's not how it wo-orks," I insisted, snatching my hands away and letting him see my tear-streaked cheeks. "You have to p-punish me and then you forgive m-me and we go back to normal."

  He shook his head, sighing sadly. "You're right, normally that's how it works. I'm not so sure this time, Karen. And it would be unfair to spank you or enforce any other punishment when I'm not sure it will make a difference."

  "Not make a difference?" I gasped. "What does that mean?"

  He scooted closer to me and put his hand on my shoulder. For the first time, I wasn't reassured by his touch. "I don't know how to feel about all this, Karen. You were scheming behind my back and lying about it, another man kissed you and you lied about that, too. And the fact that you wanted him to…"

  "Brandon, please—"

  "I can put up with a lot of things, Kar, but I'm not superman. I have my limits."

  Somehow, the kindness in his tone twisted in my guts sharp as any knife. I choked on another sob and felt even worse—if that was possible—when he pulled me into his arms and held me as I cried. What a selfish idiot I'd been. I'd broken his heart and he was comforting me. Where was the justice in that? But Brandon wasn't interested in justice, only in what was right. If I was the same, I wouldn't be in this mess right now.

  "Please," I rasped, looking up at him. "Please, I'll do anything. Punish me however you want—spank me, tie me up, whip me. I don't care. Just, please, don't leave me."

  "Oh, Karen. I wish I knew what to tell you, but I need some space to think this through."

  "P-promise me it's not forever."

  He shook his head and the sight of it about tore me to pieces. "I can't do that. I'm sorry. Try to compose yourself and I'll drive you home." He moved me from his lap gently and stood. When he walked away, I began to cry so hard I was gasping in short, uneven breaths that made my chest ache. Seeing his back turned to me, seeing him walk away from my misery was worse than any other punishment I'd ever received at his hand.

  ***

  I went into work extra early the next morning, dry eyed but bleary. I'd tossed and turned until four a.m. at which point I'd given up and gotten into my jogging clothes. I knew Brandon wouldn't have approved, he would have said it was too early and much too dangerous, but we were taking a break, weren't we, and I was feeling just spiteful enough to make myself not care what he'd think.

  Not that I had any right to feel spiteful or the least bit upset with him. I'd wronged him, not the other way around. He was wonderful and perfect t
o me and if ever he wasn't, he was honest and made up for it. I didn't deserve him, and deep down, I'd always known I'd eventually do something to mess it up.

  I'd insisted I didn't need Brandon to drive me home, but he'd walked me out to my car. Right before I'd gotten in, I'd turned to look at him one last time, my eyes pleading. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

  "I know it's not what I want, Karen, but to be honest, I'm not sure what you want. I want you to spend some time thinking too and that'd be a great place to start."

  "But I know—"

  "Do you? Are you sure? Your actions lately make me wonder."

  I'd cringed, waved a half-hearted goodbye and climbed into the car. Of course I knew what I wanted, but I also knew that no amount of begging or pleading was going to change his mind. He said he needed space and if there was one thing I'd learned, it was that Brandon never said anything he didn't mean.

  I couldn't even feel mad at Mark for tattling, though God knows I'd given it my all. I knew the only person to blame was myself and worse still, Brandon knew it too. The thought that he might never be able to forgive me was unbearable.

  "You're in early this morning, Karen."

  I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of the voice behind me. When I turned around, one hand to my racing heart, I relaxed to see Mr. Fern standing behind me. What had he done, placed a GPS tracker in my purse or something? The man always seemed to know where I was. "Looking forward to getting a lot accomplished today, sir."

  "That's what I like to hear. I left a list on your desk."

  "Thank you, Mr. Fern." It wasn't at all what I wanted to say. I'd already looked at the list and come to the quick realization that he was trying to kill me. Not that I blamed him, but couldn't he at least make it quick? At the moment, it looked like he was opting for slow and painful torture—at least that's what I called four marketing meetings in one morning. I hadn't been to one of those things since my company had first started and I hadn't enjoyed them then, either.

  At least it would keep me busy. The busier I was the less time I'd have to wallow in self-induced pity. If I tried hard enough, maybe I'd wear myself out enough to get a good night's sleep. It was looking doubtful, though.

  When I walked into the board room—I couldn't help but notice how much smaller it was than my own—it was all I could do to keep my head held high. It didn't help that I could feel murderous eyes on me from the moment I stepped foot in the door. I'd been getting them all day yesterday, too, but I'd been able to ignore them. The confrontation with Brandon had weakened my defenses and now I felt every hostile glare sear into my skin.

  "Good morning, Ms. Donahue."

  The one standing at the head of the table must be Rick Henderson, SunFilm's head of marketing. I heard the edge in his voice and inclined my head for a moment to acknowledge it. They could bend me, but they wouldn't break me. I could do this. And one day, hopefully soon, I would be back where I belonged. Strange, how the thought didn't replace my jittery nerves with a giddy sense of impending triumph.

  "Please, take your seat."

  I did as I was instructed, forcing a smile even though I used to eat men like him for breakfast. I tried to focus as he talked about declining sales, tried to appear interested even though I could care less. I had bigger and more important things to worry about. I knew that Brandon was a man of his word—he'd proven that more than once. Still, I'd thought he would have called by now or at least texted to see how I was doing. Didn't he care anymore? Yes, I'd make a mistake. A big, gigantic mistake, but—

  "Ms. Donahue?"

  I blinked in surprise as I was hauled out of my thoughts, feeling my cheeks flush when I realized everyone was once again looking my way. "Ah, yes?"

  "I was asking if you had any suggestions on how to boost sales. After all, considering that you were once a CEO, I thought you might share a bit of your expertise."

  God, could he look any more pleased with himself? The room at large tittered with snickers and I gritted my teeth. I wouldn't let these people break me. I wouldn't let Mr. Fern have the satisfaction of having me quit. I'd never given up on anything in my life and I wouldn't give up on Brandon, either—even if he'd already given up on me.

  ***

  "I heard you had some useful insights in the meetings today."

  When I looked up, I didn't bother with a polite smile. Instead, I let him see how pissed I was. "You set me up," I accused Mr. Fern.

  "Excuse me?" he arched a gray, bushy brow.

  "You sent me in there knowing your people would flay me alive and—"

  "And you offered your services."

  His calm tone made my temper flare, but I swallowed it down. "What's your point?"

  "My point is that you could have been rude or condescending, you could have left. You could have skipped the rest of the meetings, but you didn't do any of those things. Why?"

  My brows drew together as I frowned. I opened my mouth, intent on delivering a scathing reply when I realized I couldn't think of one. The truth was, though I'd stayed to spite the masses and to save my pride, by the end of the day I found myself enjoying trading ideas. I'd had some good ones and had gained a small speck of grudging respect. Perhaps I even found myself giving a little back in return. Still, that didn't change the fact he was trying to torpedo me. "Will I be in marketing tomorrow or do you have something else planned for me, Mr. Fern?" I didn't bother to smooth over the edge in my voice.

  "Actually, I thought you might enjoy a visit to human resources."

  That did it. "How long are you going to keep shifting me around? Until I get tired and quit? I thought we had a deal!"

  "Karen, please keep your voice down, this—"

  I leapt from my chair, my fists balled at my sides. "Keep my voice down? Keep my voice down?" I screeched. "Who gives a damn how loud I talk! I'm pissed and you're going to know it! You made a deal with me that you never intended to keep!"

  "As a matter of fact," he said, his voice even, "I care. Outbursts like this are not tolerated here, whatever your policy might have been back at Dusty Records."

  My eyes narrowed into slits as I tried to contain my mounting, indignant fury. Not that I tried all that hard. "Are you insulting my company now? Do you have the balls to stand there and put me down when I was seconds away from decimating this place?" I gestured to the building at large, huffing in my rage. Mr. Fern's face stayed cool and slowly my anger began to fade, replaced with the realization of what a gigantic ass I'd just made of myself.

  "Are you quite finished, Ms. Donahue?"

  Uh-oh, so we were back to that. That couldn't be good. "Mr. Fern, I'm—"

  "Please, don't. I think you've said enough for today. In fact, why don't you take the rest of the day off?"

  "I really am sorry, I didn't mean…" I bit my lip hard, trying to think of how to salvage the situation.

  "Please, let's be honest with one another. I know too much for you to bother lying to me. You did mean it, you just didn't mean for it to come out."

  He had me there. Was my subtle tell that I had a gigantic, neon sign over my head flashing when I lied? It sure felt like it, because these days it seemed I couldn't hide anything from anybody.

  "Now, take the rest of the day off and I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Tomorrow?" I echoed, my voice a squeak.

  "Yes. Come straight to my office and we'll have a chat."

  That didn't sound good. In fact, it sounded very, very bad, but what could I do? I was at his mercy and we both knew it. I might have just lost my best shot to get my company back, all because I couldn't think before I spoke. I guess Brandon had been right about that, too, as usual. "Thank you, Mr. Fern," I muttered, bending over to pick up my purse.

  "Have a good afternoon."

  Oh, I was just sure I would. Who wouldn't after being thrown out on their ass? Sad thing was that it had to be twice in a row now and it didn't look like my odds would be getting better anytime soon.

  I was just getting i
nto my car when my phone pinged with a new text. My breath caught as I dug it out of my bag, hoping with everything I had that I'd willed Brandon into texting me. At least then the day wouldn't be a total waste.

  Hey. Wondering if you were free to do lunch?

  I bit my lip, momentarily regretting the fact that it was Jack, not Brandon, who had texted. Then my fingers took to the keypad, typing at lightning speed. As a matter of fact, I'm suddenly free.

  Salsaritas?

  I made a face. Salsaritas had to be the worst Mexican restaurant in town. Maybe he didn't know this. Like Mexican? I know a place. I'll pick you up.

  I was already on my way when my phone buzzed. I debated answering it for about two seconds before I picked up. "Hello?"

  "Ms. Donahue, if you'll send me the address, I'll—"

  "Karen, Jack. Call me Karen."

  "I just think it would be better if I met you there."

  "You honestly think Patterson is staked out looking for my car?"

  "Mr. Patterson wouldn't personally, no."

  My smirk faded at the trepidation in his voice. He probably had a point. "Okay. I'm sending you the address now. It's not far."

  It only took me ten minutes to get to my favorite eatery—though it would probably take Jack double the time, since I assumed he took traffic laws as seriously as Brandon did. I'd been coming here since I was a kid and I barely took notice of the garbage strewn throughout the streets, taking care to walk around the glass. I made sure to lock my Porsche, even knowing as I did that if somebody wanted in bad enough, a locked door wouldn't stop them.

  Rosa's had been one of the only restaurants my family ate at when I was growing up, and even then it was only because my mom worked there and couldn't be home to cook. My parents still lived in the same crumbling two bedroom we'd made do with when I was growing up; it was just two blocks away from Rosa's, which was why Mama had worked there for over sixteen years, because she could get to work even when the car wasn't working.