Since He Really Feels (He Feels)

by Lisa Suzanne

  I pressed my lips to his. “You’re looking pretty good yourself,” I said.

  “Ready to go?” he asked, his mouth poised just above mine.

  “I suppose,” I said, suddenly breathless.

  We arrived at a French steakhouse, and I opted to start with the French Onion Soup, as did he. We sipped champagne and chatted about work. Nick told me about his late meeting, and I listened with the ear of the fiancée rather than as a colleague.

  Our beef wellington entrees arrived, and that’s when Nick finally changed the subject.

  “I want to talk about something aside from work,” he started casually as he cut into his food, avoiding eye contact.

  “What’s that?” I asked, curious about the sudden subject change.

  “I’m ready to tell you about my past.”

  I dropped my fork in surprise, and it clattered loudly to my plate. “Oops,” I blushed, and he glanced up at me nervously.

  It seemed odd to me that he had chosen the middle of a loud restaurant to confess something that was clearly so hard for him to talk about. Maybe the idea of being alone in a crowd helped spur on his declaration. Whatever the reason, I was just glad that he’d finally decided to open up.

  “You told me that you would be willing to cut Travis out of your life for me, and that was a huge sacrifice on your part. It made me realize that if you’re going to give me what I need, I need to give you what you need, too.”

  I suddenly lost my appetite, but he remained calm and composed as he spoke.

  “I know you have questions, and I want to answer them. But I’m only prepared to answer one of your questions tonight. So which is it? The history with my mother, or the summer of seven?”

  I chuckled at his reference to his wild summer. I thought back to the day we’d confessed our “numbers” to each other. I hadn’t been all that surprised to learn that he’d slept with sixteen women before me. He was gorgeous and could literally have any woman he wanted. But he’d told me that seven of those girls were one-night-stands the summer before his senior year of college. I’d asked for more information, but he’d refused to share at the time. So was I more curious about what had led to a string of one-night stands that took place over one wild summer? Or was I more curious about his relationship with his mother?

  “Whichever you feel like sharing, Nick,” I finally answered, taking a big gulp of my champagne.

  He thought for a moment. “Neither, really. They’re kind of entwined, so I’ll start with the summer of seven, I suppose.”

  I wondered if his wild summer may have been a reaction to something his mother had done. Turns out I wasn’t wrong.

  “So, as you know,” he began, cutting another piece of his beef while I poked around at my potatoes, “I inherited some money when I turned twenty-one. More than an irresponsible twenty-one-year-old should probably have. I was immature and reacted foolishly to things my mother had done.”

  He lifted his fork to his mouth, and I couldn’t help but watch the way his lips parted. He was wickedly, sinfully, beautifully sexy, and I felt a wave of love filter through my veins for him. I didn’t know exactly what his mother had done, but he had grown into the intelligent, charming, and handsome man sitting before me. Whatever secrets he held in his past really didn’t matter because they shaped who he had become, and I had fallen in love with him exactly as he was.

  When he finished chewing his meat and swallowed, he continued talking. “For one thing, she tried to get her hands on my money. As you are well aware, I view my mother as a gold digger, and part of it stems from her trying to take something that simply didn’t belong to her. She also tried to take Josh’s money.”

  I wish I could say I was shocked by that revelation, but I just wasn’t. Based on the few snippets he had shared about his mother, I wasn’t shocked at all. But I had to wonder, what kind of person tried to take money that belonged to her sons – money that they were entitled to because her husband had died in a tragic accident?

  “The trust fund that had been set up for me had grown quite a bit. My dad died when I was seven, so the insurance funds that went into my account had fourteen years to mature.” He paused and played with his mashed potatoes. I finally took a bite of my food, not sure how to react to the statement that he had a lot of money. I already knew that part of it, but I didn’t want to interject with meaningless chatter when he was finally telling me the things I’d been begging for.

  “I found out other things about my mother that summer, and I reacted by acting out. I drank a lot. I started smoking pot, and my buddy got me into selling it, too. I got into fights, and I got my ass handed to me on more than one occasion. I started gambling since I was of legal age, so I hit up casinos and blew through some of my trust fund at the blackjack tables. And when none of that made me feel any better, I turned to women to fill the void.”

  He paused to take a sip of his champagne. “I take it that didn’t work?” I asked, trying to picture the disciplined, cultured man before me getting high, getting into a bar fight, and then heading home with some random girl. I just couldn’t imagine him acting out on all of those vices.

  He shook his head, and I took another bite of potatoes.

  “No, it didn’t. I tried filling the void with seven different women, but not one of them made me feel any better. Neither did the pot or the alcohol or the gambling.”

  “Would you change any of it?” I asked.

  “You know how I feel about regrets.”

  “You can’t change it, so you move on,” I recited the phrase he’d said to me on more than one occasion.

  He nodded. “It took my brother to help me learn from it, but eventually he showed me that wasting money was dumb. I learned that using women who I had zero connection to wasn’t worth my time. I learned that it was better to wait for someone I cared about than to sleep around. I stopped smoking and cleaned myself up. I went onto my Master’s degree right after college and paid for it all myself because I didn’t want to owe my mother anything. And for sure I have no regrets about that.”

  “Did your mom get any of your money?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No. But Josh and I had to hire lawyers to keep her away from it.”

  “God,” I breathed. I was so close with my parents, and I just couldn’t imagine a time when they would let money come first before our relationship.

  I wanted to know more about his mother, but he’d given me a lot more than I’d expected when we had started dinner.

  “So that’s the story behind the summer of seven. I didn’t want to talk about it because it’s hard to admit the reasons behind my actions. I acted out stupidly because of the way my mother treated my brother and me, and one of the most important lessons I took from that summer – aside from how closely it bonded my brother and me – was that I couldn’t blame other people for the way I acted. Yes, what my mother did was terrible, but I used that as an excuse. I learned that I had to own up to my own mistakes.”

  A light dawned in my mind. “That was why you took me back even after Travis told you what he and I had done while we had been apart.”

  He nodded. “I knew that it was my own fault. I drove you into another man’s arms by breaking things off the way I did. If I had just been honest with you from the start, you never would have had a reason to run to him.”

  That may have been true, but in the spirit of owning up to our own mistakes, I had to interject. “I reacted selfishly. I was so hurt by what you had done, and then Trav was there telling me how much he loved me. I turned to him for comfort, and all I could think about was you. I know we’re not supposed to live with regrets, but I wish I could take that night back. I wish I had never been with him, because it only gave him false hope that ripped our friendship apart and caused problems between you and me. And it didn’t make me feel any better.”

  “Neither of us is innocent. I hope we can just put it behind us.”

  “Working on it,” I said.

  The
waiter came by to check on us, effectively interrupting our conversation. I was lost in thought about Nick’s confessions. Nothing about what he had told me was all that bad; I already knew that his mom was a money-grubber, and I knew that he’d smoked in college. Even so, I could see that he looked a little lighter after we had talked about some of his past. Maybe talking to me would be better for him than he thought. Maybe it would help him unload some of the heavy burden that he had carried around his entire life.

  I felt a closer, more intimate connection to him after our talk. And when work ended the next day and I arrived at the bar for our weekly happy hour, I didn’t even care that Bree was already there, waving Nick over and motioning for him to sit in the empty seat next to her. We had decided to carpool to work that morning, so we walked in together. Nick threw his arm around my shoulders as we walked up to the table. There was another chair open on Bree’s other side, and I hated her just a little more as I realized she had purposely sat in the middle of two open chairs just so Nick and I wouldn’t be able to sit together. It was an adolescent and immature move on her part, and what Nick said next made me positively swoon.

  “Would you mind moving down a chair so I can sit by my fiancée?” he asked Bree.

  I smirked at Bree, who had the grace to look a little embarrassed, and Nick took the seat furthest from her so that I would be seated next to her. While my level of hate grew for her, so did my level of love for my fiancé.

  She turned her back on me and spent the majority of our time at the bar talking to Derrick. I chatted with Nick and Cash, who sat across the table from us, and I found this second happy hour to be much more enjoyable than the week before. Cash regaled us with the story of how I shattered my wine glass at our last happy hour. Given all of the drama that Nick and I had been through over the past week, I’d never gotten around to telling him the story of what really happened. He laughed as Cash embellished the details, and it felt good to drink a glass of (white) wine and laugh along with someone who had become my only friend at work aside from Nick.

  I saw Bree turn and glare at Cash out of the corner of my eye. He rolled his eyes and continued his tale, and then he launched into a story about his latest conquest, an apparently hot guy named Johnny.

  “Really?” Nick chuckled. “Johnny and Cash?”

  “Yes. At our wedding, our first dance will be to ‘Ring of Fire,’” Cash deadpanned.

  “Just don’t bend over at Folsom Prison. You might get the Blues,” Nick said, quoting another Johnny Cash song title.

  “A gay man bending over in a prison? Definitely not the blues,” Cash retorted, and I almost snorted on my wine from laughing so hard.

  On our way home, Nick brought up a subject that I was sure had already been closed. “Have you spoken to Travis?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Is he still in town?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. I would venture to guess he’s not. He and Lindsay both have jobs in San Diego, so I’m sure they just came in for the weekend.”

  “If he’s still here, and if you want to talk to him and clear the air, just go tonight and just be done with it.”

  I glanced over at him. “Has this been on your mind?” I asked.

  His eyes didn’t leave the road. “I feel like things are better between us, but I don’t want you hurting, baby. I know it’s hard for you to give up something so important to you, and I just want to make sure you’re okay with it. I want you to have the closure you need.”

  I rested my hand over his on my leg. “Thanks, Nick,” I murmured. I briefly wondered if he was still considering my request to allow Travis to stand up in our wedding. I highly doubted it.

  I pulled out my phone and texted Travis. Are you still in town?

  His reply was nearly immediate. Nope. Back in CA. Why?

  Just wanted to talk. It can wait.

  We’re thinking about coming back in a few weeks for Parker’s birthday. I’ll text you. Everything okay?

  I smiled. Everything was okay.

  Yes. Thanks for listening the other night, and I’m sorry again for being an idiot. Nick and I are better than ever.

  One last text came through from Travis: Don’t worry about it. I’ll text you when we are in town.

  I thought about the “we” in his text. He was part of a “we” now with Lindsay. He and I would never be a “we” again. And looking at my handsome fiancé in the driver’s seat, I realized that I was okay with that.

  CHAPTER 25

  NICK MATTHEWS

  The meeting I had scheduled the next afternoon was with the man who I didn’t recognize from the engagement party. It had been in the forefront of my mind for the past three days, ever since I had made the appointment to meet with him.

  He had approached me again, later in the evening, after the fiasco with my mother, and handed me his business card, telling me to call his secretary to schedule an appointment. I thanked him and shoved it in my pocket, and I didn’t look at it again until later that night, after Julianne had left and I was alone and brooding. I emptied my pockets before changing out of my pants, and I saw the card in there. Suddenly curious as to who the man was, I had looked at the card and saw the name Jack Miller. I assumed he had some relationship to Travis, but I still didn’t know what the relationship was until I read the business on the card: Miller Designs. Turns out Jack Miller was Travis’s father – the man who owned Miller Designs.

  I couldn’t possibly imagine what he wanted with me, but he had piqued my curiosity.

  I was about ten minutes early for my meeting. As I sat waiting in the reception area, I could feel the receptionist’s eyes on me. I refused to glance up from the portfolio I’d brought with me; I was engaged to the world’s most beautiful woman and didn’t have eyes for anybody else.

  Jack came into the reception area to greet me, and I stood and shook his hand. He was a friendly looking guy, but I could also sense that he was cutthroat when he needed to be. You just didn’t get to be as successful as he was by being nice.

  He led me back to his office and motioned for me to take a seat.

  “So, Mr. Matthews, I’ll get right down to business. Julianne is like another daughter to me. I trust you’ll take care of her?”

  That’s why he invited me here? To give me fatherly advice regarding his pseudo daughter? “Of course, sir. I love her and am committed to making her happy for the rest of her life.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear. I don’t get involved in the affairs of my children, but I do take care of them. And if you’re marrying a girl that’s like a daughter to me, that means you’ll be part of my extended family, too.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

  “Jack,” he said.

  I nodded, suddenly feeling nervous about where he was going with this.

  “Do you recall me asking you how you felt about starting your own company?”

  I nodded. In fact, I had recalled the conversation several times since it had happened.

  “I’ve heard rumors that BKG is starting to suffer financially. Do you know anything about that?”

  “I don’t,” I said, but that wasn’t entirely true. I’d heard some rumors, too, but I figured they were just that: rumors. I hadn’t heard anything concrete from any sources that mattered, so I went on with business as usual. It was too daunting a thought that I’d made a mistake in switching over to BKG and bringing Julianne with me. Financially, we’d be fine; but it wasn’t always just about finances. Our careers contributed to our livelihood, and the thought that we could both lose our jobs was unsettling.

  He watched me as if assessing my honesty. I had to force myself not to fidget uncomfortably under his scrutiny. Finally, he nodded ever so slightly, and then he continued, completely changing the subject. “Miller Designs needs a makeover.” His one sentence was abrupt.

  “I’m sorry?” I said, not sure I’d heard him correctly.

  He was calm and cool as he spoke, and I admired his ten
acity and his professionalism. I’d worked with far too many young men who didn’t have the professionalism part down yet, and I hated to see them shooting the shit or shuffling papers or acting immaturely. I knew I was dealing with a genuine expert here, and I was instantly more attentive to what he was saying simply because of his poised and confident demeanor.

  “I haven’t told this to anyone aside from my wife yet, but I’m retiring before the end of the year. I want to make sure Miller Designs has a facelift before I go. We need all new marketing and new branding, but I don’t want to get involved with a company rumored to be going under. I want to work with you, Mr. Matthews, and I want Julianne involved in this because she knows a lot about this company already. She knows my style. And not only that, but she knows a lot about the man I’m planning to promote when I leave. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

  I nodded as everything clicked into place. He wanted me to head up marketing at his company by rebranding and giving the company a new look, but he didn’t want to hire me through BKG. He wanted Julianne involved because he was going to ask his son to take over the company, and Julianne knew Travis almost as well as Travis knew himself.

  He continued. “I want you to realize that this won’t be a one-and-done. I need a marketing team for various projects that I have, but I want to start with the branding makeover. I want a consultant that I can go to with fresh ideas, and I’ve seen your work, Matthews. It’s impressive. It’s original and creative, and the consultants I’ve worked with in the past are becoming tired and outdated. Essentially I’m asking you to leave BKG, start your own company, and allow me to hire you as a full-time consultant.”

  This was the opportunity of a lifetime. It was the chance to open a business of my own, something that had been my lifelong dream. Miller Designs was a big fish. Bigger than a big fish. A fucking whale.

  This opportunity could launch my career in a new direction that was guaranteed to be successful. This could get my own company off the ground and move me into direct competition with companies like BKG and McMillan.