“Jude, good to meet you,” Hunter says, though he doesn’t extend a hand. Jude nods, and my ex focuses on me next. “Love, hope to see you again sometime. Take care.”
With that, he’s gone, and I unfasten myself from Jude’s side.
“I didn’t realize you were still friendly with your ex,” he says while we head back to The Jasper.
“Is that a problem?” I respond with a question that doesn’t confirm nor deny what he’s asserting.
“Not at all. You just never talked about him much. I assumed you weren’t on speaking terms.”
I’m not sure why he’s asking me this or why it matters, but the way his forehead is lined and his jaw is tightened, it seems like he’s genuinely curious.
“Actually,” I say, “this is the first time I’ve seen him since our divorce was finalized. He was surprisingly cordial.”
“You didn’t expect him to be?”
I laugh. “I didn’t. He’s not a good person, Jude. He was a terrible husband. He lied, he controlled, he cheated. Our divorce wasn’t pretty.”
Jude is quiet, lost in thought perhaps, and by the time we make it to our lobby, he still hasn’t said a word.
I can only hope he’s finally seeing Hunter for who he is. I hope it makes him realize he fucked up. And from here on out, I hope it keeps him up at night, eats away at him and makes it hard to look himself in the mirror every morning.
We ride in silence to the seventh floor, and when we make it to our hallway, I hand over his coffee and breakfast.
“I’ve got some meetings today,” I say, checking the time on my phone. “Need to finalize the logo for Agenda W and stop by my attorney’s office to sign a few more things, but I’ll be around tonight …”
Jude’s olive gaze searches mine, only now he’s looking at me differently.
Closing the gap between us, I hook an arm over his shoulder and rise on my toes before pressing my mouth against his. The kiss is quick, less than passionate.
I don’t understand what’s happening.
I’m giving him everything he wants and he’s pulling back.
“Can I see you tonight?” I ask. “When I get back?”
Worrying the inside of his bottom lip, he says nothing.
“Jude?” I say his name, half-chuckling. “You okay?”
“You told me you loved me this morning,” he says.
Is that what this is about?
Does he think I love him and he’s all of a sudden growing a conscience?
“I did?” I play dumb.
“You were half-asleep,” he says, “but you said it … did you mean it?”
Lifting my shoulders, I tilt my head and smirk. “I said it, didn’t I?”
“Love … did you mean it?” he asks again.
“Why would anyone say something like that if they didn’t mean it?” I ask, leaning close and kissing his mouth again. “I should get going. I’ll text you on my way home later.”
He stands there watching me as I walk away, cooling cup of coffee in one hand and the brown paper bag in the other. I don’t stay long enough to study his reaction, though by the time I’m back inside my place, I almost wish I had.
Not that it would make a difference.
The damage has been done.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jude
She loves me.
I mean something to her.
This is more than the beginnings of a summer fling that never quite got off the ground.
I rinse the soap from my body and kill the shower water before grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my waist. The glass on the mirror is fogged, but it’s all the same because I’m the last person I want to look at.
I knew ending this was going to be messy, but Love’s admission adds another layer to an already complicated situation.
I can’t keep this going.
I can’t drag this out a second longer.
Grabbing my phone from the bathroom counter, I dial the number for Blue Stream Records. Hunter’s assistant answers on the second ring, placing me on hold. As soon as she returns, I tell her I need to meet with him immediately.
“He’s out of the office right now,” she says, “but he should be back soon.”
Yeah. I know. I ran into him an hour ago.
“I could put you in around eleven, if you’d like?” she offers.
“I’ll take it.” I give her my name and end the call, struggling to drag in a single humid breath in this stifling bathroom.
Today’s the day.
* * *
“I don’t understand.” Hunter perches on the edge of his polished desk, his fist pressed against his frowning mouth. “I saw you two this morning. She looked happy. You had your arm around her. And now … now you want to pull the plug? Are you fucking kidding me, Jude?”
Hunter’s shaky gaze lock onto mine and his thin lips are fused.
I knew he’d be angry.
I knew he wouldn’t shrug his shoulders and say, “Okay!” and send me on my way.
“I don’t expect you to understand,” I say, keeping an eye on his clenched fists and tight posture and the fact that he’s looking like he’s two seconds from clocking me—not that I couldn’t handle the pipsqueak.
“Are you … did you … do you love her? Is that what this is about?” His nose is wrinkled, the tone of his voice snarled. “You caught feelings for her and now all of a sudden you’ve grown a fucking conscience?”
Yes.
That’s exactly it.
“No,” I lie. It’s none of his fucking business how I feel about Love.
“Then what’s the problem?” Hunter slides off his desk and paces his expansive office, stopping to take in his million-dollar view. His silence concerns me, but it doesn’t scare me. I’ve already made the decision to sacrifice everything I’ve ever needed in my life so that Love doesn’t have to. “That hard part’s over. Why would you walk away when you’re so damn close?”
“She doesn’t want to get married again,” I lie again. “It’s a lost cause.”
“Bullshit.”
“I don’t want to waste her time. Or mine,” I say, “or yours.”
“Bull-fucking-shit.” He turns to me, brows pinched. “She’s the most malleable human being I’ve ever known.”
“Maybe she was when you were married to her,” I say, “but that’s not the impression I got.”
Hunter strides to his chair, collapsing into the seat and burying his head in his hands as he exhales. He mumbles into his palms, something I can’t discern, and when he finally glances up at me, he leans back and throws his hands in the air.
“Fine,” he says. “You don’t want to finish this? That’s on you. I can’t force you to do something you don’t want to do. But I just want to remind you that you signed an NDA. You can’t tell Love anything you and I have ever spoken about.”
“Well aware.”
“You’re going to have to break it off with her immediately,” he says.
“That’s the plan.”
“And I want you out of that apartment by the end of the week.”
“Not a problem.”
“You can never see her again,” he says. “Do you understand that?”
Releasing a hard, steady breath, my gaze snaps onto his. “Yep.”
Hunter rises, smoothing his tie against his flat chest. “And don’t you ever go looking for a record deal—here or anywhere else. You’re dead to this industry.”
It’s all the same because without Love, I’ll be dead inside too.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Love
“I cannot believe you dropped the L-bomb,” she says over the phone. “Like, you’re really taking this and running with it.”
I shrug, not that she can see me, and press the button for the seventh floor, watching the elevator doors close as Tierney prattles on in my ear.
“How’d he act when you said it?” she asks.
“I don’t know. Quiet? I w
as sort of half asleep,” I say, “but coherent enough to know what I was saying …”
“You’re so bad.” She laughs. The elevator doors open and I glance out, making sure he’s nowhere around before I continue this conversation. “Did he say it back?”
“Nope.”
“Huh. I’d have expected him to,” she says, “you know, to keep the ruse going.”
“Oh, well.” I dig into my purse for my keys, cradling my phone on my shoulder, and a moment later, I’m wrapped in the chilled air of my apartment, locking the door behind me and sliding out of my shoes.
“So what’s your next move?”
I grab a water from the fridge and uncap the bottle. “No idea, but I think I need to dial it down a notch. I get the feeling that the more I push, the more he pulls. Maybe I’m coming on too strong with this?”
“Do you think he knows that you know?”
“Doubt it. Marissa signed an NDA. She begged me not to tell anyone because she’d lose her job,” I say. “She’s not going to go from freaking out about that to running off to tell Jude she knows what he’s doing.”
“True.” Tierney sighs. “Hey … it’s supposed to be nice the next few days and one of my friends just got back from their house in the Hamptons so it’s empty … you want to go? Get away for a little bit? They say absence makes the heart grow fonder …”
I chuckle. “I’ve got him going in so many different directions right now. To go from telling him I love him to jetting off to the Hamptons for a few days is going to leave his head spinning faster than it already is.”
“Good. So that’s a yes?”
Taking another swig of frigid water, I mull it over, but only for a moment. “Yeah. I’m in.”
“Awesome. I’ll take care of our Jitney tickets and let my friend know we’re using his place,” she says. “I just need to clear it with my doctor and then we should be good to go. Let’s plan on leaving first thing in the morning.”
“Perfect.”
The second I hang up the phone, the shudder of a slamming door outside in the hall grabs my attention, and I hurry toward the peephole in time to see Jude locking up and all but sprinting toward the elevator bay.
“Jude,” I say, stepping out of my apartment.
He stops in his tracks, turning to face me and wearing an expression unlike any I’ve yet to see on his perfect face. His eyes are glassy, his smile missing, and the little indentation above his jaw pulses.
“What’s going on?” I ask, closing my door and going to him.
“My niece,” he says, “she was just taken by ambulance to Brooklyn Methodist. She’s in the PICU now and they’re trying to stabilize her.”
My hand lifts to my chest. “Oh, my God.”
“She had an asthma attack,” he says, glancing toward the elevator. “A bad one. I have to go, I’m sorry.”
“Wait,” I say without giving it a second thought. He’d mentioned in the past that his sister is a single mom, and I know she has two kids. “Who’s watching your other niece?”
His chest rises and falls and he’s looking toward me but not at me. I’ve never seen Jude so distraught.
“I don’t know,” he manages to say, “we’ll have to take turns or something.”
“Let me go with you. I can help out.” I don’t wait for his approval before running back inside, grabbing my phone and purse and shoes, and bolting out the door.
A moment later, we’re riding to the main level, dashing through the lobby, and hailing a cab outside the portico.
In this moment, I’m not worrying about what’s fake or what’s real. Nothing else when an innocent little girl is fighting for her life in a hospital across the city. I might be angry with him, but I’m not soulless.
We’ll deal with everything later.
* * *
“The end.” I fold the tattered and torn waiting room book, and Ellie claps her hands.
“Again,” she says, oblivious to the seriousness happening down the hall. We’ve been here two hours now, and I’ve yet to get an update from Jude, who’s been consoling his sister this entire time, but I told him I’d stay here as long as they needed me to.
“Again?” I ask, tickling the sides of her ribs as she squirms against me. This will be five times now reading Elmo’s Favorite Things, and it’s not even the complete story. It appears that several pages have been ripped out, chewed on, or otherwise mangled.
Ellie nods, her dark curls falling over her big blue eyes, and she claps her hands. I turn to the first page. She’s so sweet. If every baby was like this, I’d want a hundred.
I’d always wondered if I’d have been a mom by now—had things turned out differently.
A family with five small kids pours into the waiting room a few minutes later, and within seconds, the TV hanging in the corner flips to the Disney channel. A childlike cartoon princess in a purple dress steals Ellie’s attention, and I quietly fold the book and place it on a nearby side table.
Ten minutes later, Ellie’s body grows limp against my chest and her breathing slightly louder. When I glance down, I realize she’s sleeping. With slow, careful movements, I lean down and retrieve her pink polka dot blanket from the bag I was handed along with Ellie when we got here earlier. Covering her up to stave off the waiting room chill, I rest my chin gently on the top of her head and breathe in her apple-sweet scent.
Resting my eyes for the tiniest moment, I open them a little while later to find Jude standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb and studying us, two cups of coffee in his hands.
“Wasn’t sure if you were sleeping or not there,” he says as he comes toward us. Placing one of the cups next to me, he adds, “That’s for you. In case you need it.”
“How’s she doing?” I sit up, bracing my splayed palm across Ellie’s tummy so as not to wake her.
“Better,” he says. “She’s awake now.”
“Did you know she had asthma?” I ask, “or did this come out of nowhere?”
He glances down at his coffee, pausing for a second, before his gaze lifts onto mine. “We’ve known for a while. I guess the inhaler Lo had on hand was empty. She couldn’t find the spare and Piper was gasping for air and time was running out, so she called 9-1-1.”
“I can’t imagine how terrifying that must have been … for both of them.”
His teeth rake across his lower lip for a second before he takes a sip of his coffee and loses himself in thought.
“Piper’s been sick ever since she was born,” he says. “She was a micro preemie, so that’s caused a lot of complications over the years. On top of the asthma and her partial hearing loss in one ear, she was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes earlier this year.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say, because no other words can do that justice.
“Lo’s a great mom,” he says. “She takes such good care of her girls. Today … that was just a freak situation. Sorry I was so out of it when you saw me in the hall. I just wanted to get here as fast as I could.”
“Don’t apologize.”
Our eyes hold and in this moment, I’m not thinking about a single thing outside these hospital walls.
“Going to go check on Lo and Piper, and then I thought I’d take Ellie home around five,” he says. “She needs dinner and she needs to go to bed on time. Lo’s going to stay here all night.”
“I’ll go with you,” I say, if only because his heavy lids and baggy eyes tell me he needs all the help he can get. He looks like he just returned from the war.
“You don’t have to—”
Lifting a hand, I cut him off. “I’m going with you.”
* * *
I stand in the middle of Lo’s apartment, taking in the sights.
I think this entire place could fit into my master suite. The walls are gray-toned, the beige carpet stained and flattened, and curtains hang off the living room window from nails hammered into the trim.
A flood of toys covers the living room floor and a ménage of fam
ily photos—mostly of the girls—rest on a side table next to a pleather sofa with stuffing teeming out of the seams.
In the kitchen, an open box of store brand Cheerios sits on the counter beside an empty, overturned sippy cup.
This place is bursting with life and love and togetherness.
They might not have much, but they have each other.
“Sorry,” Jude says, lifting his hand to the back of his neck when he returns from putting Ellie to bed. He studies my face, keeping his distance, like he thinks I’m seconds from trying to get the hell out of here.
I fed her chicken fingers and applesauce in the hospital cafeteria an hour ago, just before Jude came back from the PICU to get us. I thought maybe she’d have a hard time falling asleep tonight since she took that nap on me in the waiting room this afternoon, but we spent a good hour or so walking the visitor-friendly halls of the hospital, and then I took her to the park across the street to play for another hour after that.
“The place isn’t usually this … crazy,” he says, moving toward the nailed curtains in the living room and inspecting them. “Huh. The others must have fallen down.” He smirks. “Remind me to tell Lo she did a bang-up job fixing them.”
“I’m sure she did the best she could,” I say, a sleepy smile crawling across my mouth. It isn’t even that late, but this day has left me zapped and lifeless.
“You’re staying here, right?” he asks, detecting my exhaustion. “There’s a spare room. Full-sized bed.”
“I’m sleeping wherever you’re sleeping tonight,” I say. His mouth inches up at the sides, but only for a moment, and then it disappears altogether. For some reason, it’s like he won’t allow himself to be happy. Whether it has to do with his niece’s situation or the fact that he feels guilty, I’ll never know.
Following Jude down a small hallway, he leads me into a dark bedroom. He doesn’t hit the lights, only leads me to the bed covered in messy blankets. As my eyes adjust, I make out a nightstand, a gold lamp, and a small chest of drawers in the corner.
War and Love Page 14