by Lexie Ray
No. I just wanted to go for a walk. Why was this that difficult?
“First time?”
I turned around at the sympathetic voice to see a buff guy watching me. He practically bristled with muscles, but he had a nice smile.
“First time working out?” I asked. “No. First time on this particular treadmill in this particular gym? Yes.”
“I can tell this isn’t your first time working out,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re in great shape. Just doing a little maintenance work, then? The treadmill can be a little tricky if you’re not familiar with this particular model.”
I immediately went into defense mode as he approached the machine, turning to the right to shield my scar.
“My name’s Carlos,” he said, sticking out his meaty hand. “I’m a trainer here.”
There wasn’t anywhere I could turn without looking foolish, so I stuck my hand out and hoped the makeup was doing its job.
“Michelle,” I said. “Trainee, I guess.”
As he crushed my fingers in his strong grip, he looked me in the eyes. Then, the moment I dreaded: his eyes continued to rove my face, drinking in my scarring and all.
“Oh, the Michelle?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, is there only one?” I asked, confused, as I withdrew my hand from his.
“The CEO’s fiancée?” he persisted. “I’m sorry, it’s the scar. Everyone’s talking about it.”
If there had ever been a time for the ground to open up and swallow me whole, this was it. I wanted nothing more to do with the gym. I just wanted to be out of this place.
“I think I changed my mind about the treadmill,” I said, unable to shake the picture of the thousands and thousands of employees of Wharton Group gossiping viciously about the fiancée of their boss and the horrid scar on her face. I could imagine the speculation, the possible explanations they’d come up with as to why he was so interested in something so ugly. Was he slumming it? Was I a charity case? Was I blackmailing him?
“Before you go, tell me something,” Carlos said eagerly. “There’s a pool going. Are you getting married because he caused the scar in some way? That’s my guess.”
Mortified, I hurried out of the gym. What the hell was that? There was a corporate pool about why I was with Jonathan? Shocked and embarrassed didn’t even begin to cover it. Did Jonathan know about this?
I rode back down to the lobby in the elevator, trembling and trying not to make eye contact with anyone in there with me. Were they all stealing secret glances, getting a gander at the scar they’d heard so much about with their own two eyes? Were they trying to guess why I was getting married to one of the richest men in America?
The elevator dinged open in the lobby and I pushed my way out, rushing blindly across the floor, the gurgle of the fountain dimming the echo of voices. It was too late when I realized that I was heading away from the courtyard and the house. I didn’t want to whirl around and head back in the direction I was just coming from. Then, I’d be both ugly and stupid. I could hear the rumors that would swirl then: “I saw the CEO’s fiancée the other day, crying and confused, lost in the freaking lobby. How is she going to survive if she can’t even find her way out of a lobby?”
I wanted nothing more than to take the elevator up to Jonathan’s office, to weep into his arms and tell him to fire everyone, to sack and pillage and burn the company to the ground, but that still wouldn’t erase the hurtful thoughts from my mind, the mixture of fascination and horror from Carlos’ face.
I pushed out the doors and onto the street, walking as quickly as I could before I broke into a jog. I had to get away from there, away from all those prying eyes. Besides, the cold winter air and the breeze from the lake were the perfect excuse for a runny nose, for watery, red eyes. I wasn’t crying. I was running.
I darted around people, the fire in my chest and lungs burning out all of the emotions, all of the horror and insecurity. I didn’t care that exertion would make my scar a livid red. I didn’t care that everyone would see it. I would run so fast that they didn’t know what they saw.
Alternately sprinting and slowing down to make sure that I would continue moving at street crossings, I continued my run, my long purge of bad feelings. Collier had convinced me to stay, but I still wasn’t convinced myself whether it was a good idea or not. I was used to living in the wilderness, to not having to explain myself or my painful past to people who were curious about the scar. I knew I couldn’t blame them. People, by nature, were a curious bunch. But it was so painful to have the most horrifying part of my life on full display for the world to see. It made me feel naked and vulnerable.
I pounded down a set of stairs and dashed through a tunnel, sprinting for all I was worth toward a light. When I emerged on the other side, I realized I’d gone beneath Lake Shore Drive and was now by Lake Michigan.
The wind coming off the water was downright frigid, and I knew that I was underdressed for it. I ran on, uncaring, letting the deep blue of the water absorb the hurt I was leaving in my wake. There were other joggers and walkers using the trail, as well as a good number of dog owners. I blew past them, relieved that they were too involved in their own little worlds to notice mine. My face was numb from cold, but I could imagine just how nasty my scar looked.
If I had my smartphone with me, I could’ve listened to some music on headphones as I ran, as so many other people were doing. Instead, I listened to the music of the slap of my sneakers against the asphalt beneath me. I listened to the music of the passing cars on Lake Shore Drive, the honk of the occasional irate driver, the revving of engines as people hurried to get to where they needed to be. I listened to the music of the lake, the wind whipping the water, and the waves lapping the shore. I wondered if I would ever see the spectacle of the frozen lake that Lucy had told me about. I honestly didn’t think I’d last that long here in the city to see it.
It was a day-to-day affair for me. Just get through today and see what tomorrow would bring.
Finally, good and out of breath, feeling empty and pure inside, I jogged to a stop, putting my hands on my knees, sucking air and puffing it back out in white vapor clouds. For better or worse, this was what I needed. I needed some sort of physical outlet to banish all of the little mind games I’d been enduring. Even though it had started terribly, this run was the best thing I could’ve done today.
I turned back the way I’d come, aware that I had gone a long way, and started walking back to the Wharton Group compound, thinking about things. Even though I’d been humiliated in the corporate gym, today was going to be a good day. I’d seen the lake, Jonathan was ending things with Violet, and things could only get better from here on out. Just as he’d told his family, I was his fiancée. It was me. He loved me. And we were going to continue to work toward our future together.
The sweat had wet my clothes, and I was swiftly losing the body warmth I’d generated through exercise. I was sure I was giving off an enormous cloud of steam, and my legs and hands were chapped and red. People were giving me more than glancing stares as I passed them on the sidewalk, and I was sure it had little to do with me being poorly dressed for the weather. I didn’t care, though. My run had emptied me of all caring. Right now, all I wanted to do was get back to the compound, take a shower, and see what Jonathan was doing.
I wished there were an entrance to the house that didn’t require passing through the corporate building’s lobby. I’d have to ask Lucy. I put the hood of my sweatshirt up and walked as quickly as possible, breathing a sigh of relief when I was back out in the cold of the courtyard. There were just a few people braving the frigid temperatures to get their nicotine fix. It was probably past lunchtime.
There weren’t any staff members to greet me when I opened the door, which was fine by me. I eased my aching feet out of my sneakers and carried them up the stairs, each step I took painful but good. I had really pushed my body today, and it turned out to be exactly what I needed. I could do a few flights of st
airs before calling it quits.
I was noiseless in my sock feet, shivering from my sweaty clothes, the heat in the house making my face feel like it was on fire. I didn’t hear a single sound and started to strip off my workout wear, peeling off my sweatshirt and T-shirt in one movement and leaving myself in my soaked-through sports bra. My nipples were so hard that they practically poked holes through the stretchy material, but I didn’t care. I was so sure I was alone.
When I pushed open the bedroom door, the only thought in my mind being getting in the shower, I was surprised by Jonathan.
Jonathan with his lips attached to Violet’s lips.
Jonathan with Violet’s arms thrown around his neck.
Jonathan and Violet kissing. My husband to be kissing his former fiancée.
I didn’t belong here. I didn’t belong here. I tried to back out of the room again, to flee the way I’d come. I stumbled in my shock and haste, dropping my sneakers with a thump against the wood floor.
I looked at the spectacle in horror, just in time to see Jonathan pull away, bring his hand to his mouth, and look at me.
I actually laughed. I didn’t know whose face was worse—mine or his. We were equally horrified.
“Michelle,” he gasped. “This isn’t—I didn’t—fuck!”
I shook my head, my entire body quavering. I was always going to be the third wheel in this triangle. I couldn’t compare with Violet. She had it all. And her lips had just tasted what was supposed to be mine. Wasn’t Jonathan supposed to tell her not to try anymore, that it was over? Was that his way of communicating the fact?
The blonde stared at me, calculating, gauging my reaction. She was smarter than she looked and had probably orchestrated this entire thing. Jonathan—the way he was now, anyways, robbed of his memories—was too guileless to understand what she’d meant to do.
But I understood everything. Everything.
“Michelle, I’m sorry,” he said, the look of horror intensifying on his face. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, for you to see—for any of this.” He was babbling.
“I think it’s good that you saw,” Violet said smoothly. Her voice was so falsely innocent, but I could hear the cold undercurrent beneath the words. She had planned everything. She was used to getting what she wanted, and she wanted her fiancé back—no matter if he was supposed to marry me.
“What?” Jonathan demanded, fisting his hands in his hair. ”How can you say that? This was a mistake, Michelle. A mistake!”
“We’re meant to be together,” Violet urged. “We are. I know we are. You might have lost your memories, but you didn’t lose your heart. Search it, Jonathan. I know I’m in there somewhere. That’s why you haven’t told me to go to hell.”
I remembered suddenly that I was standing practically naked in front of this horrible confrontation, a sweaty bra and pair of leggings the only armor I had. I was sure that my makeup had melted off long ago during my run.
Despite my obvious disadvantage, despite the cuckoldry, despite my vulnerability, I was calm.
“I think you’re right,” I said. “I think you’re both right. It is a mistake, and it is good that I saw.”
That shocked both of them into silence, and I knew I had their full attention.
“We’ve said and done lots of things so far,” I said. “But I think now is the best time to make some final decisions.”
I looked at Jonathan and had to struggle to keep my composure. Tears glistened in his eyes, and he looked utterly gutted. I had to stay strong, though, and I set my shoulders. I couldn’t simply stand by anymore and watch Violet try to sink her claws into the love of my life. No matter how badly I felt for her situation, Jonathan was mine now. She just needed to understand that.
“I need you to make a choice, Jon,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
“I already have, baby,” he said brokenly, but I shook my head at him.
“It needs to be final,” I said. “Right here, right now, I need to know. Do you want to marry me? Or do you want to marry Violet? We both need an answer.”
Chapter Twenty Three
It was a long, ugly silence, weaving around us like something alive. Violet looked somewhere between triumphant and terribly desperate, her head held high. Jonathan, on the other hand, could barely look at me. My heart twisted as one tear wet a trail down his cheek. It was all I could do to stand still, to keep myself from rushing across the floor to comfort him.
This was it. This was my last stand. I couldn’t play this game anymore of Violet always waiting in the wings for something to happen, for something to go wrong between Jonathan and me so that she could swoop in and take advantage of it.
This ended now. This ended here. Life was difficult enough as it was with Jonathan’s memories gone as he tried to navigate his former life. Neither of us needed Violet’s scheming to add to the equation.
“We decided to have lunch here,” Jonathan said, wringing his hands. I wanted to thread my fingers through his, but I forced my own hands to stay still. “The chef made us soup and salad.”
I was perversely relieved that he hadn’t taken her to the restaurant he and I wanted to go to. That had to mean something, right? Of course, I’d just stumbled upon Violet trying to suck the lips clean off his face, so something else was clearly afoot.
“We came up here because she said she wanted to show me something in one of the boxes,” Jonathan continued, looking sick.
“That’s a lie,” Violet said. “He invited me.”
Jonathan shook his head, his jaw set. Brock’s words echoed in my head. I never should have pitied Violet. She had been dangerous this whole time, waiting for a chance to step in when we both had our guards down. It had been very well played. I had to give her that.
“She kissed me,” Jonathan said brokenly. “She kissed me, Michelle.”
“You liked it,” Violet said, tossing her blond hair. “Admit it.”
“I don’t care who liked what or not,” I said. “I asked a question, and I need to know the answer. Jonathan, do you want to marry me? Or do you want to marry Violet?”
“That’s easy,” Violet cut in as Jonathan opened his mouth. “He wants to marry me. He always has. You’re just some ugly, gold-digging slut. Who would ever want you?”
“Enough!” Jonathan roared at her, making us both flinch. “That’s enough! I could never love someone like you, Violet! Never! I’m ashamed of the man I used to be! What man could fall in love with someone as manipulative and shallow as you?”
I didn’t know whose mouth had dropped open farther, Violet’s or mine. I fully expected for her to turn on the waterworks, but her eyes stayed suspiciously dry. There was some light of hope for me. Maybe she only cried if she thought there was a chance of winning.
“Michelle, it has always been you,” Jonathan said, breaking my heart and shoring it up at the same time as two tears rolled down both of his cheeks. “It has always been you, and it will always be you. I—I’ve started thinking that maybe I was meant to be in that accident, that I was meant to lose everything just so I could find you. You are my everything. Please marry me. This idiocy is over. I’ll find a judge. We can be married tonight if you want. Just say you will. Say you will.”
“Of course I will,” I said, running to him, pressing my cold, sweaty body against his suit. He crushed me to him so tight that I couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to breathe if I couldn’t be with him. He was everything to me.
When we finally broke from our embrace, Violet was still there, staring at us.
“I think it’s time for you to leave,” I said, happy that I could finally voice my thoughts aloud.
“I’m sure you remember the way out,” Jonathan added pointedly.
“I will never forget this,” Violet raged, her pretty face turning pink in her anger. “I will never, never forget this.”
“Some things are worth forgetting,” Jonathan said, kissing me as Violet left in a huff.
“Do you think she’s gone forever?” I asked, enjoying the feel of Jonathan’s arms around me and the new knowledge that I would never have to worry about Violet falling into them again.
“Well, I think my mom likes her,” Jonathan said. “And Jane hangs out with her a lot. But I don’t think Violet will be bothering us otherwise anymore.”
“Please, God, let that be true,” I said, sagging in his arms.
“Why are you all sweaty and cold?” he asked, seeming to notice my state of undress for the first time, rubbing his hand over my bare chest and my breast, lingering over the nipple.
“I tried to go work out in the office, but decided to go for a jog outside instead,” I said, not wanting to go into my reasoning for doing so. Everything had fallen—temporarily—into place. I didn’t want one asshole trainer ruining our moment of peace, no matter how brief it might be.
“You went running outside?” Jonathan asked. “But it’s freezing.”
“I wasn’t cold when I was running,” I said, shrugging.
“You should get in a hot shower,” he said. “Come on. I’ll help.”
“I can bathe myself, thank you very much,” I said, my teeth chattering in spite of my bravado.
“Michelle, I want to do this,” Jonathan said. “Please let me.”
“Aren’t you going to be late getting back to work?” I asked, wrapping my arms around myself and following him to the bathroom.
“Fuck work, and excuse my language,” he said, turning the shower on. “I’m spending the rest of the day with you.”
He stripped his suit off, letting it fall to the floor, and helped peel me out of the remainder of my clothing. Once we both stood in the shower, it was divine. Jonathan rubbed me gently as I gradually stopped shaking. I didn’t know what felt better—his hands all over me or the hot water. Together, they were like heaven.
“Will you ever forgive me for Violet?” Jonathan asked softly. I looked up at him and saw, with alarm, that his face was full of anguish.