The Secret Arrangement

by Vanessa Waltz

  I felt the familiar sting of frustration at Carol’s rigid policies until I remembered: I have money. I could pour thousands into this place.

  Ok, it wasn’t like I had thousands upon thousands, but the money Luke gave me would help repair most of the damage.

  Giving your money away is such a stupid idea.

  But the money was making me sick. I didn’t want it anymore. The articles written about me made me feel ashamed, even though I had done nothing wrong. It reminded me that at its core, our relationship was represented by dollar signs. I knew that it meant much more than that, but I had to get rid of it. All of it.

  I cried when I got home and wrote the check, clutching an eight thousand, five hundred and sixty-two dollar check. I couldn't empty my entire bank account—I still needed to eat and pay my bills—but at least most of it was gone.

  You are so fucking stupid. Just shoot yourself now.

  It would be the most generous, dumb thing I ever did.

  Natalie will freak.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Carol looked at me as if I was on the edge of sanity, which I probably was.

  Just take it before I change my mind. “Yes, on one condition, though.”

  She folded her arms. “What?”

  "I want more authority in the kitchen. There's also got to be a security system so that this never happens again. We need cameras and padlocked gates enclosing the backyard."

  “Fine.”

  Carol stuck out her hand, and I grabbed it.

  Fine?

  I was expecting a fight, but I guess once I waved money in front of her face—nothing else mattered. I turned around and tried to ignore the screaming voice in my head, calling me an idiot for spending the majority of my nest egg. What would happen when another disaster hit and the soup kitchen ran out of funds?

  As I got in my car, I turned the volume way up in the hopes it would drown out the voice in my head.

  At the end of another workday, the BART ground to a halt at my stop, and I stood, following the rush of passengers into the frigid air. I walked down the steps and thought back to the time when I hurried up these steps in a borrowed dress to meet Luke in the city.

  I had a job. Health insurance. All was well, except that I still pined for Luke.

  “There are plenty of other guys out there,” Natalie repeated over and over. “Tons.”

  Except there was only one man, I was interested in. He saved me—he changed my life. I was almost sorry to see the paparazzi dwindle from my lawn. It was a testament to time. The scandal of our brief relationship was ebbing away. No one cared anymore. I wondered if Luke thought of me as often as I thought of him. Was his father still alive? Was he catering to his every demand?

  Once or twice, I wanted to call him, but I didn’t want to be that girl. I would not be pathetic—I would not chase after a man. I made a choice, and I needed to stick to it.

  Wherever he is, I hope he's happy.

  My gloominess hung around me like a cloud as I shoved through the front door. Easter was next week, and Natalie was going home to her parents. She and Ben were taking a break.

  "Natalie," I called out as I opened my apartment door and shut it behind me. "I hope to God we have booze because I'm feeling the need to do some drinking."

  “In here.”

  Her voice sounded strange. Did Ben call? I hung up my scarf and coat rather quickly. I walked into the kitchen and halted.

  He was there, sitting around our crappy kitchen table. His back faced me, but I recognized his dark brown head. He wore a black cashmere sweater and ironed dark jeans. His head turned and those lips I had fantasized about every day, spoke.

  “Jessica.”

  Behind him, Natalie stood and retreated to her bedroom. I was still too stunned to register he was here, in my apartment.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I thought of running into his arms while sobbing, but that wasn’t my instinct. I was numb.

  He rose from the chair but didn’t come any closer.

  “These past few months have been the worst in my life. I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said—”

  “I’m—I’m so sorry.”

  He pushed himself off the table and walked to me, and my heart sped as he came closer.

  “I heard what you did with my money."

  "How?"

  "I was thinking about you one night, and I looked up your kitchen's website. Then I saw your name on the front page, and I knew what you had done."

  He touched my face and a torrent of emotion boiled up, like the burst of liquid from a shaken soda can.

  “Then I got a call from Natalie.”

  “Y—you did?”

  “She told me everything.”

  Tears slid down my face. “Damn her.”

  I love you, Natalie.

  “Don’t be angry with her.”

  “I wanted you to be free.”

  He grasped my hand and squeezed it, willing me to be silent. “These past few months have been so goddamn miserable. You didn’t set me free.”

  “I was trying to do the right thing!”

  “I miss you. I want you and I will not let anyone else get in my way.”

  “Luke, it’s too m—much. I can’t ask you to give everything away.”

  “It’s my decision,” he said in a hard voice. “I don’t need the fucking money, but I’ll die if I don’t have you.”

  I choked into the hands that cradled my face. I don't know which of us started forward, but we both launched ourselves, and our faces joined, the salty tears dripping into my mouth as he held me so tightly against his chest I couldn't breathe. Then I felt like I was in one of those romantic comedies, those silly movies where the man picks up the girl in his arms and kisses her like it's the last one he'll ever have.

  He came back for me.

  I broke off the kiss and laughed in utter joy as Luke’s smile spread across his face.

  11

  I stretched out on the beach towel, closing my eyes as the sun stroked my body with its warm gaze. The roll of the ocean soothed my ears with its gentle lullaby. Eyes closed, I groped with my hand and found the tropical drink perched on a mound of hot sand.

  I could get used to this.

  There were perks to having a rich boyfriend, like the access to one of the most exclusive, private beaches in Bora Bora: unlimited drinks, beachside service, and the gentle sound of the waves. I opened my eyes, and a bright sky burned my eyeballs. I sat up and watched Luke swimming through the ocean waves, his arms rising and water droplets glittering from them like diamonds.

  A smile crept over my face as I watched his arms crash through the waves. He deserved to have a moment of levity after everything that happened.

  He needed to get away from it all.

  Luke reconciled with his father. He told me he went to the hospice after we broke up and they had a heart to heart. After his father died, Luke only received a meager five hundred thousand with a note:

  After all these years, I realized I loved the money more than my family. It’s too much for one person. I do not want to change the man you’ve become. I love you, Luke. -Dad

  Luke’s father had given a similar portion to his uncle, who did not waste time in uttering how disappointed he was. The rest of his fortune was given to charities and other businesses. Luke had already raged and grieved over the money.

  He may not have believed in the message his father wrote, but I did. My eyes teared up under the blazing sun as I recalled the words of his father's last farewell.

  I hastily wiped the wetness from my eyes as Luke emerged from the water, his board trailing behind him.

  Damn.

  There was nothing like watching the beads of water roll down his broad chest, which sparkled in the sunlight. Every time I looked at him, there was still that swooping sensation of joy and disbelief.

  Dripping, he sat down next to me and leaned over. Water from his hair pelted my f
ace, but I didn’t mind because the heat baked my skin. He blocked out the sun and smiled as his soaking head hovered over mine.

  “Come here.”

  I allowed him to pull me upright into his chilly embrace, sparks exploding underneath my skin as he swept his arm around my back. His wet lips touched mine, and I wrapped my hands around his damp head to deepen the kiss. When he pulled away, my heart was flip-flopping in my chest.

  “We don’t take enough vacations.”

  “We’ve only been together six months.”

  He made a sound at the back of his throat. My lips were still tingling from his kiss.

  It had been six amazing months. I found a job as a copy editor at a small publisher in the city. It paid little, but it was a start. Luke usually picked me up after work to take me out to dinner. Six months was enough to know I was in love. Hell, after the first month of dating I had a good feeling about him.

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  I curled my fingers into his hair, suddenly shy. “This feels like a dream.”

  “Which part?”

  "You. The beach. All of it. But especially you."

  “I’m nothing special.”

  I blew out air through my nose. “Says the VP of the biggest hotel chain in the world.”

  “That’s just a job.”

  “You’re the one on the tabloids.”

  He shook his head. “Trust me, Jess. You’re the extraordinary one.”

  “What did I do?”

  “You made me fall in love with you.” He inched forward as my heart clenched.

  My face burned with the intensity of his stare.

  He loved me.

  No man had ever said that to me. It was hard to describe what it felt like—incredible joy swelled in my chest followed by fear.

  The fear it would all go away.

  But I knew that I felt the same about him—I probably loved him after the first week of dating him. Staying at his house already felt like home.

  I spent a lot of nights at his place, but I hadn’t abandoned my apartment, yet. I wasn’t ready to move in with him. Besides, there was still Natalie.

  I frowned as I thought of her. She split up with Ben, her longtime college sweetheart and fiancé. Natalie spent a lot of her days with a box of tissues nearby. I felt bad because things were going so well for me.

  “You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?”

  “I can’t help it. She’s all alone.”

  “She’s not alone. She has a very supportive family.”

  I nodded. “Can’t you set her up with one of your friends?”

  He sighed and shook his head. “I can try.”

  I held him tightly against my chest. “Thanks. I love you.”

  His lips, soft against my cheek, raised a thrill inside me. I melted into his touch, bewildered by my love for him. I could never understand how he made me feel so complete. Luke helped me mend the hole in my heart. I didn’t think I would ever be afraid of anything again.

  “I love you, too.”

  If you enjoyed the book, please don’t forget to write a review! Keep reading for the first chapter of my upcoming release, The Ex Arrangement!

  The Ex Arrangement

  1

  Emilia

  "Put the phone down," I say to the empty room. "You’re not thinking clearly."

  My thumb hovers over his name: Blake (Crazy Ex—DO NOT CALL)

  That’s a bold warning. I must’ve meant it when I edited my contact list. I probably shouldn't click, but me and common sense have an unfaithful relationship. Earlier, I ditched it for tequila. I drank to enjoy myself, and then I drank to forget. Now I'm wasted.

  The world moves like Kaleidoscope, shifting in brilliant greens and gold. The trendy wallpaper of the hotel swirls like a lollipop. There’s a port for iPhones on my nightstand, which is attached to a small speaker. Just in case I want to get groovy. I already raided the minibar and spent my allotted fifteen dollars in snacks. At least my company sprang for a queen mattress. I should be grateful.

  I stand up. Big mistake.

  Everything funnels into a bottle-sized circle. I grope the TV and laugh. So wasted. Can’t even walk. It feels good. I’m free. I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks, which makes calling my ex so tempting. I should phone him while liquid courage blazes unchecked through my veins.

  Swaying, I glance at the screen. His name bleeds under my finger. I'm too drunk to string a sentence together, let alone hold a conversation, and we haven't spoken in a while.

  Who cares? What have I got to lose?

  Don’t fucking do it.

  I ignore the voice, stabbing my ex’s name. It’ll go straight to voicemail. Maybe I’ll summarize the last twelve months and rant about how much I hate him. Every day since we broke up, I pretend it doesn’t hurt. It still knifes at me.

  The call connects, stunning me.

  "Blake."

  Oh shit. That’s him.

  It’s been a year. They say you forget what people sound like if enough time passes, but I doubt I could banish his New York slickness from my thoughts. Sometimes, when I’m lonely and horny, I’ll hear him in the shower like a phantom rising among the steam.

  "Hey."

  "Who is this?" he says, almost indignant. "Emilia?"

  He’s always been so blunt. I should take a leaf from his book. Strip everything I want to a single phrase.

  "I need you."

  Static fills the silence. "What?"

  "I fucking need you."

  Blake chuckles, low and gritty. "Of course you do."

  Shifting the phone to my other ear, I stumble to the bar cart. I’ll require more to drink if I’m continuing this conversation. I reach for vodka and knock it over. The glass tips, spilling booze over the carpet. "Pretty lit right now."

  "I couldn't tell." He gets hot, like he would when we made love. "Where are you?"

  "Home." This doesn't look like my apartment. "No, it's a hotel room."

  "Are you at the conference?"

  "I was." Halfway through, I left. Couldn't handle a condescending suggestion from my manager. "I'm partying by myself."

  "Aww," he purrs. "That's no fun."

  "Are you seeing anyone?"

  Another rich laugh. "No."

  "Really?" My mood lightens. "That’s surprising."

  "Really. You?"

  I sprawl on the bed, tired of standing. I wish I could say I've dated since him, but I've been celibate for a year. It was deliberate. I’m still hurting.

  Digging through iPhone albums, I search for a photo of him. I find a selfie that escaped my purge. My arms are wrapped around Blake’s neck. His handsome face splits with a wide grin as I kiss his cheek. A Ferris wheel spins in the background.

  It was a work-related thing on July 4th. "I'm seeing you."

  "You dumped me." Enthusiasm drains from his speech. "You said I was an inappropriate jerk."

  "You were."

  "Funny how that was a non-issue whenever we were alone."

  It wasn’t. "I didn’t call to argue."

  "Oh? Tell me more."

  I've lost my train of thought. "What?"

  "Why do you need me?"

  My eyes burn the longer I study that picture. We were happy.

  I believed I met the man of my dreams. "I miss you."

  People talk on the other line, and Blake mutters soft apologies. A chime echoes and his voice tumbles through.

  "What do you miss the most?"

  Easy. "Your body."

  "Mmm. Do you remember what I look like?"

  "I remember everything." My ex had a gift for pushing buttons. Talking to him always gets me worked up. "But I deleted almost all your pictures."

  "Want to know what I miss? Sex. Best part of our relationship, bar none."

  My cheeks flush with heat that spreads too quickly. "Fuck."

  "You sound messed up. How many drinks did you have?"

  "No idea. I’m bored."

 
; His delight grows with every response. "What made you think of me?"

  "I was touching myself." I have no filter.

  "Hot."

  "I'm in your panties." My chest shakes with laughter. "I mean, the ones you bought me."

  "Wow." He stifles a laugh. "I’m flattered."

  "Your turn. What are you wearing?"

  "Well, I just left the conference. Not dressed in anything sexy. Jeans and T-shirt. I'm headed to my hotel room, though. I'll probably strip down to my boxers and play with myself as I listen to you."

  "That's dirty."

  "It’s nothing we haven’t done before, sweetheart, and you know it." A rich amusement paints his words. "I could stop by. For old time’s sake."

  I giggle at the image of my naked ex bumbling through the hallway in search of me. "Whatever. You’re not here."

  "At the San Francisco tech con? Yeah, I am. Swear to God."

  I roll onto my stomach, sighing. "It was fun catching up with you. But this bottle isn’t drinking itself, so—"

  "Wait, wait, wait. Don’t hang up."

  "Why? I have nothing else to say. Except I’m really, really drunk and I’m thrilled."

  "Oh, Emilia. People don’t get fucked up because they’re happy." Another chime bings from the speaker. "If I'm honest, that makes me feel good."

  "What does?"

  "You’re still pining after me. Serves you right."

  "Uh-huh." I snort. "I’m the one whose life got ruined."

  "Excuse me?"

  "I never told you." Pain radiates from my chest, burning through the haze of alcohol. "Forget I called."

  "Tell me your room number."

  "No."

  He hardens. "You can’t drop that on me."

  "I can."

  "Come on. We haven't talked in a year."

  I consider it with an open mind. I could let him inside. It plays like a movie—me stumbling into his arms. His mouth on my neck and tits. Before long, he’d bend me over the bed. The prick would use me for a tryst. As though we don't have a history. He shattered my heart. He’s the reason I’m wasted.

  The tail of my buzz fizzles into ash. "Fuck off, Blake."

  I end the call.