I had a shower myself, put on a change of clothes, and head to the hallway. When I opened my door, I saw the cleaning cart of a housekeeper outside. Adam’s hotel room was open and looked...empty. I rushed to the reception and made one question:
“Excuse me...did the man in the room 406 check-out already?”
The receptionist smiled at me and nodded. “Yes. The man left early in the morning.”
I was standing there with my heart broken, almost ready to burst into tears, when the woman behind the counter talked to me again.
“Excuse me, miss. He also said to pass this letter to you if you ever came searching for him.”
The receptionist smiled at me, probably a romantic one herself. I grabbed the letter from her hands, thanking her in the meantime, before rushing back to my room. I tore it open only to see a two-lined message:
“I wish I could shoulder your pain, Georgia, but I was afraid I would have hurt you worst if I have stayed. I’m sorry.”
And just like that, the dream that was Adam left from my life. But, instead of filling bitter, I’m feeling glad that I met him. He showed me that life and love aren’t in our control. We do our best to tame them only to bruise ourselves in the process.
I wish I could have seen him once again; that way, I could have said to him that I forgive him and that I understand. But now, we’ll both keep on living with the regrets of all the things we left unsaid between us.
Walking lost in my thoughts makes the trip to the grocery store short. I get inside and grab a basket from the side of the entrance. I start strolling around, picking up vegetables and fruits. I have no idea what I’ll cook today, only that I’m in no mood to hold back like I used to.
I know I have to lose these extra pounds around the waist, but after the past month, I think I deserve a cheat day.
I’m making my way to the checkout when I notice the figure of a tall man walking towards me. I stop and wait for him to pass before taking my place in the growing line for the cash register. However, no matter how long I wait, the man doesn’t walk by.
When I decide to raise my eyes, he has already taken the final step separating us.
“Georgia,” Adam whispers in my ear while he’s drowning me in his deep hug.
I’m muffled by his big muscles and the fact I can’t believe that he’s here. From all the places in the world, he’s here next to me. I take a step back and look at him.
“What are you doing here?” I say at once. “How did you find me?”
He looks equally surprised. “I’m staying a couple streets from here. This is my hometown. What are you doing here?” he continues.
“This is unbelievable,” I say, bursting into a loud laughter. “I live a couple of streets from here, too. It’s like someone desperately wants us to be together,” I sputter at the spur of the moment.
After I realize what I’ve just said, I cover my mouth and keep mumbling: “Nonono. I didn’t mean it like that.”
However, Adam starts smiling as well. “Why? Don’t you want to be together with me?” he suddenly asks me.
I freeze for a moment. I don’t know what to say to him. I might have forgiven him but that doesn’t change the fact he has already given up on us once. What has changed now? Why trust him after what he has done?
“I want to be with you,” I start saying, “but I’m afraid that I’ll be overshadowed by her ghost.”
The store clerk is watching us now, and an old lady is holding her breath behind us. For them, we’re a walking episode of a soap opera show. But my thoughts are honest and so I hope his answer will be.
He passes his fingers through his hair and sighs. “You’re right. I’m not worthy of your love. I’m too weak. But I can’t stop thinking about you, Georgia. Since New York, you are the only thing that passes through my mind. ‘What would she had said?' or ‘What she eats for breakfast?' When I left you, I thought I had lost you for good, but now that I found you again, I won’t do the same mistake twice.”
By the time he is over, my eyes have filled with tears once again. I want to say something to him, but the words don’t seem to come. What if he’s wrong? What if I’m not ready to continue? Maybe destiny isn’t enough to conquer all in the end.
“For god’s sake, say yes to the guy or I’ll do it,” the old lady suddenly says behind me.
Only then I realize what a fool I am.
“Well, you’ve heard the lady,” I say, a smile covering my face. “If I don’t do something, you’re all hers.”
A grin slowly blooms on his face, making him look cute and sexy at the same time. Adam gets up on his feet and moves straight to her.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but she is the one meant for me,” Adam says to the old lady and after that turns and kisses me.
When his lips touch mine and I get a sense of his sweet scent, the one that made me fall for him the first time, I feel like the pieces of the puzzle have come together at last.
I don’t know what will happen between us, but for as long as it lasts, I’ll make sure our relationship is full of support and understanding. We both have been hurt, had our hearts broken and that’s where our strength lies. We shall be there for each other, caring and loving until our wounds heal for good.
Until then, let’s hope destiny continues playing its twisted games with us.
THE END
Billionaire For Christmas
Chapter 1
I mean, it’s not like I thought Bobby was the love of my life. It’d been six months and the relationship was winding to an end. But, even if we weren’t going to get married and have four kids and a white picket fence and the whole thing, dumping your girlfriend three days before Christmas is still not exactly gentlemanly behavior. Who even does that? But, hey, I guess now I can really be sure that I’m better off without him. So, thanks for that, I guess, Bobby.
Janice, of course, is over the moon. She’s convinced that this will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back and that now I’ll move home to Oregon. And, while I love my sister and all of her adorable children (And they really are adorable: curly brown hair, big blue eyes. It’s outrageous.), moving home to Oregon is not exactly one of my new year’s resolutions.
“Just come out here for Christmas,” she said when I told her the news. “It’ll be just like old times.”
“Except with your husband and three children,” I responded.
“Well…yeah. Almost just like old times,” Janice laughed. “Come on, Amber, you can’t spend Christmas alone in New York. Just come home. It’ll be fun.”
“Look, Janice, I appreciate it, but at this point, it’s a bit impractical. Ticket prices will be through the roof.” This was true, but it wasn’t the real reason I didn’t want to go home. If I went home all my relatives would want to give me their condolences and sympathy and whisper behind my back about how I’m not getting any younger and when will I finally settle down with a nice boy? I can already hear Aunt Bettina discussing my dwindling prospects with Great Aunt Gigi over a plate of panettone.
It doesn’t matter how many times I tell them: Zia, I’m only twenty-five, don’t worry, there’s lots of time.
Not to mention, my prospects are just fine. I’ve got a good job with Random House Publishing and a cute, rent-controlled apartment in the lower East Side, right around the corner from New York’s best deli, which I share with a gray cat named Rufus who likes his food warmed up slightly, thank you very much. I’ve even already paid off a quarter of my student debt. But none of that counts as far as my very Italian aunts are concerned.
They just sigh and shake their heads and take my hand in theirs and say things like: “No one wants biscotti that someone else has already taken a bite of, if you know what I mean, Amber.” Or, “Yes, but men like young women, Amber.” They mean well, but it’s enough to do a girl’s head in.
All of which is why I will not be flying across the country to spend Christmas with my family. A fresh break up is enough of a bummer already. No
one needs their family rubbing salt in the wound.
“I suppose tickets will be a bit pricey,” Janice replied. “But I just hate to think of you over there all alone on Christmas, Amber.”
“Don’t worry, Janice,” I reassured her, sensing victory. “Loads of my friends are staying in the city for Christmas. I won’t be alone.”Again, not strictly true. It depends on whether or not you count the cast of Buffy the Vampire Slayer to be a company or not. Because, at the moment, my options are 1) go home or 2) cuddle Rufus while watching a Buffy marathon. At least Buffy will make me feel good about my life – after all, at least it’s not as shitty as hers.
Janice sighed. “Okay, well, if you’re sure. Tim sends his love.” Tim is Janice’s unbelievably upbeat husband who’s always spouting mini pep-talks at the drop of a hat. Yet another reason not to spend Christmas in Oregon.
“Give him and the kids a hug for me,” I replied. And that was the moment that I realized that I hadn’t put anything in the mail for the kids. Shit.
So here I am, three days before Christmas, newly single, and wading through a chaotic shopping mall trying to find presents for my nieces and nephew. I can’t wait until they are old enough to read (the nieces – twins – are two and the nephew is four, so not exactly reading age yet). Then I can just send them new releases from work.
As it is, I’m trying to decide if Janice will think I’m trying to give the girls a complex if I buy themBarbies this early. And, to be honest, looking at these things as an adult does make me question the wisdom of giving them to young kids. No one has tits like that. I put the dolls back on the shelf. Maybe a nice stuffed animal? Or maybe a coffee break. Yeah, that sounds about right.
I head up to the food court and buy myself the fanciest, most ridiculous latte the coffee shop has. One of those enormous flavored concoctions that are topped with half a bottled of whipped cream and cocoa powder. My boyfriend just broke up with me, I tell myself. I deserve a treat. If only the café sold shots of baileys too.
Happily scooping up chocolate-y whipped cream with the end of my straw, I take the elevator back down. It’s one of those glass ones that let you look out at the mall below you and feel superior to all those other shoppers scurrying around on the ground floor like chumps. And feeling superior always makes me feel better about everything else in my life.
This time, the feeling doesn’t last long, unfortunately. As the elevator arrives on the ground floor my phone rings in the depths of my purse. Shrugging one strap off my shoulder, I look down, rummaging around for my phone as I step out of the elevator. It’s amazing how big the inside of your purse is when you’re trying to find something, but how small it is when you’re trying to stuff your laptop into it. I feel like the purses do something tricky with time and space that scientists still haven’t figured out. Or maybe I just watched too much Mary Poppins as a kid.
Anyway, there I am, rummaging and walking at the same time (I should have known!) and all of a sudden I’m doing neither – I’ve walked straight into a man trying to get onto the elevator. So, instead of rummaging and walking, now I’m staring in horror at my beautiful latte, which has spilled all down his very expensive-looking suit.
“Oh fuck,” I say. Not my most elegant response to be sure, but I’m in shock. At least my phone had finally stopped ringing. “I am so sorry! I—” Then I catch sight of the guy’s face. “James? James McEwan? Holy shit!”
“Hi, Amber,” James replies with a smile that is every bit as knee-weakening as I remember it to be. “I see you’re as clumsy as ever.”
“What? No, my phone was—oh, you’re joking. Ha. Ha. And you’re as much of a smart Alec as ever too.” Then I sigh. “I really am sorry about your suit.”
“It’s okay,” James shakes his beautiful head. I swear to God, the man has only gotten more gorgeous since I last saw him. “How have you been, Amber? Long time no see.”
“Yeah,” I reply, remembering the last time we spoke and blushing. That had also not been one of my finest moments. “I’m…I’ve been good. I’m in publishing now. At Random House.”
“That’s perfect for you,” James smiles. “You always did have your nose in a book.”
“And you?” I ask. My stomach is doing some seriously impressive acrobatics. Looks like it gets more out of our yoga classes than I do. Glad one of us is learning something.
James shrugs. “I’ve followed in the family business. Investing in this, investing in that.”
I nod. It’s always been a bit of a mystery what James’s father did for a living other than move frequently. “Your parents must be proud.”
James nods. “They are.” He gets this funny little smile suddenly and asks, “What are you doing for Christmas, Amber?”
“Uhh,” I stall, trying to come up with a convincing lie. Waterskiing in the Caribbean? Mountain climbing in Nepal? Anything to keep him from thinking I’m a lonely loser who spends Christmas alone. “Nothing, to be honest. I’m on my own this year.” Or, you know, that. Mentally, I groan. I’ve always been terrible at lying.
“Really?” James asks, having the decency to look surprised. “I’m sorry to hear that. Why don’t you come over? I’m having a Christmas party for some international business friends who are here working in the States.” He pulls a business card out of his pants’ pocket. One corner is brown from coffee. I wince. He either doesn’t notice or pretends not to and hands me the card. “That’s the address. First floor of the building. It’d be great to catch up.” Amazingly, all things considered, he seems sincere.
“I…thanks, James,” I reply, taking the card. “That’s really sweet of you. Look, can I buy you a coffee? Or maybe a tea or something, if you’ve had enough of coffee for today?”
He chuckles but shakes his head. “Thanks, but I’m in a bit of a rush, actually. And, to be honest, I want to get out of these clothes as soon as possible.”
“Right,” I agree. “Of course.”
“But come to the party,” he says, his gold-flecked eyes even more beautiful that I remember them to be. “Really. I’d love it if you did.”
I nod. “I will,” I say. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure. Though, if you want to pay me back, maybe don’t spill anything on me at the party?” he smiles.
Even though he’s joking, I can feel a blush rise in my cheeks. “I’ll do my best,” I reply.
He looks at me for a second then, very quickly, leans in and gives me a soft kiss on the cheek, his hand touching my arm. “See you there, then,” he says and disappears into the elevator, leaving me standing frozen in the middle of the mall, wide-eyed and holding my breath like a total idiot. Holy shit, did he smell nice. How is it even possible to smell that good?
Finally the last of his after shave fades and I snap out of my reverie. Looking down at my empty coffee cup, I grimace and flop onto the nearest bench. Setting the cup down beside me, I let my head fall into my hands. God, that was so embarrassing I could literally die.
The thing is James isn’t just any old random acquaintance. He was my senior year boyfriend back in Oregon. I loved him like a crazy person. Hell, I lost my virginity to him! I’ve never loved anyone like I loved James, and, as my aunts would be the first to tell you, there’ve been many guys since.
But James’s father worked for a multi-national investment firm and, one day in February of our last year of high school, his firm decided that they needed him in Germany. A week later the whole family had moved to Frankfurt. James told me they were moving a mere eight days after we had sex for the first and only time.
We thought we were going to be together forever. I’d never been one of the popular girls in high school and, for me, losing my virginity had been a pretty big deal. But we’d been going out for six months and, like I said, I was totally crazy for him. I thought he was The One. You know how high school kids are. So, long story short, I did not take the news well.
We were out for a “walk” when he told me. In Portland there are lots of great
forests criss-crossed with chip trails for walking, running, and/or making out in. I’m sure you can guess which of those we were doing.
We’d strayed from the main path a bit and were lying down on the bank of a stream. The ground sloped down to the water so people on the trail couldn’t see you if you were down there, which is exactly what you want when you’re seventeen and desperate to have your boyfriend’s hands up your shirt. We’d brought along a blanket because the bank of the stream was all pebbles and debris from the trees and no one wants to stop the mid-make-out session because a rogue stick is jabbing you in the spine. It’s not very romantic, trust me.
So there we were, just us, the water, and a whole lot of greenery and James was doing something amazing in my mouth with his tongue when suddenly he pulled away and rolled onto his back, looking up at the faraway tops of the trees. Surprised and more than a little put out, I sat up, readjusting my rumpled top.
Big Bad Billionaires [Volume 2] Page 21