by Ava Miles
God, he couldn’t handle that right now.
Not when he missed her like this. The hole he’d lived with all his life was back, and it was larger than it had ever been. The one person who could fill it was lost to him.
When the knock on the front door sounded a half hour later, Terrance pushed through his dread and rose to open it. His friend hugged him and stepped inside.
“You look like someone took you to the woodshed but good, T.”
He shrugged, waiting to hear what Rhett would say.
“You done good,” Rhett said, slapping him on the back. “If I’d been there, I would have kicked him in the nuts, guy rule or not. Repeatedly.”
Yeah, most guys didn’t kick other guys in the nuts. It was an unspoken rule on the streets.
“That’s what Peggy said,” Mac told him when Terrance remained silent.
“She’s a smart woman,” Rhett said, dropping onto a bar stool and helping himself to the bourbon. “That’s why she married you.”
“Indeed.”
“How is she?” Terrance made himself ask Rhett. Elizabeth’s tear-ravaged face and pained gaze haunted him.
“Jane’s with her. They were still talking when I left. We have a suite at the Plaza.”
Good. The hotel knew how to protect famous—and infamous—people. “I’m glad you guys are there for her.”
“We’re here for you too, T.” Rhett downed the bourbon. “Or are you planning on fighting your way out of this alone like some macho asshole?”
“I got myself into this, and I’ll get myself out of it. This doesn’t have to affect anyone else.”
“Bullshit. What the hell are friends for?”
Okay, now his throat was raw, and not from the bourbon. “I’m going down, man, and everybody around me needs to step back, or they’ll go down with me too.”
“So, you’re just going to take the hit and not fight back?” Rhett asked. “You’re going to let that asshole win?”
“That asshole has already won. He was the victor seven years ago when Elizabeth and Jane ran. Now, he’s got me by the balls too. The best we can hope for is to protect Elizabeth from him. I told her not to say a goddamn word.”
He paused then. The cussing was just a reminder of the backward direction his life was taking. Rhett was right. It had to stop. He had to be the change he wanted to see. Even though it hurt to remember all the reasons he’d started the Cuss Fund, he reached into his wallet and drew out a hundred dollar bill because it was something he could do—for himself. His friend glanced at the Ben Franklin he shoved into his pocket, but said nothing.
Rhett knocked back his bourbon. “What’s your plan?” he finally asked.
He told him what he’d told Mac, and Rhett said nothing, which only made Terrance nervous. When Rhett got stony silent, it meant trouble.
“We’re not even twenty four hours into this here circus,” Rhett finally said. “Let’s see how things play out. Maybe we’ll be surprised.”
Terrance knew how they would play out. He would deliver a shitty apology he didn’t mean in front of dozens of reporters in the wrinkled suit he’d stuffed into his duffel bag. His products would disappear from the shelves. He’d seek professional help because he’d need his head shrunk if he ever fell for a woman again. Somewhere he’d cook.
He had to, or he’d die.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Terrance said, shoving back his sleeves and staring at his tattoos. “People like me are never branded the good guy.”
He’d never admitted it to anyone, but he’d put those griffins on his arms not only as a symbol of rising above his circumstances—that was the nice answer—but also as a f-you to all of the people who’d already judged him a street rat, a nothing. If he said it first, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as bad.
But God, it still hurt.
He was back to being nothing again.
Chapter 40
The waiting room to one of New York’s biggest morning shows was filled with flowers, bright colors, and plenty of people checking Elizabeth’s makeup and asking if she wanted another cup of coffee.
Jane sat beside her, holding her hand. “You’re gonna be great, Liz.”
Waking up at the Plaza without Terrance beside her for the first time since they’d come together had helped her find the inner strength to face her greatest fear.
Vince was going to pay for what he did.
Even if he told the world she was gold-digging whore.
She was going to make her story public so everyone knew why Terrance had attacked Vince.
He wasn’t going to lose everything he’d worked so hard for because of her.
“I’m so afraid I’m going to forget what we wrote,” she told Jane.
“Come on. You can keep track of the cards of famous poker players without batting an eyelash. This is a walk in the park.”
It wasn’t, and they both knew it. She was going to be sick again, violently sick. The poor girl who’d done her makeup had rubbed her arm in comfort when she’d returned from bolting to the bathroom. A breath mint and reapplied makeup had helped her look and feel slightly better, but sweating profusely and puking were hell on Chanel.
Her lawyer was standing by as well, knowing that heads were going to roll once she gave her public statement about Vince Harwick of the esteemed Harwick financial empire.
Including her own. Vince would make sure she graced his chopping block.
Matt had even helped her by reading over her lawyer-approved statement, adding his two cents on how she could humanize herself and the story more so Vixen wouldn’t be the center of attention. His advice was to keep it on Liz Parenti. Show the audience pictures of that young, innocent girl at Harvard.
With Jane’s help, she’d pulled together a series of photos of them from Harvard. They’d poured all their energy into creating a media package to curry viewers’ sympathy, and she’d asked Mac’s publicist to go over it as well since she respected her opinion.
“You’re going to break their hearts, Elizabeth,” the woman had said.
If so, their hearts would be just be like hers.
Shattered.
News of her exclusive interview had spread across the airways, and Terrance had been calling her nonstop. She hadn’t answered, fearing he would try and talk her out of it. Worse, fearing she would break down and curl into a ball at the sound of his voice.
Rhett was in charge of keeping Terrance from showing up today, and so far, he’d succeeded.
Mac and Terrance’s publicists were over the moon about her telling the truth, Mac had told her, and both camps were going to release a statement right after her interview saying that Terrance had been protecting Elizabeth from a deeply violent man.
Mac had never backed down from a fight, and he wasn’t going to start now.
Jane was betting she wasn’t the only one Vince had stalked, but Elizabeth couldn’t think about that now. If others came forward, they would band together. Heal together if need be.
And take that bastard down.
“Ms. Saunders?” the woman assigned to her said. “It’s time.”
Elizabeth hugged Jane tight.
“You’re going to do great,” her best friend whispered. “I’m so proud of you.”
One more squeeze, and she stepped back. She could only nod jerkily. Her voice wouldn’t work.
It had to work.
She was led to the set. Numbly shook hands with the show’s hosts.
There was small talk, and then the female host touched her arm gently. “Just remember you’re doing this for every woman who’s ever been threatened by a man.”
The cameraman cued them. The host introduced her.
She looked into the camera. And found her voice.
“Hello. My name is Elizabeth Saunders, and I was stalked by my college boyfriend.”
Chapter 41
Terrance watched Elizabeth’s interview from his chef friend’s apartment. His heart beat painful and fast in his c
hest as he watched her pale features, listened to her thready voice tell the story she’d once told him in tears.
Rhett had forcibly stopped him from going to her and trying to talk her out of it. His friend had threatened to knock him out, and he’d meant it. She has to do this, T, and I’m not going to let you or anyone else stop her.
Now he realized it was true. She had to do it—not just to save him, which he knew was her primary motivation, but for herself.
He’d never been more proud of anyone in his life.
Elizabeth had done what she had to do. Just like he had.
Now all he could do was support her.
After her interview, his publicist’s phone rang off the hook with more requests for interviews. For the next couple of days, he made the rounds to all the major shows, telling the story about the innocent Liz Parenti and her stalker boyfriend, Vince Harwick.
His business deal with Harwick & Taylor had been bought by Mac’s investment bank with Mac’s assistance after Terrance’s lawyers had reached out to his former business partner. He was glad to be done with the Harwicks professionally.
But it wasn’t over for Elizabeth.
No, the Harwicks had immediately launched their own campaign to paint her as a fortune hunter and a slut, but it didn’t stick. Her vulnerability and raspy voice on camera, backed up by other Harvard students who remembered Vince’s possessiveness, turned public opinion against them. As did the teachers from the Ivy League university who’d touted her genius and Harwick’s entitled attitude.
Two more women came forward to say Vincent Harwick had stalked them while they’d worked at the bank. Then the tide turned even more. Vince’s wife released her own statement about her husband’s philandering and possessiveness, filing for what would become a very public divorce. She even publicly apologized to Elizabeth and the other students for her soon to be ex-husband’s behavior.
Immediately, Mr. Taylor of Harwick & Taylor issued a brief statement to the press that the junior Mr. Harwick had resigned to see to his personal life.
No lawsuit had been launched yet by the Harwick family against Elizabeth, and Terrance hoped to God it wouldn’t come to that.
Elizabeth deserved peace after all she’d been through, and he hoped she would find it.
He texted her only once after the interview. Wrote three or four different phrases until he settled on something simple.
Thank you for what you did.
Her answer was equally brief.
I did it for both of us.
Nothing more. Well, what more was there to say? None of this changed the facts. Elizabeth had lied to him and hadn’t trusted him. Had believed the worst in him. And it was on him that he’d validated her fears.
He couldn’t live his life with someone like that.
But by God, he missed her, and the pain was almost too much to bear.
After further conversation, he and Mac had decided to move forward with putting Terrance in charge of another one of the Four Aces’ hotel restaurants until Mac’s new hotel in Vegas was open for business. He wouldn’t get the chance to work with Natalie, of course, and the call she’d given him a couple of days ago—offering her support and making increasingly inappropriate jokes in an effort to cheer him up—had made him realize it would be a loss. But Dare Valley just wouldn’t work. He was still mulling over which hotel location to choose that would in the meantime.
Being back in the city, he still felt the urge to hide in its anonymity. He started cooking in his buddy’s kitchen because he felt like a salamander left on land too long, craving water.
But it wouldn’t be enough. He’d have to cook professionally and soon.
He’d have to go back to his life—whatever that life was now.
The only thing he knew was that it didn’t include Elizabeth.
Now it was time to put one foot in front of the other. And that meant returning to his apartment. He was a jumble of nerves on the way there, fearing her Chanel perfume would still linger in the air. He steeled himself to face it like a man.
His phone rang as he was opening the door to his apartment, and he dug it out of his jeans. It was his agent.
“Hey, Nadine.”
“Terrance, I have someone on the line who wants to speak with you.” Her excitement was infectious. “I think you’re going to want to talk to him.”
“Okay. Put him on.”
“Mr. Waters, this is Howard Farnsworth of CST Television.”
Terrance’s body felt like it was sinking into the floor. Howard was the primetime network executive of Lane’s rival network. “Mr. Farnsworth.”
“I understand you don’t currently have an offer for a primetime television show.”
His heart started beating hard in his chest. “No, sir. I’m in between jobs right now.”
The man laughed, and the sound was booming and genuine. Terrance found himself liking the guy right away. “I’d like to change that. I’ve been following you, and I think you can do great things on my network. I was raised in the south side of Boston, so I like people who stick up for women and can still cook the pants off the competition.”
Now he could hear a trace of the rough neighborhood in the man’s voice. “Is that so?”
“I would have clocked that guy good too, if I were in your place. My wife thinks you’re a hero. We’d like to have you over for dinner while you’re still in town to talk things over. What would work for you?”
He’d planned to stay in the city for a few more days, finishing up business, and then he was going to prescribe himself some therapy: a beach and a hammock and a bottle of rum, with loads of quiet. No press allowed.
“How about tomorrow night?” he suggested.
“Wonderful. My wife will be having it catered, lest you worry. I’ve been married to that woman forty-two years now, and she still can’t cook an egg worth hell, but since I can’t either, it works for us.”
He felt a smile come and go on his face, a rarity lately. Yes, he already liked Howard a lot. This felt like a much better fit than Lane ever had.
“Great. I’ll see you then.”
“I’ll send my car for you at seven.”
Wow, a dinner invitation and a private car. The man was serious. It looked like he was going to get his primetime TV show after all.
And all because of Elizabeth.
He was frowning as he moved into the family room. Dropping the duffel, he closed his eyes briefly, letting her perfume tickle his nose. Her scent lingered here just like he’d feared.
Elizabeth wasn’t a woman who was easily forgotten.
He braced himself to cook his way out of all of these god-awful feelings. Then he noticed two keys resting on the side table.
Crossing to them, he picked them both up. They were cold in his hands. He remembered telling her to leave his key when she left.
His key was there all right.
But she hadn’t taken hers back.
His heart thundered in his chest. She was trying to tell him something.
It was time to find out what.
Chapter 42
Natalie had gotten up late after staring at the ceiling for two solid hours before finally falling asleep. Blake was interrupting her sleep patterns again with vivid dreams of their life together.
Tears streamed down her face each time she awoke.
After getting dressed, she brushed her teeth in furious strokes, wincing when she rubbed her lower gum too hard. Her phone rang. It was Moira. She hit speaker.
“Hey, Mo! What’s up?”
“Where are you?” her sister asked, her voice urgent.
“At home. I’m running late. Why? What’s going on?”
“Turn on your TV. You aren’t going to believe this. My whole office has stopped working. Everyone is in shock.”
Her stomach chilled. God, please don’t let it be another school shooting or a terrorist attack. “What’s the matter?”
“Just turn on a local station. Any stati
on. My God, Nat, I just can’t believe it.”
Her phone beeped, and Caroline’s name appeared on the screen. Then Andy sent her a text.
What the hell?
“I’ll call you back, Mo.”
She ran into her front room and hit the remote, searching for her favorite local station. The first thing she registered was Blake standing at the microphone, dressed in a somber gray suit, camera flashes punctuating the air around him like starbursts.
The news banner at the bottom hit her like a Mack truck, and she sunk to her knees in front of the TV.
BREAKING NEWS: DENVER RAIDERS QUARTERBACK RETIRING
No, she thought. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
She had to turn up the volume to hear him over the buzzing in her ears.
“I’ve talked to Coach Kilpatrick and the team about my decision. They weren’t exactly thrilled, but they know why I have to do this. I hope the fans can understand that sometimes our personal lives take precedence over our careers, and this time, I’ve decided I have to put that first.”
His personal life? Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. He couldn’t retire from football because of her. Football was his reason for living.
A memory wormed its way into her mind. She’d told him that once after they were married, and he’d kissed her and said she was his reason for living now. Football came in at a close second.
“This team…” He broke off, and her heart bled for him, knowing how much this was hurting him. “This team has been my family, and we’ve been through a lot. I will always be grateful to them for letting me lead them. And I want to thank the fans, who made my Sundays…just awesome. Well, except when I didn’t play well. Then they pretty much tanned my hide, which I deserved.”
A few reporters laughed, and Blake had to cough to clear his voice.
“That’s all I have to say right now. Thank you.”
And with that bombshell, he left the podium, reporters shouting questions after him.
She broke out in a cold sweat.
He couldn’t do this. Not because of her.