“Stop talking.” He pressed his chest against mine and looked directly into my eyes, forcing my body to react against my will. “You’re not making any sense and you know it...”
He placed a firm hand at the small of my back and used his other hand to run his fingers through my hair. He whispered, “You’re just having a rough day...Let me fix it.”
I almost leaned in and kissed him, almost gave in to the warmth that was coursing through my veins, but I jerked my head to the side and pushed him away.
He stared at me for a long time—half confused, half aroused, and I knew I was going to have to go with the worst possible approach if I really wanted to end this.
“Claire...” He sighed. “I’m not sure what happened to you today, but you seem out of it. Whatever it is, let me know so I can make it better...Go sit on the couch so we can—”
“I. Don’t. Want. You. Anymore. What part of that don’t you understand, Jonathan? How many times do you need me to repeat it?”
His eyes darkened and he took a step forward. “Is this your attempt to initiate angry sex? Because I’m seconds away from fucking some sense into you.”
“It’s. Over.” I felt my heart breaking, but I kept going. “You and I don’t belong together and I’m tired of pretending like we do. As much as I’d love to continue this fucking fantasy, I need to get back to reality. And my reality doesn’t include you. The past months were fun, but I’m done with this and I’m done with you.” I made a beeline for the door and twisted the doorknob, but he grabbed me by my shoulders and spun me around.
His eyes were blazing with fury, but he kept his voice soft. “I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me where the fuck this is coming from.”
“I just told you where...”
“Bullshit, Claire. We were in bed twelve hours ago and you weren’t raving like a damn lunatic then. I want the truth.” He paused, and then he lowered his voice. “Just tell me what’s going on...Have you met someone else?”
“What? No. I—”
“Then what’s the problem? And what makes you think I’m going to just let you go? You think you’re going to walk out that door and I’m not going to follow you?”
“Jonathan, please lis—”
“You won’t make it down the hall.”
I knew I wasn’t making any sense, but I had to do this in any way that I could. “What we have is impossible...I think you’ve known that from the beginning because—”
“No. I haven’t. I—”
“Let me finish...” I felt him clasping my hands in his and I almost broke down. “As crazy as this may sound, the feelings I have for you are feelings that I’ve never felt for anyone else—not even my ex-husband...” I jerked my head away as he leaned in to kiss me. “But I recently realized that...It’s hard for me to explain but—”
“Try me.”
My voice cracked. “I knew from the moment that I started dating you that this was going to end very badly for me.”
“It doesn’t have to end at all.”
“It doesn’t have to continue either. I don’t want to—”
He forced his lips onto mine and kissed me until I couldn’t breathe, murmuring against my mouth. “I love you, Claire...And I need you...Stop acting like this...”
I broke away, panting, making him look more confused than ever.
“This is only the second serious relationship I’ve been in throughout my entire life and I think that’s part of the problem...When I was married to Ryan, he used to—”
“Your ex-husband is an asshole who never fucking deserved you.” His face turned red. “Don’t you dare compare me to him.”
“My point was that—”
“That you don’t want to be happy.” He dropped my hands. “That me loving you doesn’t matter because you don’t love me. And I was okay with that, because I could wait. Because I know you’re stubborn and everything in your world is black or white, right or wrong, appropriate or inappropriate. Fine. I get that. But you must not have been paying attention to how things operate in my world, because you’re out of your damn mind if you think that weak ass excuse you just gave me justifies a break up.”
He brushed a hand against my cheek and softened his tone. “I’ll be at your house at seven tonight. After dinner, you and I can have a real discussion about what’s been going on with you. Whatever it is, we can—”
“I thought you said you’d do anything to make me happy.”
“I did. And I meant that.” He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. “Whatever you want me to—”
“Let me go. And don’t follow me.”
He sucked in a breath and clenched his jaw. “No.”
“That’s what I want...” I murmured, not sure if he’d even heard me.
“If you had any idea what I felt for you... If you could feel exactly how much you mean to me...” He paused and I saw the veins in his neck begin to swell. “You wouldn’t dare ask me to do that...”
I stared at him for several seconds, wanting to say “You’re right...Let’s just forget this ever happened and make love to each other,” but I couldn’t do it.
“You letting me go and leaving me alone would make me happy.” I rushed the words out of mouth, trying not to notice the pained expression on his face. My bottom lip was quivering, and even though I’d been trying my hardest to hold back tears, I felt a few of them slipping down my cheeks.
“Is that what you really want?” His heartbroken eyes stared into mine and his voice sounded hoarse. “For us to be over? Just like that?”
“Yes.”
He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. For the first time since I’d known him, he didn’t look like he was calm and in control; he looked completely powerless.
He reached around me and twisted the doorknob, slowly pulling the door open, looking at me like I’d just crushed his soul. “Bye.”
“I’m so sorry, Jonathan...I just think that—”
“Bye.”
I swallowed. I turned away from him and rushed down the hall, onto an open elevator. I pressed “lobby” and prayed that the doors would shut as soon as possible, that he wouldn’t follow me and squeeze in at the last moment.
He didn’t.
I was free.
Chapter 25.5
Claire
Eight weeks ago...
I walked into Dutchman’s, a small gift shop on the eastern docks, and followed Ashley and Caroline around. They’d insisted on coming with me to help pick out a birthday present for Jonathan, even though they hadn’t met him yet.
We’d been shopping up and down the pier all day, but we hadn’t had much luck.
“If you would let us meet whoever this guy is, this would be a whole lot easier.” Ashley picked up a plastic fish and smiled. “Does he like fish?”
“A hundred boxes of sardines, maybe?” Caroline shrugged.
Ugh...“I’ll take a look around...” I walked towards the back of the store and stopped once I caught a view of the ocean from the windows.
“Breathtaking isn’t it?” An older brunette stood next to me and smiled. She was dressed in an all-white suit that perfectly complemented her thin frame, and her hair was neatly swept into a high bun. Her eyes were stark blue with light wisps of gray, and they looked slightly familiar for some reason.
“Very...” I said. “What do you do when it rains though?” I noticed that the window was broken and the coverings desperately needed to be replaced.
“Well, we’re getting a brand new window next week, but as far as the coverings go...I don’t know. We still want people to see the view, rain or shine.”
“You should get bamboo shades—not the yellow ones because they’ll fade after six months. Get the brown ones with the smooth finish; it’ll look more authentic and bring out the earth tones in this room.”
Her eyes sparkled and she reached out to shake my hand. “I’m Denise.”
“Claire.”
“Well Claire, I w
as thinking more along the lines of the basic, plastic white blinds because they’re dirt cheap, but I’ll keep that in mind if this place ever makes a profit.” She laughed. “May I help you with something?”
“I’m looking for a birthday gift for someone I’m dating and I’m not sure what to get him...”
“I take it that this man loves yachts?”
I nodded.
“Come over here to the front then, honey.” She led me to the counter. “Now, there are many things you could get a man who loves yachts, but if he knows his stuff, you have to get it right. How serious are you two?”
I blushed. “I don’t know... I—”
“So, pretty serious.” She smiled. “I have just the thing for that.” She disappeared into a side room for several minutes and came back with a pretty brown box, sliding it to me. “This is what you want.”
“Mini metal anchors?”
She burst into laughter. “No, dear. These are sea hooks. They symbolize that you’re in it for the long haul, that you are—figuratively speaking, anchoring his ship. You get them personalized however you want, and if he knows his yachts like he’s supposed to, he’ll have the hooks welded onto his ship’s real anchor. This will be perfect.”
I rummaged through the box of hooks and pulled out a few golden ones, running my hands along their pointy ends. “I’ll take them.”
“You’ll take what?” “What are those things, mom?” “You’re getting your boyfriend toy anchors?” “What type of guy is this?”
Denise shook her head. “There’s a logic behind it girls, I promise. How would you like them personalized, Claire?”
“Well...How about my name on the bottom of the hooks and his name on the side corners?”
“Sounds great.” She took a pen from behind her ear and wrote on a pad. “And what is your boyfriend’s name?”
“Jonathan.”
“Oh! I have a son named Jonathan. It’s a great name!” She laughed. “Write down your number so I can call you when they’re ready, okay? And trust me, he’ll love them.”
Six weeks ago
I stepped off the elevator and walked over to Jonathan’s secretary. “Good afternoon, Angela. Is Mr. Statham available?”
She looked at me with a “Why are you even asking me that” expression and picked up her phone. “Mr. Statham? I have...” She rolled her eyes. “It’s Miss Gracen, sir...Right away. You can go in now, Miss Gracen.”
“Thank you.”
I smoothed my navy blue dress and opened the door, slowly walking inside. As soon as Jonathan’s eyes met mine, I smiled and felt butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.
“Good afternoon.” He walked over and kissed me on the cheek. “You look amazing...” He led me over to the older brunette I’d seen weeks ago at Dutchman’s. “This is my mother, Denise Statham. And mother, this is—”
“Claire.” She smiled and reached out for my hand.
I was about to say, ‘It’s nice seeing you again,’ but she said, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” I guessed he’d told her about me and she probably didn’t remember me ever being in her shop.
“You’re absolutely gorgeous...” she said. “Jonathan’s very lucky to have you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Statham.”
“I’ll see you next week, son.” She hugged Jonathan and walked out of the office.
As soon as he heard the ping of the elevator, he pulled me into his arms. “Is something wrong? Are you sick? It must be something fatal if you came up here during the hours when people might actually see you.”
I rolled my eyes. “We just wrapped up the sTablet so Mr. Barnes is letting us go home early. My phone died so I figured I’d come tell you that before you thought I was ignoring you.”
“Good decision. I would take you out to lunch to celebrate, but I’m booked with meetings until six. Dinner? There’s a new bistro down at—”
“Mr. Statham? I hate to bother you again, but Miss Griffin is here with an emergency.” Angela’s voice came over the intercom. “She says it can’t wait another second.”
He sighed and stepped back. “Wait here. Don’t go anywhere.” He pulled out a chair for me and walked out of the room.
I leaned back in the chair and shut my eyes. I was thrilled to be done with the strenuous sTablet campaign and I couldn’t wait to move on to something much easier: the sPhone red.
I stretched my legs out and heard the jangling of keys. I opened my eyes and saw Denise walking back into the room.
“I’m sorry, Jonathan. I forgot my—” She stopped. “Where’s Jonathan?”
“He left for an emergency.”
“Hmmm.” She walked over to the couch and picked up a pair of glasses. “Tell me something, Claire...How old are you?”
“Forty...”
Her eyes widened and she tilted her head to the side. “Well, now I know the true meaning of ‘looks can be deceiving’...Is my Jonathan the Jonathan you bought those sea hooks for?”
Clearly... “Yes.”
“Well, between me and you, I wouldn’t waste my time giving those to him. They don’t stand for short-term relationships.”
“Excuse me?”
She sighed. “When his friend Vanessa told me that his girlfriend was a forty year old with two kids I didn’t believe it...I thought to myself, ‘No, Jonathan would never date someone who was that much older than him. He knows better.’ I even wondered what I would say to this woman if I ever had the chance to meet her... And I think my exact words were fuck off.”
What? My mind went blank.
“Whatever is going on between the two of you isn’t going to last another season and you know it.” She hissed. “What young, attractive billionaire wants to live his life with an aging woman and her two teenaged kids? In what world is that happily ever after possible?”
I wasn’t sure what it was about this woman, but she was scaring the living shit out of me and I couldn’t come up with anything to say.
“I’ve seen this all before, Claire.” She narrowed her icy blue eyes at me. “Divorced woman with kids wants to start her life over and decides to go for the younger man this time around. The rehab center is full of those types...The older woman thinks it’s exciting and new; that she’s one of the lucky ones and it’ll last forever, but it won’t—especially not with someone like Jonathan. He’s used to dating supermodels and actresses who are younger than him, not thirsty cougars who want to trick him into thinking he’s in love so they can get his money.”
“Mrs. Statham, I’m not—”
“And before you think otherwise about the way this so-called “relationship” you two have is going to end, let me help you figure it out: He’ll probably never meet your daughters because he’s only into you for sex. Or if he has met them, it was only to put on a show and act like he cares when he really doesn’t. But, oh...What’s this?” She gave me a sarcastic frown. “He hasn’t met them has he?”
My poker face was failing me. I could feel a look of sadness sliding onto my cheeks.
She smiled. “Hasn’t even asked to, huh? Poor cougar Claire...That’s actually not shocking at all, but it must be quite disheartening for you. Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Mrs. Statham—”
“Us middle-aged people don’t have to call each other by our formal titles, Claire. You should be calling me Denise. Then again, you shouldn’t really be around in the first place, so—”
“I don’t think antagonizing me will get you any closer to Jonathan.” I said as firmly as I could.
“You’re right. Getting rid of you will.”
I rolled my eyes. I was going to tell Jonathan about this little encounter as soon as he walked back into the room.
Denise shook her head and turned away, but then she spun back around. “By the way, if you even think about telling him about this—if you repeat any of what I said to you, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
“Do your worst.” My personality was finally re-s
urfacing.
She laughed. “Don’t underestimate me, Claire. You’d be amazed at what types of people end up in rehab: Former judges, celebrities, and my favorite—ousted news reporters who are always looking for the right story to get their jobs back.”
“You don’t have anything on me.”
“I don’t. But there’s someone on the company board here who does. You must have really pissed her off because she’s been crafting this little story for a while...Remember, it doesn’t have to be true, it just has to look true. So, think about that before you open your mouth. In the meantime, figure out a quick way—a two week way, to break up with my gullible son before I do it for you.” She slid her glasses over her eyes and walked out of the room.
I sat back in my chair and thought long and hard about what she could possibly have on me. I’d never been arrested, never been to rehab, never done anything that would scare me if it was brought to the light.
“I’m so sorry about that.” Jonathan walked back into the room. He pulled me out of my chair and smiled. “What was I saying before?”
“Dinner...” I murmured. I wasn’t going to go. I needed to use tonight to think about what his mother had said to me, to make sure she didn’t have anything that could hurt me. I figured I’d use the same “time with my daughters” line since he always bought that.
“Right. There’s a new restaurant down at Fisherman’s Wharf and I’d love to—”
“Rain check? I promised the girls that I would make pasta tonight. Maybe we can—”
“I like pasta.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll bring the leftovers to work tomorrow. Do you want me to pack parmesan cheese with—”
“I can’t come over and have dinner with you and your family?”
What? “Um...”
“Um?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “What type of answer is that?”
“You want to meet my daughters?”
“Do they know I exist?”
I nodded.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Nothing...” I decided that his mother was full of shit. “Dinner is at seven.”
Mid Life Love Page 32