Winner Takes All

by Sandra Kitt

  He shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “Jean is a very important friend of mine,” Patrick added.

  “Okay,” Nico said on a deep sigh.

  “Then let’s do this.”

  Patrick led the way to his Lexus RX 350, for which he’d exchanged the Porsche Cayenne. Bottom line, Patrick had told her, he only needed a smart vehicle to get him from point A to point B. It didn’t have to be exotic…or obvious theft bait.

  Nico skipped beside his father, asking questions about anything that caught his attention. Patrick would glance down at his son as they walked, making gestures to illustrate his answers. But Nico would interrupt to ask, “What does that mean?”

  Jean smiled. Patrick was still learning how not to talk down to him, how to find the language that a five-year-old understood, while also trying to be entertaining. He was making an enormous effort. Jean was impressed and empathetic. She admired that Patrick wanted to do the right thing. Every now and then he said something that made Nico burst into loud, childish laughter.

  She trailed along behind them, vacillating between eavesdropping and following her own thoughts.

  Patrick secured Nico into his car seat. Jean got in on the passenger side.

  “Where do you want to go?” she asked.

  “To our pizza place,” he said, as if she should have known.

  Julio welcomed them. He teased and joked with Nicholas, adding a basket of garlic knots to their order…and serving him with a double scoop of ice cream for dessert…all on the house. Patrick tried to give as much attention to Nicholas as he did to Jean. But Nico won on that score. Jean was not surprised, and she was fine with that.

  She believed that Patrick loved her. He had gone to extraordinary lengths to demonstrate his feelings. There were parts of his real life that trumped their hearts, where love not only had to show itself constantly, but where it also could prove to be not enough.

  Jean carefully observed Patrick’s valiant effort to be attentive to his son, this new, small being who was his natural ward and responsibility, while also wanting to maintain a relationship with her. It had taken the better part of the spring and summer to cultivate their love, to grow it, and that could still wilt on the vine with a lack of attention and care.

  Now and then Jean thought of her parents’ history and the things that had kept them apart for decades. She didn’t want to go through that. She didn’t want history to repeat itself.

  After Patrick had paid for the dinner and thanked Julio for his kindness to Nico, they all got back into the Lexus. Patrick had to get him back to Philadelphia to his mother the following day, while also having a deposition to give the coming week. It was only a fifteen-minute drive to Jean’s building. Nico had fallen asleep on the way.

  Patrick pulled in front of her building and turned off the engine. Neither she nor Patrick said anything. And Jean found herself suddenly reluctant to get out of the car. Patrick looked over his shoulder to study his son, slumped a little to the side, already deeply asleep. He turned to Jean. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  She opened her door to climb out. “You don’t have to. I’ll be okay.”

  Patrick ignored her. He took a final look at his sleeping son, then followed Jean to the entrance a short ten feet away, from where he could still keep an eye on the vehicle. She was about to pull the door open when he took her arm as he also stepped to the side, away from the overhead entrance light, a little bit in the shadows. It was just late enough that Patrick wasn’t concerned about who might pass by or enter beside them.

  And he didn’t wait for her to protest his next action. Surprise was his best weapon, and he used it. He pulled Jean into his embrace. His hug was a crusher for a long moment before he drew back and began to kiss her. He caught her as her head lifted to look at him. Patrick closed the distance to capture her mouth, press open her lips, and thrust his tongue to stroke against hers.

  Jean moaned softly and gave in immediately. Patrick softened his attack, knowing that he now had her full attention. It isn’t fair, Jean thought crazily as she welcomed his advance, his knowledge of her need, as he began to fill it. It was physical. It was emotional. But Jean was not ready, by any means, to concede to him. He couldn’t have everything. He couldn’t always be right. He couldn’t always be met with challenge and adversity and still come out a winner.

  Where did that leave her? she wondered plaintively. Was the only answer to not having her heart broken to walk away?

  Was it her father or her mother who had walked away? Had they given up at the same time, accepting defeat against outside forces and history? Was she fated to experience the same?

  Jean turned her head, breaking the kiss.

  “Patrick,” she whispered, her forehead pressed against his jacket.

  “I know. Believe me, I know,” he said just as quietly.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think you do.”

  “Then tell me.”

  Jean hesitated, struggled. Gnawed her lip to keep from speaking. “You’ve been through a lot this summer. We’ve been through a lot.”

  He sighed, rubbing her back as if trying to soothe her.

  “I don’t want to add to that, Patrick. I’m also figuring out what might be best for you, for us.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You can’t be three places at once. Something has to give. Right now, neither of us knows what the future holds. But it’s very clear what your responsibility has to be, first and foremost, Nico.”

  “And you. I’m not going to let us come this far, to know we love each other, just to have us fall apart.” He reached for her hand and held it flat to his chest. “What do you feel?”

  “Your heart. It’s beating very fast.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  She tried to search his eyes in the dim light shining from the entrance. Jean shook her head. “I don’t… Are you afraid?”

  “Yes. Of losing you. I’d hoped for a better place, a better time to do this. I’ll make it up to you. I told you I have a plan. Will you marry me?”

  Then quickly, Patrick placed his thumb over her lips.

  “Don’t say anything right now. I want you to think about it. I want you to be sure. Will you do that?”

  She stared into his eyes, listened to the underlying plea in his voice and the inherent bravura and fear. Her knees felt wobbly, and her heart also began to race. Jean pulled his hand away.

  “Yes, I can. I’ll…”

  He covered her lips again. “That’s all I need to know for now, Jean. Remember that I love you.”

  He hugged her close again. Jean could feel a subtle tremble in his breath as his mouth pressed to her cheek. She hugged him back.

  “And I love you.”

  Jean pulled out of Patrick’s arms, pivoting to enter her building quickly. She didn’t look back, and the door swished closed between them. She didn’t want him to see her tears.

  Chapter 18

  “You can wait in here. Mr. Franklin will join you in a moment.”

  Jean thanked the receptionist and took a seat at the oval conference table. It wasn’t a large room, with the capacity for only eight people around the table, and it had no windows. The fourth wall, however, with the entrance door, was floor-to-ceiling glass. She recognized that it was functionally designed to eliminate the distraction of the outside world beyond the window, while allowing the occupants to be seen and monitored from the corridor.

  Maybe it was Ross’s intent that they could be seen at all times. His office would have been too private. There, she would be least comfortable alone with him, as opposed to being seen by office staff passing by. But Jean didn’t necessarily feel safe in the conference room either.

  Getting the call from Ross had caught her off guard. They had not spoken by phone in three years. They had exhausted the ne
ed for conversation on his part, and the desire on hers. Running into one another at a social function early in the summer, while unexpected, had not been disturbing for Jean. But she was still not totally clear why Ross had requested that she meet him at his office.

  Jean was still creating her scenarios and possibilities when he pushed through the glass door.

  “Sorry I kept you waiting. Impromptu corridor meeting with a colleague on my way here. Thanks for coming.”

  Ross sat down. His little speech gave her a chance to scrutinize him and see him without the hordes that had surrounded them at the reception.

  He pushed back comfortably in the leather high-back chair. He placed a tablet on the table at an angle easy for him to read.

  He finally looked at her directly, but Jean could tell nothing by his expression. He didn’t appear to be the least bit nervous. Ross also had no trouble meeting her own wary gaze or offering a faint nondescript smile.

  “It’s good to see you.”

  Jean didn’t respond to his greeting.

  “Thanks for coming in. I especially appreciate this when I really didn’t give you a lot to go on about why I wanted to see you.”

  “Curiosity got the best of me,” Jean said calmly.

  “However you came to agree, thanks.”

  Ross pushed a button on the tablet, and the LED screen came to life. He glanced briefly at it and then back to her. His elbows rested on the chair arms, and his hands were clasped together in front.

  “First of all, I want to thank you, Jean.”

  She frowned slightly, having no idea why he felt the need.

  “You recommended Patrick Bennett to me as a client. That was incredibly…kind of you. Of course I’m curious why, given our recent history,” he added carefully.

  Jean shifted in her seat and it swiveled slightly with her movements. “I wasn’t being kind, Ross. I was trying to be practical and useful to Patrick. He was a little overwhelmed when he came into so much money last spring. I felt that you would be a good fit. There was nothing personal in what I did. I felt that your kind of business expertise was what he needed. I knew you’d be honest and fair…with him.”

  For a moment, Ross actually looked embarrassed, but that quickly cleared from his features. He unclasped his hands momentarily, spreading them before bringing them together again.

  “Well, I still thank you. And I thank you sincerely for that trust. I know it must have been hard.”

  “I had no problem with it,” Jean said formally but without any rancor. “I’m glad the arrangement seems to be working out.”

  “Yes,” Ross said thoughtfully.

  Jean nodded silently.

  Ross shifted. He glanced at the tablet. “I also wanted to let you know that your idea for a foundation is really smart thinking. So I appreciate your contribution to the conversation.”

  “Will you help Patrick set it up?”

  “As much as I can. I’m researching and talking to people who have more knowledge than me on the subject. I also have a friend who works with a traditional foundation that’s operated for decades here in the city. He’s offered to guide us. I don’t suppose you also have a title for the foundation, other than the obvious Patrick Bennett Foundation for…? There’s been no decision on what the foundation is for. What will be its mission statement?”

  “I haven’t given it serious thought, but I always felt the Millionaires Club had an original and catchy sound to it.”

  “The Millionaires Club,” he repeated, testing the sound of it. “Then, as a club, there is a possibility for more millionaires to join? We might have to define what we mean by ‘millionaire’ to start.”

  “Yes, I think so. There are so many wealthy people who might want to be a part of something like this. You know, the idea of being philanthropic. Giving back. And it’s not a new concept. Patrick didn’t earn his sudden wealth, and he’s very aware of that. He was lucky. So it seems smart and generous to want to share. It wouldn’t take much to come up with a list of social needs that would benefit from private-sector investments.”

  All the time she spoke, Jean realized that not only was Ross listening closely to her, but he was making notes on the tablet, occasionally nodding at something she said that he agreed with or found important.

  He asked questions, and their conversation continued on the subject for another thirty minutes.

  “This is a really good, simple synopsis of your idea. I won’t use any of this, or your name, until I can formalize the concept, get a proposal written up, and run it past Patrick’s attorneys and the people here.”

  “I don’t need credit for this.”

  “Well, we can talk about that later. And I’ll discuss with Patrick. But thanks for your thoughts on this, Jean.” He took up his original position, sitting back in his chair, hands clasped. “I have something else I’d like to talk to you about. It’s more on a personal level.”

  Jean immediately became cautious, even more so than when she’d first arrived at his office. She leaned forward, preparing to stand. “I don’t think…”

  Ross put out a hand calmly to stay her. “It’s not about you and me. I like to believe we’ve put that to rest so we can both move on, okay?”

  She settled down slowly, but on the edge of her seat.

  “This is about Marin Phillips. I think you know her?”

  “Marin?” Jean repeated, surprised. “Yes, I know her. Well…not really. I first met her at a dinner party. She’s an account executive with ESPN.”

  “Patrick’s company.”

  “Correct. We sat next to each other and chatted during the evening. I liked her. And then we got together for lunch some weeks later. We’ll probably do that again. I can see us becoming friends.”

  Ross nodded, watching her. “I met her at another party a month ago. I thought she was very attractive and very sharp. And not automatically defensive. I asked her out. We met for brunch on a Sunday. You know…lots of people around, kept it light and open. She talked about Patrick briefly, in a coworker kind of way, although she’s on the business side of the network. Nothing at all personal, just the connection. And she spoke about having met and liked you at that party you mentioned.”

  “I don’t know her well at all, Ross. She’s a new acquaintance.”

  “I’m not asking you to give up any secrets. I liked her. I was immediately attracted to her.”

  Jean chortled nervously. “I hope you’re not asking me for advice.”

  “I am. I honestly am asking you if you think I should pursue my interest. How do you believe she might respond? What should I be careful of? You know me well enough to be able to make a judgment that I’ll be comfortable with.”

  Jean stared at Ross, stunned that he would put such a responsibility on her. That he would even want to. She was forced to dig into her memory banks, to conjure up the Ross she’d first met and had been attracted to because of his masculine good looks, his smarts, his good manners and sense of humor. His seductive courting of her, even their satisfying lovemaking that altogether made him a very worthy suitor. That their relationship had a spectacular flameout no longer affected her. She’d long ago lost emotional feelings for Ross Franklin. But he was not a horrible person. Just human and imperfect like anyone else.

  “You really do like her, don’t you?”

  “Almost immediately when I first met her.”

  “I will say this. She’s a friendly person and easy to be with. She’s smart and a good listener. She’s very observant. She will give you the benefit of the doubt. If you’ve had one easy, pleasant outing with Marin, I think she’ll definitely be open to more opportunities to get to know you.”

  “We left it at ‘I’ll call you.’ I didn’t want to seem too…”

  “I get it. My only real advice to you, Ross, is to be a lot more thoughtful about her than you wer
e inclined to be with me. Don’t do her dirt if you’re really interested. Don’t play her. You only get so many chances to prove you’re not a jerk. And…and I know you can do better than that.”

  “I just screwed up royally with you. I shamed myself,” he confessed honestly.

  There was absolute silence as they faced each other. Jean’s countenance was calm and composed, clear and confident. She didn’t blink.

  Ross regarded her, and she began to see regret and a visual apology that meant more to her now than the mea culpa he’d attempted so long ago. Jean took in a deep, affirming breath. She was in love with Patrick Bennett, and Ross’s feelings didn’t concern her.

  This time when she made to stand, Ross didn’t stop her. It was only as she walked past him to the door that he called out, but he didn’t touch her.

  “One more thing, Jean. As long as I was bold enough to ask your opinion, I’d like to offer one of my own. Patrick never mentions or talks about his relationship with you. But I know there is one. And I know it’s extremely important to him. I’m going out on a very thin limb by offering that I believe he’s really in love with you. Of course I don’t know your expectations. And I know his life has gone off the rails a number of times this summer. My opinion is, he’s been pretty good about dealing with it. So…my unasked-for comment is, whatever is going on in his life, don’t give up on him. I think he’s worth the effort. Far more than I was.”

  “What makes you think that I would give up?”

  Ross sighed, stood tall, and looked into her eyes. “I know you’ve found yourself caught in dramas where you’ve had to worry if a Black guy is seeing you as a Black woman or someone who’s half white. Or if a white guy wants to think you’re white or he’s experimenting because you’re Black. And there are the ones who think they want you, but then go after someone else who’s exactly the opposite. Pretty confusing to keep track of. I’ve been guilty of one of those possibilities. There’s no ambivalence with Patrick.”

  Jean swallowed, genuinely moved by Ross’s support and deeply appreciative that he recognized her desire for a true love that she deserved.