Falling for Fate (Second Chance Book 2)

by Quinn, Caisey

  “I’m glad you like it.” The women hugged and Fate pulled back first. “This is a beautiful party and it was lovely meeting your parents, but I think I’m going to call it a night.”

  Gwen nodded, glancing over her shoulder at Dean with a look that would’ve struck a lesser man dead where he stood. “I’ll walk you out.”

  “Thanks.” Fate was grateful that her friend hadn’t tried to talk her into staying. Her black, strapless dress was far too tight, her feet ached, and her head was a little fuzzy from the champagne. That didn’t even include the knots seeing Dean flirting with other women was tying her insides into.

  “Do you think I’m crazy?” Gwen whispered as they made their way outside of the Plaza Grand.

  “No,” Fate told her honestly. “Crazy was me wearing these stilettos and thinking I could walk around in them all night. I think you’re very brave.”

  Gwen smiled. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re brave too. And you deserve the best. If the asshat we work for can’t see the forest through the silicone-implant-bearing trees, then to hell with him.”

  Fate swallowed the lump of hurt feelings that had grown at seeing Dean with his fan club. “Thank you. Looks like I’m the one in the market for a new roommate now, huh?”

  “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, lady. We’re going to have a long, long, loooong engagement. Keaton still needs about three more years to hit thirty and actually grow the hell up.”

  Fate smiled at her friend. “If I haven’t said it yet, I’m happy for you. I knew the first time I saw him kiss you goodbye that the two of you had something special. Also, when you’re picking out bridesmaids dresses, keep in mind that I refuse to wear anything yellow. Just saying.”

  A cab pulled up to the curb and Fate saw Dean and a seemingly tispy, giggling blond woman she didn’t recognize coming out of the hotel doors.

  “I should go. I won’t wait up,” she told her friend hurriedly. “Enjoy your night.”

  “Fate. Don’t tuck tail and run because of him. Please.” Gwen’s eyes were round with sympathy.

  “It’s silly, right? It was one weekend. He was very clear about what he wanted and I agreed to it. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.”

  Gwen watched Dean hailing a cab beside them. When she spoke, her voice was lower than before. “I don’t think anything is wrong with you. And I have a spy on the inside, okay? Keaton isn’t exactly the best keeper of secrets, particularly since I do things to him that his best friend does not.”

  “There’s a mental image I didn’t necessarily need.” Fate bit her lip. “But, um, what does Keaton say?”

  “You’re not the only one who fell that weekend, Fate. And despite how hard Dean Maxwell is trying to convince himself and everyone else otherwise, you’re not the only one hurting.”

  Fate watched as he slid into the cab with his attractive companion. “Looks like one of us has already found a way to ease the pain.”

  “I’ve never been inside this building before,” the blonde informed him. “But it has fabulous natural light.”

  Callista O’Connor was the interior decorator who’d helped him redesign his office. She was now going to help him redecorate his apartment and then eventually the new beach house he intended to buy. He sure as hell wasn’t ever returning to the old one.

  Unable to even fake enthusiasm for his best friend’s engagement while Fate had been there looking positively edible in a black, strapless dress and stilettos he only wanted to see over his shoulders, he’d been distracted and miserable.

  “Go home, for fuck’s sake,” Keaton had said. “Take a party favor with you please. Hell, take two. If you don’t stop pouting, I’m going to have sex with you so you can move on with your life.”

  “Too bad you’re already spoken for,” he’d said dully.

  Even verbal sparring with his best friend hadn’t soothed the gaping wound in his chest. A few mere feet away, Fate had smiled and laughed and sipped champagne with lips he ached to kiss.

  There wasn’t a cure for this, whatever it was.

  Just like his party at Lux not so long ago, beautiful women—many who were more than willing to accompany him home—surrounded him. And he had still been fixated on the one who’d eluded him. Just like before, she’d been within reaching distance but still out of his grasp. Except now he had a hell of a lot more than one memory to fuel his need for her. He also had a hell of a lot more regret.

  Callista examined his penthouse room by room before rejoining him in the living room. “I have several ideas already. I’ll pull some samples and mock-ups together for you this week and bring them by.”

  Dean was mid-pour on an antique bourbon. “Sounds good, Callie. Thanks for coming by tonight. I wasn’t really in the party mood.”

  “I was ready to call it a night as well. Guess it was just a case of perfect timing.”

  Dean nodded. “Guess so. Can I get you something to drink?”

  She smiled widely. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

  “Woman after my own heart,” he teased, pouring her two fingers of bourbon into a glass.

  “Yes, well, I was there tonight. Didn’t really appear your heart was up for grabs.”

  “Excuse me?” He handed her the glass and took a long swallow of his own before sitting down on his couch.

  “The brunette in the black strapless and four-inch slingbacks seemed to have full custody of your attention this evening.”

  Dean had told himself that he could handle it, that he could remain professional and leave Fate alone. She deserved more than he had to offer and had made it plain and clear that she was now looking for that.

  Looking. As in actively pursuing. As in at any moment, including this very moment, she could be finding what she was looking for with someone else.

  “Dean? Are you all right?” Callie’s eyes were filled with concern as she sat down beside him. “You looked strange for a moment, like you might be ill.”

  “What? No, I’m fine. Long week at work.”

  Just as every week would be. She’d pervaded every aspect of his day. Getting dressed, he thought of her in his shirts. Riding to work, he thought of her sitting beside him, reveling in the same kinds of music he enjoyed. At work, he could hardly think of anything other than her, knowing she was only a few floors below. Lying down at night, he felt as though his bed had turned to a cold stranger without her in it. How he wished he could return to the weekend at the beach house and hold her each night instead of wasting time trying to avoid being too close or crossing lines.

  “I’d be happy to help you work off some of that stress if you’re interested,” the woman sitting across from him offered.

  Dean assessed his companion. Callie was unquestionably attractive in every sense of the word. She was intelligent, successful, articulate, and accomplished. She’d built her design business from the ground up and had impeccable taste. But she wasn’t Fate. No one ever would be.

  “You’re taking far too long to consider my offer, Dean.”

  “Can I ask you something?” He set his glass aside and leaned forward.

  “Of course.”

  “When a woman says she wants ‘more,’ what do you think that means, specifically?”

  Callie sipped her bourbon before lowering it onto a coaster. “Well, it depends on what you were currently offering. What do you think she meant?”

  Dean stared intently at the two glasses setting side by side, his nearly empty and Callie’s with a heart-shaped lip print around the rim. “We agreed to one weekend only. No strings. Then, when the weekend was up, I offered to extend our arrangement beyond that.”

  “Beyond the weekend or beyond the limitations of only a physical relationship?”

  “Beyond the weekend. I said we could just do what we wanted until we didn’t want to anymore. Exclusively.”

  “Like a friends-with-bennies thing?”

  Dean scratched his jaw. “A what?”

  “A fri
end with benefits. Fuck buddies. You know, people who just hook up without a serious commitment.”

  “Well…yeah, kind of. I told her I didn’t really do relationships and she was good with that at first. Then we agreed to keep hooking up and I acted like an asshole. We had a…misunderstanding and I tried to talk to her about re-engaging our agreement or even a do-over, but at some point, she’d changed her mind and now she wants more. Whatever that means. And she doesn’t necessarily want it from me.”

  Callie’s eyebrows had lifted in amusement when he returned his attention to her. “I see. Well, that sounds complicated. Which the Dean Maxwell I know doesn’t do. So maybe she isn’t the only one who’s changed her mind.”

  “I’ve certainly changed my perspective on a few issues. But I don’t know if I ever want to get married and she’s been engaged already once before. My mom passed away when I was a kid and I’ve just always had this issue about not letting anyone in too close. Vows and rings aren’t the be-all, end-all. People can leave, you know?”

  Callie nodded. “Yeah. They can. But how sad to think of spending our time in this life together just focusing on when it all could end. Some things don’t last forever. Hell, life doesn’t last forever. But what we have while we’re together is usually worth risking some heartache in the long run. Isn’t it? I mean, would you go back in time and not get to know your mom just because she wasn’t going to be around forever? Miss out on all the good for fear of the bad?”

  Dean wanted to sucker-punch himself in the face. He’d done exactly the wrong thing—focused on when his time with Fate would be over, placed an expiration date on them, and limited the potential of what their relationship could be before they’d even had a chance. The only factor that had kept them from having more was his stupid deadline. They could have had more—a lot more—if he hadn’t tried to set parameters around their time together. The universe had given him a second chance and he’d blown it to hell and back.

  “What if it’s too late? You saw her tonight. She didn’t even say hello to me.”

  Callie laughed out loud and stood to leave. “Poor Dean. For a man recently crowned New York City’s Most Eligible Bachelor by single gals everywhere, you sure have a lot to learn about women.”

  “Meaning?” He followed Callie toward the door and opened it for her.

  “Meaning when that girl said she wanted more, she meant your heart.”

  Dean scoffed. “How was I supposed to know that? More importantly, how do I go about offering her something like that?” It sounded preposterous.

  Callie gave him the universal head tilt of sympathy. “I offered you no-strings sex tonight, Dean, and you didn’t even blink twice. I’m not letting it hurt my feelings or taking it personally because women were practically throwing themselves all over you tonight and all you did was watch that stunning brunette as if you’re life depended on her location in the room.” She let out a soft sound of laughter as if entertained by her own observations. “Silly man. You don’t have to offer that woman your heart. She already has it.”

  Cheap wine should come with a warning label, Fate decided somewhere around one in the morning. Not about driving or pregnancy. Well, those were good to have. But there should have been a bold print one about over indulging when your heart was broken.

  Bad idea. Horrible, actually. Unfortunately, Fate had discovered this a little too late.

  Halfway through her second bottle, she’d composed a well-thought-out email to the makers of Barefoot Bubbly. It was pink and effervescent, and it had a pretty label. But it had somehow made her heart hurt even worse.

  Willie Nelson blared on about someone always being on his mind from her computer before her recently made playlist moved to Dean’s favorite band singing The One That Got Away.

  It was on the fourth repeat of the damned heart-wrenching song that the image of Dean getting into the cab with the blonde resulted in another email.

  At 2:24 in the morning, her throat sore from crying and crooning along with Willie, Fate Buchanan put in her two-week notice with Maxwell Medical. She didn’t do an online search for other companies that were hiring. Not in New York anyway.

  She had figured out the train system and the buses, was on a first-name basis with the homeless man who hung out at her favorite coffee shop, and knew he preferred her to leave whipped cream off his damn coffee, thank you very much. And she loved Gwen with her whole heart. She told herself that they’d keep in touch. In a lot of ways, New York had finally accepted her. But it didn’t matter anymore.

  Because this Texas girl was going home.

  “She put in her notice. She’s leaving,” Regina said upon barging into his office.

  “What?” Dean looked up from his speech.

  Today was his welcome luncheon with the entire company. Every employee. Every board member. Everyone would be there. Satellite monitors had been set up so that employees from the international affiliates could see the conference. Even his father was attending in order to officially step down. He’d been swamped with meetings all morning and had just made it to his office with a few minutes to look over his speech once more before the luncheon.

  “Fate Buchanan emailed HR her resignation Friday night. Well, roughly Saturday morning a little after two a.m. Any thoughts as to why she might have done that?”

  The raw space where his heart should’ve been felt as if someone had poured gasoline into it. “She’s quitting?”

  She’d told him that she loved her job—that she didn’t want to risk doing anything to lose it. And now she was quitting?

  Like hell she was.

  “Looks like it.” Regina placed a piece of copy paper containing a few short paragraphs onto his desk in front of him.

  Dean scanned the words then read them more carefully. Fate had either been stroking out or dog drunk when she’d composed this.

  “Has HR seen this?”

  Regina snorted. “Please. I know we haven’t been working together that long, but give me a little more credit than that.”

  “Delete it. Permanently.” He slipped it into his folder containing his speech and stood. “Is everyone ready for me?”

  “Just say what you mean, Dean.” Regina’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that rhymes. Think I’ll make it my new motto.”

  “Very cute. Is she in there?”

  Regina nodded. “She’s hanging near the back, but she’s in there.”

  “Good.”

  Dean’s mouth went dry as they walked to the elevator together. Regina handed him a bottle of water.

  “You’re like a mind reader.”

  The woman grinned. “That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”

  Once they entered the room, the easy flow of conversation ended abruptly. Dean nodded at a few familiar faces and shook hands with his father and each board member before taking his place at the podium in the front of the packed room.

  He had a speech, a perfectly good, albeit very scripted, one. But when he opened his folder and pulled out his papers, all he could focus on was an email from the woman he’d fallen for. The woman who was watching him with hurt in her eyes from the back of the room.

  It was a lot of pressure, and a lot of people whose jobs and livelihoods depended on him. As much as he wanted to put their minds at ease and tell them that he was going to be the best chief executive officer he possibly could be, he knew deep down that he couldn’t really guarantee that. Not right now, anyway. And Dean didn’t believe in empty promises.

  First, he had to make sure the woman he loved knew what he wanted.

  So he took a deep breath and tried to give her more.

  Fate felt the hand in hers tighten. Gwen had remained in the back of the room with her where there was standing room only despite the fact that Keaton was way up front with Dean. She’d reached over and taken Fate’s hand the moment Dean had entered the room, and now, she was giving it a little squeeze. She forced a smile for her sweet friend.

  He was so beautiful that it took h
er breath away. He wasn’t just the sexy stranger from the beach anymore—he was the powerful CEO of a multinational company with a presence so strong that it almost seemed majestic. Everyone in the room had turned their attention to him and his magnetic charm.

  She was so proud of him that it hurt. It also hurt to know that she wasn’t going to be a part of this company anymore, of Gwen’s wedding planning, or of a marketing department where she could do a job that mattered and she truly enjoyed.

  But Dean Maxwell wasn’t the kind of man a girl could have for a limited time only and just let go of when the time came. She’d learned the hard way, and the price for that lesson was a bus ticket home.

  When his eyes landed on hers, she tried with all her might to give him an encouraging smile. He’d given her what he could and that was okay. One day, she knew she’d move past this.

  Gwen had told her once that, sometimes, the worst things that happen lead directly to the the best things, and Fate now knew that to be true. So she had something she hadn’t had before meeting Dean for the first time.

  Hope.

  It didn’t yet outweigh the heartache, but it was in there somewhere. Small and shrouded in the shadow of a bruised heart, but alive.

  “Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you so much for joining me here today. As many of you already know, I’m Dean Maxwell, your brand-new CEO here at Maxwell Medical.”

  His voice was strong, and all eyes were on him. Fate glanced at the clock on her cell phone, growing worried that she might not be able to make it through this. Gwen gave her hand another squeeze.

  “It’s funny. Not too long ago, I gave a speech as the new CFO and I remember thinking to myself, ‘It doesn’t matter what I say. I have to prove myself. I have to demonstrate my ability to do the absolute best job possible for each and every one of you before anything I say or promise actually matters.’ So that’s what I want to say to each and every one of you here today.” His gaze scanned the room and every cell in Fate’s body stood at attention. “I can only promise to do my best and I realize that it might not always be good enough. But that’s the promise I can make and keep.”