by Amelia Wilde
Dex almost never calls me. When the family is together, we get along and enjoy each other’s company, but unless he’s around when Bee is video chatting with me, I don’t hear from him. He’s a busy guy.
“Hello?”
“Cate?” When I hear the strain in his voice, my heart drops into my stomach.
“It’s me. What’s going on, Dex?” I turn my shoulders away from Jax, whose face instantly filled with concern when he heard the question.
“You’ve got to come home, Cate.” Terror. Pure, cold terror. Something has happened to my sister. What happened to my sister?
In a split second I switch modes. It’s like I’m back behind the desk at Basiqué, dealing with a thousand things at once like it’s nothing. I shove my fear and my anger deep down into the center of me, where it can’t interfere.
“Is it Bee?” My voice is clear, strong. Get the necessary information. Move into action.
“Something went wrong…something…I don’t know exactly what,” Dex’s voice is choked. He’s doing his best to hold it together, but Bee is his wife, the love of his life. “She’s going into emergency surgery to deliver the twins right now.”
“I’m on my way.”
“She might not make it, Cate!” he cries, voicing his darkest fear for probably the first time since this nightmare began.
“She’ll be all right,” I tell him, projecting every ounce of confidence I have into my voice. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Get here.” A ragged breath. “Please.”
He hangs up and I’m already walking, moving toward the door.
“Cate.”
I turn back to Jax one last time. I’m about to walk away from him forever, and I hardly care. I need to get to my sister. My family is the only thing that matters now. I raise my eyebrows. What could be so important?
“My private jet will be fueled up and ready to leave by the time you get to LaGuardia.”
I don’t want to take the offer, but I need to get to my sister.
“I’m not coming back.”
“I know.”
It’s his money, his plane. I can’t waste any time on refusing on principle, even if that makes me the worst person on the face of the earth.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I get into the elevator without looking back.
37
Cate
I stare through a glass window at the hospital’s NICU at the unbelievably tiny, perfect forms of my sister’s twin daughters.
Dex stands next to me, his exhaustion and worry and sheer joy all showing on his face. He needs a shave and his hair sticks up in every direction from running his hands through it all day.
“I can’t believe it, Dex,” I say, reaching over and squeezing his hand.
“I can’t either.”
The babies are incredible.
I only wish I could enjoy it more.
The flight only lasted an hour and a half. By the time we’d lifted off the runway I regretted the things I’d said to Jax, regretted what I’d done, and my heart caved right into my stomach.
What the hell was wrong with me?
What the hell is wrong with me?
I forced myself not to think about it the rest of the flight. My first and only priority had to be getting myself to Bee’s side.
When I arrived at the hospital, my parents were leaving for the night. They stayed until Bee made it safely to her recovery room.
In the lobby, they both hugged me tight, not letting go for a long time.
I guess no matter how old you get, you’re still your parents’ child.
Then I waited with Dex until the nurse came out to get him.
The actual C-section hadn’t taken very long, the nurse explained, but Bee had lost a lot of blood. Then she rattled off several medical terms that frankly I had no interest in.
“Is my sister going to be okay?”
“She’s stable now,” the nurse replied evenly, looking from me to Dex and back again. “As long as she’s given enough time to heal, she should be good as new.”
Then she guided Dex to the NICU. I stood next to him by the nursery window while he got the first glimpse of his daughters, and I joined him by the window, where we’ve been waiting for their condition to be assessed. It must be sheer torture not to be able hold them, but Dex’s eyes shine with his love, even though they’re framed by dark circles. He will wait as long as it takes.
A nurse comes through the door.
“Mr. Stevens?”
“That’s me.” He answers quickly, so eager to do anything he can.
“I know who you are, Mr. Stevens. Would you like to hold your daughters?”
“Oh, my God,” he says, tears coming to his eyes. “Yes, of course I would. Of course I would.”
The nurses let me stand nearby as he scrubs his arms up to the elbows and changes out of his shirt for a sterile gown, which they help him secure loosely, exposing his collarbone so the babies can get maximum skin-to-skin contact.
They’re premature, but not by so much that holding them will cause harm, explain the nurses as they gently place the two bundles, attached to wires and monitors, into his arms.
He stares into Twin A’s face—they haven’t decided which name goes with which baby yet—and then shifts his gaze to look into Twin B’s eyes. It’s the most sacred thing I’ve ever witnessed.
And then Dex bursts into tears.
He contains his sobs so that the babies aren’t jostled in any way, but the tears stream down his face unimpeded, causing tears to form in my own eyes.
“Fatherhood looks awesome on you, Dex,” I say, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand and stepping forward to dab at his with some of the hospital’s tissues.
“I didn’t realize it would be so wet,” he says in a dry tone that can’t hide his all-encompassing joy.
I snap thirty pictures on my phone. Bee will want to see this the moment she’s awake.
The sight of Dex holding his daughters, cradling them both so tenderly, breathing in their baby scent, delighting in every move they make with their tiny balled-up fists, is salt in the wound of my broken heart.
The broken heart I gave to myself.
This is what I want, I think, looking at him. A man to be my partner instead of a boss. A man who will look at our baby like this.
Jax could be that man.
I dismiss the thought.
Didn’t he prove to me that he can’t set aside his own selfish desires to respect mine?
My stomach twists. Even that is a lie. He cared for me when he didn’t have to. He made sure I had everything my heart desired.
Somehow, he must have been trying to do the same thing when he had me fired from my job, but I wouldn’t settle for his explanation.
I wouldn’t even hear him out.
Then, to twist the knife even more, I took advantage of his generosity and flew here on his private plane.
What made me into such a monster?
The answer is there before I look for it: my fear of failing.
Failing, as in not working hard enough to be considered valuable. Failing, as in being forced into choosing something I do not want without a safety net.
I’ve been so terrified by it that I’ve let everything in my life fall by the wayside except Sandra, who doesn’t, in the end, care a single iota about what happens to me.
Jesus, I was so stupid.
“Cate?”
Dex’s tone is soft, and I realize I’ve been lost in thought.
“Yeah, Dex?”
“Could you take a video of all of us? Bee isn’t going to want to have missed this. As soon as she’s awake…”
My sister is still recovering from her surgery, sleeping deeply, the nurses say, and I know Dex is right.
I pull out my phone and hit record, knowing while I’m doing it that I’m capturing some of the most precious moments in a human’s life.
I only wish Jax wa
s by my side to see it with me.
38
Jax
Cate is gone.
She flew away on the private plane that I offered to her without a second thought, like I’m a whipped idiot who’s in over his head.
I am in over my head.
Was.
When she leaves, her back retreating out the door, I go into the kitchen. I tell Laurence to take the rest of the night off. I send Gloria an email letting her know that I won’t be needing her in the morning, and I tell everyone else on staff except for Peter that I’ll contact them in a couple of days.
I don’t want to see anyone.
The first night she is gone, I mix a drink so strong it could be paint thinner. I sit on my couch alone, watching some shitty movie about car racing that I didn’t like when it came out and I don’t like any better now.
The next day, I try to work out with my trainer and act like everything is fine, but the guy seems like something’s bothering him.
“Should we end the session, Carl? You seem distracted,” I say, sounding far more like an asshole than I intend.
“Nope. I’m all good to go. Sorry about that. I have a friend on my mind today.”
“Let’s focus on the workout then.”
“Fine by me.”
Carl is the only one, aside from Peter, who comes and goes—and that’s only because if I’m going to allow myself to wallow like this, I at least need to stay in some semblance of shape. And Carl is divorced from every other aspect of my life, so there’s not much chance of awkwardness.
As the second day passes, and then the third, I retreat farther into my penthouse. I let Gloria return on the fourth day, but I leave when she’s there, haunting the city in my Aston Martin like a pathetic ghost, a billionaire who still found a reason to feel sorry for himself.
Aside from giving my staff an inexplicable vacation and spending my evenings drinking in front of the TV, I put all my effort into playing this whole thing so cool that even I almost believe it.
But the truth stabs at me with every single heartbeat.
Cate is gone.
And I’ve given her no reason to come back.
It would be so easy for her to send a moving service to her apartment. They could pack up everything that’s not here and send it home. At least, to wherever she decides home is. Once Cate’s done being royally pissed off at me, she’ll be able to get a job wherever she wants. Seattle. Chicago. Her options are endless.
Selfishly, the one place I want her to be is in New York City, preferably in my penthouse, her gorgeous body pressed up against mine.
I don’t text her.
I don’t call her.
The situation with her sister sounded serious, and I’m sure the last thing she wants is to be interrupted by a desperate ex.
That’s what I am now.
Her ex.
For some reason, I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that it’s over. That Cate is the one who ended it and walked out without a backward glance, without an apology text, without so much as a note saying that her plane touched down successfully.
I know it did. It’s my plane, after all. But it would have been nice to hear it from her, to get another chance to talk to her…
Thinking about her consumes me, even when I’m pretending to be wholly absorbed in other work.
I sign contracts while I think about her. I review the numbers from Basiqué while I picture the sway of her ass in a tight skirt. I place orders with Laurence and my favorite carryout places while I picture her face, flushed with pleasure as she grinds her sweet, sweet slit up against my hand until she finds her release. I order coffee from the shop down the street—a last-ditch attempt to give myself something to do—while I remember the sensation of my hand coming down across the firm expanse of her ass and hearing her sharp intake of breath, pain and delight all wrapped up in the most beautiful package the world has ever seen.
And the one thing I can’t escape: this is all my fault.
Cate had every right to be furious. I can’t blame her for not wanting to listen to me. I would have been pissed. I would have said worse things.
Hindsight is twenty-twenty, as they say.
I could have handled it differently. I could have waited longer to approach her about it, could have sweetened the deal in advance instead of planning some stupid gesture that she probably wouldn’t accept anyway, could have made it clearer to that bitch Sarzó what the next steps would be instead of leaving the details in her hands to the extent that I did.
Since I graduated from college, I’ve had nightmares where I arrive at my office only to find out that someone has taken everything: my name, my fortune, everything. I wake from those dreams soaked in sweat, shivering, heart pounding.
How is it that I managed to force the only woman I’ve ever loved to endure one of my nightmares?
Yet I did.
And even at the end, when her eyes were flashing with rage and she was spitting her fury at me, I should have fought harder.
I should have insisted on taking her to the airport. I should have gone with her into the elevator. I should have run out into the street after her car, waving my arms and making such a scene that the driver would have had no choice but to stop.
I should have fought it every step of the way.
Instead I let her go, like the world’s biggest jackass.
Every day, I see more clearly how dull and colorless my life is without her.
And there’s nothing I can do about it.
39
Cate
Days go by in the strange zone that’s known as hospital time, where the meals are served according to a schedule but you can still lose track of what day of the week it is. I spend my time shuttling between the hospital and Bee’s house, bringing things they didn’t think to pack, getting food from their favorite places, and generally being…useful.
After my year with Sandra, it seems unthinkable to sit down and do nothing.
So I do everything I can think of.
Aside from the first day, Bee is a post-op champion and so in love with her daughters that I cry when I see that, too. The nurses wheel her carefully down to the NICU and she and Dex take turns holding the babies up on their chests. My gorgeous sister cannot get enough of them, or her husband.
“Look!” she says to him over and over, her delight filling the room. “Look at what we did, Dex!”
“Don’t give me any credit,” he says, and laughs. “You did most of the work.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“I wouldn’t have done it with anyone but you.”
“Uh, guys,” I say, teasing. “There are other people in the room, and we’re all about to be sick.”
A nearby nurse gives me a look. “You keep being in love, honey,” she says to Bee. “It’s the best thing for you.”
The days go by, and despite all the medical drama surrounding birth, the twins don’t need to stay in the hospital. They’re discharged the same day as Bee, who has been under observation for longer than the usual period. I don’t understand exactly what happened to her, and I’m positive I don’t want to look it up online.
I’m the one who drives Dex and Bee’s car home from the hospital so they can both sit in the back, oohing and aahing over the babies the entire time.
“You’re the perfect Gabriella,” says Bee to one of the twins. “Nobody could be a better Gabriella than you.”
“Did you know? This is the perfect Isabel!” says Dex, and in the rearview mirror I see him steal a kiss from his wife.
My stomach clenches.
We pull into the driveway and I help them unload their bags, stowing everything carefully in its place, and bring them a tray of snacks that I got from the store while they were waiting to be discharged.
Bee snuggles up on one end of the couch, Dex on the other, both of them holding a perfect, tiny baby.
I’m the fifth wheel.
“Well,” I say, pu
tting my hands in my pockets. “Is there anything else you guys need?”
Bee gives me a huge, tired smile. “I think you’ve given us everything there is, Cate. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Okay,” I say, fighting back the urge to cry. I want to stay with them, but I know it’s only because there is a huge, painful wound in my life where Jax used to be. “Call if you need anything. I’m always available to babysit.”
Bee leans her head back against the armrest and closes her eyes against the afternoon sunlight. “You’re the best, Cate. When are you heading back to New York?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” I tell her, not realizing until I say it that it’s true. Without Basiqué—without Jax—what do I have in New York aside from an expensive apartment I can no longer afford and friendships that I’ve long since let lapse? “But I’ll keep my cell on. Doesn’t matter if it’s late.” That’s something that Bee and I have said to each other over the years, even if we don’t take advantage of it much.
“Doesn’t matter,” Bee says, opening her eyes and smiling at me again. “Go get some rest. At least you can!”
The soft sounds of their voices follow me out the door, and then I’m standing on the sidewalk in the gentle summer heat.
Where to now?
I’ll start with my parents. I’ve been so busy the past few days—the past few months—that I haven’t had a lot of time to visit. I send the same text to both of their phones.
My mom is out with her friends, my dad writes to me, and then she’ll be going over to Bee’s house, but he’s free for dinner and a beer.
My dad meets me at a sports bar in downtown Beechford, where Dex and Bee live. We grew up in Winthrop Harbor, which isn’t far. I could drive my rental car there, no problem, but he insists on coming to me. My hotel is down the block from the restaurant—it doesn’t make sense for me to drive. I’ve done enough, he says.
Twenty minutes later, he slides into the booth across from me and grasps my hands in his. “You’re an incredible woman, Cate.”
My dad’s voice unlocks something in me, and everything comes rushing out of me all at once. Well…almost everything.