Dirty Jock

by Sienna Valentine

  “And you were with a lot of women.” Elizabeth’s voice was flat when she said that. I raised an eyebrow as I nodded.

  “Yes, there were a lot of women. I was young and I had all the time and money in the world. But there was no one special. As I said, it wasn’t until I grew bored and tried to take over one of his businesses that I discovered the truth. You see, until then, I had no idea that he’d actually put steps in place to make his wishes for how I spent my life legally binding. He’d written it into his will, and made it so that if I ever tried to go against it I would lose everything.”

  “That’s… crazy! What kind of life is that? How could he make those choices for you?”

  “The grass always looks greener from the other side. My grandfather suffered, Liz. He had so many regrets. I was young and impulsive. I guess his will was his way of putting his mind at ease, figuring that if I ever strayed, I would be forced into what he considered to be the right path to happiness. Maybe that gave him a bit of peace before he died. Made some of his mistakes easier to bear.” I stroked the hair from her forehead, coaxing her to settle back down against me. She looked like she was about to throw up.

  I’d been there. It took me a long time to really understand my grandfather’s actions and forgive him for them, mostly. Even though I didn’t agree with them. Even as I looked for a way out.

  But there was no way out.

  “And there isn’t anything you can do?” Her eyes were still wide, her face pale.

  Damien reacted in a similar way, when I told him. He was most incensed by the clause where I couldn’t work. That was Damien’s biggest nightmare.

  “Recently, I started going through all my grandfather’s old legal documents,” I said. “I thought either I could find a loophole, or I could find some sort of evidence that he was mentally unstable when he drew up the will.”

  “No wonder you were spending practically every waking hour in your study. I’m guessing you didn’t find anything,” Elizabeth ventured.

  “Nothing.”

  She pressed her eyes closed and released a breath through her nose. “This is so surreal.” When she opened her eyes again, they sparkled with tears. “So, you’re telling me that if you did meet someone, fall in love, and want to be with them…”

  “I’d lose everything.”

  “I suppose that makes it hard to get close to people,” she said after a moment. “This lifestyle would be hard to walk away from. I can see why you’d want to push away anyone who tried.”

  The hurt in her voice killed me. She still didn’t fully understand the implications. I needed her to.

  “It’s more than just the money, Liz,” I said gently. “It’s my family. Every connection I have to them is through this life that my grandfather built. Before my parents died, it was their life, too. My father grew up in that house.”

  “And so did you…” she said. Her voice was starting to become hoarse. “I get it.”

  “You do?”

  “Come on, Oliver.” She chuckled softly, though her eyes were rimmed with red. “You have a squeaky old office chair that you refuse to let anyone touch and we fought for days about that damned chandelier.” She sniffed, blinking away tears.

  My chest ached for her. For me. For us. I didn’t know what else to say, so we sank into silence. I rubbed her arms and held her to me.

  After a while, the shadow of a smile flickered on Elizabeth’s lips. “So, yeah… that certainly wasn’t the answer I was expecting when I made that wager.”

  “What did you think I would say?”

  “I dunno. That you got your heart broken by a Swedish supermodel or something.”

  “She was Finnish, actually,” I teased.

  Elizabeth elbowed me in the ribs, but not hard enough to hurt. I wondered what to say next. We’d never struggled so much to come up with words before. Part of me wished I could tell her she had nothing to worry about, that I would always choose her. But would I? I still hadn’t decided that myself.

  It was too soon to make any such decisions. But that didn’t stop me wondering what it would be like.

  “Where does this leave us?” she finally asked. She sounded ragged, beaten. It killed me that I had done this to her.

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I didn’t have a plan for this part.”

  “I think I need some time to think.”

  The silence that followed was oppressive. I understood. How could I not? But it still didn’t make it hurt any less.

  “Of course.” I began to gently disentangle our bodies, shifting her over to the other side of the couch. “I’m going to go and give you your space.”

  I went to leave, but Liz leapt up to follow me. “Wait!” she called.

  I turned.

  “I—“ Her eyes blazed with something I couldn’t quite decipher.

  “Yes?”

  Elizabeth sank back onto her heels. “Thank you for telling me.”

  I nodded and exited the front door, wondering if I’d ever be back. I wished I could have told her that I would choose her. I just didn’t know what to do.

  I wanted Elizabeth.

  But what if I chose her and she ended up not wanting me anymore? What if I chose her, but sometime down the road she changed her mind? I wasn’t sure what would be worse—losing everything I had for nothing, or finding out the woman I loved didn’t love me back.

  Love.

  I didn’t even realize that I loved her until that moment, but as soon as I thought the words I knew them to be true.

  Chapter 36

  Elizabeth

  Cressida crashed through the door with the urgency of a runaway train. “I came as fast as I could!” she cried.

  “I can see that.” My tone was as dry as the glass of Pinot Grigio clasped in my hand. Cressida didn’t miss either.

  “You must be in a truly horrid mood if you’ve already moved on to angry sass,” she remarked.

  She kicked off her shoes and marched over to the fridge to pour herself a glass. She didn’t make any comments about how I’d already polished off most of the bottle when she returned to the living room.

  “So, what happened? I thought things were going well with you two?”

  All I’d said to her over text was that I was having an Oliver crisis and I needed my best friend, stat. Now I had to go through the uncomfortable process of reliving the moment my heart broke. The moment I realized what I had to do.

  “Well the good news is that I finally figured out why Oliver was such a jerk when I started working for him, and it doesn’t actually have a whole lot to do with me,” I said brightly. I followed it up with a mouthful of wine.

  Cressida curled up on the opposite end of the sofa, clutching her glass to her chest and watching me. “And the bad news?”

  I was having a weird moment where I wanted to laugh out loud but thought it might come out as a sob if I did, so I just gritted my teeth and pushed the urge away. “The bad news is his dead grandfather is controlling his life from beyond the grave.”

  “Creepy,” Cressida commented. “I know a young priest if you can find an old one.”

  “Would that it were so simple,” I lamented. “But unfortunately wills, unlike ghostly commandments written on walls in blood, cannot be ignored.”

  “Ouch. What kind of controlling are we talking about here?”

  “He’s not allowed to settle down. Or to work. Or basically do anything other than party and, quote: ‘live life to the fullest.’”

  “No!”

  I nodded stoically. “Yes.”

  “That’s crazy,” she said. “So, Oliver’s just expected to get drunk and sleep around until he dies?”

  “Yep. That’s the Cliff’s Notes.”

  Cressida scowled. I could already see her mind at work trying to come up with a solution. There wasn’t one. Not one that would end happily for everyone, at least.

  “That has to be the most ironic thing I’ve ever heard,” she decided. “And the
dumbest. Who gets forced into a life of pleasure?”

  “Right?” I chugged back more of my wine, savoring the way it burned down my throat. I was going to need more of it. Much more.

  “So Oliver came here to break up with you? Did he just drop his truth bomb and make a hasty retreat?”

  If Cressida couldn’t figure it out with logic, her next step was usually to duke it out with fists. I’d seen her get into one too many a confrontation with someone who’d gotten too hands-y with one of us at the bar to allow her to fully engage with this train of thought.

  “No. I asked him to leave. I needed time to think.”

  “Think and drink do rhyme,” she replied. “But I don’t think we should get them confused.”

  I shot her a flat look and spitefully downed another mouthful. “It’s been a rough day and I’m dealing with this the best way I can.”

  “But if he didn’t break up with you, what’s there to deal with?” she asked. “Obviously he’s not opposed to the idea of a future with you. If he was, wouldn’t he just end it right now? I mean, he’s had no problem doing that in the past but I think the fact that he can’t make it stick means he doesn’t want to leave.”

  “Honestly, I don’t know what’s going through his head.” I lurched forward and almost dropped my glass onto the coffee table. Cressida watched me with wary eyes as I stood, my body swaying while I realigned myself with the earth’s gravitational fields.

  “I’m more worried about what’s going through your head,” she frowned.

  I toddled over to the kitchen, filling up a glass of water and downing it in three swallows. Having Cressida around made me less anxious to drown my sorrows. Now I just wanted to go to sleep.

  “Hon,” Cressida called.

  I refilled my glass of water and chugged it back again.

  When I was finished, Cressida poked her head through the kitchen doorway. “What are you up to in here?”

  “Drinking water.”

  She smiled. “You’re such a lightweight.”

  “Guilty.”

  “We aren’t done talking about Oliver,” she said gently, extending her hand to me. “You’re obviously very upset. Help me understand what’s going on.”

  I wish I understood it myself.

  “It’s simple, really. If Oliver chooses me, he has to give up everything. His family fortune, his home, his old life… and if he doesn’t choose me, well… you get the idea.”

  “If it’s that simple, then why do I feel there’s something you’re not telling me?”

  I wavered under Cressida’s stony gaze. When she was trying to get something out of me, she made herself appear taller and blinked at least three times less. She was doing it now. I don’t know if she was conscious of it, but I knew from experience that I wouldn’t be going to bed until I told her what I’d done.

  “I texted him,” I said.

  She stared at me blankly.

  “I texted Oliver.”

  “Well I didn’t think you texted the Pope,” Cressida replied. “I’m waiting to hear what this has to do with what you told me.”

  The floodgates, which I thought I’d done a pretty good job of securing, busted open with a vengeance. I sank down to the linoleum like a deflated balloon. My best friend rushed over to me, wrapping me in her arms and rocking me as I wept. I’d done most of my crying earlier. I thought I’d done all of it. But life surprises you sometimes.

  “Oh honey,” she cooed. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay,” I croaked out. “I couldn’t do that to Oliver, Cress. I couldn’t make him choose.” I sniffed, wiping my wet face against my arm. “I love him.”

  “I know, I know,” she murmured. “What did you text him?”

  “I-I…”

  Another set of sobs wracked through me. My stomach felt like it was trying to make the Great Escape through my mouth. My bones ached. My heart felt like somebody had wrapped it in tight cling film. Everything was wrong.

  “I told him we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

  It was all I could get out before the next wave of grief washed over me, dragging me deep under. Cressida kept holding me. I wished she was Oliver. I wished a lot of things.

  With Cressida stroking my back and whispering calming words into my ear, I managed to bring myself back enough to ask the question that had been on my mind since the moment I sent that text.

  “Do you think I did the right thing?”

  It wasn’t too late. I could go back if I wanted to. God, I wanted to.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I can’t make that decision for you.”

  “That’s unhelpful,” I replied.

  “That’s life, my love.” She stood and pulled me up with her, supporting my shaking body with her own. “I think you did what you felt was best for Oliver. And maybe it is. This was going to hurt no matter what way you sliced it.”

  “I just wish…” I looked up at her. There were tears in her eyes, too. “I just wish I could fix it.”

  “Me too, Liz.” She hugged me tight. “Me too.”

  “I thought falling in love was a good thing,” I said, my voice strained and pitched. “I thought the good would always outweigh the bad.” The last sentence came out more as a sob than discernible speech, but I knew she heard me all the same. “But I hurt so bad, Cress. I hurt so fucking bad.”

  This time, our bodies shook together.

  Chapter 37

  Oliver

  Todd found me in my study, hunched over a bottle of my grandfather’s finest. I hadn’t bothered with a glass. I had all the money in the world—if I drank this all in one go, I could just replace the bottle. Wasn’t that the point of wealth? Wasn’t that practically the very definition of living life to the fullest?

  “I never did understand the point of drinking away one’s sorrows,” he commented.

  I glared up at him blearily from my desk. He’d interrupted me while I was considering whether to light it on fire or not. It wasn’t like I needed it, anyway.

  “You’ve clearly never had much sorrow, then,” I snapped back.

  “Ah, defensive Oliver. How I’ve missed you.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I snarled, “Get out.”

  But Todd didn’t move. He never did anything I told him to do.

  “I’ve left you alone for nearly a week,” he said. “I thought you might snap out of it, but it appears you’ve continued to spiral down into spiritual decay.”

  I raised the bottle to my lips for another swig, but Todd shot forward and nimbly snatched it from my hand. He danced out of my reach before I could even think of reacting.

  “Give that back,” I commanded.

  He shook his head, tucking his hands behind his back. “Not until you tell me what it is that has brought you so low.”

  “You know what.”

  “You lost Elizabeth,” Todd replied. “You’re right, I figured that much out for myself. But the rest is still unknown to me.”

  “I didn’t lose her,” I retorted. “She’s not a set of car keys.”

  “Enlighten me,” he persisted.

  “She dumped me, okay?” My mouth watered, aching for another dose of fire. “I told her about the will and she dumped me.” Bitterly, I turned my gaze away from Todd. I couldn’t stand the judgement.

  “That doesn’t seem like something she would do,” he said thoughtfully. “Did you misunderstand?”

  “Did I misunderstand?” I growled. “I’m not an idiot. She dumped me over text. Said she didn’t want to see me anymore.”

  “That’s unfortunate.”

  “Unfortunate?” I pressed. “That’s it? Just unfortunate?”

  “You called me in here and told me to fire her so you wouldn’t be tempted to burn the will not too long ago,” Todd rebutted. “I would think you should be relieved.”

  “Relieved?” I snapped. “That she just walked away? That she didn’t think enough of me, of us, to put up a fight?”

 
; Shit. I said it out loud.

  Todd looked equally surprised by my admission. I may as well have screamed it off the top of a building. Rattled, I sank back into my chair. It gave a woeful squeak.