He's Back

by Aria Ford

  “Josh, Paige…sorry. I had an appointment.” I made a wavering gesture with my hand, indicating that I didn’t mean to disturb their concentration.

  “No problem.” Josh said, not looking up.

  “Scott, are you okay?” Paige asked kindly. “You look stressed.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, at once touched by her concern and wishing she would be meaner so I wouldn’t be tempted to pour my heart out right here.

  I couldn’t concentrate anyway, so there seemed little point in my being at work. I kept on thinking about Jackie and the fact that she was clearly furious with me.

  She must have found out about these rumors. She must have been so, so hurt.

  As I thought it, an idea came to me. After the meeting I would have to confront my dad about this. It was his fault, in a funny kind of way. He was the one who had been pushing me into this relationship with Alexa. If there were photos of us it was because he had managed the two of us like a director for a movie.

  Scene one: Alexa and Scott together on a rooftop, dining.

  I wanted to explode. The longer I sat there, the hotter my rage became. When lunch break came around I was primed like a pistol, ready to let rip at my dad. I decided to cool off.

  “Coming to lunch?” Josh asked, making me jump.

  “No, thanks. I’m going to head down to the gym.”

  “Scott, you are okay, aren’t you?” Paige asked. She was shrugging on her blazer, lifting her bag from the rack.

  I laughed. It came out a bit hysterical, which probably didn’t help to create the impression I wanted. “I’m fine, Paige. It isn’t so unusual for me to work out.”

  She laughed. “No, I guess not.”

  “Thanks,” I said. When they were gone, I heaved a sigh. Took out my phone and dialed the school.

  “Hello?” I said. It was the same voice from this morning who answered me, the secretary.

  “St. Luke school. How can we…oh. Hi! It’s you.”

  I laughed despite the gravity of the situation. “Yeah, it is. Is Jackie there?”

  “She’s gone out to lunch. I’m sorry. Try later?”

  I wanted to cry. I couldn’t try later—the meeting would end whenever it ended. I had just lost my chance to speak to her.

  “Okay,” I said glumly. “If you see her, tell her Scott called. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I hung up, feeling wretched.

  I now had about half an hour to calm down, make sure I was prepared for the meeting, rehearse the things I wanted to say to my dad in a calm, rational manner. I went to the gym downstairs and used the treadmill for ten minutes, my speech running through my head as I did so. I felt calmer after that. In the shower I felt my tension melting away. I wasn’t enraged anymore. I was calmly angry. Which was infinitely more dangerous.

  At twenty-five minutes past one, I lifted my laptop, shrugged into my blazer and headed to the boardroom. Set up the laptop for the presentation and then waited, pacing, for the rest to arrive from the business lunch.

  “Good afternoon, everyone. Let’s get to it.” My father. He was leading three men with him, all in expensive suits with that glossed look that speaks of wealth. He gave me a glance—cold and approving at once. I bit my lip.

  He really does still see me as an irresponsible boy, doesn’t he? The thought made me angry. I looked away.

  “Good afternoon,” I said, greeting the other three men who all came over to shake my hand. They seemed more pleased about seeing me than he was, I thought resentfully.

  We all sat down to business. I presented the results I needed to present. They all seemed pleased. While I relaxed, my part over, my dad himself presented his plans for the future. These were our most important investors—all close friends of my father’s—which was the only reason he did it himself.

  At half past four, we adjourned. I waited until everyone had gone and then went over to my father.

  “Dad?” I said quietly. “Do you have ten minutes?”

  He almost rolled his eyes at me. I caught a look of exasperation creeping across his face and glared at him. He sighed.

  “Yes, son. What is it? I wouldn’t mind an explanation for your absence this morning either. It was embarrassing to have to reschedule things around you.”

  I felt my anger spark and swallowed it down. “I was about to explain, Father,” I said firmly. “But first, I think we should go somewhere more private.”

  He shrugged. “If you insist.”

  We went to his office.

  “See that no one disturbs me for—you said ten minutes, yes? Ten minutes.”

  “Yes, sir.” his secretary nodded, looking nervously from my dad to me as I followed him in.

  He shut the door and stood behind his desk. He looked the way he did when I was five and trying to explain to him why Reggie and I had broken the window when playing football. I pushed down the terror he had inspired in me then and still did, for the greatest part.

  “Dad, I’m not marrying Alexa. I need your permission to make an announcement about that. The rumor’s got out and we need to finish it.”

  “On no account will you do that,” he said stiffly. “Imagine the scandal! And imagine how Howard would react? If we insult his daughter? No way, Scott.”

  I felt as if he’d slapped me. “Father, this is important…” I began. Then I had another thought. I didn’t need to argue with him on this. Didn’t need an announcement. Why not tell the truth? “Actually, forget it.”

  “Good,” he said thinly. “Have you changed your mind?”

  “No,” I said lightly. “I’ve just decided to make my own announcement.”

  He looked relieved, then his eyes narrowed. “You mean, an announcement of a marriage between you and Alexa?”

  “No. An announcement of my marriage, yes.”

  “What are you doing, Scott?” He looked impatient. I could hear it in his voice, in the weariness of it. “Stop playing games and just tell me straight out. What is it?”

  “I am marrying Jackie Jefferson.”

  “Who?” he stared at me. “Who the hell is that? What are you…” His face was flushed, a hectic contrast to his white hair and clear eyes. I would usually worried about his heart, making him overexcited. But now I didn’t.

  “Jackie Jefferson is the woman I want to marry. She is the woman I love. And the mother of my daughter, Stella.”

  “What?” Now I really should have been worried. He was red in the face, staring at me. He leaned on the desk. Then he sat down, suddenly exhausted. “Scott, tell me this is a joke. What have you done?”

  “I have made up my own mind,” I said coldly.

  “Scott, if this is one of your ridiculous playboy scandals, I swear I’ll disinherit you.”

  My eyes widened. “Jackie is not one of my playboy scandals! How dare you speak about your own grandchild like that? As if she was a disgrace? She’s my whole life. And as for your inheritance…do you really think it means anything, compared to what I feel for Jackie and my child? Take it!”

  I turned around and walked out.

  I don’t know what Mrs. Atwell, his secretary, thought of me. At that moment, I didn’t care. I wanted to go home. It was five o’ clock. I went up to my desk and collected my things.

  Josh and Paige were still there, watching me silently, as if to ask why I was leaving so early. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I pushed in my chair and walked to the door.

  “I have to go,” I said abruptly. They looked at me curiously. Paige was the first to recover. She smiled.

  “See you tomorrow, Scott. Have a nice day.”

  “Thanks,” I said tiredly. “I’ll try.”

  “Bye, Scott,” Josh added.

  “Bye.”

  I walked down to the elevator, stormed out of it to my car and drove off.

  I hit the road and considered just driving. Driving as fast as I could legally get away with until I cooled off. It was rush hour, though, and there wasn’t much point. I’d be
stuck here until six anyway.

  I tried to call Jackie again, but there was no answer at work or on her phone. I was wretched and miserable and I needed to see her. I made a plan while I sat there. I would go home and shower and try and cool off. Then I’d go to her apartment. She’d be sure to be home by then. She had to agree to see me. She had to. If she didn’t, I thought shakily, I might just lose my wits.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Jackie

  “Jackie?”

  “Mm?”

  Barbara’s voice drifted through from the kitchen. When I’d told her I was planning a move to Colorado, she had sprung into action. She consulted with her sister, arranged for me to be able to visit the school and chat with the principal about working there. They needed a part-time psychologist at the junior school, she had said. The pay wasn’t great, but I’d manage. It was a job! And the promise of a new life away from here. Away from all my memories.

  “How’s yours doing?” Barbara called out to me. She meant the painting work. Not only had she helped me out with the job hunt, she had also offered to help me get my apartment ready for the landlord inspection. I wanted to give him my notice.

  “I’m almost done,” I said, lowering the paintbrush with a weary arm. “We should leave it, wait for this to dry. We can do the second coat tomorrow. Or I can—you’ve done so much already to help.”

  She chuckled. “It’s nothing. Friends help each other. Now. How about dinner? I’m starving.”

  I nodded. It was only six thirty, but I was ravenously hungry too. And tired. Painting the whole apartment by ourselves was proving to be a daunting task. “I’ll come and put it on now.”

  As I clattered about with the pots and pans, I could hear Barbara in the shower. I would put the stew on to boil and then we could swap. I really needed a shower.

  It all still seems unreal to me. I chopped up the onions and mushrooms, set them on the stove to sauté while I prepared the other ingredients. I was doing it. Leaving town and my memories of Scott—the memories of my daughter’s father.

  I was in the shower when Barbara knocked at the door.

  “Mm?” I switched off the water and called out. “If it’s burning, turn it down.”

  “It’s not the dinner,” she said tensely. “It’s a visitor. Downstairs.”

  “A visitor? No—it’s probably the courier. They try and get in sometimes. Can you see a van?”

  “I’ll check.”

  I banished the thought from my mind that it might be Scott. He wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that. The guy was going to get married!

  I was drying off when the next knock sounded on the door.

  “Yes?” I called. “What’s up, Barbs?”

  “It’s me,” the voice said.

  I got such a shock I dropped the towel. Almost slipped on the floor. It couldn’t be! How?

  My mind recovered quickly. I lifted the towel, dried my hair. “How the hell did you get in?” I shouted through the door. I shrugged into my gown, thinking what a terrible disadvantage I was in, being in my nightgown with wet, straggling hair while he was fully dressed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He sounded like he meant it. “Your friend let me in.”

  “Oh.” I sighed. “Why did she do that? I have no reason to say anything to you.” I said that to his face, my head round the door. He stared at me.

  “Jackie, please…”

  “I don’t care what you have to say!” I snapped at him. In the kitchen, I heard someone stirring a pot and I lowered my voice. I looked up at him.

  We were in my bedroom and I was wearing a nightgown. He was wearing a suit—a really stylish designer wear one too. I sighed. Of all the ways I planned to confront this lowlife who’d played me so badly, this was not one of them.

  “Get out of my room,” I hissed. At that moment, all my charitable feelings toward him had dissolved and my anger seethed through me.

  “Jackie, I…”

  “If you have to say something,” I said tiredly, “Go and wait in the sitting room until I’m dressed, at least. Like a decent person. Not that you can behave like a decent person,” I added cruelly.

  He looked like I’d slapped him. I felt a sort of savage pleasure in it on one hand, while on the other hand I felt bad.

  He went out and shut the door. I got dressed. Jeans, a white blouse. My hair was still damp, but after a vigorous drying it was more like how I wanted it to be.

  I put my head round the door. Barbara was at the stove, doing something with the stew. I wished she wasn’t there, but she’d painted the house with me and I couldn’t very well tell her to leave without supper.

  “Come in here,” I said. I didn’t feel like doing this in my bedroom, but we didn’t have a choice.

  He looked at me sadly, but followed me in. He shut the door. I sat down on the bed.

  “Right,” I said. “I don’t want to hear whatever apology you came to make. No, let me speak,” I said as he cleared his throat. At that moment, I didn’t want to be reasonable. Didn’t want to be fair. What he had done to me had not been fair, or reasonable. And I was mad at him.

  He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. I warmed to my theme. “I know your news,” I said tiredly. “And I know you lied to me. I am prepared to forgive that because I love you, Scott. I know.” I closed my eyes, not wanting to let him see the tears that filled them. My voice cracked. “Scott, I love you. I know I don’t fit in your world. Stella doesn’t fit in your world either. We can only disgrace you. I know that. I will go away. I just want to ask one thing of you.”

  “Jackie—”

  “No. Let me finish.”

  “Okay.”

  “I want to ask you to stay out of our lives. I don’t want to know. When I move, that’s it. I don’t want to hear about you, see you, or know you. Ever again. That clear?”

  “Yes,” he said miserably. He was looking at me with horror, the way you might look at the stones in Pompeii; knowing those were once humans who lived and suffered and died. Horror and compassion and regret. I sniffed.

  “What?” I snapped.

  “Nothing,” he said, voice shaky. “If that’s really what you want.”

  “What I want?” Now I was mad. “Oh, really? Since when has that mattered?”

  He winced like I’d slapped him. “Jackie, I wanted to tell you something. But I can’t tell you if you won’t listen. If you won’t believe me. Please?”

  “Okay.” I looked at the bathroom door while he cleared his throat and began. I was white-hot with rage, and if I’d been looking at him, I’d probably have thrown something at him. How dare he come here with his lame apologies and expect things to be okay. The arrogance!

  “Jackie,” he said in a small voice. “I love you. I think I knew that when I first saw you, only I was so messed up then that I didn’t recognize what love was. I wanted to see you again, but I couldn’t get hold of you. When I found you again, my life changed. You have made me so, so happy. You have no idea how you have changed everything for me. Only you and Stella really matter to me.”

  I snorted. “Nice try,” I muttered.

  He didn’t say anything, but cleared his throat. “Jackie, those rumors are a lie.”

  “Which ones?” I asked frostily. They didn’t seem like rumors to me, if the thing to which he referred was the news.

  “About me and Alexa. My dad set it up. He wanted us to marry. I swear this is true.”

  I looked at him frostily. “Sure. That’s why the press is full of pictures of the two of you together, not so?”

  He closed his eyes. He looked like he was suffering, and in that moment I was glad. I had suffered for weeks when he walked out the first time and now he had taken that hurt and multiplied it by ten. He could hurt for a bit.

  “Jackie, it isn’t what it looks like.”

  “Prove it,” I snapped.

  To my surprise, he smiled. “Okay,” he said. “Come to dinner with me tonight.”

  I stared at him. “What
?”

  “I said, Jackie, would you do me the honor of coming to dinner with me? At the Halston?”

  I swallowed. My heart was thumping in my chest like the piston on a small aircraft. “Are you mad?” I said, though I laughed as I said it. “You are mad. How could I do that?”

  “Well, it’s easy,” he said with a wry grin. “You get dressed and ready and then you join me in the car. If your friend is staying the night, maybe she would be kind enough to look after Stella for us? We can take her out for dinner later in the week to make up for it.”

  I stared at him. Of all the crazy, outrageous things he could have done to say sorry, to show me, with absolute certainty, that he wasn’t ashamed of me, this was top of the list. I was smiling.

  “Scott West,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “You are mad. And I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  We looked at each other, eyes locked. He started laughing.

  I started laughing, too, and soon we were in each other’s arms. I felt as if my heart was flying above me, making wild looping circuits of the neighborhood. I was so happy! All the gray numbness of the previous weeks wore away and I was standing in a pool of light.

  “Scott West,” I whispered into his ear as his body pressed against mine. I could feel his arousal beside my thigh, and I was aroused too. As I reached up to kiss him, longing overpowering me, he bent his lips to mine.