Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)

by Claire Contreras

  She sighed. “My boyfriend is picking me up here, but Dad hates him.”

  “Oh. Okay,” I said, walking into a stall and closing it behind me.

  “So, what do you think of Victor’s date?”

  I blinked rapidly, trying to sober up quickly. “Nothing. What am I supposed to think?”

  “Corinne hates her.”

  I half-laughed, half-snorted as I flushed the toilet and fixed my little black dress. I looked at Grace in the mirror when I went to wash my hands.

  “Corinne hates everybody that gets near Victor. I’m sure she hates me too.”

  Grace smiled. “I don’t think anybody hates you.”

  She was so young and innocent, probably thinking I was the nicest person ever. I dried my hands and looked at her one last time. “Have fun tonight.”

  “Thanks. Are you leaving?”

  “Yep. My time is up. I came, I saw, I stirred up shit.” I shrugged. “Now it’s time to go home.”

  Grace laughed as I walked out of the bathroom. Brent was standing in the hall, waiting for me.

  “Ready?” he asked, offering me his arm, which I tucked mine into. Instinctively, I looked for Victor. He was off to the side, talking to the blonde. I was so not waiting to talk to him in private.

  “So ready. My feet are killing me.”

  “I can carry you.”

  I smiled, but didn’t say anything. Brent was hot. He had an incredible body, a great smile, a nice personality, but I was his height when in heels. Not that it meant he couldn’t carry me. I was sure he could. But I didn’t even want him to try. I sighed. I should probably just have sex with this guy and see if I stopped thinking about Victor. Unfortunately for me and my vagina, I was just not that kind of girl. Once I had my mind set on one guy, it was set on that guy until I was over him. Despite walking straight into Gabe’s arms all those years ago, I had to move forward. I wanted to be cherished, but I wasn’t that needy girl anymore. I didn’t need a man to sweep me off my feet. Maybe I should go back to just having a little fun.

  Whether Victor was over me or not, I didn’t know. What I did know was that he wouldn’t act on whatever he felt. I could read him enough to know that his resolve was steady again. Maybe because he got his promotion. Maybe because I gave him what he wanted of me. It hurt to admit that to myself. It hurt because I gave him more than just a hookup. I gave him me, and he didn’t even know it. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

  I looked over at Brent again, who was there and available and willing to try to make me forget things that could be hidden but not forgotten . . .

  WHAT BOTHERED ME most about Nicole going home with the guy named Brent was that she didn’t go home. I knew because I went to her house after I left the office and her car wasn’t in the driveway and all her lights were off. If she wasn’t there, it could only mean she was still with him. Spending the night with him. The thought made me crazy. Fucking crazy. I knew then, while I was standing outside her house, listening to the sound of the waves crashing, that I would willingly go insane for her love. It was more than just desire that I felt. It was deeper than that, more serious than that. In that instant, as I thought about her in bed with another man, the rage that ran through me was aimed toward myself for being an idiot. For not opening my eyes sooner. For not handing the case to somebody else when I should have. For not realizing the kind of woman I had and now had probably lost. No, fuck that, I hadn’t lost her. Not yet. But worse than losing her, I was now sharing her. And I didn’t share. Ever.

  “YES, DAD,” I said for the tenth time. I was definitely going back home. I’d stayed a week longer than anticipated because when I went to get clothes the day after the promotion event, the media frenzy outside my house had been too much for me to handle. Why were they still on my case? During my week at Dad’s, I managed to stay away from the cameras, aside from the day I went to the premiere with Gabe, which was when he asked me if I wanted to fly to Argentina. To visit your mom, he’d said. I’ll pay for your flights. It’s the least I can do. And I had agreed. It was the least he could do, and I was dying to see my mom.

  “I just want you to be careful over there. Are you staying with your mom?” Dad asked. He knew I would. I never went to Argentina and stayed anywhere else. I responded anyway. “Good,” he said. “What time is Gabriel picking you up?”

  “At four. No need to get up and ready your shotgun at such an ungodly hour,” I said.

  “And you’re sure you won’t be with Gabriel?”

  “No, Dad. We’re over.”

  I told him I wouldn’t go to the actual press events with him, but I would go on the same flight. He seemed okay with that. Gabe was definitely being cautious around me. Good thing, too, because despite my agreement, I still hadn’t forgotten about our ice cream shop experience, or that girl’s tell-all. Despite that, I wasn’t going to turn down a free trip to go see my mom.

  “Okay, sweetheart. Good night. Call me when you land,” Dad said.

  “I will.”

  I gave him a hug and went out to the guest house to finish packing. I couldn’t sleep, so I went online and looked through gossip sites, because I needed to see what they were saying about me now. I’d kept a very low profile since the night of Victor’s promotion, so I couldn’t imagine they had much to say, unless Darryl fed the media things about Gabe and me. One of these days I would wake up and not find anything posted about me, and no cameras following me. Goals. One day soon. I just needed to get through one last media frenzy first.

  I woke up at three and got ready, and Gabriel pulled up at the gate just as I was lugging my suitcase to the front of the house. He opened the backdoor of his Escalade and jogged toward me with a smile on his face. He looked like the man I’d met all those years ago, willing to help, excited to be going on a trip with me. Excited to see me. He leaned down and kissed my cheek as he reached for my suitcase.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said.

  “Thanks for inviting me,” I responded. As I looked at what he was wearing, which looked very similar to what I had on, I laughed. He gave me a once-over, taking in my black sweats and white T-shirt, and did the same. My shirt was a tank I’d tied at the bottom so it fit more like a crop, and his was just a regular white tee. We were both wearing the same black Nikes. Gabe laughed.

  “Great minds, huh?”

  “I guess so.”

  On our way to the airport, we both kept yawning, and at some point I dozed off with my head on his shoulder. I was startled awake when he moved, and I felt a flash of light on my face.

  “Holy crap,” I said, wiping my eyes and fixing my hair. “How the fuck do they wake up so early?”

  Gabe groaned. “I don’t know, but I swear Darryl didn’t call them.”

  “Where is that asshole anyway?”

  “He’s in Argentina,” he said.

  “Oh. Fun.”

  Gabe chuckled, but didn’t reply. A mob of paparazzi surrounded us as we stepped out of the car, security in tow. They started with their usual onslaught of questions, and we ignored them, both of us keeping our heads down. Gabe pulled me into his side just as we were trying to step inside, and in that moment, I was grateful to have the bit of comfort he provided.

  The moment lasted all of two seconds. Once the doors closed on the cameras, I pulled away and waited for him to hand me my ticket. I was surprised his manager wasn’t traveling with us and said as much as we went up the escalator. We both slept throughout the flight, not even bothering with the food they served, and by the time we landed we were starving. My mom had offered to have food ready for us, and I felt the need to extend the invitation to him, though I was hoping he turned it down. He didn’t.

  “I feel like I owe it to her to see her before . . .” He let his words hang. Before the divorce is final, I guessed. Before he never sees her again, I assumed. I didn’t care enough to ask, and I didn’t mind him going. “You know, I’ve never been to a red carpet event without you,” he said as we waited for the securi
ty detail to sort things out so we could exit the car.

  Similar to the U.S., the paparazzi didn’t stop in Argentina. Once they caught wind that we were there, they were relentless. I was sure Darryl played some part in that.

  “Yeah, well, you’ve done a lot of other things without me,” I said, shooting him a pointed look. He flinched.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing. It’s fine.” I paused. “It’s not fine, but it’s over, and I’m over it. I’m just glad the LA premiere is over with.”

  “I really am sorry, Nic. I feel like . . .” He sighed. “We really had something good going for us. You were the only normal thing I had in my life, and I completely fucked it up.”

  “You definitely did. Maybe we both did, though,” I said.

  He shook his head. “It was all me.”

  “Maybe you were right, though. I just couldn’t handle sticking around when things got tough. That’s on me.”

  “Things got tough because of me,” he said. “I let this,” he waved his hands around, “change me. I let it change me. I see that now. I’m sorry I realized it so late.”

  I shrugged. It is what it is. You can’t turn back time. “I wish you well, you know that, right?”

  “Same goes for you.” He stayed quiet a long time. We got out of the car and were escorted to the front of the house, and he put his arm around me to shield me from the overzealous cameras that were nearly in my face. When we reached my mom’s door, he sighed and turned to me. “I’ve been dying to ask you something. Is something really going on between you and your lawyer?”

  My mouth dropped. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t really just ask me that.”

  My mom opened the door before he could say anything else, and my heart soared at the sight of her. People said we looked like twins, more than we did mother-daughter. I used to hate it when I was young because all the guys in school would tease me about wanting to bang my mom, but now I appreciated it. We had the same long dark hair, dead straight unless we attempted a curling iron, and the volume was always short-lived, the same blue eyes, and the same curvy body. Hers was a little fuller than mine, but she still looked incredible for her age.

  “Hija,” she said, throwing her arms around me. I squeezed her so hard, I was sure I cracked her back. She backed away and held my face in her hands as she looked at me. “Te vez cansada,” she said.

  “I am tired. I woke up at three in the morning and flew twelve hours,” I said, stepping aside so she could greet Gabe.

  They hugged as if we weren’t waiting for the final papers of our divorce. My mom was like that, though. Forgiving, caring, always willing to give people a second chance until you fucked up again, in which case she’d put you on her shit list. With Gabe it was different though. She felt she saw him grow up, and she felt sorry for him. I also hadn’t filled her in on just how many women he’d evidentially cheated with.

  The three of us sat around the dinner table and chatted while being catered to by the cook and housekeepers, and I felt myself relax. Of course, that was until I saw the pictures of Victor leaving a nightclub with another woman. Then, I was raging and actually glad I’d agreed to go to the premiere with Gabe and wasn’t back home in LA where these pictures would’ve been pushed down my throat. I needed to stop looking for things I had no interest in seeing. All I was doing was forcing the knife deeper into my heart, and I couldn’t bear it anymore. I hid my pain behind a bright smile. It was the only way I knew how to cope. I hid. I hid my pain behind a bright smile. But inside, I also cried. Inside, my heart broke a little more, as if I hadn’t experienced enough pain over the last two years. He was moving on. Despite that kiss in his office—our last kiss—he was really moving on.

  At least I knew I was going to spend the week with my mom and not in public with Gabe. I was finally done with that life. Still, it didn’t mean when Victor actually did text message me that it didn’t bother me. I knew the game. I knew he was trying to make it seem like he was never with me, but those pictures, seeing them, seeing his smile, seeing him shielding the blonde with his arm so the camera’s flash wouldn’t get her . . . it hurt. It hurt, and I knew I couldn’t talk to him. I wouldn’t talk to him. Not unless he was ready to actually be with me. Not until after all of this was over. Not unless he was ready to actually be with me. I deserved better than to be somebody’s dirty little secret. I deserved to be number one in somebody’s life.

  “LOOK AT THIS one,” Estelle said.

  While we’d been watching the Golden State game, she’d been scrolling through her phone, showing Mia the latest on TMZ’s update about Gabriel and Nicole. Did she not realize how sick to my stomach I was over it? Did she not comprehend to what extent the whole thing angered me? Thankfully, I was holding Greyson in my arms and it was hard to rage while you were holding such an innocent little thing. I smiled, looking down at him.

  “Women suck, Grey. When you grow up all you’ll hear about is how much men suck and how terrible we are, but remember, they make us this way. They drive us crazy and make us want them and then they go fuck everything up,” I said in a coo while I kissed the top of his head. He smelled so fucking good.

  “What are you saying to my kid?” Mia asked. I lifted my head up to look at her.

  “Nothing. Guy talk.”

  She shot me a dissatisfied look. “I’m not sure I want you having guy talk.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re a bad influence.”

  “What?” I paused, frowning as I adjusted Grey in my arms. “I’m not a bad influence.”

  “Every time I look at this,” she said, waving her phone around, “you’re with a different girl. Weren’t you supposed to be with Nicole?”

  I groaned. “I’m not with any of those women.”

  “Yeah, good luck convincing Nicole of that,” Estelle said.

  “She doesn’t care. Aren’t you looking at pictures of her and Gabriel, looking like they’re back on and about to go to the courthouse and get remarried and shit?” I asked, not caring how pissed off I sounded. Greyson cooed in my arms, and I stuck the pacifier back in his mouth with my finger.

  “Can they do that?” Mia asked, gasping. “That would really suck.”

  “It would really fucking suck,” I said. The thought alone made me feel defeated.

  “Is she wearing . . . an engagement ring?” Estelle asked slowly, quietly, almost in a whisper.

  I walked toward her and handed Grey over to Mia, and as I did, I caught a glimpse of the picture they were looking at. She picked him up and I took the phone from her hand. It was a video of Nicole and Gabriel. I clicked on it and brought the phone closer to my face. They were walking through a street market, and she was smiling up at him. His arm was casually draped over her shoulder. At the end of the video, the camera zoomed in on her hand and the voice-over made mention of the ring she wore. Nicole wore a lot of rings, though. She wore bracelets, and rings, and necklaces of all lengths.

  “She wears a lot of rings,” I said. I knew it wasn’t her engagement ring because it looked much smaller. Seeing it on that finger didn’t make it hurt any less.

  “Let me see,” Jensen said, reaching for the phone. “On that finger, though?”

  I tried to shrug nonchalantly, but the lump forming in my throat spoke volumes. I looked at the television, so I wouldn’t have to witness the compassionate looks they were surely giving me. I might actually break down right there in her living room. The truth was that when I told Nicole that she was mine, I’d meant it. I couldn’t bear the thought of Nicole with anybody else in any capacity, much less in such a serious one. It physically pained me when I thought about it.

  “When are you going to admit to yourself that you’re in love with her?” Estelle asked suddenly.

  Her words came at me hard, pushing a boulder of pressure against my chest. Love. I’d told her I thought I was falling in love with her when she’d been lying in my arms. All this time apart did nothing to d
iminish my feelings for her. Nothing. If anything, it made me realize how much I was missing. No late-night talks about our days. No humorous discussions. No kissing. No fucking. No . . . light. No Nicole. Fuck. And I realized Estelle was fucking right. How did that happen? There was no way around it. No point in denying it. I was in love with her and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I’d known it in that hotel room. I may have known it before then. Who knew? Love was a strange thing. But the more time that passed without seeing each other, and the longer she was in Argentina, the clearer it became that I’d lost her. Probably for good. Maybe I’d have to come to terms with the fact that I let go of the one woman who made me want to settle down once and for all.

  “I . . .” I started, but stopped.

  “Dude. She’s right,” Oliver added.

  I closed my eyes, but it was useless, because all I could picture was Nicole’s smile when she looked at me, her laugh when she made fun of me, the way her blue eyes lit up when she saw me walk near her. And fuck, I loved all of that. I loved the way she tried to hold back her emotion from the world but let me see it. I loved the way she let me see all of her, unfiltered. And my sister was right. I was in love with her.

  “This is you admitting it?” Jensen asked with a laugh. I opened my eyes and looked around the room, at him, at Mia, Oliver, Estelle, and finally, at baby Grayson.

  “I . . . it doesn’t matter. I can’t . . . it doesn’t matter what I feel,” I said.

  “Shit. Victor stuttering and at a loss for words. This is big,” Mia said.

  “I fucking lost her,” I said quietly. “The one girl I could stand to be near when she chewed her food and got all emotional and shit . . . and I fucking lost her.” Again, I wanted to add, but didn’t.

  “You haven’t lost her yet,” Estelle said with a small smile.

  I loved my sister. She was a pain in my ass most of the time, but she encouraged me when I needed it. I haven’t lost her yet . . . but it didn’t take away from the fact she was still in another country with her ex. I decided to call her. What else could I do? But her phone went straight to voicemail. Once. Twice. Three times. Finally, I sent her a simple three-worded text message in hopes she’d get it. Thankfully they hadn’t pushed me for more, because there wasn’t much I could offer. I wanted to fight but I had no idea how. The only thing I’d ever had to fight for was my career. My love life always sorted itself out. Fuck.