by Rebecca Shea
She sighs. "Why are you calling? Is everything okay? You never call this early." Her voice is quick, and she sounds short of breath. I imagine her running around topless, with Elena still suckling on her breast while she’s chasing Peyton.
"I'm fine. Just miss you," I answer.
"I miss you, too. How about dinner this weekend? Josh needs to bond with these two more and I need to get drunk. I plan to pump and dump!"
I stifle a laugh. "Deal. I'll call you later this week to set up a day and time."
"Sounds good. I can't wait to see you, Kate."
"Can't wait to see you, too." I disconnect and start thinking about where we can grab dinner and drinks. I miss Kandi. She's one of my only friends outside of the office. She's reasonable and rational and will probably kick my ass into next week when I tell her I slept with Sam, but I need a healthy dose of Kandi's perspective to get me past this funk.
After parking, I rush into the office. Normally, I'm one of the first ones here. Today, the office is abuzz with activity, activity I normally ignore from the peace and quiet of my office. As I saunter casually through the office, trying to go unnoticed, I see Adam's office door wide open, with him perched on the edge of his desk, his eyes following me all the way to my office. I try to avert his gaze as I feel like he can see right through my exterior, knowing what I did last night.
I close my office door behind me and toss my computer bag on my desk. Three rapid knocks on my door startle me, but before I have a chance to even answer, Adam bursts in and closes the door behind him.
"Katie, Katie, Katie," he says with a smirk, leaning up against the door.
"What, Adam? Traffic was terrible. I have to get logged in." I reach for my laptop, pulling it from my bag before docking it and starting it up.
Adam shuffles across my small office and places both of his hands on the end of my desk. He leans in and narrows his eyes at me. "Traffic wasn't any different this morning than it was yesterday, or last Friday, or last Tuesday. You're never late because of traffic…and you have this," he points his finger at me and moves it up and down from my head to my feet, "look about you."
I blow a puff of air through my teeth and roll my eyes at him. "A look about me? It's called running late, and I have a lot of shit to do. Quit hallucinating and go back to work."
"Right there." He points in my face and smirks. "You do that thing when you lie, where you scrunch your nose a little bit and roll your eyes."
"Shut up," I swat his hand away, and he laughs.
"Seriously though, Kate. You've been leaving early, coming in late…does this have anything to do with that man you're renting your guesthouse to?" He raises his eyebrows as he waits for me to respond.
I try to act cool, but my back stiffens. "No," I lie and begin sorting through a stack of contracts sitting in the middle of my desk.
"You suck at lying, Katie." His lips twist into a disbelieving grin.
"You suck at thinking you know things that aren't really things," I snap at him.
He tosses his head back and laughs at me…because he's right. I suck at lying, and he can see right through my bullshit. That's why he's my best friend. "Tell me about him," he says, taking a seat in the chair across the other side of my desk. He starts rolling his fingers on the hardwood desktop as he waits for me to speak.
"Tell you what?" I sigh in defeat. Adam knows precisely how to break me down.
He smiles that sincere smile that tells me he's genuinely interested in what I have to say. That smile that tells me I can share anything with him and he won't judge me. That smile that tells me how lucky I am to have him as my friend. "Tell me why this guy, of all the guys you've met, dated, communicated with, shared a drink with…what about this one has you so out of sorts? It's not like you to be like this, Katie."
I rub my temples and look at Adam. With a little shake of my head, I answer him honestly. "I don't know." I glance distractedly over at the large watercolor painting in my office. "There's just something different about him."
"Different, how?" he questions, raising his eyebrows.
I shake my head again and look Adam directly in the eyes. "I don't know."
"Huh," he says, leaning back in his chair. "I want to meet him." Adam always does this. He's protective in this brotherly kind of way, which I appreciate, but at times can also be overbearing…like right now.
"I appreciate what you're trying to do," I start. "But as quickly as I thought things had started, I'm afraid they may have fizzled out just as fast." I try to control the emotion in my voice, but he just looks at me, his brows furrowed and his jaw tense.
"You slept with him, didn't you?" His eyes narrow slightly.
"Adam, don't ask me that question." I can feel my cheeks instantly blush.
"Why, because you did, or because you don't want to lie to me?" He knows he's pinned me into a corner.
"Both," I answer, and he exhales loudly.
"Katie," he says, with a tsk after my name. "We've talked about this—"
"I know," I tell him, holding up a hand to shut him up. "I know we have. And you know what, I threw caution to the wind. I let my guard down and let Sam in."
"You bet you did," he mumbles, and I choose to ignore his snide remark as he rubs his chin.
"I have to live with what I've done and also live with the fact that he's my tenant!" My voice is rising, and Adam's eyes grow wide.
"Shit, Katie," he huffs, his eyes full of sympathy.
"I know,” I groan. “This is so bad." I rest my elbows on the edge of my desk and rub my eyes.
"It's going to be fine. So you slept with the guy that you're renting to." He snorts but collects himself quickly. "Think of it as a one-night stand. You got what you needed and now you're moving on."
I exhale loudly, and he looks at me. "You're not moving on, are you?" he asks with an exaggerated sigh.
"How?" I plead. "I really like him."
Adam shakes his head at me. "You just have to. It's what's best for your situation. You can't continue to sleep with your tenant, Katie. That's weird."
I stare at Adam across my desk and fight the urge to bury my face in my hands and cry. I'm feeling emotional because I want more with Sam. Everything about him intrigues me, and yet I barely know him.
"What do I say to him?" I ask, hoping Adam has the answers. That he'll just magically know what I should say, and all of this will be behind me, except I know that's a lie. Because my heart won't get over Sam that quickly. Something about him has pulled me to him.
"How do I approach him?"
He looks at me sympathetically. "You just need to talk to him as soon as possible. Tell him it was a mistake and you're sorry."
"It wasn't a mistake," I mutter.
"Yes, it was." He leans forward, capturing my hands and pulling them into his. "We all make mistakes. You'll get over this, just like you got over all the other ones, I promise." He smiles at me. "And you'll find a great guy. One you're not renting your house to. I know you will." He gives my hands a tight squeeze.
I offer him my best fake smile, and he winks at me. I don't know what I'd do without Adam.
Without another word, he pushes himself up and walks toward the door, only to stop and turn toward me. "You've got this." His lips pull into a tight smile. After he leaves, I finally bury my face in my hands and have a good cry.
Chapter Eight
Sam
The ringing of the phone sounds through the speakerphone on my desk, and I spin a pen between my fingers while I wait for Alex to answer.
"Sam," he answers after the second ring. Alex and I are still working on our relationship, and I’d be lying if I said I still didn't get a bit of anxiety when I talk to him. The years of separation, lies, and living on opposite sides of the law seem to have created a certain level of distrust between the two of us.
"Hey, Alex," I answer him. "Thanks for taking my call."
"Yeah, no problem."
"Is now still a decent time to talk?"
I doodle on the legal pad in front of me, trying to tamp down my anxiety.
"Yeah, but I've only got a few minutes—"
I cut him off. "Then let me jump right in. I need to know everything you know about Navarro."
He inhales sharply, and then clears his throat. "You don't ask for much, do you?" He half laughs but continues. "He's a smart guy and runs a tight ship. A very shrewd businessman. His circle is tight, and he doesn't make mistakes." I hear the warning in what he's telling me. It's going to be tough to get any information on his organization.
"Did you deal much with him?" I always wonder, now that Alex is out of the business, if he'd be fully honest with me. I have to trust that all the information he provides me is enough that I won’t be in danger, but there is always a little apprehension on my part.
"Not much. When we were crumbling, he offered his services, but Dad never wanted us depending on another organization…because when you owe favors, you get pulled into shit, and when you get pulled into shit, you lose control. He never wanted to lose control."
If that isn't the damn truth. It took us years to get enough intelligence to finally bring charges against my father. Once we did, it was the beginning of the end of his business. In a matter of months, all the men that were working for him were either locked up or dead—all except for Alex. My brother. The other half of me.
"Understood," I answer him. "Any idea what he's moving?" I tap my pen on the notepad, ready to document every detail Alex can provide.
"The usual—guns, weed, cocaine, heroin."
"Any idea where the guns are coming from?" I know the answer, but I'm curious to see what Alex knows.
"Not confirmed, but through Colombia via Russia." That's exactly where they're coming from. "I used to know all the details for all of our competitors, but it's been a while, and honestly, I'm trying to forget."
"I know, and I appreciate you telling me what you do know." I mean that. I know how hard it is to get out of that life. The last thing he needs is me knocking on his door, asking for information, but right now I want every last detail on Navarro.
“That's all I really remember—Oh, one more thing. Girls," Alex says, his voice hitching.
"Girls?" I question. "He moves girls?"
"Not exactly. He has a weakness for them. He owns strip clubs, does most of his business exclusively in these clubs."
That I knew, but I didn't know he owned them. Another front for moving money. I note that.
"And he always has a handful of girls servicing him. Trust none of them. But if you can get someone inside, that might be your ticket to getting everything you need."
"Shit," I utter into the phone. Alex just handed me the fucking jackpot. "I can't thank you enough," I tell him as I furiously scribble notes.
"And be careful," he says, his tone serious. "He's dangerous, and he won't go down without a fight."
I'm touched by Alex's concern for my safety. "I understand. If you think of anything else, I'd really appreciate it."
"Yeah, of course," he says. Silence overtakes the phone line, and I'm about to end the call when Alex begins to speak again. "So, how are you?"
"I'm hanging in there." It's an honest reply. "Just adjusting to life in Southern California."
"How is it?" he asks, and suddenly the mood shifts. He sounds genuinely interested in what's happening in my life, and I'm caught off guard, in a good way. I never believed Alex and I would have a normal brother-to-brother relationship.
"I think I'm really going to like it here. The traffic sucks, but aside from that, I think it's exactly the change I needed."
He replies genuinely, "Good. I'm really glad things are going well for you."
"Thanks," I respond.
"And if I think of anything else about Navarro, I'll be sure to let you know."
"I really appreciate it."
"And, Sam," he adds.
"Yeah."
"Please keep in touch. You know, with things that don't have to do with your job." His voice is sincere, and some of the residual anger I've been harboring around Alex suddenly evaporates. A small sense of hope fills the void, and I pray that we will get to a good place.
I let out a small laugh. "Yeah, I can do that."
"Good. Be safe, brother." And the line goes dead.
It's the first time in a long time that I’m able to hang up the phone with him and not feel anger or resentment. The first time I genuinely enjoyed the briefest of conversations with him. The first time I didn't feel a hint of jealously over him and Emilia—and that's because all I can think about is Kate.
* * *
I'm a dick. The way I left things this morning weighs heavily on my mind. I've been staring at my cell phone all day, debating whether or not to call Kate…or send her a text apologizing for being the master dick that I am. Seriously, the fact that I’m even considering a text makes me a bigger dick.
I rub my head and decide to call it a night. Time to go fix shit and apologize for being the world's biggest dick.
* * *
I glance at my watch for what seems like the eighty-seventh time since I've been home. Through the large window, I watch Kate's house, waiting for a light, for any sign that she's home. It's almost eleven o'clock, and my stomach is beginning to twist with worry.
I spin my cell phone in my hand as I contemplate calling her just to make sure she's okay. Just as I glance down at my watch again, the kitchen light in her house flicks on, and my heart suddenly calms. She's home.
Just as quickly as the lights turns on, though, they shut off again, and my stomach drops as I envision what Kate is thinking…what she's feeling right now. I finally press the call button on my phone, and Kate's name lights up on my screen. One ring. Two rings. Three…then four. No answer. Her sweet voice comes on the line, telling me to leave a message, but I hang up and press the call button again. After three rings, I finally hear her voice.
"Hello?" she answers softly, her voice raspy.
"Kate, I'm sorry to call so late," I start, and then pause for a moment. "I really need to talk to you." Silence fills the other end of the line, and I hear a light sigh before she begins.
"I'm really tired tonight—"
"Please," I cut her off. "Two minutes."
"Okay. Two minutes. I'll unlock the back door."
A sense of relief washes over me as the line goes dead. It takes me seconds to jog across the stone walkway and up to her back door. I hear the lock disengage just as I approach. The door opens slowly as I’m raising my hand to knock.
Kate steps aside, opening the door wider. I step inside, and without a second thought, pull her to me. She gasps as my lips hit hers. A million apologies are felt but go unspoken as I kiss her. She's hesitant, I can feel it, and she has every right to be.
"Kate, I'm so sorry," I whisper against her soft lips. I drop my forehead to hers and drink in the light floral scent of her perfume.
Her long hair is piled on top of her head, and she's changed into a pair of pajama shorts and a tight tank top. Every curve is on full display, and as much as I want to reach out and trace each one, I can't. I feel her body tremble under my touch, her shoulders slack and head dropped forward.
"You don't have to apologize," she says quietly. "It was a mistake. What happened last night should’ve never happened—"
"What do you mean, a mistake?" I ask abruptly, standing back a little and lifting her chin so she's forced to look at me.
Her eyes are glossy and red, and there's not an ounce of makeup on her beautiful face. Her cheeks are splotchy, and her nose is pink. She's been crying, and my heart breaks a little because I was the cause.
"Last night wasn't a mistake," I tell her. "What was a mistake is how I left this morning. What was a mistake is how I avoided questions that you had every right to ask me."
She shakes her head, and I hold her shoulders. "Yes," I stop her. "Kate." I hold both sides of her face and tilt her head back so she can't look away from me. "Last night was no
t a mistake. Last night is going to happen again, and next time I'm not going to leave."
Kate pulls out of my grip. "Sam," she says, backing away from me. Her eyes are full of hesitation. "We shouldn't—"
"We should," I sigh in frustration and pause. "I owe you answers, and I owe you an apology."
Her eyes turn glossy, but she takes a deep breath and steadies her emotions.
“I wasn’t lying when I told you I don't love her," I tell her, shifting uncomfortably. "I'll always care about her, Kate. She's a part of my family now. She's married to my brother and the mother of my niece. I love her in a way that you love a family member, but I don't love her." Saying those words finally sets something inside me free. I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders, and my heart begins to opens. I don't love Emilia. I repeat it to myself and let those words settle in.
Chapter Nine
Kate
"But you did love her?" I question Sam, trying to understand how deep he was into this relationship with Emilia because this is a new one for me. The man I want to be with has an ex who's married to his brother. I almost laugh at the absurdity of it.
Sam rakes his hands over his face before running them through his hair. It's then I notice the dark circles under his eyes and the twelve o'clock shadow along his jawline. He looks about as terrible as I feel.
"It's complicated," he finally answers.
I back away. Because in my mind, it's not that complicated. Love is a yes or no answer. There is no in-between. There is no "kind-ofs" with love. You either love someone or you don't.
"Bullshit," I spit out.
"Kate—"
"Love can be complicated, Sam. But whether you love or loved someone is not! You either loved her or you didn't."
His jaw clenches, and I can see the rigid muscles flex and relax. "I thought I did," he says, stepping toward me again, closing the distance. "It's like I mentioned before, I was more infatuated with the thought of her—the girl my brother wanted. The brother I hated had her, and I wanted her." He outwardly cringes when he says that.