In my Arms Tonight (NYC Singles Book 2)

by Sasha Clinton

  “I like the idea,” Kat said, teasing his earlobe between her fingers. “And I can’t wait to have you the whole week.”

  It was never going to come to fruition, but she didn’t feel like shattering his happiness.

  They lay side by side, quietly, for a few breaths. The silence wasn’t awkward or oppressive. It was magical. In this moment, the reality seemed far, far away from their perfect universe.

  In this place, there was no possibility of losing him, hurting him or letting him down. Conflict of interest and an overactive conscience didn’t exist.

  “Do you want me to sing you a lullaby?” Kat asked, a sudden desire to nurture him springing into her.

  Alex’s elbow nudged her hip. “Not today, I’m too tired. By the way, you don’t snore, do you? Noise wakes me up.”

  Kat chortled. “If I told you I did, what would you do?”

  “Buy earplugs.”

  “You won’t leave me?”

  “I don’t think I’m capable of that anymore.” The end of his sentence blurred into a yawn. “Good night, darling.”

  Alex rested his head on the crook of her neck, left her a goodnight kiss on her collarbone and dipped into slumber.

  Kat couldn’t sleep with so much running through her head. She was going to destroy him the day after tomorrow. What right did she have to be sleeping with him and deceiving him in this manner?

  The minutes felt long and strained as his breath labored over her skin.

  Restless, she tossed around, then finally removed herself from beside him after checking that he was asleep. He stirred, but stilled.

  Dispassionately, she dug around her fridge for leftovers. She wasn’t hungry but eating took her mind off difficult thoughts.

  She mixed Pineapple yoghurt in the cup with a spoon for five minutes. But she couldn’t eat it. So, flinging it into the bin, she floated back to bed, dissatisfied.

  The bedside lamp was on when Kat got back. Alex was up with his chin on the pillows, scanning his surroundings like he was in a fog.

  “I started to worry when I found you missing.” His bedroom eyes made her want to give in and have sex for the last time. But she couldn’t have that on her conscience, too. It’d be horrible to sleep with him today and stab him in the back in a day. She had more consideration than that.

  “I was hungry,” she lied.

  “Did you bring something for me?” He frisked her.

  Pain ate up her insides as Kat caught his smiling face for the last time.

  God, how much she loved him. How much she wanted this night to stretch on past dawn. How much she wished she was a different woman, in a different profession, so she wouldn’t have to hurt him in order to stand her ground.

  Though she’d always believed that doing the right thing would feel good in the end, this time she wasn’t sure.

  “Alex, I want to tell you something.”

  This was the only window of opportunity she had—the only opportunity to tell him to be prepared for what she was about to do. The day after tomorrow, things between them would be destroyed forever. Her horrible betrayal would come to light and she’d lose his trust. She’d lose him.

  But she was selfish. She wanted to keep him today. She didn’t want to destroy this last night they had together.

  “I love you, Alex.” The words were sweet, simple, unembellished and unexpectedly, they set off her tear glands.

  Folding her into his protective embrace, Alex planted a kiss on her head. “I know. I love you too, darling. I’ve loved you for some time.”

  Those were precious words she’d cherish for the rest of her life. Words she’d use to put her lonely, broken heart to sleep when she was raw and hoarse from sobbing. Words that would never be uttered again after daybreak.

  It was an effort to squeeze out the next sentence from her painfully swollen vocal cords. “Thank you for loving me, Alex. Thank you so much.”

  He smirked. She burned that sunny smile into her memory, so she could call it up to illuminate her dark moments. “You don’t thank someone for loving you, darling.”

  “I’m not easy to love,” Kat croaked out.

  “I’m not easy to love either.” He played with a strand of her hair, kneading it between his thumb and index finger.

  Wandering off-course, Kat let herself envision how things could have been. How enchanting Paris could’ve been with him by her side. How warm Thanksgiving could have been with him being part of her family. How sexy Christmas could’ve been, making love under the Christmas tree.

  Lost fantasies. All of them.

  “I could hurt you,” she rasped, mad at herself for being so indecisive.

  “You wouldn’t be doing anything I haven’t done.” He made a sly U with his lips. “I’ve already hurt you. Remember what happened after we got a little too rough in the sack?”

  She couldn’t smile, because she felt so horrible, so she smoothed her tongue over his lips, melting into the unique, incomparable taste of Alex. She should have more self-control, but she didn’t. Knowing she was never going to be able to have this wonderful taste in her mouth again, Kat ran her tongue over his teeth, his tongue, the roof of his mouth in desperation. She soaked up every texture, every heady feeling and locked it away in her memory.

  When the kiss ended, she said, “I can hurt you worse.”

  Alex mulled over that for a pause. “Oh, yeah? We’ll see.”

  He didn’t understand the magnitude of what she’d said. But he would know better the day after tomorrow.

  Alex woke up at eight am to a loud beep. Multiple beeps. Why was security pestering him so early in the morning?

  There was a knock on his door, but the sound only carried through faintly to his bedroom.

  Alex turned in bed, then started to sit up. The heaviness of his head dragged him back to sleep when he tried getting out. He was so tired after last night. He’d been unable to fall asleep until three.

  With effort, he pushed himself away from the foamy mattress. Getting the sand that had accumulated in his eyes overnight, Alex set the phone against his ear.

  “Hello.” It was crackly.

  “Sir, it’s security. There’s a commotion in the lobby. There are reporters who’re saying that they want to talk to you. I believe one of them has made their way up to your apartment. We’re trying to get them to leave. In the meantime, please don’t open the door for your safety.”

  “Got it. Thanks.”

  Reporters. To see him. That didn’t sound like good news.

  Before he could make sense of those words, his phone rang. Nobody called him on his landline, but he figured his cellphone must’ve died, because otherwise somebody would have woken him up at six.

  Sure as day, when he punched the buttons nothing came up. He’d been hazed with exhaustion last night, so likely he’d let something as mundane as charging his phone slip his mind.

  “Hello.” Alex’s greeting corresponded with a knock on his door. Oh, God, they were here.

  “Alex, where are you?” Jane’s words flew like bullets into his ear.

  “In my apartment.” He made a trip to the front door, where the knocking was growing loud.

  “Whatever you do, don’t open the door—”

  Alex didn’t let Jane finish, looking through the peep hole to check on the scene in the corridor.

  One? The hallway outside was a fucking convention of reporters. Cameras, noises, and accusations floated around.

  Scuttling back to his bedroom, he drew the doorknob until the door rattled in its frame. “You were saying?”

  “There’s a whole bunch of rabid journalists outside your door waiting to tear you apart.”

  “I saw,” he remarked sarcastically. “And what are they here for?”

  “Regarding the news that broke this morning, obviously.”

  “What news?” From the tone of her voice, it sounded serious so Alex threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt. He had the premonition that he might be going somewhere soo
n.

  “Have you been living under a rock since morning?” she spat.

  “Pretty much. I slept in and my phone’s out of power so I’ve been disconnected since last night. But tell me.”

  “We don’t have time. I’ll tell you what happened later. Pack up immediately. You’re going to the Hamptons for a few days until David and I can find a way to tackle this.” Jane lost focus and barked out some orders to someone. “Senator Hoylman has kindly agreed to let you stay at his house. He wanted me to tell you that the Jacuzzi there is very therapeutic.”

  Alex crushed the phone between his angry fingers. “It’s a month before the election. I don’t need a vacation in the Hamptons. I need to win.”

  “I want you to win too.” The doubt in Jane’s voice confirmed his hunch. “So follow instructions. I’ll see you outside your apartment building as soon as the security in your apartment building manages to do something about the reporters. Come with your luggage and a strong stomach. Oh—and come in a disguise.”

  “Wow, Kat, you’re something else.” Nick’s words were as inconsequential as the sound of the CPU droning under her desk. “Where did you get that scoop on Summer from? Nobody saw that coming.”

  Poking her mouse, Kat deleted a few emails she wouldn’t have if she was actually concentrating.

  She had resolved to throw herself into work with hell-bent determination this morning. Her decision was made and she’d made it with a sound mind, so she wasn’t going to let it hurt her. The Alex chapter was closed in her life. Now she was moving on. Not all endings were happy, nor were they satisfying. Some endings were painful, incomplete and full of remorse.

  But she was doing what she loved the most in the world. That was surely capable of healing the pain inside her, wasn’t it?

  She had so much work today, she’d probably not even think of him. There was the… er… what was it again?

  Checking her calendar, she spotted it. Right. The press conference about… her mind drew a complete blank. Why couldn’t she remember what it was about? This was so unlike her.

  Reading the letters on the screen one by one, like a pre-K kid, Kat collected them into a comprehensible sentence.

  That awful burning of her heart should have gone away. She’d done the right thing. She’d stood by her ideals. By herself. She’d chosen herself, her work, her conscience. She should be proud.

  Instead she was struggling to keep her mind on the job.

  Work was the only pill she had. It was the only medicine that could make her feel better after what had happened. But she had to take the damn medicine for it to show its effects.

  Then there was the issue of wanting to call Alex every other minute.

  She wanted to apologize. She wanted to be forgiven. Which wasn’t going to happen.

  It was silly, if not outright delusional, to destroy somebody’s dream and expect them to love you. But somehow she still expected him to understand her, to love her for having had the strength to be herself.

  Alex must be seriously pissed. She could almost imagine what was running through his mind.

  That slut slept with me to get a scoop. She betrayed me. She took advantage of me.

  It made everything inside her shrivel up to even entertain the possibility that Alex wouldn’t love her anymore.

  Growing weak under the assault of her emotions, Kat stopped procrastinating and called him with no idea of what she was going to say. Any delay was only going to make her more anxious.

  As expected, he didn’t answer. She called again. Then again. Alex could be stubborn, so she had to keep at it if she wanted him to answer.

  When the seventh call ended, she gave up. He probably needed time to clean up the mess she’d made.

  As she was stuffing it into a drawer, her phone buzzed. A message.

  From Alex.

  I don’t have time to talk to you. Send an email explaining why the fuck you did what you did. And your explanation had better be good.

  Overjoyed that he was at least willing to listen to her, Kat got to work drafting her email. Since she was good at writing, this was the perfect way for her to get everything across without leaving anything out.

  Hope sprang up in her chest. He’d definitely understand her feelings once he read her email. Maybe they could even remain friends. Or maybe more. No, that was fanciful thinking.

  But she could hope. She’d chosen her path, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want him on it. Those two things might be contradictory, but she had the right to daydream, didn’t she?

  And if it didn’t happen, that was okay too. She didn’t need a man. She could live the way she had lived all these years—on her own.

  She had everything in life. Work. A home. Parents. Supportive friends.

  She’d survive.

  She’d bury her nose in her writing and she’d survive. Somehow.

  The Jacuzzi at Senator Hoylman’s Hamptons mansion was indeed very relaxing. It eased Alex’s sinews, carried away the fatigue from his tired skin.

  But it didn’t do anything for his fuming anger.

  He was outraged. Beyond outraged. Betrayal, deception and rage were thrashing about in his skull. Why had he trusted her with his past? He hadn’t told anyone about it before. What had made him think she deserved to know? And why in the world had he gone and fallen in love with her?

  The email Kat had sent him was a poor joke. It wasn’t an apology. It wasn’t a convincing explanation. Alex wasn’t even sure what it was. He’d wanted to give her a chance, believe that he had been wise in trusting her, but maybe this was a mistake.

  After the way she’d broken his trust, even a five-page apology wouldn’t have cut it. Her rambling, confusing email? No way.

  Still, they were the only words he’d had from her since last night, so he clung onto them and let the flowing water calm his body, which stung at the thought of her.

  Alex,

  Right now, I’m the person you hate the most. And your anger is totally justified. I messed up. I hurt you. You’re probably going to lose the election because of what happened.

  I know that you expect me to apologize. But I can’t. I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t feel sorry for having written that story. I did the right thing. Not the right thing for you, or the right thing for me, but the right thing to protect something that we both believe in—democracy.

  Put yourself in my shoes for a second. Actually, don’t. Just be yourself.

  You’ve been fighting for close to a decade against discrimination in the workplace and income inequality. You believe everybody should be treated the same, don’t you? So do I.

  You’re the same as any other mayoral candidate. I shouldn’t treat you differently. Just because I’m your girlfriend, is it okay for me to hide important details about you so you can win? Is it okay for me to protect you at the cost of keeping the public in the dark? If Stephanopoulos had asked me to suppress something in his past, would I have done the same thing?

  You know, I asked myself these questions over and over again. And the answer is no. I wouldn’t have protected anyone else. I wouldn’t have lied to my boss so Stephanopoulos could win the primary. I wouldn’t have lost the respect of my colleague so Stephanopoulos could fulfill his dream of becoming the mayor.

  But I did those things for you. No, I don’t mean to tell you that what I did was brave or heroic. It wasn’t. It was cowardly. It was cowardly to choose my own personal happiness over my duty as a journalist. Over my principles. Over preserving the essence of democracy—an unbiased, free press.

  And I don’t want to be cowardly anymore. I want to be brave, even if it’s not in my personal interest to do so. And if you can’t accept me being brave, I don’t think we should be together.

  Thank you for loving me. I told you I’m not easy to love, but you tried so hard. Please keep trying.

  Kat

  Alex laid his phone face down in the edge of the Jacuzzi. Reading her message riled him up.

  Wha
t was she trying to do? Show him how warped her thinking process was? What woman hurt someone and then tried to rationalize it like that?

  Not a single ‘sorry’ in there. No ‘forgive me,’ either. And the worst part was that she’d done it deliberately. She hadn’t been pushed, forced or threatened. If it had been those things, he could’ve understood. He could’ve forgiven.

  But he couldn’t forgive someone who’d destroy his dreams so coldly. Who could kiss him tenderly one night and backstab him the next. He expected more loyalty from his woman. He expected her to support him.

  Earlier, he’d at least toyed with the idea of giving her another chance. But it was out of the question now. She didn’t deserve a second chance.

  Was he going to get a second chance if he lost this election? No. Should she get one? No.

  He stormed off an angry reply.

  Let’s break up, darling.

  Only after pressing send did he realize he’d forgotten to delete that ‘darling.’

  By afternoon, Kat was at the end of her rope. She’d been working like crazy, but somehow, her mind still found enough time to think about Alex.

  Rubbing her leaking eyes into the the already damp fold of her hands, Kat spit out another long wail.

  This wasn’t getting any better. She couldn’t stop worrying about Alex. She couldn’t stop sending him a zillion emails a day to check whether he was doing okay and to remind him that he needed to get a press conference going. He, of course, replied to none. After his conclusive reply, she knew it was stupid to expect anything.

  She should go about her life, but it suddenly felt like she didn’t have a life. All she had was work.

  Words, words, words… she was living in a blur of sentences, none of which she could connect to. She loved her job, but it wasn’t doing such a good job of helping her cope with the breakup. With Michael, there had been no problem returning to her equilibrium. With Alex, she didn’t know if she was ever going to.

  Why don’t you sing All By Myself?

  Like a fool, she’d grown used to the things that came after work—cuddling with him, talking to him, being with him.