by M. Ullrich
Catherine pinned Linda against a nearby wall. She dug her fingertips into Linda’s flesh and drove her tongue farther into her inviting mouth. Feeling Linda moan against her spurred Catherine on. With an uncharacteristic force, she pushed Linda harder against the wall and started to assault her throat. She bit at Linda, marking her pale skin as she gripped her ass. Catherine tried furiously to feel something for the woman writhing against her.
“Oh God, Cat,” Linda moaned as Catherine palmed her left breast roughly and kissed her deeply. She reached blindly for Catherine’s belt and undid it swiftly, snaking her hand under the waistband of her trousers. When she dipped her fingers between Catherine’s folds, Linda’s eyes snapped open. “Not wet yet? We’ll have to do something about that.”
Linda circled Catherine’s clit with her nimble fingers, and all Catherine could think about was how she was trying to react. She was trying to feel something that was no longer there. She couldn’t feel anything for Linda beyond professional respect and latent anger because nothing else was left. Any love or adoration Catherine held belonged solely to Imogene, the woman she had pushed aside without a thought the moment Linda entered her life again.
“Stop.” Catherine tried to pull back but was held in place by the hand in her pants. “I said stop!” Catherine gripped Linda’s wrist and removed her hand. “This isn’t what I want.”
“Oh come on!” Linda rolled her eyes. “This is what you want, it’s what you’ve always wanted.”
When Catherine looked at Linda, she saw someone completely different. She saw nothing more than a ghost of her past. The disheveled woman seemed older and sadder, selfish and unrewarded. Linda Nguyen was a fantasy that Catherine had held on to for too long. She smiled slowly.
“No, it’s not.” Catherine grabbed her coat and exited the front door. A sense of peace accompanied each step, her walk lighter than it had been in nearly a decade.
Chapter Twenty-two
That Thursday morning was bitter, the coldest morning Imogene had encountered yet, and it was gloomy. But the new day brought her a fresh sense of determination. She had decided to confront Catherine in a big way. The kind of way they did in movies, like standing outside in the pouring rain or chasing someone through a busy airport. Imogene woke up nervous and never got better. Though she did manage to dress quickly in spite of her shaking hands.
As she stepped out onto the gray Hoboken streets, she watched as unknown faces passed her by. She wondered what the old woman was thinking, where the sharply dressed businessman was heading, and how many times the dog walker had circled the same block. Safe thoughts like these would keep her from thinking about her final destination, the journey there, and all the possible outcomes that could change everything. When she had no more faces to study, when each and every passenger of the train she boarded exactly on time was buried in a paper, a phone, or a book, Imogene turned to the window. She smiled at her own reflection and then checked her watch. She’d be arriving in Penn Station in less than twenty minutes, and she knew there was no turning back.
She hadn’t decided to do this in haste. Once Imogene had arrived home from Sophia’s, she had wallowed and plotted, schemed and cried, trying to think of a way to fight for a woman who always ran away. Sophia was right. She did deserve more than a scribbled note, and at the very least, she’d walk away from today with an explanation. As the lights cut out in the train car, complete silence except for the smooth grind of metal on metal, Imogene dared to be optimistic. Maybe she’d make Catherine smile the way she had only seen a few times, laugh a hearty laugh like she did when they were in each other’s arms, and just maybe she’d be able to take her out on a lunch date and discuss a future together.
“Next stop: New York, Penn Station,” the robotic voice called out through the hushed space. Every passenger was a commuter and knew better than to move. They still had a tunnel to travel through, complete darkness for several long seconds, before emerging into their final destination. Imogene inhaled the semi-clean air deeply. She released her breaths slowly. The evening before she had mapped out everything in her mind, burning photographic images into her memory in an attempt to shorten her time in the city as much as possible. Those streets were once her best friends, and now she had to prepare for a reunion. The train doors slid open, and the passengers filed out slowly, leaving one lonely redhead seated. I can do this, she thought as she gripped the handle atop the seat in front of her and rose to her feet. Her legs were shaking, and her knees were weak with trepidation. One foot in front of the other.
❖
“Walton Publishing has to make up for hundreds of thousands of dollars they lost over the past five years thanks to their shifty accountant, and I’m not sure it can be done. If you take a look at their financial reports, you can see each and every hole. I’m afraid this may be a lost cause, Mr. Adamson. I’m sorry.” Catherine spoke into the phone as she looked down at the thick blue folder she’d found on her desk that morning with a note from Linda attached. She wanted nothing more than to turn her back on this job and instead focus on how she could fix the damage she had done with Imogene.
“Catherine, just give it a shot, please. I’m not ready to tell Roger Walton that his family business is kaput. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”
Catherine found herself agreeing before she could think it through fully. “Okay. I’ll take another look at it, but if I really feel there’s nothing we can do, you’ll have to take my word for it.”
“Thank you, Catherine. I’ll let you get to work, then.”
Catherine sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. She had been in her office for nearly four hours, and she was exhausted. She had barely been able to sleep once she returned home after the disastrous night with Linda. Normally, a troublesome case would energize her, but this time the lack of sleep gave her dark circles beneath her eyes. She heard a quiet knock at her door.
“Come in,” she called out, and rubbing the back of her neck.
“Good afternoon.” Richard Thorton stepped into Catherine’s large office.
“Richard,” Catherine acknowledged in surprise. “What can I do for you?”
“I know I shouldn’t bring this up at work,” he said, closing the door, “but you didn’t return my calls or answer any of my messages.”
“I’ve been busy.” Catherine stood up and made her way around her cluttered desk. She didn’t like the feeling of being smaller, and being seated made her feel all the more vulnerable. She smoothed her palms down the front of her vest.
“Of course.” Richard smiled kindly, a small twinkle filling his eyes. “I was wondering when I’d be able to take you out again.”
“You’re right, this shouldn’t be discussed here.” Catherine squared her shoulders.
“I know. Not only are we at work, but you’re my boss. I get it.” He cocked one dark eyebrow mischievously. “Which is really sexy, by the way.”
Catherine fought the cringe she felt crawling up her spine. “And because of that I don’t think we should see each other again.” The lie came easily. As much as Catherine hated lying, she knew the truth was better left unsaid.
“We wouldn’t be the first superior-subordinate relationship here, Catherine.” He took a step forward into Catherine’s personal space, the desk behind her keeping her from backing away. He looked down at her with a confidence that bordered on an unattractive cockiness. “I think it’s worth a shot.”
“It’s not. Now please leave my office.” Catherine’s voice took on a stern edge, and she stared at Richard until he started to retreat.
“Fine.” He raised his palms in defeat. “But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He left with a wink and closed the office door behind himself.
Catherine went to her office chair once again and fell into it with a sigh. She rolled her neck until she felt a pop and closed her eyes once more. She heard another knock. For the love of… “For the last time, I’m not—”
“Catheri
ne?” Linda stood timidly in the doorway. “Do you have a minute?”
“Yeah, sure. Uh…come in.” She stuttered slightly. Catherine had managed to avoid Linda all morning, and the last thing she expected was for Linda to seek her out. Linda closed the door and walked into Catherine’s office with her head slightly down, stopping in front of Catherine’s desk.
“I just wanted to apologize for last night,” she said. “It was very presumptuous of me to think you’d be willing to give me another chance so soon.”
“Or at all,” Catherine replied coldly. She was torn between pride and disgust when she saw the wounded look in Linda’s eyes.
“Or at all,” Linda repeated to herself. She walked slowly around Catherine’s desk and stood beside her. “I loved you so deeply, I guess I still hold some of that in here.” She pointed to her heart.
“Our relationship is purely professional.” Catherine looked Linda in the eye. “No more blurred lines. I meant what I said last night.”
“Miss Carter?” Vivian’s voice crackled through the intercom, and Catherine could barely contain her sigh of relief. She leaned forward and pressed the intercom button.
“Yes, Vivian?”
“There’s someone here to see you.”
“I don’t have any appointments scheduled.” She was sure her schedule was clear.
“I know. She just showed up and demanded to see you.” Vivian’s voice had that edge Catherine knew she couldn’t ignore. It wouldn’t be the first time a stressed client showed up unannounced to tell Catherine what they really thought of her and her “process.”
“Name?” Catherine looked back at Linda, who was growing impatient.
“She won’t—” A muffled voice cut Vivian off. Catherine could barely make out the words, but it sounded like her visitor was tired of waiting. “Excuse me! You can’t go in there!” Just then Catherine’s door swung open.
“Imogene?” Catherine’s eyebrows flew up in surprise and then knit together in confusion. No amount of shock could keep the small smile from her lips.
“Jesus Christ! Why is it so hard to surprise people these days?” Imogene grumbled to herself before she looked at Catherine, then Linda, then the minimal space between them. “Surprise?”
“I am so sorry, Miss Carter.” Vivian said. “Would you like me to call security?”
“What?” Imogene looked at the short, middle-aged woman in alarm.
“What? No! No, that won’t be necessary.” Catherine shook her head.
“Am I interrupting something important?” Imogene asked, her eyes on the woman beside Catherine.
“No,” Catherine said.
“Yes,” Linda answered simultaneously.
“Oh.” Imogene started to fidget nervously, pulling at each finger separately before wringing her hands together.
Catherine tried to think of a way out of the awkward situation without calling any attention to who Linda was, but the gods seemed to be against her.
Linda stepped forward and asked, “Are you a client of Catherine’s?”
“Are you?”
Catherine’s eyes widened.
“I’m Linda Nguyen.” She extended her hand, which hung empty for a moment before she withdrew it.
Catherine’s mouth fell open. This was a nightmare.
“I represent a client of Miss Carter’s.” Linda’s eyes narrowed, and Catherine recognized that look. She tried to interrupt but was too slow. “But we go way back. Don’t we, Cat?”
“Linda?” Imogene’s voice was shaking and Catherine’s heart clenched.
“And you are?”
Catherine managed to find her voice. “Imogene, what are you doing here?”
“I needed—we needed to talk, but I think I got my answers.” She looked to Linda.
“It’s not what it looks like, Imogene.”
Linda snorted. “I thought you said you weren’t seeing anyone.”
Imogene turned for the door. “She’s not.”
“Imogene, wait!” Catherine called out after her. “Please!” Catherine rounded her desk and went to leave her office only to bump into Richard.
“Whoa, Catherine, slow down.”
“Dammit!” Catherine hissed. She turned back to her office and politely excused a very confused Vivian before stalking toward Linda. “You!” She pointed. “Your account will be transferred to Anthony and Philip by five o’clock. I am done, done, with you.”
“Catherine—”
“Get out of my office, and I would appreciate it if you kept your distance during the remainder of your business here.” Catherine stood tall as she spoke. This was the last time Linda Nguyen would affect her life, because Linda was no longer the one Catherine was afraid to lose.
Chapter Twenty-three
Imogene sat in Penn Station for over two hours, missing each train that would’ve taken her home. But what was waiting for her at home? Nothing more than silence and a moody cat. She replayed the scene from Catherine’s office over and over in her head as she watched commuters race to their designated platforms. She ignored the way her phone had been buzzing constantly since she fled Catherine’s office. There was nothing left to say. This was why she had avoided dating since her split with Aria. She always wound up being lied to or getting hurt. Catherine, though, she was a doozy.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Imogene mimicked aloud, earning a curious look from the woman beside her. She scoffed at Catherine’s plea. What a cliché. Maybe all those messages are her just thanking me for my business. Oh my God, maybe she’s going to charge me now! Imogene took a deep calming breath. No, Alice would kill her if she ever did that. Imogene focused on Catherine’s best friend. Alice seemed like a good, smart woman who only wanted happiness for Catherine. Imogene considered her impromptu visit from earlier in the week. Don’t give up on her, Alice had said.
A young couple caught Imogene’s attention as they weaved their way through the crowds. A clean-cut young man held the woman’s hand as he led her toward a boarding train. When he turned his back toward Imogene, the letters FDNY embroidered on the back of his jacket caught her eye. Would the reminders ever stop? She left Penn Station and hailed the first taxi she saw.
The cab ride to the memorial was short but still brought forth a multitude of memories for Imogene. Each building, no matter how updated or unchanged, was still burned into her mind—small corner stores where she’d pick up produce for her Dad so he’d have a healthy snack; large billboards for shows that were still on Broadway, shows she’d probably seen more times than most people saw their favorite movies. Even the numerous carts selling edible and possibly hazardous snacks brought a sight or a smell or a sound back to Imogene. Everything was familiar except for the destination they arrived at.
Now Imogene stood quietly, getting lost in the feel of warm tears traveling down her frigid cheeks. She had long since become numb to the wind whipping around her. It was no longer biting, gnawing at her thighs through her pants.
A gentle voice startled her.
“Are you all right?” asked a tall middle-aged gentleman.
Imogene blinked away the tears that blurred her vision before saying, “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I am, it’s just—” Imogene pointed to the vast edifice before them. It was significant in both size and meaning. It had taken Imogene over an hour to find her father’s name etched into the surface, and she had been standing there motionless ever since. “It’s my first time.”
“Oh,” he said, his aged face softening. “Did you lose someone?”
“My father, he was a firefighter.” From the corner of her eye, Imogene saw him nod.
“I’m sorry for your loss, but grateful for his bravery.” He looked at Imogene for a moment before explaining. “My wife worked in the second tower, but a fireman saved her that day. He went in and pulled her out.” He cleared his throat roughly. “He died later when a section of rubble caved in. I never got his name, I never
got to thank him or his family, so I come by here once a month to say a little prayer of thanks for getting another chance with her.” Imogene sniffled as renewed tears welled up.
“I’m sorry.” Imogene felt foolish.
“Don’t be. Here.” The stranger opened his long overcoat to reach into his inner pocket, but Imogene’s heart seized when she noticed his pocket square. It matched the one Catherine chose for the benefit. She took a few tissues from him.
“Thank you.” Imogene expected him to say more, but he offered her nothing other than a small smile before walking away.
When she was alone once more, Imogene walked up to the wall lined with names. She ran her finger along the letters, tracing her father’s name several times before kissing her fingertips and laying them down gently.
She could hear his stern, reassuring voice so clearly in her head: I know you’re hurting, Imogene, he’d say so rationally. But try to see her side, too. What if it was the other way around?
“I can take a hint, Dad.” She gave Francis Harris a watery grin before making her way back to the train station.
❖
Catherine was nursing her second glass of red wine since arriving home early that evening. After explaining as vaguely as possible to Mr. Adamson why it was in everyone’s best interests for her to be off this account, she decided it would also be best for her to take some personal time. Just a couple of days through the weekend, which should be enough to pick up the pieces of her life, right?
She had left Imogene several voice mails and sent out countless texts, each more desperate than the last for a chance to explain her stupidity and terrible decisions. If she could just tell Imogene the whole story from the start, she could make her understand and maybe she’d even be forgiven. Maybe. Her heart leapt up at a knock at her door. She stood quickly and squared her shoulders. She lit her face up with the brightest smile she could manage, a smile that fell the moment she opened the door.