I looked out the window to our side, which overlooked her English garden and the stone pathway leading to a small dirt lot on the other side. It was the one thing I loved about Clara’s home office, the whimsical countryside charm as you approached the separate back entrance of her two-story cottage-style house. It made a person feel like they were somewhere safe and happy. Even her clothes—white cardigan, jeans, and flip-flops—made me feel more relaxed, like I was only talking to a friend. Who charged one hundred bucks an hour.
“It’s more than that,” I said. “It’s like a part of me knows I’m going in the wrong direction, but I don’t know what the right direction is.” Even now, as we spoke, I felt all twisty inside. “And the other part of me feels angry as hell because this isn’t me. I don’t do self-pity. I don’t wallow.”
“What do you do?” She pushed her dark bangs off her forehead.
“I focus and go after what I want. I fight. I knock down barriers.” It was the only way I knew how to live.
“Maybe you need to use that same wonderful drive of yours and focus it inward for once. Use it to figure out what you really want—actually, strike that. Use it to figure out what you need. But, Lily, promise me you’ll take some time and really think about what your stomach is trying to tell you before throwing yourself into something.”
“You mean something like Max?” I asked.
“You can’t deny you have very strong emotions for him.”
“No, I can’t. But I’m not going to risk getting hurt like that again, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I merely said you should take time to really think about what you need. You’ve been through a lot, and it’s not unusual for people in your position to distract themselves with work or new relationships instead of addressing the real issue.”
“The issue is that Max and I will never work out. I’m here, and he’s there.” I held my hands apart as if showing her the size of a big fish I’d caught. “I mean, that man…” I sighed. The way he’d looked at my brother. The way he’d run off and started a “Lily” company. He was so…so…ugh. I didn’t know. “He’s not good for me.” But I couldn’t deny the attraction and the sexual power he had over my body. It remembered him, craved him, and went full-blown gaga in his presence.
“You two never truly had closure. I recommend talking to him. Tell him calmly what you feel, and then say goodbye if it’s really what you want.”
Again, she was right. I kept hanging on to Max because we hadn’t really ended things. Six months ago, I’d made a mess of his life—and mine—then I asked for his forgiveness and he’d basically said see ya. I needed to really end things with him—a) so he could move on, and b) so I could, too.
“Thanks, Clara. I appreciate you making time for me last minute.”
“That’s what I’m here for. Let me know how it goes.”
It’s going to go like shit and you’re going to feel like shit, because your head is up your ass. Max is too good for you. And you know that’s the issue.
Thank you, asshole voice.
I grabbed my purse from the floor and stood, feeling annoyed with myself for allowing such ugly thoughts to kick me while I was already down.
“At what point will I stop being my own worst enemy?” I asked.
Clara gave me a little smile. “Never. Because you’re human. You’re also your biggest fan.”
“So I’m a narcissistic self-hater?”
“Split personality all the way,” she replied with a smile.
“Ha. Not funny.”
She dropped her smile. “Who said I was joking?”
“Okay. That’s really not funny.” I frowned.
“Sorry. Just a little therapist humor.” She stood and gave my arm a squeeze. “You’re doing fine, Lily. Just try to remember what I said and start using that tenacity on yourself. I’m here if you need me.”
Okay, self, get ready to rumble. “Thanks, Clara.”
I felt a little lighter as I left her office and traipsed through her garden out to my car, which was really a big old van with a lily pad logo on the side. Not so cool, but I needed it to haul inventory.
As soon as I slid behind the wheel, that annoying heaviness took a seat on my chest. Okay. Focus. What do I need? What do I need?
I needed closure with the two men in my life. I needed to say goodbye to Patricio, even if I felt angry with him. I also needed to see Max and really explain where my head was at. If I didn’t clear out the muck, I wouldn’t be able to find room for what I needed: space for me. And if I didn’t do that, I would keep hopping from one thing to the next, trying to fill some void in my life without truly knowing what the void was.
I started my engine and headed to my apartment. I would call my mother on the way and ask her to look after the shop while I was gone. Today, I’d completely baled and couldn’t afford more lost sales even if miniscule. She loved coming in and helping me from time to time, but she would freak out getting to be in charge of the entire thing herself. She was a model worrywart.
This moment proved to be yet another milestone in my life: accepting help from others, something I’d never quite mastered.
One step, Lily.
I’d left Patricio two messages while on my way to LAX, a two-hour drive but worth the trouble because tickets to Chicago were cheaper compared to the local airport. On the third attempt to call Patricio, I knew he simply didn’t want to speak with me, but this was no longer about him. This was about me. That’s right. I’m being selfish for once! Totally selfish! Boohoo for you, men!
“Patricio, I didn’t want to do it like this, but I need to get a few things off my chest. First, I don’t want to marry you or see you anymore. Seems silly to say that after you said we were over this morning and you called me a whore—” I still can’t believe he did that. A-hole! “—but I know you can be a hothead, so I didn’t want you thinking this is a fight we’ll recover from. It’s not because I am cheating on you with Max—I’m not. And that kiss, well, there’s no excuse, but it just shows I’m not ready to commit to you or anyone until I settle my past. Speaking of pasts, I don’t know if you slept with Adeline again, and maybe I don’t really want to know, but I’m not ending things because of her. It’s because we’re not right together. And I’m sorry things ended like they did because…” My eyes unexpectedly started to tear up. Why? Why was I crying? “Because I really enjoyed,” sniffle, sniffle, “our time together.”
Patricio had been the first semi-normal relationship I’d ever had. Okay, maybe not semi-normal since he was a celebrity and our relationship occasionally made the tabloids. But we’d gone out on real dates, unlike my relationship with Max, my boss at the time. He’d taken me on his corporate jet to a fashion show in Milan after asking me to be his ugly-aversion therapy tool. We’d ended up connecting in the strangest of love-hate relationships of all time. Then, that night at the party, after the fashion show where I’d danced with Patricio, Max and I got in a huge fight. He’d completely lost his cool seeing me with another man, like I’d lost mine seeing him with Adeline. The result was Max taking me back to my hotel room for an angry, mind-blowing fuck—my very first ever—that opened up a can of worms I hadn’t been expecting. I had felt, as maybe I did now, that we didn’t make sense and it would only lead to utter heartbreak. That was what I believed, like an idiot, who couldn’t accept a good thing when she had it.
I let out a sigh and then cleared my throat, to finish the message. “Patricio, I wish you the best whether it’s with Adeline or someone else. Goodbye.”
The moment I hit the end call button on my console, I immediately felt lighter. Better. My stomach even relaxed.
I was finally on the right track.
After picking up my rental car at O’Hare, I headed straight to Danny and Calvin’s. I would sleep on their couch and have the comfort of knowing that Danny would be there for me after I said what I needed to say. To Max’s face. But that would be tomorrow morning.
&nbs
p; Tonight, because of the hour—almost eleven o’clock—we were going to have a late dinner at their apartment.
The moment I hit the nearly empty freeway, my phone started chirping like mad. My hand twitched with the urge to pick it up off the passenger seat, but at this very moment, my little silver RAV4 rental was approaching the spot where I’d wrecked my car on the opposite side of the freeway.
I took a breath and moved into the fast lane, the closest I could get to the exact spot. I remembered the location because there was an In-N-Out directly to the side of the road. Funny the things you remember when your life flashes before your eyes.
I stepped on the gas and tightened my hands around the steering wheel. My jaw clenched, and I ground my teeth. “You don’t fucking scare me. Fuck you. You don’t fucking scare me.” I blinked and released a breath, glancing at the marker—invisible to everyday passers—in my rearview mirror. “Ha! That’s right. Suck it, accident spot!” I laughed and the sound of sirens filled my ears.
Oh shit. The multicolored lights in my mirrors nearly blinded me. I looked at the speedometer. Ninety-eight? Oh no. What had I been thinking? I flipped on my blinker and began moving the car to the right shoulder. I felt like such a dork.
My car now stopped, I reached for my license and lowered my window. “Hello, officer. Would it make a difference if I told you that I almost died right back there seven months ago and got a little carried away, telling my demons to fuck off?”
The man, with his dark short hair and husky build, gave me a frown.
“Okay, now that I just said that aloud, I get how crazy I sound. I mean, who celebrates surviving a car accident by speeding?” I sighed and handed over my license and rental agreement.
He gave it a glance. “Lily Snow.” He looked down at me. “Wait. You’re the billionaire breaker.”
I held back a groan.
He continued, “My wife really loves her gossip magazines.”
Golly gumps. How awesome for me. “Everyone’s gotta have a vice.”
“Your story really shook her up. I’ve never seen her cry like that.”
“Sorry?”
“When that guy gave the press conference—what was his name?”
“You mean Maxwell Cole?”
The officer snapped his fingers. “That’s the one. When he gave that press conference and told everyone how much he loved you even after you told all of those lies about him.”
I whooshed out a breath. “It was a mistake. A really, really big mistake,” I muttered.
The officer handed back my things. “If it makes you feel any better, a lot of people, my wife included, were extremely upset—all of those horrible things the press said about your looks. And then the accident. Man—” He shook his head. “Everyone thought you were dead. Even I couldn’t look away from the television when they were pulling you out of the wreckage. I’m surprised someone isn’t making a movie about you.”
Seriously. That would be the most boring movie ever.
“So what happened?” the officer asked. “Did you and Maxwell Cole ever get back together? The Inquirer says you did.”
Did this man really expect me to discuss my love life with him—a stranger—on the side of a freeway?
Well, he does have a gun. He was probably used to getting his way.
“It’s for my wife,” he clarified, likely realizing how nosy he sounded.
“I, uh…I’m sorry to tell you that Mr. Cole and I parted ways.”
“Oh. Can I see that license again?”
What the hell? Did he just imply that the speeding ticket would be issued because he didn’t like my answer?
Yep. I think he did.
“But…I’m going to see him tomorrow.” I shrugged coyly. “So you never know what might happen.”
The officer thumped his hand on the top of my car and smiled. “You have a good night and drive safely, Miss Snow.” He walked off, muttering, “Can’t wait to tell her. Lucky night.”
Alrighty. That was some weird shit. And honestly, I’d had no clue there were people out there fanning over my and Max’s story. How bizarre.
A movie. Pfft!
I hit the freeway again, and by the time I pulled up to Danny and Calvin’s apartment building, it was well past midnight. I found a spot on the quiet street, turned off the engine, and finally looked at my phone.
Three messages were from my mother panicking about the lights in the store. “Honey? Can you remind me where the switch is? I don’t remember.” She’d been at home cooking dinner for my father when she’d left that gem. “Honey, I haven’t heard back from you yet. Are you alright?” The next few messages were funnier than the last, basically my mother admitting that she could handle finding light switches in the morning, but that I shouldn’t worry. She had “everything under control.”
The next few messages were from my brother begging me to end his misery because my mother had called him twenty times in a panic about running the shop by herself for a few days—“She thinks she’s babysitting nukes! Fucking shit, Lily. Kill me now.”
Then, finally, at the bottom of the list, I saw a message from him. Max. I pressed play, and his voice sounded deep and cold, the heartache palpable.
“Lily, we need to talk.” He stopped speaking, but I could hear his soft breath. “Call me,” he said, almost whispering, like a man praying for his suffering to end.
Dammit. I have to end this. I started the engine up again and pulled out onto the street. I couldn’t let this—his suffering and mine—go on another moment. I would simply need to call Danny along the way and tell her to keep the light on for me. It was going to be a late night.
It took thirty-five minutes to drive to Max’s two-story mansion overlooking Lake Michigan. The home, which reminded me a bit of a modern-day castle with its gray brick and stucco exterior, soaring entryway, and high pitched roof, was as impressive in size and presence as it was intimidating. Yeah, just like its owner.
When I pulled up to the wrought-iron gate at almost one in the morning, I wouldn’t dare claim I felt prepared. Hell no. The anxiety had worsened. Knots upon knots upon more knots, only made worse by the memories of this place—the long boat dock with twinkling white lights, the big circular driveway with the fountain in the middle, the giant bed upstairs. Every square inch of the property held so many memories of Max and me—mostly good ones of us falling in love—that it had brought me right back. I felt like I was stepping into the past. One I didn’t mind being in.
I lowered my window and pushed the intercom button. After a few minutes of no response, I pushed it again.
“Who the fuck is it?” said a groggy gravelly voice.
I almost stopped breathing. Even now, over a stupid intercom, his deep voice did things to me.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “It’s, uh…me. Lily. I’m here to talk.”
A moment passed and then another. Finally, the gate buzzed and rolled back.
Crap. My heart went into overdrive. I could do this. I could say goodbye and move on. Couldn’t I?
Like the first time I entered Maxwell Cole’s home, he did not greet me at the door. I entered the foyer with the vaulted ceiling and large staircase, encountering darkness.
“Max?” I shut the door behind me.
“Up here,” his voice boomed.
His bedroom. Not such a great idea.
“Down here,” I retorted.
“You came to my house in the middle of the night. You want to talk? I’m up here.”
I gripped the staircase railing. You can do this, Lily. His bedroom is only a place. Not like it held a special power over me. Still, every piece of my body shook with anticipation. Fuck. Get a hold of yourself.
“Fine.” I went up the stairs, taking one step at a time. At the top, I turned the corner and stopped in the darkened doorway. “Max?”
“Here.” His voice echoed from inside the room that brought back endless provocative and emotional memories. This was the room where he’d onc
e taken me hard, held me soft, and made me feel so loved and beautiful that I had ripped out my own heart and handed the damned thing right over. Here are the keys to your new heart, Max. Drive it around for as long as you like, just don’t dent it. Oh, and while you’re at it, can you drive into me again, because your cock is amazing. Every sensual, elicit memory came crashing down at once as the delicious scent of Max and his cologne infused my brain.
Suddenly, I was right back where we left off. None of the nightmares, the heartache, the mistakes felt real, but somewhere in the back of my mind, that little voice kept telling me over and over again that they were. And if I chose to ignore reality, we would only end up repeating our mistakes.
Be strong, Lily. Just tell him what you came to say.
“May I turn on the lights?” I asked softly.
“Why are you here?”
All right. Play it that way. “I came to get something off my chest.”
My eyes gradually adjusted to the room, and the bit of light coming through the window caught the shape of Max’s lean physique. He sat at the foot of his bed, shirtless, wearing only boxers or shorts or something. His arms, which I knew were ripped to perfection, were crossed over his exquisitely chiseled chest. I literally began aching for him, the warmth of his skin and the heat of his mouth on mine.
“Why are you here, Lily?” he repeated sternly.
Clearly, I enjoy torturing myself. “When I saw you last, I said it was over, and it is. But it felt wrong to end things like…” I drew in a quick lungful of air, trying to steady my pulse as the tears began streaming down my face. Telling yourself you were going to say goodbye was not the same as doing it.
“Like what, Lily?” he growled.
I couldn’t quite come up with the words. “You mean so much more to me than ending things with yelling. And with lies.” I exhaled. “So I guess I’m here because I needed you to know how much you’ve meant to me. Oh, and I’m not pregnant,” I muttered. “Patricio and I always used…” I cleared my throat, trying to come up with diplomatic words. “We were very safe. In every way. So it’s impossible.” God, I sound like an idiot. My nervousness was annoying, because I hadn’t done anything wrong sleeping with Patricio. Yet, you clearly feel guilty.
it's a fugly life (The Fugly Series Book 2) Page 8