by Measha Stone
“Maybe you don’t know as much as you think.” Jamison popped another fry in his mouth. Grease and salt, but it didn’t matter. Everything had lost its taste as soon as he’d closed the door behind him at her apartment.
Garrick leaned back in the booth, glaring at him.
“So, you’re not even interested to know how she’s doing?”
Of course he wanted to know. Not for one second had she left his mind. It was torment.
“I’m sure you’ll tell me either way.” He forced a casual tone.
“Jade has all but moved in with her. Oh, she’s playing like she’s fine. Much like the idiot you are being, but she’s not fine. For Christ’s sake, Jade had to remind her to shower before going to work this morning!”
Jamison wouldn’t let it get to him. She’d made the decision. She’d broken the rules and disregarded them. She’d taught him she’d been right. Relationships didn’t work. People lied, people had their own agenda, and they couldn’t get around that.
“She’ll be fine,” he reminded himself. He was not going to go to her apartment. He was not going to save her from her own misery—or himself from his.
“You’re an idiot, I swear. What happened with Barron? He called me yesterday to see if I was still considering the deal. I told him the same as before, not unless the location changed—but he didn’t even get frazzled. He just laughed and said my loss and hung up.”
“My father and I aren’t speaking, and if I have my way, we probably won’t again.”
“Does this have something to do with what you talked to Damien about?”
Jamison broke a fry in half and squished it, watching the soft potato center ooze out of it. “Yes. I’ve hired him to find my mother. Apparently, she didn’t just walk out on me. My father paid her to leave and never come back.”
“What?” Garrick dropped his burger back onto his plate. “He paid her off?”
“At first I was angry that she would take the money. But, she was leaving him, she’d have to go up against him for custody, and it was my father. I have no doubt that she had little choice, or at least thought she had none. Once I find her, I’ll find out for sure.”
“When did you find this out?”
“Friday.”
“Right before you went to get Carissa out of jail? Jamison. You broke up with her because you were pissed at your father?”
The contempt in Garrick’s voice turned Jamison’s stomach.
“No. I broke up with her because I got tired of playing the waiting game. What was the point of taking a step in the right direction when in the end, she was going to walk away? Going to that protest was more important than obeying my decision about it because in a week, she’d still be dealing with the shelter and not be dealing with me.” Jamison dropped the fry he’d been twisting in his fingers and grabbed his napkin, his appetite lost.
“You don’t know that. I don’t think that’s true at all.” Garrick shook his head. “You need to talk to her, sort all of this out.”
“There’s nothing to sort out.” Jamison took a deep breath and stretched his arms out. Sleep had been an elusive bitch the past few days. “I have to head out for a meeting. I’ll be in the office this afternoon, though. I want to move forward with the Dark Lace expansion.”
“You’re being as stubborn as she is,” Garrick chided.
“Yeah, well, I’ve earned it.” Not much of a retort, but his mind wasn’t working on all cylinders just yet. He tossed bills down on the table and left Garrick to finish his lunch.
Carissa stepped off the bus onto the pavement outside the shelter still in a haze. She couldn’t shake the lost feeling that had taken over her since that click. That resounding click that had signaled the finality of his goodbye.
She’d fucked it all up so beautifully. Her resistance, her reluctance, had worn off on him. No wonder he didn’t think she’d taken him seriously, she’d put a damn expiration date on their relationship. You can’t be taken seriously if you already plan to end it.
Smart. She’d been so damn smart. She’d thought she was protecting her heart and instead she’d broken it.
Ugh.
The February air whipped around her, crisp and cold, but she didn’t care. She’d left her scarf and her hat in her bag. Stuffing her ungloved hands into her coat she climbed the steps to the shelter.
Having spent the entire day at work watching new parents fawn over their babies, kissing each other and oozing love all over the place left her drained. Love like that didn’t happen for her, wasn’t that what she’d told herself?
But she’d had it, or at least something close to it. So close that she could almost taste it, and now it was gone.
“Carissa?” Margaret walked up to her as she turned down the hall leading to the clinic.
“Yeah.” She pushed her hair away from her face and tried to smile.
“Oh. Honey. You look…” Margaret grasped her by the shoulders and turned her. “You look exhausted.” Although she’d been turned around, Carissa caught his figure walking down the same hall, the opposite direction to the doors.
“Is that, was that Jamison?” she asked, pulling free from Margaret. Had he come looking for her? Was he ready to forgive her?
“Yes.” Margaret’s voice didn’t sound like someone who was about to tell her that her hot hunk of a boyfriend was looking for her. No, that upbeat tone she’d had previously was gone. “He—uh, he mentioned you two weren’t seeing each other any longer.”
And the bricks just kept falling. Her head started to pound. “Oh. Yes, right.”
“He’s, well, he’s buying the building, Carissa.”
Carissa took a step back. “What? Why? For his father?” Had he really gone off to the dark side because she’d convinced him love wasn’t real?
“No! No. He’s buying the building, not the shelter. We’ll be renting the space from him. He’ll be able to better protect the shelter as owner of the building.”
“Because he has friends in high places, too.” Carissa tried to sound sour.
“He’s completely outbid his father, and with the money, we can remodel and add more programs. He even wants to expand the housing area, put a second floor onto the place.”
Carissa tried to look happy for Margaret. It sounded perfect. But Jamison hadn’t stuck around to tell her himself. He’d left, he’d just walked out.
“That’s great, Margaret. Really.”
“Hon, you need to go home. Sink into a hot tub, pour some wine and cry it out. And when you’re done crying, you need to call him. He looked as close to death as you do right now.”
Cry? Wasn’t she already cried out?
“I have to get the program stuff ready for this weekend.”
“It can wait. Now, bundle up and go home.” Margaret hooked her arm through hers and all but dragged her to the doors. Not that she put up much of a fight.
Carissa felt more dead than alive at the moment anyway.
Chapter 18
“I got your mail!” Mr. Buschmann called down the stairwell to Carissa.
“Thanks, Mr. Buschmann.” She jogged up the flight of stairs to meet him and get the envelopes from his hand.
“Looks like Mr. Croft might be back, eh?” He gave her the most sympathetic smile she’d ever seen from him. She hadn’t seen Jamison in weeks, not since he’d been at the shelter.
“What?” She flipped through the envelopes and found one addressed to her from Jamison. Her heart picked up speed while her stomach fell into her shoes.
“Be gentle on him now, men do stupid things when they’re in love.” He gave her a toothy grin.
“I never would have taken you for a romantic.”
“Ah, I’m not. But I liked that fella.” His sour expression returned, but she could see through it now.
“Thanks, Mr. Buschmann. I liked him too.”
She ran down the stairs and into her apartment. Dropping the mail on her couch, she stripped off her running jacket. Spring was starting to warm up the
chill outside. March had come and with it, the sun.
She eyed the envelope sitting on top of the pile.
Jamison.
He’d been at the shelter a few times, working with Margaret on changes and remodeling stuff, but she’d stayed out of their way. Even when Margaret tried to pull her in for a conversation on the clinic, she’d bowed out. The staff nurse had it handled. She wasn’t needed.
Jade invited her to dinner, but after Carissa wrangled the confession that Jamison would be in attendance as well, she cried off. There was no need to see what she couldn’t have.
He’d moved on already. Probably already had a new girlfriend.
That’s how these relationships work out, she reminded herself. They didn’t last. Even if daddies are supposed to give unconditional love, they high tail it and run when it gets tough. Jamison had. He’d decided she wasn’t worth the fight. And he’d left. Not that she would give him all the blame. She never gave him much encouragement that they’d last past their expiration date.
But she was done wallowing in her own self-pity. She needed a change, too. She hadn’t been to Dark Lace since he brought her there last. Just because he owned it didn’t mean she couldn’t still enjoy herself there.
It was Friday night. A perfect time for that change!
Chucking the running gear, she jumped in the shower and pulled out the shortest skirt she could find in her closet. She was going to get back in the saddle.
After spending an hour on her hair and make-up, and another half hour on finding the perfect shirt to go with her skirt, she opened her underwear drawer to find some panties.
The white cotton panties were exactly where they’d been since he bought them. Good Girl blared up at her from the top of the pile. She traced the words with her fingertips. She didn’t have the courage to throw them away just yet, but she’d stopped wearing them.
Her thongs didn’t feel the same as they used to. They felt wrong, but she wouldn’t put on those panties. She needed to get rid of them.
She grabbed a purple pair of bikini underwear and finished dressing. On the way out the door, the mail caught her eye again.
“Fine,” she said to the furniture and grabbed his letter, ripping it open.
She pulled out the folded stationery and opened it up. Two tickets fell out into her hands.
The Pink concert.
She read the short letter.
Carissa,
Found these in my drawer. I know how much you enjoy Pink. Go to the concert. Have a good time but be safe.
Jamison
Be safe? What was that?
Hadn’t he said they could go as friends? Wasn’t that what he’d told her when she’d reminded him their time would be up by March 13th?
The light from her apartment reflected in the window gave her a clear view of herself. All decked out and ready to go to the club to catch—what—another man? Another daddy?
No. She had a daddy, but more than that, she’d had a friend and a lover. She wasn’t giving up yet.
She opened the drawer of her writing desk and scribbled a note, stuffed it in an envelope along with one of the tickets, and sealed it before she could talk herself out of it.
Carissa grabbed her coat and ran down the steps toward the nearest mailbox. It had to get in the next day’s mail; the sooner, the better.
She found the box, pulled the blue door down, threw the letter inside and let go of the door. She stood there on the corner, staring at the mailbox.
Would he go?
Could he forgive her?
She had an entire week to stew about it before she found out.
Jamison sat in his car, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.
He’d received Carissa’s letter two days before. The concert was in two hours. He had a decision to make. Could he go? Could he see her again, so soon?
She’d mentioned two friends going out but he didn’t want a friendship.
The last few weeks without her had been fucking hell. One of his own creation, but it burned just as hot. He wasn’t sure he could see her and not want to touch her, devour her.
But it was an olive branch. He’d sent her those tickets because he wasn’t going to use them, knowing she’d love to go. He hadn’t expected her to send one back to him and ask him to meet her.
But he’d never expected to have walked out on his babygirl either. Could she ever forgive him for that? For taking out his anger on her and walking out on her when she needed him?
So many things had happened in the last few weeks that he wanted to share with her. Every time Detective Warren called him with news on his search for his mother, Jamison wanted to call Carissa to talk to her about it. Damien was getting closer, friends had started talking to him, started divulging more information.
His father had lied straight through his fucking teeth. He hadn’t offered her money when she said she was leaving him. He had sent her away. He’d controlled every minute of her day, her time, and when she’d tried to fight back, tried to get some breathing room, he’d kicked her out. As far as her friends knew, there was no money, no offer, only threats that if she tried to come back, he’d make sure she regretted it—and Jamison would suffer too.
Barron Croft stopped even trying to contact him, and he preferred it that way. Jamison’s attorney was working on selling off his shares in the company. He supposed he should feel grief over losing his father—not only the current relationship, but the memories of him. He’d never really been a father, Jamison could see that clearly now, more so than he had already. It was one thing to admit something, it was entirely worse to feel the truth in your bones. And he felt the truth now.
His phone beeped, and he swiped the messenger.
Sure. Why would I turn down a ride?
So his decision was made. He’d texted Carissa that morning before his mind was clear enough to stop him, offering to pick her up for the concert.
On my way
He turned on the ignition. They could get a quick bite before the concert. It would be fine.
Not awkward. Just friends. They could do that.
He could do that.
The door to her apartment was ajar when he got there. He knocked, the door pushing further open when he did.
“Carissa?” he called, but when she didn’t answer he shoved the door open and ran inside. “Carissa!”
“Yeah! Yeah! I’m here, what’s wrong?” She bounded into the living room, her hair half flat and half curled, wearing a white lace bra and white cotton panties.
He took a deep breath and shook his head.
“Your door was open. Not unlocked, open.”
He shut it and turned the bolt.
“Oh. I must have forgotten to close it after the Peapod guy came.”
“I didn’t see an order put through,” he said, trying to keep his eyes from wandering over her exposed body.
“I opened my own account.”
It didn’t feel right, having her on her own like that. But he was her friend, he couldn’t say anything, and he sure couldn’t make her let him have a say in her grocery shopping.
“All Twinkies and ice-cream?” he asked, hoping to sound playful.
She shook her head. “I sprinkled in a few veggies here and there.”
“I, uh—I interrupted you getting ready.” He motioned to her standing in front of him in her underwear.
“Yeah, I was just doing my hair.”
He looked at his watch. “I’ll wait out here.” He gestured toward the couch and took a seat.
“Okay. I’ll just be a few more minutes.” She took a few steps backward and turned just as she came to her door. But he’d seen it.
Her panties.
Bad Girl.
Was it a sign? Did she want him to see that?
Being unsure of himself wasn’t his thing. He didn’t need signs or flashing symbols to tell him what to do. She was wearing the panties he’d given her.
He decided he wasn’t going to wait in t
he living room. He marched down the hall to the bathroom where she was now wearing a black pleated skirt and was working on her hair again.
“Got bored,” he said when she looked at him in the mirror. “So, how’s work been?”
“Same as usual. Jade’s leaving. She and Garrick are starting to look for houses out in the burbs.”
“Yeah, I heard.” He kicked the door frame lightly. “Dark Lace is going to open up out there. Garrick is going to manage it.”
“Jade did mention something about that. It’s good. Opening a club out there.”
“Yep.”
“You buying the shelter.” She put down the hot iron after unplugging it. “That was good, too.” She turned to him, leaning back against the sink. “Your father has moved on, I understand.”
“My attorney was able to get him off the idea of going up against me with his eminent domain garbage. Yes.”
“Good. That’s got to be really hard for you, going up against him like that.”
“Not as hard as I thought it would be.” He went on to explain the situation with his father, and his search for his mother. She stood, hands at her sides, gripping the countertop, listening. Intently listening. He saw the rage in her when he described the lies his father had told about his mother, and the sincere hope in her eyes when he talked about Detective Warren’s work in trying to find her.
“I’m really sorry all that happened.” She didn’t move but she looked ready to pounce.
“I’m really sorry, too. I’m sorry that instead of sticking around to explain it all, to let it all settle in my head first, I let it ruin us.”
Her lips parted but she didn’t make a sound.
“I was so angry, so confused about what to do next, that dealing with you and that at the same time mushed into one thing. I should have waited. I should have dropped you off and gone home to get my head on straight before talking with you. I never should have come up here and taken my anger out on you like that.” He raked his hand through his hair. Could she forgive him for that?
“I didn’t exactly make things easy for you. I reminded you too many times about our deal. When the truth was that I didn’t want the month to end, I didn’t want to walk away. And it terrified me. Instead of telling you, instead of bringing you my worries, I held them in and made a bigger mess. How could you possibly think anything other than what you did about me?”