by K. A. Linde
Chapter 15
HIS MOMENT
Clay’s feet carried him into the building. It looked much the same as the last event he’d been to. Crowded with people, the walls lined with artwork, the bar line being the longest thing in sight.
As he entered, a waiter approached him to offer him a glass of champagne on the house.
Clay smiled at the man and shook his head. “No, thank you.”
He’d declined a drink. Champagne, sure. Something he rarely, if ever, drank to begin with. But, hey, it was a start. He really wanted to be sober for this.
On the walls, there were so many pieces of art that he’d never seen before. Either Andrea had been hoarding art more than he knew, or she’d been traveling a ton to procure pieces for this exhibit. She had a collector’s eye for it. That was for sure.
As he scanned the opening line of pieces, he read the tags that said where the painter was from, and they hadn’t been to a number of these places in years. Marseilles, Barcelona, Vienna, Venice, Amsterdam. Had she taken a European tour in the time that we’d been apart?
As he scanned the paintings, he kept one eye open for Andrea. He didn’t want to run into her without some forewarning on his part. He wasn’t here to embarrass her or make her uncomfortable. He didn’t want to put her off her step when she finally saw him. It’d be better to talk to her in a more secluded area. But he wanted to be here for her even if she didn’t know the extent of it.
He had his eye on the nearest exit when he felt hard eyes on the back of his head. He whirled around and saw a head of blonde hair walking furiously toward him in a tight blue dress.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Liz asked, Brady hot on her heels.
She grabbed Clay’s arm and started wrenching him out of the gallery. He easily followed her with a humorous glint in his eyes.
“You should leave.” She pointed toward the exit when they were far enough away from the main group of Andrea’s clients.
Brady had his huge mass mostly blocking them from view.
“I can’t leave,” Clay told her.
“Yes, you can, and you will.”
“Liz,” Brady said warningly.
She looked up at Brady with her big blue eyes, and for a second, her expression softened. “You know he can’t be here.”
“Andrea can’t keep running forever,” Brady said firmly. “This isn’t fair to him either.”
“I’m still standing right here,” Clay said.
“What are you doing here?” Liz asked. The edge was gone from her voice. She looked sad and resigned. Like she wanted to help him but thought the effort would be futile.
“I just came by to see how things were going for her.”
“Does she know you’re here?” Liz asked.
“No,” he admitted.
“No, of course not. She would have told me.”
“Look, I’m not here to cause her any trouble,” Clay insisted. He just needed to see Andrea and ask her a question. Then, he’d go.
“You can’t control whether or not it causes her trouble,” Brady told him.
Clay ran a hand back through his hair. “Yeah, but how much longer do I have to wait for her to come to me? She’s as stubborn as I am, and we both know that’s never going to happen. So, you’re telling me to just let her walk away, and I can’t do that.”
Liz straightened at the passion in his voice. “You really mean that.”
“Of course I do.”
“Look, I know you called and talked to her. Andrea and I have been hanging out since…the breakup. I know you have good intentions, but you being here is a bad idea.”
“For her, or for me?”
“Both of you!”
Clay shook his head. “You walked away from Brady, and he let you do it. How often did you wish for him to just come back into your life and whisk you off your feet?” he demanded. “How often did you think he’d just show back up, but he didn’t?”
Liz seemed to retreat into herself at the comment. It was as if she were going back in time and remembering something excruciatingly painful. She tried to clear her head from it, but the emotion was thick in her voice as she said, “More than I can count.”
“And you’re saying I can’t do that? When it was all you wanted?”
“Clay…”
“Let him go, Liz,” Brady said, resting his hand on her arm.
“What?” she asked.
“Just let him go. He’s right. He deserves the chance to talk to her.”
“Fine,” she said slowly. “Just try not to mess this up for her. She’s put a lot of time into the gallery.”
Brady clapped him on the back and smiled. “Go get her.”
“Thanks, man,” he said with honest gratitude he thought he’d never feel.
Clay left Brady and Liz behind, ignoring Liz’s words of warning. He just needed to find Andrea and invite her to the gala, and then everything would work itself out. They’d been through too much for the puzzle pieces not to fit back together again.
Then, he saw her.
She was standing in front of a trio of paintings of a landscape bursting in a rainbow of colors. It was a total contrast to the black lace dress hugging her frame and the stark honey color of her hair, which was hanging loose in waves down her back. The woman next to her was tall and lithe and kept gesturing to the artwork while shaking her head.
Clay had no intention of interrupting. It was just a marvel to see her again. His heart thudded, and something like panic flared in his chest.
Fuck.
He felt like a pussy.
There she was, standing like a sculpted goddess across the room. As if she herself were the artwork to be admired, not the paintings hanging limply on the wall.
How had he forgotten how beautiful she was in such a short period of time?
It was the longest they’d gone without the other. He was blinded by the sight of her. Her ass straining against the confines of her dress. The toned long legs he knew barreled through Pilates and yoga five times a week. The perky breasts that she complained were too small, but he’d always thought fit her. The slope of her neck up to her gorgeous face to that smile that would bring him to his knees.
They’d gotten so comfortable. So easily forgotten why they’d been together in the first place. He’d let it get that way. Taken that beautiful body for granted. Fucked up, like he always had.
Now was going to be different.
He waited until the other woman disappeared. The room was mostly empty anyway. This was his moment.
He had been hovering in the shadows, just out of her line of sight. Just when he moved toward her, pulling the invitation out of his suit pocket, another person entered the room at a near run and collided with Andrea.
Clay’s feet stalled.
Bad Suit.
He wrapped his arms around Andrea’s waist, hoisted her into the air, and swung her around in a circle. She laughed against him and clung on to keep herself steady.
Fuck, she looks fucking ecstatic.
Happier than Clay had seen her in a real long time.
Bad Suit set her back down on her feet, and she steadied herself against his chest. He was speaking animatedly about something. The grin on her face just grew and grew.
Clay heard her cry out, “Oh my God!”
And then her hands wrapped around his shoulders and clung on to him for dear life.
Pain like nothing he’d ever known stabbed him in the heart. He staggered back a step, unable to believe what he was seeing. He clutched the invitation tight in his hand, the paper crumbling in his death grip.
She’d moved on.
Stupid.
Stupid.
Stupid.
Liz had been right. What the fuck am I doing here?
He was just going to cause Andrea more trouble. Just going to fuck everything up for her. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted to go over there and punch the living daylights out of that guy. But he wouldn’t be he
re if she didn’t want him here.
He tortured himself, imagining her running back to him as soon as her things were out of their place. Him helping her change the locks. Running through Europe together to find new art pieces. Fucking.
Fuck.
Clay took a step backward. Andrea turned her head in his direction, as if sensing that he was there. For a moment, he wanted to let her see that he was there…to let her know that he now knew. But he’d promised he wouldn’t ruin this for her. And, before she could catch a glimpse of him, he darted out of the room.
His chest was heaving as he walked purposefully back through the art exhibit, through the crowds of people, and past the bar line that was still holding strong.
Just as he reached the exit, he realized he was still holding the invitation. The one chance he’d thought he had to win her back. Without another look, he tossed the invitation onto the top of the trash can before leaving the gallery and Andrea behind.
As soon as he got to his car, he headed straight to his favorite bar. Forget giving up booze. Forget giving up women. Forget broadening my horizons and looking forward to a new life. He just wanted to get black-out drunk and forget he’d ever been this much of a pussy.
He pulled out his phone and blindly dialed Gigi’s number. He didn’t even know why. He could have called the guys. They were his normal crew when he wanted to get hammered, but he wasn’t feeling up to dealing with their idiocy tonight.
Gigi answered right away. “Hey, how did it go?” she asked on the other line.
“Like shit.”
“Eesh. That’s not good. Are you okay? What are you doing now?”
“Bar,” he stated plainly, ignoring the other question. “You want to meet me?”
“That’s not such a good idea.”
“It’s the only idea.”
“Drunk in a bar in your current mood is bad news bears. Why don’t you just come over here? We can talk about it.”
“Don’t really want to talk.”
“Fine,” she grumbled. “Then, I have alcohol here.”
“Whiskey?” he croaked.
“Yeah. I have a bottle lying around here somewhere.”
“All right. Where’s your apartment?”
“It’s near Dupont Circle. I’ll text you the address, but be safe. You sound super pissed.”
“That’s one word for it.”
Gigi’s apartment was situated in the middle of a trendy neighborhood downtown. He could see why she lived here. Not too far from the office, but close enough to walk to anything she could really need.
He walked up the steps to the second-floor apartment and knocked on the door. She answered almost immediately. The place was extremely neat and tidy with a lot of clean, modern furniture. It was clear she didn’t spend a lot of time in the place. The girl worked too much.
“Hey,” she said, shutting the door behind him. “I found a bottle of Jack. Hope that’s all right. I know you prefer Crown.”
“That’s fine,” he said.
Clay turned around, and his stare pinned her where she was standing.
“What’s up?” she asked cautiously.
But he didn’t answer. He just walked her backward until her back hit the front door. He dropped his mouth down on top of hers and kissed her. Desperately, hungrily, with no thought for consequences or repercussions.
Gigi pushed hard against Clay’s chest hard, and her breath was coming out in spasms. When he looked at her, her brown eyes were as big as saucers. His hands were on either side of her head, caging her in.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she shouted at him. “You can’t just do that! That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works.”
“Gigi—”
“No!”
She shoved him aside and started pacing the room in the same way he’d seen her do a hundred times while she was trying to work out a problem. Clearly, he was the problem.
“This is not who I am. And this is not what this is.”
“Then, go to the gala with me.”
“What? Ugh! No!” she nearly spit. “I’m not going to that stupid party with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you and I are bad news. We’re way too goddamn similar in personality, and you’d drive me fucking crazy. You already drive me crazy. It’d never work. Plus,” she cried, “you’re still head over heels for your ex, who I happen to think is in the right here. You just went to see her, and it clearly didn’t go well, so you’re taking that out on me, which, I might add, is not fair!”
“She’s with someone else,” Clay admitted, finally letting the weight of what he’d witnessed settle on his shoulders.
“That doesn’t mean that you need to be!”
“Come on, Gigi. Go with me,” he prodded.
“No! Are you hearing yourself?”
“Come on.”
“As a friend,” she countered. “Just friends, Clay.”
“You sure about that?” he prodded, still hoping to lose himself in the moment to forget the real issue. “I can be really charming.”
“I am not one of the girls you meet at the bar with your stupid friends. This doesn’t fix anything. Dealing with the issue fixes things.” Gigi crossed her arms over her chest. “You need to deal with this, not try to forget it between a pair of legs or down a bottle. So, I’ll go to the gala with you but only as friends.”
“I’ll have you know,” he said, sinking into the chair next to the door, resigned and heartbroken, “I’m no good at that.”
Gigi puffed out a breath and sat across from him. She tucked her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on top of them. “You’ve been doing just fine at it so far.”
“Thanks,” he said.
After a minute of silence, Gigi poured him a drink and took one for herself. She took a sip and then asked, “So, did she really turn you down?”
He shook his head. “No. I didn’t even ask her. She seemed so happy with him. I just couldn’t hurt her like that.”
Gigi squeezed her eyes shut for a second. “Damn. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “I was the idiot who thought it was a good idea. Didn’t realize what I had until I lost it.”
Chapter 16
CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY
The annual Cooper & Nielson gala was in full swing by the time Clay and Gigi arrived. She’d shocked the shit out of him when she appeared in makeup that accentuated rather than masked her freckles and a floor-length burgundy dress that hugged the curves she normally hid in her work clothes. He approved.
He’d gone with a tailored Tom Ford tuxedo for the occasion. Though he felt it was wasted effort. He wanted to be in and out of the event as quickly as possible. It had been a month since he’d seen Andrea with Bad Suit at the gallery, and being here just brought up all the memories.
He missed her.
It fucking sucked.
Three fucking months without her, and he was still thinking about her. But he wanted her to be happy, and as much as he wanted to beat the shit out of that douche, he couldn’t deny her the happiness she’d so obviously had. He just didn’t want to see or hear about it either.
He worried that would be difficult with Brady and Liz’s upcoming nuptials. He was in the bridal party, but with how close Liz had made it seem she and Andrea had gotten, he figured she would get an invite with or without him. That meant, going to his brother’s wedding was feeling more and more like anticipating a funeral he’d dug his own grave for.
He and Gigi had just returned from the bar with drinks and were walking around and schmoozing with all the right people. Some of their colleagues kept giving them sidelong glances. He and Gigi had been spending a lot of time together. More and more, he was glad that she’d stopped him from pushing for a relationship…just like he’d stopped it from day one.
It was better to keep their relationship business professional. Plus, it was nice to have a real
friend. Someone he actually felt he could rely on. Someone he wasn’t trying to fuck. Well, at least not actively trying to fuck.
Gigi was going on and on with some guy beside Clay whom he had never met.
The man suddenly looked over at Clay and grinned. “Aha! A Maxwell. You were a lucky get for Cooper and Nielson!”
Clay laughed awkwardly.
“I’m surprised your brother didn’t go this route first. Though it didn’t seem to matter. He still got into Congress, didn’t he? If by the skin of his teeth.”
Clay decided right then he didn’t like this guy. Whoever he was. “Brady has always been exceptionally lucky.”
“He’d have to be to get reelected after that catastrophe.”
“Careful,” he said evenly. “That catastrophe is my future sister-in-law.”
“Of course, of course. I didn’t mean any offense. But what about you?” he asked, quickly changing the subject. “Do you have aim for the political arena? I wouldn’t mind investing in a young face, if you know what I mean.”
“No,” he answered blandly. “I’ve never had an interest in politics.”
For a moment, he wished that Andrea were here to navigate this situation with him. She knew what this kind of statement did to him…how manic it made him…how much he just wanted to lay into this guy.
“Come on, Gigi.”
Gigi hurried after him. She grabbed his arm as they veered toward a table for the dinner and silent auction portion of the event.
“Man, you were short with him,” she said.
“He shouldn’t talk shit about stuff he doesn’t understand.”
“I think he was totally harmless. If anything, it was a compliment that he wanted to back you if you ran. He’s a huge donor, you know?”
“I didn’t. Though I guessed. And it’s not a compliment,” he told her, staring her down. He’d forgotten how little people knew about the system when they hadn’t been in it their whole life. “He just offered to buy me for his interests, which means he’s already associated the Maxwell name with sellouts.”
Gigi gave him an uneasy look. “That’s not what he meant…”
“Yes, it is.”
“Okay. Well, even if it was, you clearly didn’t take his offer, so just ignore it.”