by Maise, Ella
Very aware that my mascara had probably made a mess of my face, I cried without making even a peep until the car came to a stop. When I opened my eyes and realized we were heading toward the wrong side of Central Park, I forgot about my tears and looked at Jack.
“I think…” I started, but the words died in my throat when I saw the expression on his face.
Oh shit! If I thought he had been angry when I dropped the ring, I was sorely mistaken. His brows snapped together as his eyes roamed my face and the tension in the car tripled.
I tried my best to wipe the evidence of my tears away without looking into a mirror. “This is the wrong side—”
“Take her to the apartment, please. I’ll get to the airport on my own,” Jack said to the driver. Then his expression closed up, his face blanking as he addressed me. “This was a mistake. We shouldn’t have done this.”
I was still staring at him in shock when he got out of the car, leaving his bride—AKA me—behind.
This was a mistake.
Words any girl who had gotten married only thirty minutes earlier would want to hear, right? No? Yeah, I didn’t think so either.
After all, I was Rose, and he was Jack. We were doomed from the very beginning with those names. You know… the Titanic and all that.
The number of times Jack Hawthorne smiled: zero.
Chapter Two
Jack
After spending days trying to ignore what I had done, I was finally back in New York and still nowhere near ready to face the clusterfuck I had created. Exiting the car the moment Raymond pulled up in front of my building, I walked past the doorman and stepped into the elevator. As I was checking my voicemails, I tried not to think about who and exactly what kind of situation would be waiting for me in my apartment.
Would I have to carry on a conversation with her? Answer more questions?
I certainly hoped not because talking to her was the last thing I wanted to do. Not if I was planning on sticking with my plan of keeping her at arm’s length.
The moment I stepped through the threshold, I knew she wasn’t there. Feeling both relieved and annoyed at the same time—relieved because I was alone just as I liked, annoyed because she wasn’t where she was supposed to be—I dumped my luggage in my bedroom and slowly walked through the apartment, just to make sure. Turning lights on and off, I checked every room, inspecting everything, looking for anything that was out of place, looking to see if someone had even been there after I left. When I reached the last room—the room she was supposed to be staying in—and found it just as it had been when I’d left for London, I rubbed my neck, hoping it would help with the headache I could feel coming on. Walking through the room, I stepped out onto the terrace to stare down at the busy city, wondering what I was supposed to do next.
What have I done?
* * *
A few weeks earlier…
As soon as I got the call from the lobby, I walked out of my office to wait for her in front of the elevators. My main goal was to intercept her before she could get to the meeting room where her remaining family members would join her in another thirty minutes. A few minutes later, the elevator doors slid open with a ping and Rose Coleson stepped out. Her brown hair was down in waves, her bangs long enough to almost cover her eyes. She had minimal makeup on, and she was wearing simple black jeans and an even a simpler white blouse. I waited as she walked over to the reception desk.
“Hello. How can I help you?” Deb, our receptionist, asked with a practiced smile on her face.
I heard Rose clear her throat and saw her fingers grip the edge of the front desk. “Hi. I’m here for the Coleson mee—”
Before she could finish her sentence, Deb noticed me waiting and, ignoring Rose completely, turned her gaze to me. “Mr. Hawthorne? Is there anything I can do for you? Your two-thirty appoint—”
“No, there isn’t.” Ignoring Deb’s surprised look, I focused on Rose Coleson. “Miss Coleson.” When she heard her name, she glanced at me over her shoulder and let go of the desk to face me. “Your meeting is with me,” I continued. “If you could follow me.”
Deb cut in as Rose took a step to follow me. “Mr. Hawthorne, I think you are mistaken. The Colesons’ meeti—”
“Thank you, Deb,” I interjected, not caring whether she took offense at my tone or not. “Miss Coleson,” I repeated, maybe a bit harsher than I’d intended. I needed to get this meeting done and move on with my day. “This way, please.”
After a quick glance at Deb, Rose moved closer. “Mr. Hawthorne? I think there might be a mistake here. I’m supposed to meet with Mr. Reeves—”
“I can assure you there are no mistakes. If you wouldn’t mind stepping into my office for some privacy, there are some things I’d like to go over with you.” I watched, impatiently, as she thought it over.
“I was told I was needed to sign something and then I could leave. I have another appointment in Brooklyn, so I can’t stay for too long.”
I gave her a curt nod.
After a brief hesitation and another look at our receptionist, she followed me toward my office in silence.
After a long walk, I opened the glass door for her to step in. I reminded Cynthia, my assistant, not to forward any calls, and then I waited until Rose was settled in her seat. Holding her bulky brown handbag on her lap, she gave me an expectant look as I took my own seat behind my desk.
“I thought the Colesons’ lawyer was Tim Reeves, at least the estate lawyer. Has there been a change?” she asked before I could utter a word.
“No, Miss Coleson. Tim is the one who drafted the will, and he is the one handling everything at the moment.”
“Then I’m still not sure—”
“I’m not an estate lawyer, but I did help the team who was handling your late father’s corporate cases on a few occasions last year. Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, maybe? Or tea?”
“No, thank you. Like I said, I have another app—”
“Appointment you need to get to,” I finished for her. “I understand. That’s—”
“He was my uncle, by the way.”
“Excuse me?”
“You said father. Gary Coleson was my uncle, not father.”
I raised an eyebrow. This was something I already knew about, but apparently I was too distracted to remember every detail. “That’s right. I apologize.”
“That’s okay… I just wanted to mention it in case you weren’t already aware. I’m afraid it’s also the reason why I wasn’t mentioned in the will, which brings us back full circle, Mr. Hawthorne. I’m not sure what you could possibly want to talk to me about.”
This wasn’t going like I had planned. Granted, I hadn’t given how I wanted to do this much thought, but it was still not going smoothly enough.
“I read the will,” I admitted after taking in the stiff way she was holding herself: sitting on the very edge of her seat, impatient and ready to bolt. Maybe she’d appreciate a more straightforward approach, which was something I excelled at.
“Okay,” she prompted, raising an eyebrow.
“I’d like to talk to you about the property on Madison Avenue that was owned by your uncle.”
Her shoulders stiffened. “What about it?”
“I’d like to know what your plan is going forward regarding the property. I believe you and Gary had signed a contract a little while before his death indicating that you would have use of the property for a short time period, something like two years, and would only pay him a small amount of rent instead of the actual worth of the place. At the end of the two years, you would relocate. Correct?”
She frowned at me but nodded.
Satisfied that she was following me, I continued, “The contract was entered into the will, but Gary chose to add a stipulation I believe you only recently learned about. In the case of something happening to him during those two years, he wanted ownership of the property to transfer to your husband—”
“If I were married
,” Rose finished, her chin held high.
“Yes.” I pointedly looked at her left hand and she followed my gaze. “If you were married, that is.”
Her eyes lifted back to mine in the next second and I watched a frown form between her brows.
“I already know about all of this,” she explained slowly. “Gary was excited about me marrying Joshua, my fiancé. They got along well, and he liked him—we both had a business degree, but evidently it looked like he trusted Joshua more—”
“Your ex-fiancé, you mean,” I reminded her.
She paused at my words, but her fingers finally let go of the death grip she had on her handbag as she tried to follow my meaning. “Yes. Right. Of course, ex-fiancé. It’s still a habit. We only broke up a few weeks ago. I’m sorry, but how do you know he’s my ex-fiancé?”
I paused, trying to be careful with my words. “I do my due diligence, Miss Coleson. Please continue.”
She studied me for a long moment as I waited patiently. “I wasn’t even aware that he would enter our contract into his will. I was also never supposed to have ownership of the property, that wasn’t in the contract. He was letting me have use of the property for two years only, after the time limit, I was to leave. Then my uncle and his wife, Angela, died in the car crash and I learned that in the will he was planning on leaving the property to my husband.”
“Maybe that was his way of giving you something. A surprise maybe. A wedding gift of some kind.”
“Yes. Maybe. Maybe that was his way of leaving us the place, but I’m not married to Joshua at the moment, am I? So I get nothing.” She shrugged. “I only knew that Gary thought Joshua’s presence would be necessary if I was serious about opening my own coffee shop. I disagreed with him. It didn’t matter that we’d started discussing the possibility of me using the space a year prior to Joshua even coming into my life. He didn’t think I could handle the work on my own, and Joshua was in between jobs so he thought it made sense. I didn’t. I believe he trusted Joshua more than he trusted me because he went to a better school. Also, can’t forget about the fact that I’m a woman and Joshua is a man. He was old-fashioned and didn’t believe women could handle themselves in the business world. However, when we talked about it again and I told him about my plans for the place, he agreed to let me use his property. Joshua wasn’t a part of the conversation then—or the contract, for that matter. He never made stipulations other than the fact that I’d only be able to use the space for two years and then I’d have to find myself a different location. That was all the help he was willing to give me. Nothing more, nothing less. I was thankful either way. I have no idea why he felt it was necessary to add Joshua in his will regarding something concerning me. And why am I telling you all this?”
I leaned back in my seat, getting comfortable. Now we were getting somewhere. “He still isn’t part of the conversation.”
“I… Excuse me?”
“Gary never used your ex-fiancé’s name. He never specified who would be the owner of the property in case he passed away. There is only the mention of a ‘husband.’”
“I don’t see how that matters. I was supposed to get married to Joshua sometime this year and he knew that, but in the end, I didn’t. Joshua broke up with me two days after their death. So, because I’m not married, Mr. Hawthorne, and I’m not planning on marrying anyone any time soon, I don’t get to use the space let alone own it. I talked to my cousins, Bryan and Jodi, but they aren’t interested in honoring the contract I’d signed with their dad, which means I’m not going to be able to open my coffee shop. At this point, I’m just trying to accept the fact that I threw away fifty thousand dollars—fifty thousand dollars that I managed to save by working for I don’t even know how many years at this point—on a space that was never going to be mine anyway. All that aside, I lost two people who were important to me in the same car crash that day. Even though I was Gary’s niece, they never saw me as their own flesh and blood, but they were all I had after my dad passed away when I was nine. Whatever the case may be, instead of letting me get lost in the system Gary agreed to take me in and that’s all that matters. So, to answer your previous question, I have no plans regarding the property because I’m not allowed to use it anymore.”
A little out of breath and, from what I could tell, a lot pissed off, she stood up and hooked her bag over her shoulder.
“Okay, I really don’t want to be rude, but I believe this was a waste of both our time. I was a little curious when I was following you here, I’ll admit that much, but I don’t have time to go over things I already know for no reason at all. I have a job interview I need to get to, and I can’t afford to be late. I think we’re done here, right? It was nice meeting you, Mr. Hawthorne.”
Thinking our conversation was done, she extended her hand over my desk, and I stared at it for a second. Before she could decide to walk away, I let out a breath, rose from my seat, and looked into her eyes as I took her hand.
This was it. This was the part where I should’ve said It was nice meeting you and gone on with my day. I didn’t.
In a calm and collected voice, I said what I’d been waiting to say. “You’re not being rude, Miss Coleson, but before you go, I’d like you to marry me.” Breaking our connection, I pushed my hands into my pockets, watching for her reaction.
After a short moment of hesitation, she replied, “Sure, how about we do that after my job interview, but before dinner. Because, you know, I already made plans with Tom Hardy and I don’t think I can postpone—”
“Are you mocking me?” I stood absolutely still.
Her narrowed eyes moved across my face, searching for an answer, I presumed. When she couldn’t find what she was looking for, the fight went out of her, and right in front of my eyes, her entire demeanor—which had hardened the second I’d started asking questions about her ex-fiancé—softened and she puffed out a breath.
“You weren’t making a bad joke?”
“Do I look like someone who jokes?”
Making a noncommittal sound, she shifted in place. “At first glance…I can’t say that you do, but I don’t know you enough to be sure.”
“I’ll save you the trouble—I don’t make jokes.”
She gave me a baffled look like I had said something astonishing. “O-kay. I think I’m still going to leave now.”
Just like that, she surprised me and turned away to leave. Before she could open the door, I spoke up.
“You’re not interested in hearing more about my offer then?”
Her hand was already on the glass knob when she stopped. With stiff shoulders, she let go of the door and turned to face me.
After opening and closing her mouth, she looked straight into my eyes from across the room. “Your offer? Just so we’re on the same page and I can make sure I didn’t hear you wrong, could you repeat said offer?”
“I’m offering to marry you.”
Hiking her bag higher on her shoulder, she cleared her throat. “Mr. Hawthorne, I think…I think I’m flattered that you’d—”
“Miss Coleson,” I cut her off bluntly before she could finish her sentence. “I assure you, my marriage offer is strictly a business deal. I’m sure you’re not thinking I’m expressing an interest in you. I was under the impression that you could use my help—was I wrong?”
“Your help? I don’t even know you, and I definitely don’t remember asking for any—”
“If you accept my offer, you’ll have enough time to get to know me.”
“If I accept your offer…which is a business deal disguised as a marriage. I don’t think I’m following you here.”
“Maybe if you explained what you’re having trouble understanding, I could help you.”
“How about everything? From where I’m standing, that sounds like a good place to start.”
“Right, of course. If you’ll take your seat, I’d be thrilled to go into more details. For example, I can make sure your life savings, which you already spent
on a coffee shop that’s not happening, won’t go to waste.” I was guessing she could see from my expression that I wasn’t thrilled about any part of our conversation.
“How do you know that was my life s—”
“Like I said before, I do my—”
“Due diligence, right. I heard you the first time.” She looked out, her eyes scanning the busy hallway outside my office. It took her a few seconds to make a choice between walking out and staying. Then, reluctantly, she moved back toward my desk and me, and equally as reluctantly sat down on the edge of the seat again. Her untrusting eyes had all my attention.
“Good.” When I was sure she wasn’t going to jump up and run away, I took my seat as well. “Now that you’re staying, I’d like you to consider my offer.”
Briefly closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and let it all out. “See, that’s not really explaining anything to me. You keep asking the same thing, and I keep experiencing the same urge to get up and leave.”
“I’d like us to get married for a number of reasons, but the one that would interest you most is the fact that you’d get to open your coffee shop on Madison Avenue.”
When she didn’t make any comments, we remained silent.
“Is that it?” she finally asked, her tone impatient. “You want to marry me—sorry, make a business deal with me by marrying me so I can open my coffee shop?”
“Sounds like you understood me well enough.”
After another baffled look, she leaned back in her seat then got up, dumped her handbag on the chair, and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows to gaze at the skyline. A whole minute passed in silence, and my patience started to wear thin.
“You’re insane then,” she said. “Are you insane, Mr. Hawthorne?”
“I’m not going to answer that question,” I replied tersely.
“That’s nothing new. You’re not answering my questions, you’re not explaining things.”
“I want to help you. It’s that simple.”
She glanced at me with her big brown eyes, staring as if I had lost my mind, and when I didn’t go on, she raised her arms and dropped them. “That simple? Could you be helpful right now and explain further, please? You want to help me, for some insane reason—me, someone who incidentally doesn’t even know your first name.”