You Know I Love You: Book 1, You Know Me duet (You Are Mine 3)

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You Know I Love You: Book 1, You Know Me duet (You Are Mine 3) Page 3

by Willow Winters


  I run a hand down my face, trying to get the images out of my head.

  She can never know, but I was a fool to think I’d hidden it from her.

  There’s no way out of this.

  How can she love me when she knows I’m lying to her?

  How can she forgive me for a sin she has no idea I’ve committed?

  How can I keep her when I don’t deserve her?

  Kat

  “So this is all bullshit?” Sue asks with a tone that says she believes otherwise as she motions to the newspaper. Her voice is soft, but my nerves make it seem louder than it is here in this small coffee shop. I almost shush her before realizing she’s not speaking loudly at all.

  “It doesn’t look like it’s …” I can’t finish my thought, my eyes drawn to the same picture I stared at for hours last night, plus the night before.

  “Well, she’s all over him. There’s no denying that.”

  “Women are always all over him.” My answer comes out flat. I’m nothing if not blunt and transparent. It’s one of the reasons my clients trust me.

  “I used to like it … when they’d try to be all over him,” I admit to her but bite my tongue at the urge to voice the additional confession: I loved it. “How they’d fawn over him, desperate for Evan’s attention. But he only had eyes for me.”

  “Why is this one any different then?” The paper hits the slick surface of the coffee table as she tosses it down and immediately digs into her large Chanel hobo bag. I know she believes exactly what Evan denied. It’s written all over her perfectly red, pursed lips. This is only an attempt to appease me.

  It’s not the first, the second, or even the third time Evan’s had his name in the tabloids for less than angelic reasons. Suzette has her opinions, but she’s always refrained from voicing them when it comes to Evan.

  His reputation and his livelihood depend on the fact that he’s gotten away with things that would send most people to jail for the night.

  That was the case before I met him, anyway. Now he gets paid to make sure his clients meet the same fate.

  Sue talks as she pulls out a tube of deep red lipstick and a compact mirror. “Do you think he really did it this time?” she asks as if the weight of our marriage doesn’t rest on my answer.

  The reason this time is different is because I know there’s truth to it.

  It’s because of how he reacts.

  It’s how he looks at me as if he’s guilty.

  “He says it’s not what it looks like,” I answer and roll my eyes as I do, trying to downplay the pain that coils in my chest. My throat goes tight, but I’m saved by the return of Maddie.

  For so many years, since I first moved here really, there’s been one constant. It’s these women. Jules, my first client and the New York socialite who brought us all together, isn’t here. I owe her so much for helping my career take off as quickly as it did, but Jules has everything and all she really wants is companionship. She’s getting settled into married life, but she’d be here if I asked. Maddie and Sue were both available and to be honest, I’d prefer them right now. They’re not helplessly in love and therefore blind as a bat.

  “Pumpkin spice,” Maddie says as she sets a hot cup of coffee down in front of me. She doesn’t look me in the eyes, like she’s afraid doing even that will make me cry.

  The strong scent of cinnamon smacks me in the face, but I wrap my hand around the cup, giving her a grateful smile as she takes her seat to my right. I don’t like flavored coffee—I don’t even like pumpkin, but I’ll drink it. I desperately need the caffeine.

  My gaze travels to Sue, sitting straight across from me as she returns to the conversation and says, “He says it’s not what it looks like?” Her brow quirks as she adds, “… And what does that mean?” It’s not a question, it’s an accusation and the two of us know it.

  “What does what mean?” Maddie asks innocently, the legs of her chair scraping along the floor.

  “It means he’s lying,” Sue answers matter-of-factly and folds the newspaper over, reading the article again. It’s only a paragraph, maybe two. It doesn’t say much other than the fact that Samantha Lapour and her husband James are now separated, due to an affair she had with my husband, Evan Thompson. Which is a blatant lie. Their marriage has been on the rocks for months and they were separated long before this happened.

  Inwardly I cringe at defending my husband at all. An affair is an affair. In an effort to ease the guilt that weighs down my chest, I rub the small spot just below my collarbone.

  Maddie’s expression turns hard with a look of warning that would normally make me laugh considering how petite and naïve she is. “We’re talking about Evan,” she says under her breath. Her eyes stay on Sue, who slowly purses her lips and acknowledges Maddie with only a short nod.

  The newly divorced Suzette doesn’t give men a chance to explain. For good reason, seeing as how she’s been through hell and back.

  “I’m sorry,” Maddie whispers and then clings to her own coffee. French vanilla if I had to guess.

  “It’s fine,” I say lowly, shaking off the emotions rocking through my body and easing the tension at the table. “There’s no reason for us to get into this.” I don’t look at either of them, blowing on the hot coffee and reluctantly drinking it. I don’t taste it on the way down, though.

  “Well, what do you think?” Maddie asks me and then she puts down her own cup. The coffee shop on Madison Avenue is fairly empty, probably due to the rain and chill of the late fall in the air.

  As the shop door opens with a small chime and the busy sounds of the street flood into the small space for a moment, I think of how to answer her.

  I don’t know what to say.

  I think he cheated on me.

  I think he’s sorry and he regrets it.

  I think he loves me. No, I know he loves me.

  And I feel like a fool for still loving him and wanting him.

  That’s what’s in my head as I look around the small coffee shop, taking in every detail of the bright white chair rail and cream walls. The framed macro photographs of coffee pots and coffee beans keep my attention a little longer. I’ve never really noticed them before. This place is so familiar, yet I couldn’t have described any of these details if someone had asked me. I’ve been coming here for years and yet I’d never cared enough to look at what was right here in front of me.

  “Why would he lie to you?” Maddie asks, pulling my attention back to her. She huffs, sitting back and causing the chair to grind against the floor as she does. “I just can’t imagine Evan doing this.” My shoulders rise with a deep intake of breath as I pick at a small square napkin on the table.

  I roll the tiny piece I’ve ripped off between my forefinger and thumb, watching as it crumples into a small ball.

  “I don’t know why,” I answer softly. I can feel all the overwhelming sadness and betrayal rise up and make my throat tighten as I try to come up with a response. “Maybe I’m stupid, but I can’t remember him ever lying to me before.” I swallow thickly and flick the tiny ball onto the table. “Not like this.” Defeat drips from my words.

  “Sorry,” I tell them and wipe under my tired eyes, hating that I could possibly feel the telltale prick of tears behind them given how much I’ve already cried. “I tried not to let it …” I can’t finish. I watch as the rain batters the large glass window in the front of the shop and I slip my internal armor back on.

  “Don’t you dare be sorry,” Sue says with a strength that pulls my attention back to her. Her jet-black hair cut into a blunt bob sways as she leans forward, moving closer to me while she speaks with an undeniable authority. “If you want to cry, cry. If you want to scream, do it. Whatever you need to do, just let it out.”

  Maddie nods her head in my periphery, but I can’t do the same. Looking at the two of them, the stark contrast between Maddie and Suzette is more than obvious. Maddie’s a young brunette with large doe eyes, equally in love with love itself an
d the big city. Sue’s a recent divorcée with a bitter sense of humor she’s earned. Even their fashion choices are at odds. Maddie’s wearing a maxi dress and has a teal raincoat and clear umbrella hanging off the back of her chair, while Sue’s in a black and white tweed dress with a matching jacket, plus a broad-brimmed, black Breton hat she wears to keep people away.

  Somewhere in the middle is where I fall.

  What if I want to deal with it by falling into his arms and letting him lie to me? I bite my tongue, letting the silence be eaten up by the ticking of the clock. I know it’s not okay, yet that’s all I want. I want him to fight for me. I want him to love me. I want to forgive him, even if he won’t admit what he’s done.

  And that makes me a coward and a pathetic excuse for a modern-day woman, doesn’t it?

  The snide thought makes me turn my attention back to the dreary state of affairs outside. The clouds have set in and the sky quickly turns dark.

  “This is crap weather for a first meeting,” I say out loud, not really meaning to.

  “Way to change the topic,” Sue half jokes as she picks up her coffee cup and takes a sip, the smirk ever present on her lips. Her light blue eyes stare back at me from over the rim and it almost makes me laugh. Almost.

  “So you’re meeting your client here?” Maddie asks, gracefully accepting my invitation to talk about anything else. I’ve never loved her more than in this very moment.

  I nod, still not trusting myself to speak and take another gulp of my coffee. I forgot it was pumpkin spice and I nearly spit it out, startled by the flavor, but then I swallow it down. It’s not so bad.

  Maddie pulls her dark brown, curly hair over her shoulder and scrunches her nose as she takes in my expression. “You don’t like pumpkin?” she asks, raising a brow in disbelief.

  “It’s okay,” I say, answering her with a straight face and Sue erupts with a laugh that catches the attention of an elderly couple behind us. Her good humor is infectious and I find myself smiling. This is what I need. To talk and think about something else. Anything else.

  “I’ll get you something else,” Maddie says as Sue starts to speak. “Just regular? Cream and sugar?”

  “Thanks, but don’t worry about it, Maddie. It’s good.” I wave off her concern and take another sip. “I just needed some caffeine.”

  “Well, you look professional,” Sue says with a nod. “The rain didn’t ruin your hair.”

  I shake out my hair playfully in response to Sue’s attempt at a distraction but Maddie doesn’t pick up on the hint, and when I yawn, she goes right back to the conversation I hoped we were done with.

  “Trouble sleeping?” Maddie asks and I nod my head once then turn back to the cup, hating that we’re back on this again.

  “I just wish I had …” I can’t finish the sentence and I struggle to come up with something to say as I push the hair from my face while trying to remember what I want. I haven’t got a clue. “I wish I had my life together,” I practically whisper, but they hear and I know they do.

  “You do have your life together. You’re an established publisher. An entrepreneur and a hard worker.”

  I have work. Yes. Maddie happily agrees with Sue, reminding me of how many people in this very city would kill for my job.

  But I don’t have a damn thing else. Not enough to hold on to a life I somehow strayed from.

  The thought makes me miserable and I focus on the coffee again, knocking it back as if it’ll save me. When I set it down, I notice how empty it is as I tap the bottom of it against the table and hear a hollow sound. I’m going to need a refill. I’ll get it myself, though. I push away from the table slightly. “I’m going to grab another. At this rate it’ll be empty before Jacob gets here.”

  “Oh, Jacob.” Sue says his name with a hint of something I can’t describe in her voice. A devilish smile grows on her face and it makes me roll my eyes. Of all the girls, Sue’s the one who gets over one man by getting under another. And she’s given the advice freely to our tight group of friends. I can practically feel her elbow in my ribs.

  “Yes, Jacob,” I echo, mocking the way she said it, feeling irritable and juvenile, but it only makes Sue smile.

  “Well I hope he’s a good distraction for you,” Sue says then winks and slides her bag off her lap, onto her shoulder.

  “Work is always a good distraction.” My tone destroys the bit of lightness. “I’m good at burying myself in it.” The girls are quiet as my words sit stale in the air. It’s part of the reason my marriage is tainted. I don’t have to say it out loud and they don’t have to tell me. Everyone already knows it.

  She worked herself to death will be written on my tombstone. It’s all I think while I stand at the counter and order another coffee. Regular this time, with a splash of cream and plenty of sugar.

  “I read his book you gave me,” Maddie says when I retake my seat a moment later, changing the subject back to Jacob Scott. “I looked him up online too,” she adds as a smile spreads across her lips and her cheeks brighten with a blush. She scoots to the back of her seat and holds her cup in both hands, gladly taking the attention off of me. “He’s cute,” she says and smiles in a way I don’t see often from her. My left brow raises as I watch her pink cheeks turn brighter. Little miss innocent.

  “Is he now?” Sue comments and the two share a look as Maddie nods.

  “Want me to put in a good word for you?” I question—it’s meant for either of them really—and reach into my Kate Spade satchel for my laptop and notebook, setting them up on the table as Sue stands and puts on her jacket. There’s no way Maddie would actually make a move. She’s so sheltered and inexperienced. There’s also no way I’d let someone like Jacob near her.

  “You can always stay and wait for him to get here?” I say jokingly. “Or maybe leave something behind and have to come back for it?”

  She doesn’t answer, merely shakes her head and slides off her seat to join Sue in leaving me to my fresh coffee and waiting laptop.

  “I wouldn’t want to impose,” Maddie finally says and then walks over to give me a hug. Even in her heels, I still sit a little higher at the bar-height table as she embraces me.

  I half expect her to say something in my ear, to tell me it’ll be all right or that Evan’s made a mistake. But she doesn’t say a word until she lets me go. “I’m just a call away,” she says with a chipper tone that wouldn’t clue in anyone around us that I’d need to call her because my life is falling apart. Both of her hands grip my shoulders just a second too long.

  My heart goes pitter-patter.

  “Same here, darling,” Sue adds, placing her own hand on Maddie’s shoulder as a cue, and then the two walk off. The sound of Sue’s heels starts to fade as she opens the door. But the chime sounds just the same as when we first walked in here.

  “Later, loves.” I force a smile on my face as they leave me here alone.

  But my expression doesn’t reflect anything I truly feel.

  And nothing’s changed.

  Evan

  Berkeley Square in London feels the same as it has for years. The crisp air and old trees that tower over the park always feel timeless when I’m here. The black iron and white stone that speak to the history of this place never fail to impress. The dark, narrow alleys and the nightlife tucked away in the shadows of this city are what make my blood heat and my foot tap anxiously on the floorboard of the car.

  It’s always given me a rush to come here. There are a number of cities I’m fond of, cities that are playgrounds for the wealthy and where the best parties are had. Los Angeles, San Francisco, and New York City, of course. But London is one of the best. There’s something to be said about being away from your normal life and getting to unwind in a city you don’t have any obligations to stay in, yet welcomes you as if it’s always been home.

  The cabby clears his throat and his accent greets me as he tries to make small talk. I give him a curt nod and as many one-word answers as it takes to make i
t clear he doesn’t need to fill the time with needless conversation. I’m not interested.

  Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I lean back in the leather seat, feeling more and more exhausted as we pass the park, the dark green landscape fading from sight and rows of homes taking the place of the public areas.

  I’ve felt comfortable here for years. It’s a constant go-to for the PR company and I’ve been sent here to look after clients multiple times. But as the sky turns gray and the rain starts to beat against the tin roof, the welcoming feeling leaves me, and I’m left empty. Brought back to the present and brooding on how much the past has fucked me over.

  The cab takes a left onto Hay Hill and I pass an old townhome where I used to crash. I’ve had so many close calls here. I was too much of a hothead, always looking for a thrill and pushing my luck further and further.

  The cabby comes to a stop before I’m ready. The memories play on a loop in the back of my head of all the years I spent wasted. I can still feel the crunch of bone from the last fight I got into not three blocks from here.

  “Here we are,” the cabby states, turning in his seat, but before he can say anything else, I jam some cash into his hand and grab my bags on my own.

  “Have a good day, sir,” I hear him call out as I shut the door, the patter of rain already soaking through my collar at the back of my neck.

  I have to walk with my head down to keep the rain from hitting me in the face. The door opens easily and I drag my luggage in, tossing it to the right side where the coatrack and desk are meant to greet clients. This condo’s been converted into an office space. It’s blocks from the nightlife and blends in with the community. A perfect location for client drop-off.

  The high ceilings and intricate crown molding make the already expensive building feel that much wealthier. It’s all been done in shades of white and cream, without an actual color in sight. It makes the bright neon sticky note atop a stack of papers sitting on the edge of the welcome desk stand out even more.

 

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