by Sara Cate
“I’m about to see her. Take her the papers.”
He lets out a heavy sigh that sounds like relief. “I’m proud of you. You can do this.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, feeling the rising emotion in my throat.
“Want me to stay on the phone? I will.” He sounds different, softer somehow.
“No. I just wanted to hear your voice before I go in there.”
“I’m right here,” he says, and I wish that were true. I wish he was right here, next to me, holding my hand, being the strength I need, the man I need. But we both know that’s not an option. For one, he’s still too hung up on Nash. I don’t think he realizes how much he let on, how hard he fell, and how much it showed.
The other reason we could never truly be together is because we’re both hopelessly stupid and our dating would only hurt the one person who hurt us most. How ridiculous is that? But Nash would always be there. He would be in every conversation, every intimate moment, every kiss, every memory. Just like he’s in this conversation right now. Ellis wants to ask about Nash, but he can’t. He can’t ask about him, because that would let on how bad he’s hurting. His pride won’t let him. So, I tell him anyway.
“I’m moving out next week. I don’t think he’ll notice. He does nothing but work now.”
“I don’t care,” Ellis says, cutting me off. It’s just for show. I think knowing how bad Nash is will make him feel better about how bad he is.
“The other day I noticed him in his office at three in the morning. I don’t know if he never went to sleep or if he woke up that early.”
“Hanna.”
“And when I did see him this morning, he looked like shit.”
Ellis lets out a heavy sigh. After a few moments of silence, he says, “Let’s have lunch next week. After you move in. I’ll come over.”
My throat feels tight as I nod, knowing he can’t see me. “Okay. That would be nice.”
“I have to get back to work, but call me after you talk to her. And Hanna…”
“Yeah?”
“You’ll always have me.”
My breath hitches, forgetting to take a breath for a moment as I let his voice and those words sink in. How long will this hurt? How long will I feel like this and is keeping Ellis in my life, knowing I will never be enough, really the best idea?
But who else would understand this feeling more than him? Not even Zara can sympathize. She got her happy ending. She was able to choose one.
“We’ll always have each other,” I add. “Just two idiots who fell in love with the same person.”
I ring the doorbell, which feels strange considering it’s my house. She’s not expecting me, and after the harsh phone conversation we had a couple of weeks ago, she’s probably still angry at me. When she answers the door to our three-story row house, her face behind the screen sends a chill up my spine.
A look of disappointment washes over her. “Took you long enough. I assume you want to move home now? Your rich boyfriend finally kicked you out?”
Just ignore her. She’s trying to discourage you to withhold power over you. Don’t let her.
The voice in my head sounds like Ellis. And I pretend he’s here, standing behind me, encouraging me to do what I need to do.
Without any greeting or response, I start. “I’m not going to come in or move home. I’m just going to say my piece and hand you this.”
“What the hell is this?” she asks, pushing open the door and reaching for the envelope.
“It’s a restraining order.”
Her face falls, and for a minute, my heart breaks. What am I doing? She’s my mother, my own flesh and blood.
You’re doing this for yourself. You deserve this. I remind myself.
“Hanna,” she gasps. The worst part is she never saw this coming, and not because it’s a complete shock but because she never thought I’d have it in me to stand up to her.
“You’ve spent my entire life manipulating me, using me, and treating me like I was less than you. I’ve removed you from my bank account and according to this court order, you cannot contact me or come within a hundred feet of me.”
She’s speechless, staring at the envelope, waiting for any of this to make sense.
“I’m doing this for myself, because my entire life I’ve grown up believing the only way to earn your love is with ballet, to impress the world, to make up for the fact that twenty-nine years ago you made a mistake. You’ve made me pay for your mistakes, treating me as if I was a mistake, and because of that I will never know my own father or have a real family. For my entire life, I believed your lies about me. Every single one of them.”
Her disbelief is turning to anger, and she glares up at me. “You think you can live without me?”
“I know I can,” I say, interrupting her.
“You have always been so impulsive, Hanna. Who is talking you into this? What kinds of friends are you with who would tell you to do this to your own mother?”
Ignore her. Block out every word.
“This was my choice. I don’t need anyone to take care of me, least of all you.”
Turning around, with shaking hands, I start to walk away. She’s still going on behind me, berating me, and there are still unspoken words on my tongue, but none of it matters. I wanted to tell her this doesn’t have to last forever and that I want a real relationship with her, but she’s too busy talking to listen. And I’m too busy moving on with my life.
33
“Are you sure there’s nothing you need, sir?”
Turning back toward the girl standing in the doorway, a pleasant, doe-eyed look on her face, I smile and reply, “No, thank you, Valerie. You can go.”
It’s only two-thirty in the afternoon, and I see the way she chews her lip apologetically, as if she’s sorry a killer blowjob can’t solve my problems. I wish it could.
She waves goodbye and disappears through the apartment just when I hear the phone rings, and she answers it.
“One moment, please.”
Her heels click across the marble as she comes into my office. “Sir, there’s a Mr. Wilde downstairs to see you.”
My heart wants to pound right out of my chest. I have half the mind to ask which Mr. Wilde she’s talking about, but I don’t because I know. It’s not Nash.
“Send him up.”
A few minutes later, the elevator door chimes and Nash’s father steps into my office, a careful tight-lipped smile on his face. It’s a polite, disingenuous smirk reserved for business or uncomfortable conversations. I can already see where this is going.
“I hope you don’t mind me dropping in. We were in town so Zara could get something for her studio, and I took the opportunity to see you. Since we didn’t really get to say goodbye.”
Ah, yes. There was no warning when I left Del Rey. I boarded a flight off the island and never looked back.
“I’m glad you did,” I answer cordially as I cross the room to shake his hand. There’s a strange look in his eye, something uncomfortable, like he wants to say something. “Have a seat,” I say gesturing to the chair in front of my desk.
“I want to thank you for helping Nash,” he says, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair.
“You don’t have to thank me. I was just doing my job.” I try to force a smile, but it’s too hard, so I give up.
It’s quiet for a moment, him just staring at me, and I try to remember we’re old friends. But inside my head all I can think is Nash has his lips and jawline, and I miss Nash so much I could throw this fucking desk across the room. But I bite down those feelings.
“You did more than your job though, didn’t you?”
I let out a breathy chuckle. “What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry for being so forward, but I know my son better than he thinks I do, and I saw the way he looked at you.”
My mouth goes dry, and I maintain my composure, trying to act natural.
“He always looked up to you, maybe more t
han he looked up to me. And during this acquisition, I noticed the way he gravitated toward you, always looking for your approval, your…praise.”
Forcing myself to swallow, I keep my face blank, and my eyes trained on him.
“I didn’t know if you were aware of Nash’s feelings toward you or if that was something you reciprocated, and I know he must have made your life hell this summer. Maybe…maybe longer.”
I clear my throat, leaning forward just to shift out of the statue-like position I was sitting in. “Alistair, it’s not my business to tell you anything about Nash that he’s not ready for you to know.”
“I’m not asking about him. I’m asking about you.”
“Are you asking if I have…feelings for your son?”
“Yes.”
I take three long breaths before I nod. “Yes, I do.”
He rubs his face, letting out a heavy sigh before biting his bottom lip tightly. “Zara picked up on it before me. I think it was at lunch that day on the island. I was so blind, so focused on work and trying to find ways to cure him of his constant anger, but she noticed you. And it was the day of the acquisition that finally confirmed it for me.”
I’m still frozen in place, like facing down a wild animal I don’t want to scare. Alistair could be ready to break, yell and scream at me, maybe even hit me. It’s his son, someone I knew as a child, and I’ve just admitted to romantic feelings for him. He doesn’t know the half of it, but I’m guessing he can figure out the rest.
“I can assure you Nash and I…” I stumble on my words, finding them hard to get out. “We have nothing between us. I’m not going back to Del Rey.”
“Can I ask why it didn’t work out?”
Three more long breaths I use to steady myself. “I don’t think your son wants to be happy, Alistair. I don’t know if he knows how.”
“Do you blame me for what happened?” he asks and I know he’s referring to his relationship with Zara.
“It’s none of my business.”
“Yes, it is. You were with him shortly after, weren’t you? In Amsterdam? See, I told you I know more than he thinks I do. Of course, I thought it was just friendship.”
Shifting in my chair, I reply, “Yes, I was. And no, I don’t blame you.”
“Zara says he still blames himself for what happened to Preston. Maybe that’s why he won’t let himself be happy. But I know my son, and I know if he has no anger to shield himself with, then he has nothing. He will choose misery and loneliness over vulnerability every day.”
“I know he does,” I say shaking my head and clenching my leg between my fingers.
“He really did give you hell, didn’t he?”
I don’t answer. Because what I want to say is Nash didn’t give me hell. What he gave me was the complete opposite. He gave me a new perspective, something to fight for, a chance for something real, a hard-won love that didn’t come easy but was worth every second.
Instead, I nod my head and try to keep my expression casual.
“Well, I’m sorry. I wish I knew how to help him, but he’s twenty-eight years old. And I really hoped if Zara couldn’t, you could.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. “Is that…” I stand up, unable to stay sitting as this suddenly registers. “Is that why you called? That’s why you hired me?”
Now it’s my turn to want to punch him. A white heat courses through my veins. The pain I’m feeling right now, this re-opened wound, is because Alistair wanted to throw someone else into the fire for his son?
He stands up, too calm for my level of anger. “Before you get upset, I called you because I remembered you were the only man my son looked up to more than me. I also knew he had a lot of anger and feelings he had still to let go of, and I knew you were the right person to help him. I’m sorry it didn’t work out, but you have to understand he’s my son, the only one I have left. I just don’t want to see him hurting anymore.”
He stands up, starting to leave, but I blurt out exactly what I’m thinking before he can disappear. “But you are the reason he’s hurting.”
Alistair stops, flinching as if I hit him, but I shake my head. “I don’t mean what happened with Zara. I mean…talk to your son. He’s so afraid of being vulnerable because he doesn’t know how. He’s afraid if he ever lets down his guard, he’ll disappoint you.”
I’m not hoping this will fix Nash and everything will work out. There is so much more Nash needs before I would even consider going back into that mess, but I sincerely hope Alistair listens to me. I hope Nash doesn’t live with this pain forever.
“Thanks,” he mumbles before sending me a casual wave and walking out of the room.
34
Hanna doesn’t come out of her guest house, at least not to see me. When my dad’s helicopter lands on the tarmac, she emerges, and I have a feeling it might be because this is her last day here. Like the last pile of dirt on my coffin.
This is really it for me. If I couldn’t make it work by now, there’s no hope for me. Maybe Ellis was right. Maybe I don’t know how to be happy. Maybe I don’t want to be.
Sitting alone in my office on a Saturday, I watch as Zara greets Hanna, and it’s not as happy as it was a couple of weeks ago. Everyone looks a little sadder these days, or maybe that’s just me.
Then I watch as my dad pulls Harper’s little baby carrier out of the back and takes her toward the house. My house.
You’d think living on an island would mean peace and privacy, but that doesn’t seem to be the case at all. Instead, I have them in my business literally all the time. When the girls glance toward the office, I don’t move. After a few seconds, they follow Alistair to the house. No one comes to get me, which is better. With any luck, I can avoid them all day.
Hanna will leave, and I don’t have to bother with goodbyes or the feelings that come along with them.
There’s only a few minutes alone before I watch my father cross the grounds toward the office. As he pulls open the door, I do my best to look busy in hopes he won’t stay long.
“You don’t think I’ve tried to avoid life with work before?” he asks as he slips through the door.
“I’m not avoiding anything.”
“Oh, because you don’t have a life?” he asks.
“Something like that.”
He’s walking casually around the office, and I fight against the tic in my jaw as I wait for him to leave. “I saw Ellis yesterday,” he says and it’s probably the only thing he could say that could actually make me falter. And he definitely catches the way my eyes flash up to his face.
The office falls silent as we glare at each other. “He thought maybe it would be wise of me to listen to you. That maybe you want to talk to me.”
I scoff. I’m not a fucking teenager, and I have nothing to say to him. So, I shake my head and give my attention back to my emails.
His gaze freezes on my face, and the tension strings out between us, making it hard to breathe. Finally, he settles against the desk and rubs a hand over his face. When I glance up at him, I’m nearly broken by the despondent expression on his face, with wide, tired eyes and a turned down mouth.
“You gotta give me something here, Nash. It’s been five fucking years I’ve been trying everything I can think of to help you, and I already lost one kid. I can’t lose another. Just come back to me.”
Moisture pools in his eyes, and I swallow the knives in my throat.
“If you’re looking for permission to be happy, to move on, you don’t need it. You don’t need to keep punishing yourself for what happened to Preston. If you want someone to blame, then for fuck’s sake, blame me, son. Just…just stop torturing yourself.”
Something breaks, and my chest quakes as I try to breathe through it. Then, the words just come out because if I just say them, then I can’t take them back and I can stop holding them in and letting them fester.
“I was with Ellis in Amsterdam. For nine months, we were together…as in…he was my boyfriend.
And I—” Fuck, this is hard. “I didn’t tell you. But I was in love with him.”
“Was?”
The tears pooling in my eyes slip out with the next blink, falling across my face and landing like bombs against the desk.
“I am. I do love him. I guess that makes me bisexual, so there you go. I mean, I am. I’m bisexual. I don’t know why that was so hard to accept. But it’s out now.”
“Do you feel better?” he asks.
With the next exhale, my shoulders slide a little lower and the pain in my chest eases like I can breathe at last. “Yeah.”
He breathes too, and I finally get the nerve to look at him. There’s always an eerie feeling when I’m alone with my dad, like Preston—no, Preston’s death, is there with us, between us, filling every molecule of space in the room. We can hardly see past it, but right now, he’s looking at me, and it’s just us. Cleared space and room to breathe.
“Good,” he replies. “Are you going to call him?”
I laugh. “No. He’ll probably never talk to me again.”
“Worth a try. Have you tried groveling? It worked for me.”
With a subtle sad smile, I shake my head. “I don’t know if there’s a punishment on earth that would make up for how I treated him.”
He’s glaring down at me with his arms crossed. “And do I want to know how Hanna fits into this equation?”
With that, I laugh in earnest. I’m not even going to answer that question, not yet at least. He doesn’t push me more about it, but after a few minutes, I do finally shut the laptop and follow him out of the office toward the house.
As we step outside, he grabs my arm and pulls me toward him, wrapping his arms around me. I don’t remember the last time I hugged my dad, but I don’t fight as he squeezes hard. It makes me wonder why I couldn’t just tell him this sooner.
After a few minutes, he lets go and we walk together toward the patio where the girls are sitting. My eyes meet Hanna’s right away, and I think she knows.
A small smile lifts the corners of her lips, but I try not to let myself hope for much. She’s still leaving, and Ellis is already gone.