Chapter 12
“Ms. Foster, your father wants to confirm that you aren’t RSVP’ing for two for the charity banquet coming up in a few weeks.” My assistant stands in front of me, nervously toying with the pen in her hand while waiting for me to confirm the answer I gave her months ago.
It isn’t her fault my father won’t leave it be, so I’m patient when I answer. “Just me, Heather.” She nods as she writes on her notepad but says nothing further.
“Anything else?” I ask, wondering why she’s still standing in my office if we’ve covered everything we need to for the day. Heather seems more off kilter than normal. I like to go over my schedule in the mornings and iron out any hiccups that may have come up, but this isn’t usual.
“Well,” she says as she spins the pen in her hand. I raise my right eyebrow waiting for her to continue. She straightens, finding the confidence she lost just moments ago when the subject of the banquet came up. “Your father insisted you take Mr. Moore with you and wanted me to change the number on your behalf. So, I explained to him that you were very clear about your answer when you originally responded to the invitation.”
She says all that in one big breath, her words rushing together. When she finally finishes, her shoulders relax a bit in relief.
I honestly don’t know why she’s like this around me. I’ve never been unfairly harsh or downright mean so I can’t fathom what elicits this kind of reaction from her about me.
I truly like her. She does a good job. She doesn’t babble on like some of my other AA’s in the past did, and she always gets her work done. You really can’t ask for more than that these days.
Do I sometimes bark orders? Yes. I’m guilty of that, along with a few other things that are probably seen as demanding, when instead, I’m simply frustrated that the tasks aren’t already handled.
No one talks about how damn stressful this job is for a woman, let alone someone my age and someone who’s related to the owner. Most people assume this job was handed to me, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Maybe Heather thinks that, too.
“I’ll handle my father. Thank you for telling me. You’re right. My answer is the same and will remain the same. I apologize on my father’s behalf. He shouldn’t have put you in that position,” I say firmly, though I try to soften my voice.
I nod in dismissal and watch as she turns to make her way out of my office. Once I hear the soft click of the door as it shuts behind her, I pick up my cell and push the call button for one of my two favorite contacts saved in my phone.
“What’s up, honey?” my father asks as he answers on the second ring.
“What’s this I hear about you trying to get me to bring Moore to the charity banquet?” I ask, getting straight to the point. I don’t like to beat around the bush, and neither does my father.
“She told you, huh?” he asks with an unamused huff of a laugh.
“Of course, she did, Daddy. I thought we already had this conversation.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice,” he says playfully.
I shake my head as I sigh. “You know me better than that. Which means you also know why I don’t want to bring him in the first place.”
My frustration is getting the better of me, so I push up from my desk and walk over to gaze out the floor-to-ceiling window. I watch the hustle and bustle of the city below because it always seems to calm me.
It’s quiet up here, but I can still see and feel the frenzy of the start of the workday down below. Something about it has always soothed my soul. Maybe it’s a reminder of my purpose, or the clarity that I need to focus on my work.
“Jade, hon, at some point, you’re going to have to let him in on this part of your life. Moore would respect and even admire all the work you do for the community,” my father soothes.
I almost say over my dead body, but I catch myself and instead respond with, “I’m not ready, yet. This is something special for just you and me.”
He sighs. “I know how special this is for you, and I think Elliott would love to see this side of you. You’re happier and more outgoing when you do these kinds of events.”
My chest aches. I love my father, and it breaks my heart listening to him go to bat for Elliott. To have so much faith in him and consideration for him, while I know something big is wrong.
“Why can’t it stay between the two of us? I like that’s it’s just the two of us every year.” I don’t understand why he’s so insistent that Elliott sees that side of me.
If I can’t find a way out of this marriage, Moore will have to attend with me eventually. I internally groan at that thought because this event is near and dear to my heart. I look forward to it every year, and my father is always the one to accompany me. Except for a few random years when he couldn’t, but Bridge stepped in for him. Dad and Bridgette are the only two to know where my heart truly lies, and I like it that way.
“Baby, you need to let him in. I see the way he looks at you.” He pauses, seemingly trying to collect his thoughts. “And I see how you look at him. I want you to be happy, and Moore can be that for you.”
My heart sinks at the hope in my father’s voice when he says he hopes Elliott and I will live happily ever after. It sinks to the floor at the poor job I’ve done convincing my father that I’m happy. I know now more than ever that Elliott isn’t the one who could make me happy, but my father doesn’t.
“I’m not ready, and I don’t know if I ever will be,” I say solemnly. I’ve sometimes thought to myself that I may be truly broken. Unable to love and unable to be loved.
Just look at the mess I’ve made for myself.
The only time I’ve thought those words may not be true was when Colin Brooks walked into my office. There was the barest hint of a spark in my chest when he waltzed in like he owned the place. He sat in front of me without a care in the world. I quickly dismissed that feeling of warmth and light as irritation and loathing.
I’ve worked extremely hard to forget that enticing and exhilarating zing. I’ve never felt that before, and instead of giving me hope, all it did was cement the fact that I will never have that. Not with Moore, and especially not with Colin. Which is just another one of the many things I’m unwilling to dissect.
He sighs. “Oh, honey. Are you having second thoughts about marrying him?” His voice breaks, and my heart breaks right along with it.
Why did I ever agree to do this? No matter how this turns out, someone will get hurt. All I feel in this moment is broken and alone.
I start to second guess my campaign to bring Moore down. Maybe I’d be better off if I just shut up and play the doting soon-to-be wife. Then I think back to the night he threatened my father and me.
My thoughts become a maelstrom, and my stomach pitches into a tight knot.
I’m not meant to be loved, I’m not meant to be a doting wife, and I certainly don’t need to tie myself to a lying son of a bitch like Moore.
“I need to go. I have a meeting. Talk later. I love you, Dad.” My voice is hoarse with emotion, and my throat is tight with fear.
“I love you, honey,” he says before I end the call.
I turn and drop my phone on my desk as I walk toward my door. I need some air and alone time.
“Do you think I’m lovable?” I ask when Bridgette answers.
She’s quiet for a moment before she answers. “What would ever make you ask me that?” It was loud when she first answered, but I can’t hear any background noise now.
Instead of answering that question, I ask another. “Are you busy?”
“I’m never too busy for you, and I’m not letting you off the hook that easy. Answer the question, Foster.” A door clicks on the other end, and I assume she’s somewhere more private.
I sigh. I don’t know how to answer that question. A million different things make me feel that way, but I also think I have no reason at all to feel the way I do.
I’m a little screwed up.
“I don’t know, but can you answer the question?” I say out of frustration with myself. I hate feeling this insecure. I hate feeling out of control. Those are the two feelings causing me chaos right now.
“You are so loveable it’s disgusting. You make Winnie the Pooh look hideous and scary in comparison.”
Her description makes me laugh because I’m so caught off guard. “I’m being serious, Bridge.”
“So am I.”
I snort. She’s so full of it she’s stinking up the line. “No one in a million years would believe I was more loveable than Winnie the Pooh. Come on, now.”
“I said what I said, and I stand by it. Now, you tell me why you don’t believe it. I know you have some trust and abandonment issues from your mom, but this is out of left field, girl.”
“Mom didn’t abandon us; she died.”
She huffs like she can’t believe we’re having this conversation. “I know she didn’t leave you on purpose, Jade, but the effects are still the same. You grew up without a mother and had a grieving father as the only person to raise you. That’s enough to make anyone a little jaded.”
I toe the green grass at my feet, running over the wet dew with my shoe. I turn, and my heels hit the concrete with loud clacks as I make my way to the bench off the main pathway in the park. It’s quiet aside from the birds chirping. I sit as Bridge quietly waits for me to respond.
“I don’t want their kind of love but not because I’m not loveable. It’s because I choose not to.”
“I know you say that, but I don’t think you mean it.”
“Of course, I do.” I scoff. She knows I don’t say things I don’t mean, and I would never say this lightly.
She chuckles. “I know you think you do, but if you truly did, you wouldn’t have made this deal with Elliott.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask in disbelief, gulping when her words slowly sink in.
“You are one of the most loyal, loving, kind, caring, and smart individuals I know, and I’m proud to call you my best friend. One day, you’ll trust yourself enough to let the real you out into the world. Until then, I’ll be in your corner, telling you how freaking awesome you are.”
Her words bring tears to my eyes. I look up to see the sunlight hinting through the canopy of trees as I blink the tears away.
“Elliott is a byproduct of you not believing your worth or being ready for love. You thought you could protect yourself from all the vulnerability that comes with opening yourself up like that to another person.”
I don’t know what I would do without her because her words help settle that misplaced piece in my chest. The swirling anxiety I felt earlier has dulled to mild unease.
“Maybe you’re right,” I simply say.
“Of course, I am. It’s what I do. I’ll see you at your house tomorrow night with wine, and we can dissect why you have a crush on your PI.”
I laugh, which helps further break up the tightness in my chest. I smile at the reminder of our weekly dinner. “I’ll bring the sushi, and we most certainly won’t be discussing any such thing.”
“We shall see!” she sings. “I love you bunches. Now go kick some corporate butt.”
That brings a smile to my face. “Don’t I always?”
She chuckles. “You’re amazing!” She hangs up, and I relax a moment before rising and walking back to the office.
The fresh, chilled air on the way back helps to slow my breathing while the sun soothes my cooled skin. Talking to Bridge always helps, and I finally feel a bit more like myself again when I step off the elevator onto my floor.
I’m ready to tackle the day and my impending marriage.
I make my way toward Heather’s desk and notice a sprawling bouquet of flowers. They’re gorgeous and huge.
I wonder who sent her flowers? She isn’t married, but she might have a boyfriend. That’s sweet that he sent her flowers at work. From the looks of it, he didn’t go cheap.
“Those are so pretty, Heather. Who sent them?” I ask as I approach her desk.
I reach out and run my finger along the petal of a lily, careful not to displace it. Then I lean in to smell one of the pink roses. There must be a dozen of them shoved into the arrangement. The scent is a perfect blend of earthy and sweet.
My question is met by silence and then a small hiccup. The noise makes me stand up and away from the flowers as I look at Heather, who stands right behind them.
Her cheeks are flushed red. She tucks a small piece of sandy blonde hair behind her ear as she lowers her head slightly. She shuffles papers around and mumbles something I can’t quite make out.
I instantly feel bad that I asked the question. It’s private and not my place. I barely know anything about her, and I have no right to start digging now. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to answer that. They’re beautiful, and I’m sure whoever sent them is special.”
When the word special leaves my lips, Heather’s face scrunches as her cheeks turn even redder. “I… I… Ms. Foster, I don’t even know him. I have no idea why he would send me flowers.”
My eyes widen slightly at the outburst. Woah… What in the world?
“I’m confused. It’s quite alright if you don’t want to say. I shouldn’t have asked. It just kind of popped out. Or…” I pause. “You seem uncomfortable. Do you know who sent them?”
“I know who sent them. I just… thought he sent them for you…” She trails off after that without elaborating on who actually sent the flowers.
My eyebrows knit together. “I assumed they were from your boyfriend. Is that not the case? Is there something I should worry about here?” I ask dumbfounded.
Heather laughs, but it’s nervous and forced. She’s clearly worried. “He’s—He’s not…” She shakes her head. “I’m so sorry. I have no idea why Colin Brooks sent me flowers.”
She looks like she’s on the verge of tears, and that is the one thing keeping me calm.
I take a deep breath and try to reign in the sudden jealousy that rages through my body. I have no right or reason to feel like this. I don’t like the man. He makes me insanely frustrated, and he’s annoying as hell. So, I shouldn’t care that he sent my assistant a beautiful arrangement of extravagant flowers.
Flowers that I know for a fact were not fucking cheap. I’ve ordered something similar.
I force a patient smile, worried that my poor assistant will have a heart attack right here and now. Seeing how terrified of me she is, I vow then and there to do better. To treat her with more kindness and patience.
I’ve always seen myself as fair, but I must admit it seems I’ve been too harsh. The poor woman was terrified to tell me she received flowers from a man I shouldn’t care about.
It’s my problem that I do. Not hers.
“Heather, the flowers are beautiful, and you deserve them. Maybe Colin likes you?” I say, trying to sooth her. Maybe she made a lasting impression on Colin. Maybe she’s his type. That would explain his instant distaste for me. Heather and I are complete opposites.
She’s the girl next door, and I’m not.
She barks out a disbelieving laugh. “No, Ms. Foster I don’t think I’m the one he likes.”
Her answer baffles me even more, but I don’t get the chance to question her because the phone rings, and she doesn’t hesitate to answer. I have to assume she was glad for the distraction.
Unfortunately for me, I spent the rest of the day trying to figure out why Colin Brooks would send my assistant flowers. More than that, why said assistant received them thinking he meant them for me.