18. Becca
Becca
T wo days after returning from Cozumel, I sit across from Holly at our favorite bistro in the West Village, watching her jaw drop as I finish recounting the details of my week with Clive.
"Let me get this straight," she says, leaning forward over her barely touched salad. "You went to Mexico with your boyfriend and his family, dumped said boyfriend, and then spent six days having mind-blowing sex with his stepfather?"
I wince at her volume and glance around the restaurant. "Could you maybe say that a little louder? I don't think the kitchen staff heard you."
Holly waves her hand dismissively. "Please. Nobody's listening." She takes a sip of her wine. "So the sex was really that good?"
"Holly!" I feel my cheeks flush. "That's not the point."
"Oh, honey, that's absolutely part of the point." She grins wickedly. "How big is he? I mean, he's like six-four, right? So proportionally..."
"I am not discussing Clive's... proportions over lunch." I stab at my pasta, trying to hide my smile. "But yes, everything is... proportional."
Holly squeals with delight, making several heads turn our way. "I knew it! I've been telling you for years that Jack was all wrong for you, but this..." She shakes her head in wonder. "This is so much better than I imagined. Clive Bishop. The Clive Bishop. "
"He's just a man," I say softly, though my heart flutters at the mere mention of his name.
"A man who runs a multi-billion dollar security firm looks like he stepped off the cover of Silver Fox Monthly and apparently rocks your world in bed. Not to mention he's what—twenty years older?"
"Eighteen," I confirm. "And yes, Clive's all those things, but he's also... kind. And funny. And he listens to me, really listens. Do you know he remembered that I mentioned loving pistachio ice cream once, months ago, and had some waiting in the freezer at the house in Cozumel?"
Holly's expression softens. "You're in love with him."
It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "Yes. And it terrifies me."
"Because of the age difference?"
"That's part of it. And there's Jack to consider, my parents, and my career..." I trail off, pushing my pasta around my plate. "We've been texting constantly since we got back yesterday, but we haven't seen each other yet. He wanted to give me space to... I don't know how to process everything?"
"Smart man," Holly nods approvingly. "So what's the plan? Secret rendezvous? Sneaking around? Because I have to say, that sounds incredibly hot."
I laugh despite myself. "We haven't really figured it out yet. Clive wants to take me to dinner tonight. Somewhere quiet, where we can talk about... well, everything." I take a sip of water, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. "I know it sounds crazy, Holly. Two weeks ago, I was with Jack, and now?—"
"Now you're with a man who appreciates you," Holly interjects. "That's not crazy, Becca. That's an upgrade."
"But it's all happening so fast." I lower my voice. "What if this is just some rebound thing? What if I'm confusing great sex with actual feelings?"
Holly reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. "Honey, I've known you since freshman year. You don't do casual flings, and you definitely don't speak about guys like you're talking about Clive unless you're head over heels."
"But what about the complications? His company, my career?—"
"Stop." Holly gives me her no-nonsense look. "You've spent your entire life trying to check all the right boxes. How’s that been working out for you?"
I sigh. "Point taken."
"So, maybe it's time to color outside the lines a little. Follow your heart instead of your planner for once."
I'm about to respond when the restaurant door bursts open with such force that several diners gasp. My blood runs cold as I recognize the figure storming toward our table.
Jack.
His face is flushed, his hair disheveled, and his eyes wild as he spots me. He's wearing the same wrinkled and stained clothes from yesterday.
"Becca!" he shouts, ignoring the stares of everyone around us. "Thank God I found you."
Holly mutters, "Speak of the devil," as Jack reaches our table.
"Jack, what are you doing here?" I ask, keeping my voice steady despite my racing heart.
"I've been calling you for days. I’ve bought multiple burners to reach you, and you’ve ignored every call," Jack says, slurring slightly. I catch the unmistakable scent of whiskey. It's barely past noon. "Why haven't you answered?"
"I think I made myself pretty clear in Cozumel," I say quietly. "We're done, Jack. And "
"Because of him?" Jack's face contorts with rage. "Because of Clive? My own stepfather?"
People are openly staring now. I feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment.
"This isn't the place to discuss this," I say firmly. "And you're clearly drunk."
"Please, Becca." His tone shifts abruptly, his eyes filling with tears. "I love you. I'll change, I swear. Whatever you want."
Holly snorts beside me. "That's rich."
Jack glares at her. "Stay out of this, Holly. This is between me and my girlfriend."
"Ex-girlfriend," I correct him, my voice stronger than I feel. "Jack, you need to leave."
"Not until you hear me out." He lurches forward, gripping the edge of our table. "I know I messed up. I took you for granted. But I can fix this—we can fix this."
The restaurant has become uncomfortably quiet. Holly catches the eye of a waiter, who starts moving toward us.
"There's nothing to fix," I say, trying to keep my voice level. "Please don't make this harder than it needs to be."
"Is it the ring?" Jack fumbles in his pocket, nearly knocking over Holly's wine glass. "You wanted a ring, right? That's what Mom said."
To my horror, he drops to one knee beside our table, producing a small velvet box. The elderly couple at a nearby table audibly gasps.
"Jack, get up. This is embarrassing," I hiss.
"Rebecca Jamison," he slurs, opening the box to reveal a massive diamond that looks suspiciously like the one his mother wears. "Will you marry me?"
Holly mutters, "Oh, for Christ's sake."
"No," I say firmly. "I will not marry you. Not now, not ever."
His face darkens. "It's because of him, isn't it? How could you, Becca? My own father?"
"Stepfather," Holly corrects, earning a venomous glare from Jack.
"He's using you," Jack continues, rising unsteadily to his feet. "He's just trying to hurt me and my mother. That's what this is about."
The waiter has arrived with the manager in tow. "Sir, I will have to ask you to leave."
Jack ignores them, his attention fixed on me. "How long, Becca? How long were you fucking him behind my back?"
The elderly woman at the next table makes a choking sound.
"That's enough," I stand up, throwing my napkin on the table. "I never cheated on you, Jack. But I'm not explaining myself to you anymore. We're done. Please respect that and move on."
"Move on?" He laughs bitterly. "To where? Clive had a VP fire me this morning! He called me into his office and said my 'services were no longer required.' My own stepfather told him to do it!"
A twinge of guilt hits me, but I push it aside. "That has nothing to do with me."
"It has everything to do with you!" His voice rises to a shout. "He's taking everything from me!"
The manager steps between us. "Sir, you must leave now, or I'll call the police."
Jack sways slightly, looking from the manager to me. For a terrifying moment, I think he might get violent. Then his shoulders slump.
"You'll regret this," he says, his voice suddenly cold. "Both of you." His eyes, glassy with tears and alcohol, fix on me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. "He'll get bored of you, Becca. That's what he does."
The manager takes Jack's arm. "Let's go, sir."
Jack shakes him off but backs away, clutching the ring box so tightly that his knuckles turn white. "Ask him about Sophia in Marketing or Daniela from the London office. Ask him!"
Then he's being escorted out, his final words lost in the murmur of conversation that resumes around us. I watch him stumble down the sidewalk through the window, shoulders hunched, before disappearing around the corner.
"Well," Holly says after a long moment, raising her wine glass. "That was dramatic."
I sink back into my chair, my legs suddenly weak. "Oh my God."
"Are you okay?"
"I don't know." I reach for my water with trembling hands. "I've never seen him like that."
Holly snorts. "He's always been a narcissistic man-child. This is just the first time you've said no to him."
The manager approaches our table, apologetic. "Ladies, I'm so sorry about that disturbance. Your lunch is on the house today."
I thank him automatically, but my mind is elsewhere. Jack's accusations about Clive echo in my head. Could there be any truth to them? I barely know Clive, not really. A week of passion doesn't erase the fact that he's lived a whole life before me.
"You're overthinking," Holly says, reading my expression. "Don't let Jack's tantrum ruin what you have with Clive."
"But what if?—"
"Nope." She cuts me off. "Jack would say anything to hurt you right now. He's lashing out."
My phone buzzes on the table. Clive's name appears on the screen.
Looking forward to tonight. 8pm at Lucien's? I've missed you.
"See? Does that sound like a player to you?"
"No," I admit, typing a quick reply.
Can't wait. Missed you too.
"But Jack seemed so sure about those women..."
Holly sighs. "Becca, you're a professional event planner. You organize every detail of your life. You've never made an impulsive decision in all the years I've known you."
"Until now," I murmur.
"Until now," she agrees. "And maybe that's a good thing. But if you need reassurance, just ask Clive about it tonight."
"You're right." I take a deep breath, trying to calm my thoughts. "It's just... I've never felt this way before, Holly. It's terrifying."
"Good terrifying or bad terrifying?" Holly asks, signaling for the check despite the manager's offer.
"Both? I don't know." I rub my temples, feeling a headache coming on. "What if I'm making a huge mistake? Clive is Jack's stepfather. Complicated doesn't even begin to cover it."
Holly leans forward. "Look at me, Becca. When was the last time you did something just because it made you happy, not because it was the 'right' thing to do?"
I open my mouth to answer but realize I can't imagine a single example.
"Exactly," she says triumphantly. "You've spent your whole life being the good girl—perfect daughter, student, perfect girlfriend. Maybe it's time to be perfectly imperfect for once."
"But what about my parents?" I groan, imagining the inevitable conversation. "My mother is going to have an aneurysm when she finds out I'm dating a man almost twenty years older than me. And my father?—"
"Your parents have barely been involved in your life except to criticize your choices," Holly interrupts bluntly. "Why are you still trying to please them?"
Her words sting because they're true. I've spent my entire life seeking approval from parents who were always too busy to notice me unless I failed to meet their expectations.
"Old habits," I mutter.
"Time for new habits, then." Holly stands, gathering her purse. "Come on, let's get out of here before Jack decides to make an encore appearance."
Outside, the cool air feels fresh after the tension of the restaurant. We walk arm in arm down the cobblestone street, Holly's presence steadying me.
"So, what are you wearing tonight?" she asks, clearly trying to lift my mood.
"I haven't thought about it," I admit.
Ask him about the settlement with Sophia. Ask why she left the company with an NDA. He'll never tell you the truth. Ask him how he emotionally abused my mother and sent her into a depression to make her cave on the divorce settlement.
"What is it?" Holly asks, noticing my expression.
I show her the text. "Jack, probably. Using another burner phone."
Holly reads it and rolls her eyes. "Delete and block. Classic manipulation tactic."
I do as she suggests, but the seed of doubt has been planted. What if there is something I should know about Clive? What if Jack, despite his apparent jealousy, is trying to warn me about something real?
"I can see you spiraling," Holly says, repeatedly linking her arm through mine. "Stop it. Tonight, you're going to put on that gorgeous dress, have dinner with a man who respects you, and ask him whatever you need."
"You're right," I say, taking a deep breath. "I'll talk to Clive directly."
“Good. Now, let’s find you a sexy dress for tonight.”