Chapter 19 #2
If he can show her that Borne’s opinion should not be trusted, she might not take the articles so seriously.
To some, Borne might even be viewed as more monstrous than him.
“Did you know the journalist who wrote the article was one of the founding members of The Wealth Centralization Resistance? He literally helped bring about The Great Equalizer. By comparison, I’m not that ba—”
“Don’t you dare say that. You evicted elderly tenants who didn’t have near the resources you did,” she says, cutting him off, as if it would put the matter to rest.
“You’re not even listening to what I’m saying. Sure, some people may have disagreed with the way I conducted business, but you should direct your fury at men like Borne. He’s the one who caused millions of people to lose everything. And what was it for?” He prays she’ll see reason.
“Did it ever occur to you that I might agree with Borne in principle? And don’t think I’m so na?ve as to not realize that innocent people suffered too, but no one else was brave enough to do anything, and something had to be done.
” When she turns, her stare could cut glass.
“I don’t have a problem with people in pay bracket A+ or wanting nice things.
” She gestures to her outfit. “But how could hoarding billions be ethical?”
“It’s only one article,” he says, scrambling to come up with a different argument.
“There are more articles, James,” she says with finality.
He sorts through his catalogue of acquisitions.
God, if his memory were crisper, this would be so much easier.
“I think I know what project you were referring to a minute ago. That building we tore down was full of asbestos and mold. If I recall correctly, several of the tenants were having respiratory issues.”
“That isn’t the point. When you evicted them, did you think to make sure they had somewhere else to go?” she demands. “Or did you only see your bottom line?”
“They weren’t my responsibility. That’s just the way the world works,” he says, repeating the line his father said to him throughout his childhood when he had similar questions.
He remembers the first time it really stuck in his mind.
His nanny had taken him to a friend’s birthday party held at the pool of one of the boutique hotels his family owned.
He’d seen his mother get into the elevator with a man he didn’t recognize, who drew her close before the door closed.
James asked his father about it. He said he knew about her arrangement and explained that sometimes people like them had different types of relationships with different people.
He and his mother went through life as partners, but other relational transactions that James would learn about when he was older might take place outside the marriage.
Granted, as he got older and came to understand what precisely his father meant, he thought he may prefer not to share his wife when he got one.
But at the time James pressed, still not understanding, until his father told him with finality, “That’s just the way the world works.
” When that appeared to provide a sufficient explanation, the phrase gained traction in their father-son talks.
It doesn’t seem to have the same effect on Kate.
In fact, her cheeks have blossomed an ominous shade of pink.
“Well, James Fletcher, that isn’t how the world works anymore.
If you can’t figure that out quickly, you’re going to get recycled.
” Her mouth snaps shut, but not before a gasp escapes.
She slaps a hand over her mouth as though she’s surprised herself with her biting words.
It almost makes him grin, but he holds it in.
Her hand falls limply to her side. “See, this is why I didn’t want to discuss this. ”
He shakes his head. “It’s fine. I deserved that.”
Jett is right—Kate is special. A truly good person, which makes him look especially muddy.
Would she have taken the time to find a solution for the elderly tenants?
Undoubtedly, yes. She is helping him out of the goodness of her heart, for fuck’s sake.
He didn’t even give the elderly tenants a second thought.
He just assumed they’d figure it out, but what if they didn’t have the resources, as she suggested?
Shifting, he rubs a hand across the back of his neck.
But wouldn’t it have been worse to leave the elderly tenants in a problematic facility? Surely someone helped them.
It isn’t as though he is monstrous, as Borne suggested. It’s just that he isn’t not monstrous. James falls somewhere in the middle. Some undefined gray area.
But if this is what she thinks of him . . . How is her opinion, more than that of any of his former critics, making him question things? Or is it everything that has happened in the past week since he awoke in the future?
During his time, he was a determined man marching toward a clear objective.
Waking up in the future, he just assumed he’d carry on in the same vein.
Double down. Make it twice. But now he isn’t so sure.
It’s as if some cosmic force is presenting him with a different challenge.
Only he’s clueless about what it might be.
She turns to walk away, but he calls, “Kate.”
She glances back, and the way she’s looking at him, like her anger toward him has transformed into something more like pity, makes his chest clench.
She stares straight into his eyes and says, “You could choose to be better this time around if you wanted to.”
Does progress have no value anymore? In the future, does building things not matter?
Outside the window—particle panes, he corrects—several SATs zip by.
When Kate got home from searching, she must not have bothered setting them to a scene like she normally would.
The SATs and the smog-filled air serve as a reminder of how different the future is from his time.
Look what progress has earned humanity. Even if he argued for it, she would never see what he spent his life doing in a positive light.
When he turns back to her, she’s studying him again.
Does she really believe he can become something more?
Someone better? Does he want to? Does he need to change?
Or will these realizations brought on by his shocking arrival in the future fade with the progression of time until he no longer remembers or cares?
And what does the woman walking away from him have to do with it?
A part of him thinks the answer is Everything.
Before Kate steps inside her bedroom, she hesitates.
Like she’s waiting for him to tell her he’ll try.
Or say what she read was a lie. He’s sure it’s all true, but truths have different lenses.
Different colors and shades depending on who you are and how you see the world.
Yet to her, it doesn’t excuse his selfishness, thoughtlessness, or ruthless drive.
Traits the evidence suggests he has. Traits she clearly sees as faults. Enough to dislike him.
He hates these new and unwanted realizations and the feelings they bring up, but he hates that she doesn’t like him more.
It seems so silly, so juvenile. Likability wasn’t ever his top priority, yet he’s unknowingly given this woman some mystical power over him.
He cares what she thinks. Wants her to like him.
He hates that, too. But it can’t be helped. It just is.
The James of the future is becoming a foreign creature to himself.
He approaches her slowly. Drawn to her. Unable to stop himself.
Stupid kiss. He runs the calluses of his fingertips up her bare arms. Relishes her shiver.
He won’t lie to her and tell her he’ll be better when he doesn’t know if he can, but maybe he can convince her there are other things about him to like.
With a confidence he doesn’t feel, he asks, “Do you want me to be better?”
“There are so many articles about you. They can’t all be wrong,” she whispers, turning. Her gaze feels like a careful inspection. Like James is the particle under the microscope of her judgment.
His jaw hardens. You can’t believe them, he wants to tell her. I’m not that bad. But he can’t say the words because they feel too close to a lie. If only he could offer her some evidence.
By now, any residual alcohol in his body has dissipated enough that he feels in control of his own actions.
His fingers continue to trace a path up and down her arms. Maybe he could be good for her in a different way.
He knows what he wants, and he thinks she wants it too, despite herself.
The day has been long, and they are both tired.
His defenses are low, and he doesn’t have the energy to ignore his desire to be near her.
His need for her that’s been there since the moment he opened his eyes.
He reaches up, brushing his knuckles across her flushed cheek. “Do you think I’m a bad man, Kate?”
Stepping closer, he waits for her answer. Say no, and I’ll kiss you. Say no, and I promise, I’ll please you. Maybe he can become a little less gray for her.
“I’m not sure what to think,” she admits.
He considers it a half win. It’s better than a yes, so he takes it. He’ll kiss her anyway. Her gaze drops to his lips as her warm palms press against his chest. He knows what she’s thinking because he’s thinking it too. Placing a hand over hers, he braces his other on the wall next to her face.
“Let me give you a reason to like me.” He allows the heat coursing through his body to fill his stare. Electricity crackles between them, intensifying as her hands fist in his shirt. She’s perfectly still as he leans forward. Their lips brush, and she sucks in a sharp breath.
As her head tilts, giving him better access to her mouth, she whimpers, “James.” It’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. “This isn’t going to make me like you.”
He grins at the weak protest. He’ll get her to like him, eventually. A challenge for another day. She’s given him hope.
Their first kiss, like the gentle one now, was a cosmic shift. With every brush of their lips, something awful is happening in his chest. He ignores the wild thumping. His heart isn’t going to fail. He wills it to beat rationally. It’s only another kiss.
“Kate,” he returns on a rough breath. “I don’t need you to like me right now. We’ll get to that. Just focus on kissing me.” She moans into his mouth, melting into him.
God, he’s going to take this excruciatingly slowly and draw out every delicious second.
The air seems to vibrate between them as their noses brush, and he delivers a whisper-soft peck to the corner of her full lips.
Another to her jaw. She squeaks and, fuck, he wants her.
His cock is painfully hard now. And from barely a kiss.
But as they breathe each other’s air, he can feel her scarcely perceptible hesitation, her uncertainty, even as her lips chase his.
As if she is waging a small yet significant inner battle in her mind.
He catches her cheeks, and this time as their lips touch, he forces the kiss to turn sweet because his alarm bells are going off.
He doesn’t know why, but he can’t let her do this.
That protective urge he’s felt toward her is firing.
Trying to alert him to danger. Protect her.
But there’s no one around. It doesn’t make sense.
At once, he realizes what he’s meant to be protecting her from.
Himself.
The shock of it steals his breath. He stays like that for long moments, keeping his lips pressed to hers. Then James does the first truly unselfish thing he’s done in his entire life. He steps away.
Kate gasps. “What are you doing?”
He has no fucking clue. He’s way out of his depth.
James runs a hand through his hair, cursing himself for his honorable decision.
His groin throbs in protest. Ignoring it, he says, “Your mind and your body are at odds. You don’t want this.
With me. I don’t want to manipulate you or coax you into giving me something you’ll regret in the morning.
I respect you far too much to put you in that position. ”
James points to the monitors, which still display the damning articles, because the gesture says enough. You are white and I am gray, and I’ll only make you muddy. I am not worthy of your goodness. The realization is more painful than a perfectly landed right hook.
Still, it doesn’t stop the way he aches for her.
Tomorrow, when her head is clear, if she decides to muddy herself, then who is he to stop her?
Because no matter how much better James becomes, he’ll always be a sinner.
But that doesn’t feel right. The harsh reality is that she doesn’t want him.
She wants a warm body, someone to make her forget she’s alone in this strange world.
With how good she is, he isn’t sure he can ever be the “better” she deserves.
Even if he figures out how to make it in this world and has something to offer her.
Kate lifts her fingers to touch her lips. “How is this possible?” she asks, more to herself than to him. They stare at each other as time drifts past. Finally, she says, “Fine.”
He’s been so focused on his own thoughts that he isn’t sure what she’s thinking. But right now, he’s dangerously close to changing his mind. He lets her slip into her room and shut the door. Being a decent guy sucks.