21. hayes
TWENTY-ONE
hayes
T he return to Boston for the day was planned. It didn’t ease the tightness in my stomach or the anticipation of seeing my father, but nothing ever does. I could be coming to him with nothing but good news, but he’d still find something wrong. But I’m hoping he’ll be impressed with how quickly I’ve gathered intel on Fallon and how she’s doing so well after only a year.
I didn’t tell her where I’d be today. After dinner last night with Thomas and Ansel, we returned to her place and fucked for most of the night, but I didn’t stay. Fucking is intimate, but staying overnight places us in a different category. As calming as holding her against my chest is, I can’t allow it to get further than that. Waking up next to her with the sun painting her skin and her skin against mine? That’s a recipe for disaster.
I wait in my father’s office, staring out the office window. Our headquarters are on the top floor of a Boston skyscraper. We’ve been here as long as I can remember. In fact, we’ve been here for so long that the building owner allows my father to vote on new tenants. If he doesn’t like them, the owner declines their application. My father doesn’t have a checklist he uses to decide who gets to set foot in this building; he’s just a dick and enjoys having the power to choose.
From our ivory tower, Boston looks small. I can see most of the city from here. Before I became a disappointment to him, one of my favorite things to do as a child was to sit here and count the cars below. The people below look smaller than ants, making me feel big. And it’s easy to become arrogant when you’re treated like royalty because of the money your family has. Not only did I feel big, but everyone treated me like it—all because of my name. I had no qualifications other than being the son of a big-time CEO.
I’ve built nothing. I might be considered smart by educational standards, but that’s only because I had access to schooling that most children don’t. And then there are people like Fallon who have worked for all they have. I envy people like her. She gets to be proud of what she’s created. Meanwhile, I carry shame for not accomplishing anything and having everything I could ever want at my fingertips.
And here I stand, willing to tear everything she has apart to impress my father and finally prove myself to him. To possibly earn myself an office here—to earn a place. I might be his son, but he’s done a damn good job of making me feel like an outsider my entire life. Even when I graduated with honors, he couldn’t find the time to attend my graduation because it wasn’t anything compared to what he’d done in his life. That’s what he told me, at least.
The door to his office opens and closes, but I don’t turn. I recognize the sound of him twisting the lid of his decanter and pouring his expensive whiskey. I know him well enough to know that he’s drinking the first glass before pouring himself another—probably to wash the taste of his secretary’s pussy out of his mouth before addressing me.
My father has never been known for his looks. He’s thin and frail, even though he’s only in his fifties, and has a bald spot on the back of his head that shines in the light. He seduced my mother when they were teenagers by bringing flowers from her yard to her each time he mowed it. Her father believed in his idea of planting family-friendly retailers in the Boston area.
My mother was the homecoming queen. Even if she hadn’t invested thousands in maintaining her youth through procedures, she’d still be considered beautiful. But even with her on his arm, my father grew bored, and even a son couldn’t fill the void. Money seemed to satisfy him until the affairs started. He seems to keep grasping for something that he can’t find.
All he’s accomplished is ensuring his family hates him.
He appears next to me and searches the skyline. He doesn’t greet me. He doesn’t pat me on the back. He doesn’t even offer me a drink. All he says is, “What have you learned from your time in Sanderling, Hayes?”
“Fallon has built relationships with publishers and agents,” I begin, sliding my hands into my pockets. “She attends book conventions every year to maintain those relationships. She’s personable. Authors are drawn to her because she doesn’t view them as means to an end.”
I shove the gnawing feeling in my chest down. Why does the idea of betraying her make me so nauseous?
“Because of that, she receives special treatment from agents.” A muscle in my jaw feathers when I recall her dinner with Ryan. “She connects with local businesses in Sanderling and partners with them to draw in new customers.”
He finishes his second glass and silently waits for more.
“She has multiple shipments of inventory a week. That’s how quickly she’s growing. It makes sense that she’d want to expand into a new location this quickly.” I can’t help the smile that accompanies the following thought. “She’s brilliant.”
“That may be so,” my father grunts, “but she’s young and sounds too trusting. Naive. She won’t last in the business world. We need to obliterate her before she fails on her own.”
She could last if I helped her. She’s done well on her own, but I have access to thousands more resources for her. Fallon would never agree to be under our umbrella. She knows what she’s built is far too valuable for that. She values relationships. She’ll see right through us.
“Return to Sanderling,” he demands. “Find out more about her expansion plans. What her dreams are.” He slaps me on the back. “We need to know what we’re crushing.”
He leaves me standing alone.
I look down at the people crossing the street below, focusing on a mother pushing a stroller. That child is loved. They’ll most likely be encouraged. Adored. And I no longer feel big compared to them. Ironically, I’ve never felt smaller.
* * *
I return to Sanderling late. I was stuck in Boston traffic. Even weaving in and out on my bike only halves travel time. I haven’t spoken to Fallon today, nor has she reached out. I’ve picked up on her anxious habits, and I’m sure it’s driven her crazy not hearing from me today. Thomas probably encouraged her not to text me. Even though he’s with Ansel, it’s apparent after talking to him that he has been on the dating scene for a while. He knows all the tricks.
I knock on Fallon’s door but hear no movement inside. I check the time on my Apple Watch. She wouldn’t be at the store. It closed two hours ago. She could be at dinner with Thomas, but that’d still be later than usual.
I hop on my bike and ride over to her Pilates studio, pleased to see her through the window. She’s chatting with another woman, but her recent joyous smile is missing. She’s engaged in the conversation, but she’s jittery.
She missed me.
I don’t know what I’m doing here. I should go home. We’ve seen each other every day for a couple weeks now. She’s getting attached to me. Continuing to give her false hope about what we are seems cruel, but I can’t make myself move. I’m content to just watch her.
She slips her sweatshirt on. She’s wearing a pair of leggings today that I’ve yet to see her in, and I wonder if it’s a pair she picked up yesterday. They’re skintight and a light blue, leaving little to the imagination when she bends over to retrieve her bag and check her phone, frowning.
I can’t help but grin. A sense of power is bestowed upon someone when you wait anxiously for their text, and she’s given that to me. Now I know she wants to hear from me. That’s something to keep in my back pocket.
I sit on my bike and cross my arms when she walks out of the studio with much less pep in her step than usual. But when she looks across the lot and notices me, a visible sense of relief washes over her, and the tension in her shoulders eases.
Fuck, I’m an asshole.
I let her come to me, though I’m tempted to cross the lot and scoop her into my arms. She’s become a welcome bad habit these last few days. Her presence centers me. Getting lost in her distracts me from what I have to do to her.
She drops her phone into her bag and crosses her arms upon approach. A chuckle rumbles deep in my chest from the stubborn way she purses her lips. She’s clearly annoyed that I didn’t talk to her at all today, and I’m interested to find out if she’ll say anything about it or fall for my charm again.
“Miss me?” I ask as she nears.
She shrugs a shoulder but doesn’t say a word. She isn’t afraid of me—I’ll give her that. She isn’t looking away. I have never been with anyone as challenging as her.
“You can’t expect me to trust you if you’re going to disappear,” she says after a moment. Her voice didn’t even shake.
“I didn’t disappear.” I grab the pocket of her hoodie and drag her closer. “I went to Boston for the day.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize they didn’t have cell service there. My apologies.”
I bite back a laugh. “Write them a strongly-worded letter.”
She shoves my hand away. “I’m being serious, Fitz. I don’t know what this is.” She motions between her body and mine. “But I’m not just… something to do. You can’t just show up and expect to come to my apartment after ignoring me.”
I cock my head. “Who said I wanted to come over?”
She is quick to call me on my bullshit. “You do. You wouldn’t be here otherwise. You don’t strike me as the type of guy who’d just come here because you want to say hi.”
Oddly, hearing that felt like a punch in the gut. “Fallon, do you think I’m just lingering around to fuck you?”
She throws her arms up. “I don’t know!”
I stand, my brow furrowed as I cup her chin in my hand and tilt her head back. Unable to stand the distance, I lean in and kiss her softly. “Hi,” I murmur against her lips.
She tries to fight it. She gives a very valiant effort for a full minute. She waits long enough to make me question if I did take it a step too far by not texting her today. But then, she wraps her arms around my waist and buries her head against my chest. “You drive me mad,” she whispers.
I kiss the top of her head. “Is that a bad thing?”
“I don’t know what to expect from this.” The honesty behind those green eyes of hers punctures my chest. “I’m not the type of girl to just… mess around, Fitz. I’m not saying you need to be my boyfriend, but if you’re going to fuck me daily, I deserve the respect of communication.”
“You’re right, Fallon.” And she is. I might be a dick, but she doesn’t deserve to be disregarded when she’s given so much of herself to me already. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” She lifts to her toes and puts effort into our next kiss. “Do you really not want to come over?”
Of course, I want to come over. I want to fuck you until you’re asleep on my chest. But instead, I say, “Only if you’d like for me to come over. I just wanted to see you.”
“Oh yeah?” Her mouth curves into a playful grin. “What if I want to play board games all night?”
I can’t resist scowling. “Naked board games?”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, brother.”