Chapter Eleven #2
It’s the body heat. The man’s like a furnace.
I probably felt a little chilled last night and unconsciously wanted his warmth.
I’m definitely going to get another blanket to avoid repeating the mishap.
Even though nothing happened, it feels vaguely like cheating.
I want to be fair to Jeffrey and give him the kind of loyalty I expect from him in return.
A text from Saito pops up.
–Saito: Hey, Felicia and I are feeling better, so we can probably reposition to Tokyo, but there are no hotels. What’s up?
–Me: Some kind of cultural expo or whatever. If you can’t be here, you can’t be here. No need to look for something that isn’t available.
Talking about the lack of vacancy triggers the memory of Hotel Anjel Rube, and I suppress a small surge of embarrassment.
Saito can probably stay at a love hotel with Felicia.
But I keep that to myself, since, being a second-generation Japanese immigrant, he probably knows about stuff like that better than me.
–Saito: We can probably crash with my parents in Yokohama.
–Me: Isn’t that far?
–Saito: Not that bad. Maybe an hour or so, depending?
I do some quick calculation. Rhys expects things to take about a week—since he tends to be a bit conservative in his estimates, the timing’s on the generous side.
It’s already Wednesday, but with the time difference between the U.S.
, London and Japan, he’ll likely work through the weekend here, then wrap up any remaining items before taking off.
–Me: Should be fine. Rhys’ll likely want to take off on Monday Japan time.
–Saito: Got it.
I tap the edge of my phone thoughtfully.
Now that we’re less than a week from returning to L.A.
, I realize I haven’t done a thing to figure out my living situation back home.
Jeffrey offered to let me stay at his place.
I didn’t move in with him at first because I wasn’t sure if we could last and didn’t want to abandon my bestie.
But we’ve been together for almost two years, and now Ailee’s living with her boss-cum-fiancé.
Two years is a record. I should consider discussing our future.
Maybe Jeffrey and I should live together for a while to ensure we’re actually compatible before taking the final leap.
He’s nothing like my father, even if Rhys did say he saw him out to dinner with some woman. Jeffrey wasn’t even in town.
All right. Talk to him when I finally get home. My gut says he’s the one. I’m not going to get anyone better.
I finish my coffee. A waiter offers more coffee and tea, but I decline, since my phone pings twice. The car’s here, and Rhys is on his way down.
I sign the bill, then grab my things and walk out. As I stride past the bathrooms, a trilling laugh stops me.
“My goodness, Maxine, is that you?”
Instantly, an intense loathing ignites in my chest. It’s Lily White…and on Trevor Loomer’s—my biological father’s—arm. What the hell? Somehow, I seem to have manifested them while thinking about Jeffrey.
“The name is Max,” I say frostily. “Better yet, Ms. Norman. No one calls me Maxine.”
Lily ignores my hostile attitude and walks forward, her arms spread. Her perfume makes my stomach churn. I take a hasty step back. “We aren’t familiar enough to hug. Or even to say hello, really.”
“Don’t be immature.” She pouts, sticking her massive breasts out, which stay immobile.
If you only look at her from neck up, she looks like a well-aged version of a pretty girl next door, with pale golden hair, cornflower blues and a cute button nose.
Her full lips are permanently pouty, and she always highlights her sharp cheeks with a good blend of bronzer and blush.
“I’ll take immature over being a slut who climbed into her married boss’s bed and rode him like a donkey.” Not giving Trevor the dignity of a stallion.
“Look at this child, still upset about something that happened so long ago.” She flutters her eyelashes at Trevor helplessly, even as her eyes flash with the contempt of a victor looking down at the conquered.
What I wouldn’t do to claw her face… I don’t believe in violence, but some people are just inspirational. “Well, you said it yourself. I’m just immature, Liline. Deal with it.”
Finally, the sperm donor steps in. “Don’t be rude to your stepmother.”
“Stepmother? Any mother?” I swivel my head in every direction. “All I see is a home wrecker.” I give him a thin smile. “And a cheating douchebag asshole.”
A dark flush colors his face, now lined with years. Silver streaks his formerly dark brown hair. His hazel eyes are as cold as a viper’s as he studies me. Guess all his billions couldn’t make him a better human being.
I despise him for hurting Mom. Lily’s vagina must’ve been cracktastic, because he started screwing her behind Mom’s back soon after their marriage. When he got caught, he wasn’t sorry in the slightest. Instead, he grew indignant that Mom expected him to be faithful.
Apparently, a man “needs a son to carry on his legacy.” Mom could only manage a daughter, unlike Lily, who gave him a proper penis-having heir.
He wanted to give her and the kid everything.
The ridiculous grandiosity of his “reason” made Mom laugh and cry in fury.
At that time, he was a struggling entrepreneur with no legacy to speak of.
She divorced his ass, and took me with her.
Karma must’ve been on vacation, because within two years he struck it rich when one of his business ventures took off. The second he made his first million, he came to our doorstep to brag. He wanted to see Mom sob with regret over leaving him—more validation for his ego.
Mom threw a bucket of dirty water at him. “Get lost, Trevor. Next time it won’t just be water!”
He never visited us at home again. Probably too scared to find out what else she’d throw. Mom always kept her word. So instead, he went to her flower shop to harass her, knowing she couldn’t make a scene in front of customers.
“Respect your father, Maxine Loomer,” Trevor bites out.
“The name is Max Norman. I haven’t been a Loomer since you betrayed Mom.”
“I didn’t betray her. She betrayed me when she couldn’t give me a son.”
He doesn’t even hear himself. But then, if he were that self-aware he wouldn’t have turned out like this.
I should be used to his berating my gender, but it still sends a dull, faint ache through my heart.
No matter how much I console myself that I don’t need somebody like him in my life, part of me still hurts that my own father didn’t love or value me.
I shake my head with exaggerated disapproval and pity.
“Do you know the baby’s gender’s determined by the man’s sperm?
So it was technically your defective little swimmers that couldn’t rise to the occasion.
But guess it worked out. Pretend you never had a daughter, since you only care about that sniveling son of yours, who is interestingly short.
” My eyes flick to Lily, then at Trevor. They’re both tall.
He looks at me like I’m an alien whose logic defies human comprehension. “Aren’t you even a little mad? If your mom hadn’t been so stubborn, you could’ve had a great life. You could’ve lived in luxury—with nice cars, jewelry, clothes, bags!”
“None of which would make up for having to live with you. Plus…” My expression bland, I point to my dress, shoes, earrings and purse. “I don’t need your money. Never did.”
Indignation blazes in his eyes. “You wouldn’t have to work for some moneyed dweeb.”
Before I can snap at him again, I see Rhys appear from behind. Shit. Need to lead him away from this embarrassing scene.
Bossman smiles, the kind he gives when he’s about to rip somebody’s business apart. “Who the hell are you calling a dweeb?”