Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
FYNN
SHE CRIED.
Raking one hand through my hair, I hang my head. “I made the first woman to look at me in months with something besides hate in her eyes cry.”
“It’s not your fault.” My neighbor Gavin kicks his feet up on my coffee table and switches the television on.
“The hell it’s not.” I grab a fresh bottle of bourbon from the kitchen cabinet and pour a glassful.
“You’re doing the right thing, man. They’ll eat her alive if they think she’s with you.” Gavin’s gaze moves from the screen to lock onto the glass in my hand. “Plus she’d end up burying you anyway, because you’re murdering your fucking liver.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” I fall into the leather armchair at one end of my sitting room and take a long drink. “Might as well put myself out of misery. Unless you’ve got a better bloody idea. ”
Gavin blows out a long breath, shaking his head. “I dunno man. You’re in a shit spot.”
“Still.” I take another drink. “Fuck.” I drop my head to one hand. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to move.”
Gavin’s gaze is filled with sympathy when it levels on me. “I know. I wish you could too.” His lips barely lift into a lopsided smile. “Course you’d probably end up with a shit neighbor.”
Gavin’s one of only a handful of people who’ve unwaveringly stuck by my side through all this. Even my own kind turned their backs on me to avoid losing favor with the women in town. Not my overgrown beast of a neighbor, and it’s likely due to the fact he’s already ran through all the eligible women of Sweet Side.
“You could be the one who ends up with a shit neighbor when I go.” I look around the apartment I’ve called home for the past few years. It was an investment when I bought it. I planned to live here for a couple years, renovate while I expanded my commercial portfolio, then sell and move back to London.
But the return to London never happened. Can’t happen for the foreseeable future. I’m trapped and I hate that I’m selfish enough to be miserable about it. “I shouldn’t have to fucking move. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know, man.” Gavin blows out a breath and leans back against my sofa. “It’s bullshit.”
Never in my wildest nightmares did I think this thing with Jessica would still be going on. I thought my public shunning would last a few weeks. Maybe a month .
But six months later the hatred for me is obviously alive and well and it’s killing me. Killing my business. And, like Gavin said, most likely killing my liver.
I set down the still-mostly-full glass and shove it away. Rubbing both hands over my face, I scrub at the burning in my eyes. “I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m losing it.”
“Maybe you could take a vacation or something.” Gavin swipes at a long lock of his wavy dark hair, pushing it away from his face. “Get away from all this for a little while.”
“I wish I could.” I resist the temptation to retrieve my abandoned glass. “I can’t leave until things have leveled out with my mother.”
The sympathy returns to my friend’s eyes. “How’s she doing?”
Yet again I’m pulled to the bourbon and yet again I resist. “Surprisingly well.” I shake my head with a small laugh. “As eccentric as she ever was.”
Gavin matches my laugh. “Eccentric works for her.” He takes another swig of his beer. “If she was thirty years younger I’d shoot my shot with her.”
“And she would chew you up and spit you out into a quivering pile of regret.” Gavin and I are about as different as it gets in our approach to relationships. While I’m a serial monogamist who’s always in search of the kind of love my parents shared before my father’s untimely death, Gavin does everything in his power to avoid attachment. I’m sure there’s a story there, but I’ve yet to hear it .
He shoots me a wide grin. “But I bet it would be worth it.” Gavin pushes up, his large frame dwarfing my sofa as he downs the last of his beer. “I gotta go. Got a team meeting.” He tosses the empty bottle in the bin on his way to the door. “Want me to bring some takeout over later?”
I give him a nod, and reply, “Thanks, mate.” When he’s gone I sit in silence, staring out at the ocean through the long line of windows that sold me on the place the second I walked in.
Fuck my life.
I pick up my phone for the hundredth time today and scroll through the text stream from two nights ago.
The first one always trips me up.
You looked really hawt tonight.
Hawt still strikes me as odd. Even more so now that I know Valerie better. It doesn’t seem like something autocorrect would come up with, and sounds even less like a word Valerie would use. But I can imagine each message after that said in her velvet voice. And I have.
More times than I can count. I shouldn’t have left her the way I did yesterday. I might not be a liar, but I sure made myself look like a coward.
As much as I hate what happened with Jessica’s friend, it was probably for the best. It forced me to do something I never would have done on my own.
Leave Valerie Berdard be .
But I did it in such a shitty way. No explanation. No goodbye.
I owe her more.
I flip through the screens on my phone and pull up my contacts, calling one of the most frequently used numbers. Arny picks up on the second ring.
“Fynn Hadaway. You’re early this week.” He pauses and I can almost hear his brain stutter. “Is your mother doing okay?”
People like Arny are the reason I can’t make myself hate Sweet Side in spite of all that’s happened. He’s a good sort and I’m more than happy to send money his way each week. “She’s doing well. Decided to start a new business last week. I’m sure she’s nearly ready to launch by now.”
He lets out a long, relieved sounding sigh. “I’m glad she’s getting back to her old self.”
“That’s because you don’t have to help her juggle the madness.” Just talking about my mother has me relaxing a little. Has me feeling less bothered by the turn my life has taken. “I’m calling to order flowers.”
“More?” His confusion is obvious. “Do you want to change your mother’s standing arrangement schedule?”
“These aren’t for my mother.” I lean forward in my seat. “These are for a woman.”
Arny is silent for a beat. “A woman?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s fantastic.” Arny is more excited than he should be. As excited as I was yesterday before it all came down around my ears .
“Not as fantastic as it sounds.” I try to imagine what goodbye flowers should look like. What do I send to a woman who gave me the first bit of happiness I’ve had in months? “It’s not going to work out. I just want to send her something to say goodbye.”
Arny’s voice lowers. “What do you mean, it isn’t going to work out?”
“You know why it won’t work out. Same reason nothing is working out for me.” I can’t keep the anger out of my voice.
Because I am fucking angry. I’m angry with Jessica for believing what she heard. I’m angry at whoever told that ridiculous story in the first place. I’ve never cheated on a woman in my life, let alone been stupid enough to publicly parade an affair around town.
And I’m angry with myself for not knowing how to fix this.
“But maybe she doesn’t care.” Arny is telling me exactly what I don’t need to hear. Feeding the hope I’ve been trying my best to starve.
“It doesn’t matter if she cares or not. They’ll crucify her. She doesn’t deserve it.” Seeing the way Marissa looked at Valerie and the venom in her words cut into me. Deeper than anything they’ve ever said to me. I can handle it.
Val shouldn’t have to. Definitely not for me.
“These girls out here are fierce.” Arny blows out a breath. “What do you want the card to say?”
I give him the best I can come up with. “I’m sorry.” I have to make the next word come out, forcing it free. “Goodbye.”
“Got it. They’ll be the prettiest break-up flowers you’ve ever seen.”
“I know they will be.” I thank him and hang up, determined to force myself back to life as I’ve known it.
Life as it was before Valerie came.
After sending a few emails concerning my business in London, I shove down a late lunch and grab my car keys. My mother only lives a few blocks away, making it a quick walk, but I’m feeling disinclined to show my face around town after the incident at the beach yesterday. The trek to her building takes almost as long to reach by car as it does by foot, but I’m still there in under ten minutes. I park in the underground garage and nod at the doorman before using my code to access the private lift that will take me to her penthouse.
The familiar scent of her perfume greets me as I step out onto the marble tile. A second later she appears, a wide smile on her face. “Good morning, my handsome son.” She pulls me into a hug and squeezes tight.
It’s impossible not to notice how thin she’s gotten as I gently embrace her. “Good morning, Mum. How are you feeling today?”
She lets out a sigh. “Exhausted. I believe I’ve finally managed to take on too much.” She gives me a smile. “You wouldn’t want to come work for your mother, would you?”
“I don’t think either of us really wants that.” I lean back and take in the bright colors of today’s caftan choice, my eyes narrowing on the pattern. “Are those pugs?”
Her smile widens. “It’s Mister Belvedere.” She pinches at either side of one of the dog faces printed on the deep green fabric and lifts it away from her body. “Doesn’t he look handsome?”
Sure enough, the photo repeated across the silky fabric is of my mother’s beloved pug. “I’m sure Geoffrey’s beside himself with jealousy.” My mother has taken to naming her dogs after sitcom butlers. So far she’s up to six, and it’s only a matter of time before another finds its way into her ever-growing pack.
“Who says I don’t have one with his face on it too?” She gives me a wink. “Would you like a drink, Darling?”
I follow her down the hall leading to the sitting room where she spends most of her day, recovering from the latest round of chemotherapy targeting the cancer that took both her breasts while dabbling in businesses I’m not sure need to be dabbled in.
Like pet-printed caftan manufacturing.
“I’m good.”
She spins to face me, the shock at my refusal clear as day on her still youthful face. “Are you well?”
“No, but I still don’t want a drink.” I scan the ornate furniture for a spot free of a lounging dog. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Her perfectly-penciled brows lift. “Oh?”
I finally manage to squeeze in beside Geoffrey the miniature pincher and Niles the black lab on the uncomfortable, but expensive, sofa. “Rogers backed out of the retail development in Cape Coral.” I cut right to the point. My mother isn’t one to mince words. Never has been. Probably the result of running a company while raising a son on her own. She didn’t have time to waste. And I’m starting to feel the same way. I’m afraid I’ve wasted too much already.
She slowly lowers to the armchair none of her dogs ever seem to occupy, cool blue gaze locked on me. “Well, that’s unfortunate.” She lifts the bell from the table beside her and gives it a single ring.
Seconds later her own butler, Nicholas, appears, wearing an apron made of the same fabric as my mother’s caftan. “Yes, my lady.”
My mother gives him a dazzling smile. “Nicholas, I think I would like a drink.”
He nods deeply. “Of course. What do you have in mind?”
My mother seems to ponder for a second before lifting her shoulders. “Surprise me.” Her gaze shifts to me then back to Nicholas. “But make it a strong one.”
“Happy to.” He gives me a nod before disappearing.
“That man makes the best cocktails.” My mother lets out a long breath. “Thank God for that.”
“How long has Nicholas been with you now?” I try to remember the man before him, but it was so long ago I can’t pull it up.
“Almost twenty years.” My mother brushes across the arm of her chair, swiping at a few stray dog hairs. She gives me a soft smile. “Time flies, doesn’t it?”
The frustration I’ve been fighting all day returns with a vengeance. “Sometimes.”
My mother’s eyes are sharp, watching me closely. “What’s happened now?”
“Nothing. I’m just tired.” I pause as Nicholas comes back to deliver my mother’s drink, along with a tiny square napkin. “Frustrated Rogers pulled out and left me scrambling.”
My mother takes a sip of her drink, waving one hand dismissively. “Rogers can sod off. He’s a fool and everyone knows it.”
“He’s a fool with deep pockets.” I blow out a long breath. “I suppose I should start considering using a shell corp to hide my identity so I don’t end up in this situation again.”
“This whole thing is ridiculous.” My mother takes another sip of her martini before gently setting it on the small table beside her. “I don’t understand why this hasn’t blown over.” Her eyes come to mine as she swipes one hand at the sweeping fringe of the custom wig designed to perfectly replicate the hair she lost. “Do you want me to make a few phone calls? I’m sure I can explain—”
“No.” I can only imagine how that would look. “I don’t think my mother fighting my battles for me will do anything to help my image at this point.”
Her lips flatten into a thin line. “There shouldn’t have to be any helping your image. Anyone who knows you, knows there’s not a shred of truth to what that woman said. ”
“Ah, but they don’t.” I stand unable to remain still. “So I suppose I’m off to create a shell corporation.” I pause beside her, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll call later.”
She catches my arm, her eyes holding mine. “Maybe it’s time for you to return to London.”
My mother might not have been the reason I moved here, but she is the reason I’ve stayed even as my social life imploded. “I don’t think so.” I straighten, giving her a wink. “I’ve developed a fondness for the ocean and I’m not sure I’m ready to leave that behind just yet.”
I don’t want her to think she’s the only thing keeping me here, though she is. I can’t leave while she’s still recovering. She seems to be on her way to regaining her strength and the spark that’s always made her so magnetic, but there are still follow-up scans to determine if her second round of treatment was successful.
And until I know it was and that she’ll be more than fine without me, I’ll remain here. Eating all the shit thrown at me.
I do feel some satisfaction as I take the lift back to my car because I spared Valerie the same fate. I’m sure at this point she sees my retreat for the favor it was and feels immense relief her reputation wasn’t ruined by Sweet Side’s filthy liar.