Chapter 27
CHAPTER 27
Eric
J asmine wasn’t home. I’d knocked, firmly, numerous times, but there were no approaching footsteps, no noise from inside, and no answering the door.
Frustration gripped me, and I headed back out of the building. Feeling emotionally and mentally exhausted after the day I’d had so far, I sat down on the concrete stairs leading up to Jasmine’s apartment, not quite ready to get back into the car with Jeff until I figured out what to do next.
The only other person who would know where Jasmine was, was Dominique. It had been six weeks since I’d ended things with Jasmine, and the thought of her with another man ripped me to shreds inside. But given her line of work, I knew it was a possibility.
With my stomach in knots, I called Dominique, who I hadn’t talked to since leaving for New York to be with my parents.
She answered fairly quickly and didn’t mince words, as was her way. “Please tell me you’ve finally come to your senses.”
Wherever Dominique was, I heard voices and noise in the background. “I’m back in Coral Gables and I’m trying to find Jasmine. Is she…” I forced myself to say the words. “Out on a date?”
“I’m not sure I should tell you Jasmine’s business, all things considered.”
I winced. It wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear, but I definitely deserved Dominique’s response. “I know I fucked up,” I admitted. “I believed something that obviously wasn’t even close to being the truth.”
Diamonique scoffed. “You’re right about that. And I suppose now you want me to clean up the mess you made?”
I sighed, pushing my hands through my dishevelled hair. “I would like your help , so I can clean it up myself.”
“Apologies go a long way.”
“That goes without saying, but she deserves more than just a regret filled apology from an old man with more pride than he has sense.”
Dominque chuckled. “My, my. You really are feeling down. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in the self-depreciation zone.”
I smiled weakly, even though she couldn’t see it. “It’s the only thing I have going for me right now.”
“Well, not the only thing,” Dominique countered, almost gleefully. “You’re in luck. I have it on good authority that Jasmine has feelings for you—”
“Even now?” I asked incredulously. I didn’t expect to hear that. I’d fully anticipated Dominique telling me that Jasmine didn’t want anything to do with me. Why would she after the way I’d dismissed and treated her?
“Did your feelings for her stop when you thought she’d talked to The Affluent Collective about your parents? And don’t even try and convince me you aren’t in love with her.”
The fact that Dominique would say such a thing startled me. “What makes you say that?”
“Eric, I’ve never seen you stay with a woman as long as Jasmine, and there’s only one reason why you kept her around so long. Love, darling. Am I right?”
I swallowed hard. I’d already come to terms with my feelings for Jasmine. That yes, I did fall in love with her, despite all the reasons why I shouldn’t have, all the reasons I swore I wouldn’t. I no longer cared about our age difference. I wanted Jasmine in my life, forever, and I’d do whatever it took to keep her there. I would give her anything and everything her heart desired, including the children I knew she wanted. That I wanted with her.
It was a startling realization to have found the one woman I wanted to marry and spend the rest of my life with, but I still didn’t know where I stood with her.
“Yes, you’re right,” I said to Dominique, verifying my feelings for Jasmine.
Dominique gave a little huff over the phone line. “Then don’t undersell Jasmine’s feelings for you, either. When they’re that strong between two people, they don’t just disappear over a little tiff.”
Ours had been far more than a little tiff, but I didn’t correct the other woman. “I…I just need to make this right.”
“Damn right you do. Our girl deserves the grandest gesture you can pull out of your hat,” she replied. “And luckily for you, I also have it on good authority what Jasmine’s been up to lately and where you might find her, and it’s not with another man because she’s quit the business altogether.”
I exhaled a breath, the relief whooshing out of me leaving me light-headed at that news. “Where?” I asked anxiously.
Dominique told me where Jasmine would be that evening, and even before we hung up, I was already thinking and planning and praying that my one shot at redemption worked.
I slid back into the car waiting at the curb and gave Jeff distinct instructions on where to head next, to a jewelry store that only sold custom made, one-of-a-kind pieces. Grand gestures were not my forte, mainly because I’d never wanted to impress another woman the way I desperately needed to convince Jasmine of just how sincere my feelings for her were.
From there, I headed home and showered, shaved, and dressed in a charcoal gray suit. Then I was off again, with Jeff driving me to The Marquee, a quaint little gallery located near the beach that liked to showcase up and coming artisans. Tonight’s featured artist was Jasmine Greene, along with half a dozen other new creators showing off their artwork.
All Dominique’s doing, I’d discovered during our earlier phone conversation. Wanting to get Jasmine’s mind off of me, Dominique had contacted Ceilia Davenport, her good friend and owner of the Marquee—and someone I, too, supported—and once the other woman saw Jasmine’s work, she’d made Jasmine’s paintings the main draw of the evening.
I arrived at The Marquee a short while after the venue opened to guests. I stepped inside, where dozens of people were milling around the three-story art gallery with wine in hand, their spirits high as they discussed various pieces of artwork.
In a way, I envied their casual conversation and easy laughter, considering the nervous sensation swirling in my stomach, when I was not a man prone to anxiety. No one was here tonight hoping to repair a relationship with the woman they loved. For all these guests, this was a leisurely outing. They were going to drop more money than most made in a year just for something unique to put on their walls or in the halls of their illustrious homes.
These showings were all so incredibly indulgent, yet more than worth it considering the line-up of artists included my Jasmine.
Glass of wine in hand, it was her works that I moved along now. All around me in a large area of the gallery that had been dedicated to her use exclusively, were the fruits of her labor and I eagerly drank it all in, both overwhelmed and so impressed to see this creative side of Jasmine now that she’d allowed it free rein. Bleeding roses and rococo-esque women in shredded ribbons of lace and silk. Voids of dark black ink and wisps of white dancing across them. Her work held an emotional, ethereal quality in all mediums from acrylic to oil to watercolor.
She was wildly, painfully talented. I needed her to know that I appreciated that about her. That I appreciated her . That she was more to me than just a contract, more than just a moment in my life.
She was my entire life. My future.
Hindsight was always twenty-twenty. And right now, I knew more than anything that the window to fix my fuck up was closing in on me, fast.
“Don’t look so serious, Love. You’ll end up scaring her away before you even get the chance to talk to her properly.”
I sucked in a startled breath. I’d been so in my head, so wrapped up in my worrisome thoughts I hadn’t seen or heard Dominique appear beside me, as if out of thin air. She looked stunning in an emerald-green dress, and I leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“Don’t make fun of an old man,” I said playfully. “He’s trying to muster up courage he should have had weeks ago.”
“Eh, weeks ago you’d have probably fumbled your chance at forgiveness, too.” She laughed at the narrow-eyed expression I gave her. “Oh, come on. We’ve known each other long enough that I know you probably would have made an ass of yourself trying to be overly suave, because you don’t know how to let go of that rigid control of yours and express your emotions. But I digress.”
I gave her a mock frown. “You’re so cruel to me.”
“And yet I’m still one of your best friends.” Smiling, she reached out to straighten my tie and the lapels of my suit.
At my age, it was strange to have someone do that for me. It made me feel like a young man all over again, getting straightened out, primmed and preened before prom. Only, the stakes were a little higher now than just the hope that I could get lucky with the pretty girl I was taking as my date.
“Jasmine is going to be walking the floor in about five minutes,” Dominique continued on. “I did tell her you were back in Coral Gables and planned to attend the showing. But this is her night, so let her mingle with the patrons and then I’ll send her your way in a bit. How does that sound?”
“Sounds like a plan.” I breathed in, then groaned in frustration. “Jesus Christ. I’m forty-six years old. I shouldn’t be so nervous. I should be more confident.”
Dominique chuckled, then she took my face in both her hands, making me look her in the eyes. “What if I told you that women actually like men who are honest about their feelings rather than always trying to hide them by putting on their silly little macho facades?” She smiled and shook her head. “All these years and you still don’t understand that. It’s okay. Jasmine’s an artist, Eric. Sensitive and intuitive. She’s not going to begrudge you your feelings. Just tell her how it is and what you feel. That’s the best way to any woman’s heart. Oh, and a good grovelling never hurts, either.”
With that, Dominique left me. I took a sip of my wine, willing the alcohol to work its magic and calm some of the more fly away edges of my nerves and ground me. As the minutes ticked on, it worked, for the most part. I began to pull back from the gallery hall, knowing it was almost time for Jasmine to make her entrance.
I first noticed the slight parting of the large crowd that was admiring her work. Sure enough, it was Jasmine, walking through the gallery with Dominique at her side, introducing her to guests like a proud mother figure. My heart started pounding hard and fast in my chest at seeing her after so long.
She was radiant. Her champagne-colored dress complimented her flawless ivory skin, hugging every inch of her like a glove with draping around her curves that accentuated her perfect shape. She’d had her hair styled, and her make up done. Simple, elegant. Just enough to highlight the natural beauty she was.
But it was her demeanor that arrested me.
She was so relaxed. So utterly vibrant and confident. This was her element—this place, these people. Her art. As I watched Dominique introduce her to various potential patrons, her elegance wasn’t only in her appearance, but the self-assured way she carried herself.
Jasmine was made for this.
Had I had any doubts of that before, they’d have been squashed in that moment. Between her alluring paintings and the woman herself, no one could question that Jasmine belonged here. The only question that remained was: would she belong at my side by the end of the night?
I didn’t want my presence to interfere with Jasmine’s work here. I wanted her to enjoy all the attention she deserved as potential buyers perused her paintings, without me being a distraction.
I finished my drink, passed it off to a waiter that came by, and withdrew to the balcony just adjacent to the area showcasing her artwork. Outside, I was met with a quiet calm. The buzz of people within was muffled out here. I heard the ocean in the near distance, and I momentarily closed my eyes, letting those sounds give me the solace I needed for what was still to come…and that’s when I heard her.
“I didn’t expect you to be here.”
The sound of her voice washed over me, making my heart ache and beat erratically in turn. I took in a breath before I faced her, overwhelmed with the need to take her in my arms and bury my face in the fragrant curve of her neck. To kiss those soft, pink lips until she moaned my name.
I did none of those things. Just restrained every single one of those urges and remained where I was and smiled at her. “Your pieces are stunning, Jasmine,” I said in a soft tone, meaning it. “I walked around the gallery earlier. They’re exquisite.” And so are you.
She looked at me a moment, as though she was unsure of how to interact with me. Then, that hesitance masked over quickly, and she held her shoulders high. “Well, I’ve had a lot of emotions to channel into my work the last few months—hell, the last few weeks. They say emotion is the best fuel for creativity.”
I nodded in agreement, even though I suspected I’d been the impetus for most of those paintings inside, one way or another. “Indeed.”
There was a beat of silence as we stood apart, more distance between us than I would have liked. It was clear that neither of us knew how to proceed and it was in that moment I realized that for as much as I thought I had prepared for this, I was ill-equipped in the art of how to go about apologizing and groveling.
“Jasmine—”
“Eric—”
We spoke at the same time and gave nervous laughs at the predicament.
“Me first,” she said, taking the lead, her hands clasped together in front of her. “Eric, I’m not sure why you’re here. After what happened between us the last time we saw each other, I didn’t think you’d actively seek me out. Dominique just told me a short while ago that you wanted to see my paintings and speak to me, but I’m not sure there’s anything else that needs to be said.” She swallowed hard, but her gaze remained steady on mine. “You made your feelings very clear that day at my apartment, and I’m…I’m at peace with that.”
Jasmine’s voice was stable, but there was no denying the strain of hurt beneath the surface. Hurt that I had caused with my callous words and actions. So much regret washed over me, but I couldn’t let that get in the way of what I had to do. What I needed to say in response.
“I came here to apologize to you, Jasmine,” I said, my tone filled with contrition. “Everything that happened that day…was a disaster. Top to bottom, from the way I handled the information about my parents leaking, to assuming that it was you that did it. I know you would never do anything like that. You’re too kind, with such a caring, compassionate heart. You’re too…everything that I am not, and I lashed out at you because of all the complicated feelings that I have about my parents and where they are. All my insecurities not knowing if what I’ve done as a son is enough or even the right decision. I am so, so sorry for everything that I said to you that day. For believing the worst. I knew James had been at your place, and I just assumed you told him about my parents because that’s how it all looked. How he wanted it to look. I should have known it was James that was the cause of everything.”
I told her about what Chuck at the security firm had discovered, how James had paid Paula for the information about my parents that he then took to The Affluent Collective , but elaborated the details with exaggerations and lies about the care they received.
Jasmine looked stunned. She just stared at me, as if my words had come out in some kind of foreign language.
Finally, she gained her composure and spoke. “He came to my apartment that day to give me information on the person that killed my parents. I didn’t ask for it, and my gut told me that it would cost me…something. I never knew that it would be you.”
I held back that impulse to fold her in my arms, to kiss her, to make her forget this entire conversation in order to prove that she hadn’t lost me—as long as I hadn’t lost her.
But there was more I needed to hear from her. More I wanted to know. “Tell me what happened,” I asked softly.
To my surprise, she relented. “Out of the blue, James came to my apartment with this file in his hands, and he was so goddamn smug. I don’t think I remember a time where he was never smug. And this file contained information about a wealthy family, and how they covered up the fact that their son was the one who was responsible for the hit and run on my parents.”
Jasmine kept her head lowered and her eyes on her hands. Her voice wavered just so, the tremble going all the way down to her fingers. I stepped toward her and took them in my hands, hoping to ground her, and her feelings. I expected her to pull away, but she squeezed my hands, looked up at me, and continued.
“So, after everything that happened between the two of us, I decided that I needed to take a trip. I needed clarity or closure on everything. James had provided me with an address, so my plan was to confront them. Show them all the evidence that painted them to be the terrible people that they were for covering up the accident…but the address James gave me was for a cemetery.”
I frowned in confusion. “A cemetery?”
She nodded, her voice wavering as she continued. “Another one of James’ sick and twisted ways of punishing me, I’m sure. Because the guy that killed my parents was a seventeen-year-old kid at the time and his parents were the ones that covered everything up. And he died. Overdosed a few years later, and then his mom did too of the same thing. Guilt. Guilt over my parents killed them both. Now only the father is left.”
She shook her head, her expression sad. “I met him, you know. He was at the cemetery that day. He said he’d had a strange feeling that he needed to be there. He said his son wanted to turn himself in. That he’d felt terrible about leaving my parents to die because he’d panicked. But instead of doing the right thing, he and his wife protected their son only to have him die of a drug overdose because he couldn’t cope with the guilt.”
I took everything in, her pain a palpable thing. Without hesitation, I instinctively wrapped my arms around her and drew her close, needing her to know how much I cared. She stiffened at first, then gradually relaxed against my chest, accepting my show of comfort.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered into her hair, even as I absorbed her warmth and the familiar scent on her skin. “So, now that you know the truth, what are you going to do?”
She glanced up at me, and much to my relief she didn’t try to move away. “Honestly? I’m ready to move on. I know my parents wouldn’t want me to dwell on what happened. I think they’d be proud of how far I’ve come from then.”
“I know they would.” I smiled down at her, and gently caressed my fingers along her cheek. “They would love that you’ve made a good life for yourself. That you’re doing all this, too,” I said, gesturing to the gallery just beyond the doors. “You’ve show how resilient you are, and you have so much ahead of you in life.”
Her eyes misted over, but I didn’t miss the vulnerable look in the depths. “Does that include you?” she asked softly.
Hope tightened across my chest. “Do you want it to?”
She nodded, her flattened hands so warm against my chest. “I do…desperately,” she whispered, an ache in her voice. “But you believing I could hurt and betray you so easily was excruciating and devastating. I need you to promise me that you’ll always trust me, and believe me, because that’s something I can’t compromise on.”
I nodded solemnly. “Are you giving me a chance to prove that to you?”
“Yeah, I am.” She nodded, and her soft smile was everything that had been missing in my life the past few weeks. “I’m really happy that you showed up tonight and apologized. That you let me tell you what really happened. That maybe, possibly, we’re going to be okay.”
“I promise, we’re going to be more than okay,” I assured her.
I brushed my fingers through Jasmine’s hair. I did not deserve this woman. Not her affections, her trust, nor her willingness to allow me back in her life after I’d been the one to tell her to get out of mine. But here she was, proving to me that even at this place in my life, something new and wonderful could happen.
“May I kiss you?” I asked gently.
She tipped her head up toward mine. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Chuckling, I leaned forward, pressing my mouth to hers. Too much time had gone by, and I had missed her, craved her. There was nothing about Jasmine that I didn’t want, whether it was her conversations, or her body, her passion for art, the way she accepted me so completely, and how she went about living her life to the fullest.
I deepened the kiss, and she let out a soft moan, pressing her whole body close to mine. Desire instantaneously sparked between us. Her heat was so tempting, her softness causing an ache in my chest and much lower as she chased away the last of my worries and gave me a sense of everything in my world being whole and right.
How could I have ever thought that she would hurt me? How could I have hurt her instead? Never again, I vowed.
I pulled back slightly, my lips still brushing against hers. “Marry me,” I whispered.
I heard her inhale, and she looked up at me with a startled expression. “What?”
In a louder voice she couldn’t misinterpret, I repeated those words. “I said, marry me. I love you, Jasmine Greene. Nothing will ever change that. I want you—no, I need you—in my life, every single day. And the only way I know how to keep you there for the rest of our lives is to marry you and make you mine.”
Her eyes were wide with shock, her lips parted but she seemed unable to speak.
I grinned. “Do you love me?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
My heart soared with her answer. “Do you trust me?”
She nodded quickly and whispered, “Yes.”
“Then the next answer should come very easily.”
I withdrew the black velvet box from my suit pocket and got down on one knee, giving her the traditional proposal because she deserved that, and so much more. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as I flipped open the lid, presenting her with the sparkling diamond engagement ring I’d picked out just for her.
“Will you marry me, Jasmine Greene?”
A delighted squeak escaped her, and pure excitement shone in her eyes—a look I was determined to see there every single day. “Yes!” she finally exclaimed. “Yes, I’ll marry you!”
Everything in my world aligned in that moment, as if I’d been waiting my whole life to find this woman who made me want to be a better man for her, and I slipped the ring on her finger, a perfect fit. As soon as I was standing again, she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me enthusiastically. I cupped the back of her head in my hand, holding her close as I slipped my tongue into her mouth, as the moment turned hot and heated and my free hand roamed over the curve of her ass, hauling her closer…
A throat cleared behind us, and Jasmine jumped back, ending the kiss abruptly, much to my disappointment.
“Congratulations, you two,” Dominique said, quite happily. “But I’m going to have to interrupt before you create a scandal. Jasmine, you have guests who are interested in purchasing your artwork and have questions for you. Shall I tell them you’re otherwise occupied?”
She laughed, the sound joyous as she looked up at me with eyes filled with so much happiness. “No. This celebration can wait a little longer.”
Reluctantly, I let her go, because this was her night, after all. I kissed the back of her hand, and she slowly, just as reluctantly stepped back, then drifted away into the other room, practically floating as she walked.
I watched her go, grinning like a fool and not caring who witnessed just how smitten I was with my fiancée.
“I saw that rock on her finger,” Dominique said as we headed back into the gallery at a more leisurely pace. “Well done, you.”
“Yes, I would absolutely agree,” I said, feeling smug.
Jasmine was mine. The other half of my heart and soul and I planned to cherish her every single day.