Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
Alex
She’s still here? The door clicks shut behind me.
She didn’t leave? The door is opening behind me and then my peanut of a sister is getting in front of me as the door slams back into place again.
“Where the fuck have you been?” she asks me angrily. Paris, Stockholm, briefly in Amsterdam. Burying my idiocy in drinking, a little bit of recreational drugs, and way too many women. I’m not stupid enough to say that, though.
I shrug. “Buying my family Christmas gifts” is all I give her.
“Like fuck. Nobody needs an expensive ‘sorry I can’t be here, but let me buy your love’ gift.’’
“Then give them away, Brit!” I raise my voice slightly back.
“You’re just gonna leave without saying anything to her?” Alright, this is the real reason she’s pissed .
“Why should you even care?” I ask.
“Because she’s my best friend and she’s so fucking in love with you and you’ve been a total dick to her!” She’s in love with me?
“This isn’t your battle to fight, Brit.” I try to temper her.
“Yeah, it is because you’re too stupid to say sorry. Because you’re thinking one thing and she’s thinking another and if you two idiots would just talk to each other already, this whole thing would blow over!”
“She’s a liar, Brit,” I say as my official shield, that’s officially tired and basically a bullshit excuse.
“She is not. She had already told me everything when you came bursting in, ready to burn the world to the ground!” Brit stomps her foot down and actually screeches. “Ugh! She thought you,” Brit’s small fist hits me in the chest, “were still in love with Amy ! My god, you’re a fucking prick.” With both hands on her hips she lets out an exaggerated sigh. “You know what? Be lonely. You deserve it.”
And then the door slams again, and I’m alone. And rightfully so.
“That was quick. No issues then?” Blanks asks me from the hangar where his jet is parked, already fueled and ready to go.
I grunt in response to that. I wouldn’t say no issues.
“Was she there?” I ask.
“What are you talking about?”
“Was she there at Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah,” he says it plainly .
“You didn’t tell me?”
“You didn’t ask.” Huh.
“H-how was she?”
“Do you really want to know?” he asks, looking down on me, like whatever he’s gonna tell me is gonna hurt.
“No, but I think I need to.” What was she like those first few days? I thought about it a lot, but I just imagined she flew back to New York after my explosive outburst. The one where I blew it for good. When I finally knew I’d ruined my last chance with her, I stopped keeping tabs on her like I used to. Had to, for my sanity.
“Well, I got there, and she immediately asked about you.” She did? “And then she was outside for a long time and when she came back, she’d chopped off all her hair.” The fuck? “And then at dinner someone said that it’s not every day you get a billionaire at the table. And when I replied with, well, yeah you do because Alex was just here, she started choking because she clearly had no idea. And then she just looked sad, but pretended she was happy the rest of the evening. And I don’t think she ate a single thing.”
“Hmm.” I get lost for a couple minutes. I’m thinking about what she would look like with short hair. She was wearing a big hoodie, and I couldn’t see her that well earlier. I also only allowed myself to look once, because anything more would have been self-inflicted torture.
I’m actually debating. Am I getting on this plane, or turning my ass right around and running back to her?
But do you think she’ll forgive me? Nope. And ultimately maybe it’s all just too broken to be something.
“Are we staying?” Blanks asks, already preparing to nix Christmas in Hawaii .
I think about it, but the realization is blunt, and the answer is clear. “Not a fucking chance.” As in there’s no fucking chance of her taking me back either. He doesn’t look exactly pleased and neither do I, but I haven’t been pleased, at least well, in about a month. Who knows? Maybe Hawaii will do the trick.
It doesn’t matter who. It doesn’t matter where or how. If I’m fucking someone, I’m thinking about Jess.
I used to avoid long dark hair, but now it’s the only thing that does it for me.
“Mmmm.” Reina (I think) says around my cock, and I shush her. Again, don’t like the noises, don’t want to hear them now or later in my dreams. Well, nightmares. You know how it is.
Currently playing nightly is me fucking her senseless just to find out she was crying the whole time. That’s my brain’s current favorite. Has been for the last four weeks straight.
“Do you like that?” Big brown eyes look up at me, and I grunt and nod in affirmation. I don’t love it, but it’s a means, right?
A
You should come join us in Hawaii for Christmas.
Yeah, I’m fucking texting right now. That’s the level of investment I’m at with “R.”
D
Can’t. Jess needs moral support to deal with the dads who are bringing their reign of terror to Spearhead. Have fun.
And then I’m pushing away. And then I’m walking away. And then my fist is going through a wall.
I said I’d be there. I said I’d help. And I’m not. I wonder how she felt when she told the dads we weren’t actually getting married. Did I make her look stupid? Did she tell them the truth?
I don’t want them to know the truth. I don’t want her to lose face because of me. I don’t want her to have to stand up to them alone. I quickly shoot off a text to Brit.
A
Do Tommy and Jamie know that Jess and I broke up?
B
Well, I think you’d have to be together for real in order to break up.
You know what I mean.
Well yeah, I think they figured it out when they showed up yesterday and found out Jess is living out of my garage apartment.
Fuck. It’s too late now. And she’s living in the garage apartment?
“Everything okay?” Reina asks. It at least definitely starts with an R.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m leaving.” I stand up from where I absentmindedly sat down on the bed, put my jeans on, and when I get to the door o f the hotel room, I tell her, “Feel free to use the room the rest of the day.” And then I’m gone.
A
Hey, how’s it going?
Good day or bad day?
Did Eden like her Christmas gifts?
I’m not doing too great myself, thanks for asking.
Did you get a new number?
I’ll text you every day if I have to.
I’d show up, but I don’t think you want me there.
J
I don’t.
Progress?
Did you get anything good for Christmas?
Divorce papers.
Please stop texting me.
See, divorce papers sort of sound like the best Christmas present. At least to me.
Happy New Year’s Eve.
Happy New Year.
B
Stop texting her. She’s moving on.
A
Is she really?
Britain sends me a photo of Jess in a dress so short you can practically see her ass. She’s at Colton’s while that spineless fuck of a bartender is holding her face in both hands with his tongue down her throat.
You had your chance.
I wake up in a panic. My brow is sweaty. I think I audibly gasp, too. It wakes up Blanks who is sitting on the other side of the plane.
“I have to go back,” I say out loud and with no volume control. I probably look fucking crazed, sound like it, too. And it’s probably because I am. It’s vivid. It was so vivid, the image of Jess kissing another man feels burned on my brain.
The text messages, fucking someone named “R.” It felt real. But it’s not real. It was just a dream. Just another nightmare.
I should know better, I gave up trying to fuck Jess out of my mind with other women weeks ago. It doesn’t work. She’ll never not be in my thoughts.
My nightmares have taken on a life of their own lately, but on the tails of seeing her this afternoon, this one cut the deepest. The pain in my chest won’t ease. I know it won’t until I go back to her .
Blanks just unbuckles and raps on the captain’s door, asking them to turn back.
He sighs as he passes me on his way to sit back down.
“Should’ve trusted my instincts. I knew you couldn’t leave it.”
“Sorry,” I say brusquely.
“Don’t be. Now I get to spend Christmas with Brit.” He gives me a wink.
“Fuck off. You know she’s officially married, right?”
“Yup, I know,” he says with a smile, leaning back against his seat.
I look at the map on the monitor towards the front of the plane to see the little plane icon is now making a large U. We were a little short of half way. So three hours. I’ve got three hours to come up with a plan.
I pull out my phone and get to work.
It’s almost midnight when I’m at her door. I knock gently at first. But after four knocks, I do it louder, and when I go to do it again, the door flies open revealing Jess in a little white nightgown. She locks up when she realizes it’s me and I take it as a chance to look at her. Really look at her, like I wanted to earlier today.
Her hair is chopped short, and honestly, she looks even sexier without the flowing locks. Like you actually notice her nose that turns up a little at the end and the way her lips make that perfect little v. Or the freckle above her left eyebrow.
“Can I come in?” I ask .
She just stands there staring at me.
“Eden’s sleeping,” she eventually says back.
“I’ll be quiet.” She pokes her head out the front door and looks around. Then takes a few steps back, leaving room for me to enter.
“You shouldn’t answer the door in the middle of the night,” I say, setting keys down on the entry table. She watches me with a keen eye, like she’s willing me not to get comfortable.
She crosses both arms over her chest to hide her hard nipples, but all it does is make her breasts pop in the sheer sleeveless nightgown. She notices me noticing and she reaches for a zip up fleece off the coat rack and puts it on.
“Why are you here?” she asks, leaning against the kitchenette counter.
“Because I promised I’d help, and I’d be here. And I haven’t been.”
She nods, and gives me a thin-lipped smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold you to it. I’m done with all that, and I don’t want your help, okay? But I do have work tomorrow, though…” She trails off and holds a hand up for me to leave.
“Does Tommy know we broke up?” I ask.
She does the spine straightening thing again. It’s one of her tells. “I haven’t told him explicitly, but I’m sure he realizes it. We FaceTime daily from here.” She gestures around the small studio apartment. “I’m too tired for this, Alex.” She sounds too tired for this, which means she might be delirious enough to give me a chance.
I get down on one knee and her eyes go wide. I pull out a ring box that’s been knocking around in my bag for longer than I’d ever admit .
“Jess,” I start.
“NO,” she says, flat out. I haven’t even cracked the box open yet. “Get out.” Her tone is harsh and she points a finger at the door.
“Jess, hear me out.”
“No. P-please leave,” she stutters, then stumbles back as she walks towards the bedroom. “When I wake up tomorrow, just p-please don’t be here.”
She shuts the bedroom door gently and I stand up from where I’m kneeling like an idiot. Right, deserved that.
Jess
When I hear the front door close and click shut, I finally take a full deep breath. He was here. I think. But maybe this is a dream. I’ve had dreams like this before. Except normally the second he gets down on one knee I jump into his arms and kiss him.
So maybe that’s how I know it wasn’t a dream, because lucid Jess knows better. I’m not pretending or doing anything for show, for anyone or any reason ever again. It was a fucking disaster and I don’t have the wherewithal or the emotional fortitude to deal with it.
W.O.A Jess has to stay focused. On saving, on figuring out custody, maybe even on moving back to DC. W.O.A. Jess doesn’t and can’t focus on the man kneeling on her living room floor with a ring box.
I don’t even know if he loves me. In fact, the more time I put between myself and “the situationship” (that’s what I’m calling it now), the more I don’t think he could have possibly loved me. We’ve only gone on one date! (I’m only counting the deli.) No one should be asking anyone to marry them after one date. Fucking psychopath.
And that’s how I know it’s not real. He’s just doing this out of some weird guilt-fueled obligation. No, thanks.
Eden babbling aimlessly wakes me up. This is how it goes most mornings. Like clockwork, really. At 7:00 A.M. it’s either whimpering, babbling, or all-out screeching.
Before I pick her up from the crib, I double check the living room. Cracking the bedroom door the slightest amount, I peer into the small area and find it empty. Yeah, I mean, I knew it would be. (But hoped it wasn’t because I’m a fucking psychopath, too.)
I let the door open entirely, then pick Eden up out of the crib for her diaper change. She gets a morning bottle in bed while I shower and throw on a light dusting of makeup. I foolishly put the same clothes I was wearing yesterday back on. I’m being superstitious. And silly. If I dress up and try to look good, I will absolutely not see him. But…if I don’t, the odds increase that I will. Plus, no one here gives a fuck what I look like. It’s one of my favorite perks of living here that I never anticipated.
Next up, it’s Eden’s turn to get dressed. We grab a quick breakfast, just yogurt and bananas, because today is Wednesday and that means it’s sticky bun day at The Grounds .
“Do you wanna go see Miss Sandy?” Eden now knows Miss Sandy by name and by face. She might actually be her second favorite person.
Eden makes a little squeal and says, “Go!”
“That’s right, we go!” I echo. “Up!” I say to her and she lifts her arms for me to carry her down the outside steps.
Diaper bag, Eden, yep, that’s all I need. I open the front door and freeze because Brit’s old car is just gone. Oh . In its place is the Volvo. That’s not helpful. My shoulders drop slightly. I go to shut the front door, but notice the keys Alex placed on my entryway table last night are still there. The keys to the Volvo.
No . We are not doing this. We just won’t get sticky buns today. Eden will most likely have a meltdown when we don’t go see Sandy this morning, but what else is new? It’s always something.
She knows it when we walk past the car.
“Go!” Eden says in between her paci.
“Yes, we’re going to see Brit and Liam!” I try to impart enthusiasm into my tone in hopes she’ll get excited about that.
“No.” She knows three words now. Hi, no, and go. No is my favorite. (Not really.)
“Yes!” I say, readjusting her weight on my hip as she squirms.
I open the front door to Brit’s house, and call out, “Hello!” like I always do. It only took walking in on Brit and Liam once, and now, never again.
I slip off my knockoff Boston clogs in the entryway, drop the diaper bag, then set Eden down where Luna immediately finds us. Then Eden and the dog are off toddling after one another.
“Hey.” Fuck! A sleep-worn Alex sits up from the couch as I walk through the great room to the kitchen. He startles me and I jump back.
“Hi!” Eden bounds over to Alex without permission and climbs on to the couch, very slowly albeit, to sit beside him.
“Hi, E,” Alex says to her, leaning back on the sofa. Weird. This is weird.
“What are you doing here?” I ask blatantly.
“Waiting for you.” I shake my head and go to the kitchen for coffee.
I don’t want this coffee. I want my coffee from The Grounds. The one Sandy makes me with pistachios. And I want him to go away. And I want you to be honest with yourself, Jess, because do you really want him to go away? Yes!
I know he’s in the kitchen with me. I can feel it.
“You’re messing up my routine,” I say to the Nespresso machine warming up in front of me.
“Sorry,” he says.
“On Wednesdays we get sticky buns and Eden gets to see Sandy.”
“Then let’s go get sticky buns and see Sandy.” He’s closer now. Too close.
“I don’t have a car to drive anymore,” I say through a tight jaw. And then his hand is on my hip. No. No, thank you.
“Jess,” my name comes out whisper soft. The hair on the back of my neck rises. I’m wishing I had worn panties today because suddenly it feels like I wet my damn pants.
“I’d just like the car back,” I say.
“You have a car. ”
“I do not,” I tell him, slightly annoyed with myself for not pushing his hand away. At him, for existing.
“Jess, I?—”
“What are you doing here?” Britain says too loudly, crashing the moment.
“Give us a minute, Brit, please?” he asks her. I’m still staring at the coffee maker like it’s my lord and savior Jesus Christ. I actually start praying to it. Please let me take one long blink and wake up. I can’t do this, so please. Grant me this one ask.
“Only if Jess wants me to,” she says.
“Please do,” Alex says as I say, “Please stay.”
He whispers in my ear, his warm chest entirely too close to my back, “You want to do this in front of my sister?”