Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Shaye
To: Toni Marquez
From: Shaye Brewer
Re: Absence
Dear Ms. Marquez,
I am still feeling under the weather and will not be in the office today.
Thank you for understanding.
Best,
Shaye Brewer
“Does that make you feel better?” Nate sips his coffee at my kitchen table. He lifts a brow. “I do appreciate that you’re still being professional despite the circumstances.”
I toss my phone at him. It spins in a circle on the tabletop.
My body aches from not sleeping. Again.
I had planned on going to the office today and just ignoring Oliver—keeping the door open and spending a lot of time in the bathroom. But I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t see him.
“I have an appointment with an attorney this afternoon,” I say. “I’m going to get some kind of contract drawn up or something to put it in writing that I’m paying Oliver back.”
Nate whistles through his teeth. “I still can’t believe he paid off that damn loan.”
“You and me both.”
I wish I could talk to him about it. I will. Some day. That day is just not today.
I penned countless emails during the night. I just didn’t know what to say. What do you say to someone who did something so outlandish for reasons unbeknownst to you? And then they break up with you over something so silly.
It’s not silly. Not really. I can imagine what Oliver felt like when he saw me with Marius. But the fact that he wouldn’t even hear me out or give me the benefit of the doubt seals the deal.
“Look, I’m not an Oliver fan,” Nate says. “But let’s just stay calm for a second, all right, and think this through.”
“Let’s not.”
He chuckles. “Are you at least going to find out why he did it?”
“Does it really matter, Nate? Really? Because I don’t think it does.” I get up from the table. “If he did it because he loved me, which is the dream, right? He wouldn’t have walked away from me in The Gold Room. He would have trusted me. He would’ve known that I wouldn’t lie to him or betray him.”
“Fair enough.”
“So that leaves us with one other option, doesn’t it?”
He furrows his brow. “Well, maybe more than one, but I’ll let you lead.”
“He was trying to control me.”
Nate takes another sip of his coffee. “That sounds a little presumptuous.”
“I don’t think so. Think about it—if he’s paid off the loan … that’s more money than most people make in a year. In three or four years. Why? Why would he do that when he won’t even have a conversation with me—he wouldn’t listen to me? It makes no sense.”
“Maybe he was doing you a favor.”
“That’s a pretty big favor, friend.”
He can’t argue that.
My phone buzzes and Nate slides it back to me. I open my email.
To: Shaye Brewer
From: Toni Marquez
Re: Absence
Dear Ms. Brewer,
Mr. Mason would like you to know that your email isn’t accepting his messages. His calls are also not going through. Please call him immediately.
Best,
Toni
I swipe out of the email app. I don’t tell Nate, but it does give me a small dose of satisfaction that he’s been trying to reach me.
“You blocked him?” Nate shakes his head. “What are you? Fifteen?”
“No. I’m a woman who feels like she’s been put in a position where she owes a man a large sum of money and now he expects her to answer his calls when he feels like it. I’m not doing that, Nate. I did it with Luca in a way and, yeah. No. Not again. Not ever again.”
“I—”
Buzz!
The doorbell cuts through Nate’s reply. I don’t know if I’m thankful or upset about it—mostly because I don’t know who is at the door.
“Will you get it?” I ask him.
He nods. “Want me to let him in?”
“Nope.”
He rolls his eyes but marches to the door like a man on a mission.
I hold my breath as the door creaks. My eyes dry out as they stay wide as he speaks to whoever is there.
The door shuts.
My heart pounds.
Nate returns with a bag dangling from his arm.
I blow out my breath. “What’s that?” I ask, annoyed.
“It’s for you.”
He sets it on the table, and I peer inside. Multiple take-out containers are stacked neatly in the bag.
“What the heck?” I ask.
I take them out one by one until I spy a note at the bottom. I pick it up.
Shaye,
Since you’re too sick to come to the office, I thought you might need some nourishment. A variety of chicken noodle and tomato soups from a place across town that I love.
I miss you. I’m sorry.
Get well soon. And call me. I need to apologize and figure out how to fix the mess I made.
Oliver
“He sent you soup?” Nate laughs. “That’s awesome.”
I set the note down and look at the display in front of me. It is kind of awesome.
“Are you ever going to call him?” he asks.
I miss him. I miss him so freaking much. I wish I could pick up the phone and just pour my heart out, but I tried that already, and he ended things.
“What else do I say, Nate?”
"Maybe you don’t say anything. Maybe you listen for a change.”
I give him a dirty look, making him laugh.
“He just wants to clean up his mess,” I say, glancing at the note again. “He probably wants to smooth it over so he can go on.”
“Or maybe he knows he’s wrong and wants to actually apologize.”
“Fine. I accept. But you know what I need? Not to pretend things are fine but know they aren’t. I don’t live to make him feel better about his fuckups.” My heart squeezes. “I mean, I told him that I loved him, and it wasn’t enough to fix things for me. I don’t owe him anything else.”
“Guys are dumb.”
“I know.”
He laughs. “I mean …”
He’s interrupted again by the door.
“I’ll get it,” he says, heading more quickly to the door this time. The exchange is executed much faster, and he’s back with another bag. “For you.”
My heart squeezes in my chest. Hope begins to flutter. I dig through the contents and find the note.
Shaye,
I asked the pharmacist to send you every over-the-counter relief that she had since I don’t know your symptoms. I also asked her to send you a Snickers in case you’re as sad as I am. I know you like them frozen.
Call me. Please. I’m sorry.
Oliver
Nate stares at me, trying not to laugh.
I sit down, my hand shaking.
“Okay, let’s say I do call him,” I begin carefully. “What do I say?”
“Probably hello. That’s always good.”
I smack him on the shoulder.
“You tell him how you feel,” he says. “It’s not that complicated.
You tell him that you have a voice and the right to be heard.
Tell him you’re pissed about the money because you don’t want to be controlled.
You tell him that if he ever makes you cry again that I’ll break him into so many pieces that they’ll never find them all. ”
I grin.
“You just … be you, Shaye. But give the guy a chance to explain himself. People fuck up. It happens. Doesn’t mean they’re a perpetual fuckup unless you’re talking about Murray.”
“Hey! Be nice to Murray,” I say with a laugh.
“Me being too nice to Murray is only hurting Murray at this point.” Nate laughs too. “Call the guy, Shaye. I’ve been him. I’ve been the guy who did things wrong. At least hear him out.”
I study my friend’s face. Nate will, without a doubt, always be on my side. And if he—the man who doesn’t even like Oliver—thinks it’s safe to hear him out, then I should.
“Okay,” I say. “Push my phone to me.”
He slides it to me. But before I can do anything, my doorbell rings again.
“What can it be now?” I ask.
He shrugs and heads for the door.
I hear the hushed voices. The door shuts. Footsteps tap their way toward me.
“What is it now, Nate …?”
I gasp as I look up and see Oliver standing in front of my friend. His tie is askew, his hair in waves, and there are bags under his eyes that remind me of my own.
He stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time.
“You blocked me,” he says.
My shoulders slump as I let out a breath. “You broke up with me.”
This startles him. He moves toward me and sits beside me.
Having his body close to mine, feeling his hand sit atop mine, makes tears form in my eyes.
I’ve missed you so much.
I look at Nate. “Will you …?”
Nate winks at me. “Call me if you need me. And you,” he says, pointing at Oliver, “behave. Or I’ll come for you.”
Oliver gives him a half-grin and then watches him walk out.
“I can’t decide if I like him or not,” he says.
“Why are you here?” I ask, unable to do anything but get to the point.
He hangs his head.
“Oliver.”
He looks at me. His gaze is steely. “You said you were sick.”
“You know I’m not sick.”
“I know. But you said you were, and I’m taking you at your word.”
“So you sent soup and meds?”
He grins. “Yes. Because if you’re sick, that’s what you need.” His smile falters. “Shaye, I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
He pulls his hand away from mine. I miss it immediately.
“I’m sorry for not listening to you. For not giving you the benefit of the doubt. For being so scared that I ran with my tail tucked between my legs.” He sighs and sits back. “I know who you are. I hate myself for questioning your loyalty to me.”
The pain on his face is evident. I know he means what he’s saying. But that doesn’t solve everything.
I grab Nate’s water bottle and take a long drink, praying he doesn’t have any diseases.
“Tell me why you paid off Luca’s debt,” I say.
He presses his lips together. His chest rises and falls.
“Oliver?”
He looks at me. “When you told me that Luca had left you with such a large loan and you didn’t know why and that he had used your mother’s house as collateral, something didn’t add up. It felt wrong. So I had some people look into it.”
I don’t know where he’s going with this, but I know I don’t like it.
“I have their report if you want to read it. But Luca was not a good guy, Shaye. He was into some bad stuff. He owed people money—dangerous people who I would imagine could find themselves in federal prison if they were ever picked up by law enforcement.”
My jaw hits the table.
What the actual fuck?
“Am I safe?” I ask, looking around as if someone might be looking through my windows. “I didn’t have anything to do with whatever he was doing. Do they know that? Do I need to … Shit. I …”
“Breathe.”