Chapter 24
24
ZARA
Monday morning, I head into the office without first stopping by the café. There is a long list of tasks to complete before I fly home on Wednesday. Jobe and I remained in his penthouse on Saturday and Sunday. We watched movies, ordered food to be delivered from his favorite restaurants, and, in between, had sex, which sometimes led to staying in bed for hours.
“I need your help,” Trisha asks. She points to a box of tinsel. “This place needs some Christmas cheer, so wanna help me decorate the walls?”
“Sure.”
We take the elevator to the fifth floor. “Are you coming to the Christmas party on Friday night?” she asks.
“No, I’m heading back to California for the holidays to see my family. I heard the office party is the best.”
She giggles. “It’s a lot. Everyone gets drunk and basically spills all their secrets. ”
“Office secrets or about their personal lives?”
“Personal,” she clarifies. “Not office gossip as most the time… nothing interesting happens here.”
“I’m sad to miss it.” Not the gossip part.
We loop the tinsel around handrails and over paintings on the walls. “We’ll have the workmen come in with ladders to finish decorating tomorrow. I wanted to get a start and gauge everyone’s mood.”
“No one has mentioned gifts. Does the Board give us a bonus or gift?”
She chuckles. “Not since I have worked here.”
We head up the elevator to level six. “I think I might take it up with Mr. Hendricks.”
“If anyone can convince him, it’s you,” she says mindlessly as the doors open.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re his girlfriend and all that.”
We step out of the elevator, and I grab her arm. “Trisha, what’s all that ?”
She shrugs. “You’re together.”
“We’re not together-together,” I defend.
She frowns at me. “What’s the difference?”
I shake my head, unable to answer. I turn to Piper, who is staring at me. She gives me a pointed look and then focuses on her screen.
It’s uncomfortable being in the office where I used to work. Piper and I understood each other. I regret saying those things to her, especially after a half-dozen drinks, and now wish I could take it back. She doesn’t glance my way again, so I decide not to hang around.
My stomach turns, and I’m overcome with nausea. I burp, and it doesn’t feel good. “I’m heading back to the office,” I tell Trisha. “If you need help, please ask someone here to give you a hand, as I’m—” I cover my mouth with my hand and don’t quite make it to my office before rushing to the restrooms. I drop to my knees and puke in the toilet. Thank God no one is in here to hear me. I splash water on my neck and dab a paper towel around my eyes before rinsing my mouth. The end cubicle door opens, and my stomach drops. Lydia walks out and stares at me.
“Are you okay, Zara?”
I nod quickly. “Yeah. My stomach has been in knots since starting the new position. I don’t want to mess up.”
She eyes me in an understanding way. “I know what you mean. I’ve felt the same way, and my youngest kept me awake all night last night.” She checks herself in the mirror. “It’s why I look like I’m on the set of The Walking Dead .”
I giggle at Lydia. “It’s how I feel.”
“You might have eaten something to upset you,” she suggests. I’ve barely eaten today. “But if it continues, you might need to get checked out. Or you could test—” She stops herself. “Please get checked out, Zara.”
“I will if I’m not any better by tomorrow.”
It turns out I’m no better by Tuesday and decide to work from home. Jobe is in the office, keeping his distance in case I am contagious. With most viruses, the contagious period is a few days before, and since we didn’t get out of bed most of Sunday because we couldn’t get enough of each other, I suspect he is already doomed.
On Tuesday afternoon, I receive a text from him.
Sorry, but I won’t make it home for dinner. I’m meeting Harrison James after the next meeting and having dinner with him. We have much to discuss moving forward. How are you feeling?
A little better. Enjoy your dinner. Please say hello to him from me .
I haven’t told Jobe how upset I was with Piper. Or anything about the gossip. Yet I feel awful at what went down. I quickly send a text to Piper and George apologizing for my outburst the other night.
Oh God, here it comes again . I run into the bathroom and heave.
A few hours later, the door bangs shut.
How long have I been asleep? I check the time, and it’s almost midnight. I listen out but Jobe doesn’t come into my room. I’m too tired to dwell on why he didn’t check in on me so I roll over and go straight back to sleep.
“Zara. Zara.”
Gentle shaking.
I open my eyes to Jobe, dressed in a business suit, standing over me. Sunlight breaks through the drapes. “Hi.”
“Hi. How are you feeling?”
“Better, I think.” I squeeze my eyes closed and open them again. “Yeah, a lot better.”
“Are you coming into the office?”
“I am.” I’ll try.
He smiles at me. “Sleepy Zara is adorable.”
Why can’t I keep my eyes open? I smile goofily at him. “Do you want to get lunch together?”
“If I get a break,” he groans out. “What time is your flight tonight? I’ll arrange for Ben to drive you.” He pulls out a card from his wallet and places it on the bedside table.
“It’s at nine, but I need to be at Heathrow by six o’clock.”
He nods slowly. “Call Ben and inform him of a time, and I’ll accompany you to the airport.”
I hold out my hand from the covers, and Jobe squeezes it. “It’s after seven. I have to get going, and you should be up.”
“Shit. You go. I’ll see you at lunch.”
Jobe leans in and kisses my forehead before leaving the room. He glances at my half-packed suitcase on the floor. “Do I need to call someone up to arrange your luggage for you?”
“Have a good day, Jobe,” I shoot back. I sit up and laugh at how my suitcase bothers him. Before I swing my legs over the edge, the nausea hits me again. I don’t make it to the shower. I’m back leaning over the toilet bowl. After I freshen up, I decide not to return to the office after all.
I open my cell. “Trisha.”
“Zara, how are you?”
“Better but not one hundred percent. I’m not coming in today. Please give everyone my best wishes for the holidays and tell them I’m sad to miss the Christmas party.”
“I will. Rest up. Are you well enough to catch your flight?”
“I am. I’m already feeling a touch better, and by tonight, I hope to be over the worst of it.”
After I end the call, I send Piper and George texts wishing them a Merry Christmas and looking forward to going out for a drink in the new year. I wait for twenty minutes, then toss my cell onto the bed.
I wake to my phone buzzing. I’ve been asleep for two hours. Crap, I have to tell Jobe that I won’t make it to lunch. Then my heart sinks. We haven’t discussed Christmas or meeting up while I’m back in California. He booked the jet Friday night, and while he offered me a seat, I had already paid for my flight home.
I already miss him. I turn on the television to the news channel. The screen is filled with snowstorm images in New York. Heathrow has canceled flights, with some being redirected to Orlando and Dallas. I log into my flight app on my cell and read the warnings about arriving early. There is an opening on a flight tonight. Crap. I make a call to Jobe—it goes straight to voicemail .
“Hi, Jobe. I’m not coming into the office as I’m heading straight to Heathrow. I’m sorry to miss lunch. Enjoy the Christmas party on Friday night. Please don’t be a stranger when we’re home. I—” I what? “I miss you already.”
My stomach turns over, but I ignore it and pack my suitcase like a woman possessed, then call Ben.
“Hey, Ben. I hope you don’t mind me calling, but Jobe said you might have time to drive me to Heathrow?”
“Of course, Ms. Hart. What time do you need to be there?”
“As soon as possible… if that’s okay?”
“I’m on my way.”
“Thank you.”
I take one last look around Jobe’s penthouse. Running my fingers along the marble counter, I can almost smell the aroma of herbs as he cooks. I’m going to miss being here.
I take the elevator to the foyer, and a cold blast of air hits me from the open doors. I already need to wear a thick coat, so I slip it on and stand by the glass doors, watching brown and red leaves twirl and scatter in the wind. The sky is gray, threatening to rain, and I’m ready to go home to a somewhat warmer climate.
After a few minutes, Ben parks the black Bentley near the door, and I head out, clutching my coat around my neck, my suitcase in tow.
“Allow me to help, Ms. Hart.”
“Thank you.” He takes my luggage, and I rush into the warmth of the car’s back seat. He slams his door and pats his hands together. “Thank you again, Ben. I didn’t want to brave the Tube today.”
His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. “Mr. Hendricks would never forgive me if I allowed you to take the train. ”
I smile at him. “Thank you, most days I enjoy it. Not today with a suitcase and in this weather.”
He gives me a nod before steering the car toward Heathrow.
The news channel didn’t exaggerate a word of the report. The airport is the busiest I have ever witnessed, and I’m now regretting not canceling my flight and flying in comfort on Jobe’s private jet. I couldn’t accept his offer when he’s already doing so much for me. I can stand on my own two feet. I don’t need the comfort of his wealth to enjoy being with him.
“Excuse me, Miss.” The guy behind me urges me to move forward in the line.
Focus.
I send Penny a message.
I’m at the airport. I can’t wait to see you and Summer x
By the time I land and am through customs, it’s midnight in Los Angeles and eight in the morning in London.
With my cell in my hand, I attempt to read the messages, and as I head through the terminal, I hear, “Zara,” my mother calling out to me.
“Mom.” She pulls me in for a hug, and Dad is right beside her, wrapping his arms around both of us.
“I’ve missed you.” She sobs, and I tighten my squeeze.
“It’s only been four months, Mom.” I love that she misses me, but I’ve been living away from home for almost two decades .
“I know, but it’s the longest we have gone without seeing you, and it’s not great for my nerves knowing you’re in a foreign country.”
“England is barely foreign, Mom.”
Dad gives me a gentle smile. “You were too far away for your mother’s liking.” He takes the handle of my suitcase while Mom keeps her arm linked with mine as we head toward the car. “You can tell us all about your adventures on the way home.”
Inside my parents’ fifteen-year-old sedan, I continue to read the messages. Three from Penny with ideas of catchups over the holidays. One from Jobe hoping I have recovered and to call him as soon as I arrive. One from Piper. It’s a voice message.
“Hi, Zara. I hoped to see you before you left. I wish you a happy Christmas with your family, and we’ll catch up when you return to London. I’m going to miss my American friend. Big hugs, my love.”
I smile and send her a text.
Hi, Piper. Thank you for the voice message. I’m going to miss you too. I already do. I would like that very much and look forward to catching up, especially for a girl’s night after the holidays. Sending a big hug and kiss to you xx
I lay my head back on the seat’s headrest and close my eyes. I barely slept since the plane was a full flight, and the neck pillow just didn’t cut it.
“Can we tell her?” Mom asks Dad.
I open my eyes. “Tell me what?”
“We have booked a few days away,” Dad says, catching my gaze in the rearview mirror.
“Away? Where?” All I can think about is how far away from Jobe and Penny will we be? I expected Christmas day to be at our home in San Diego, and then I’d drive to Los Angeles to see my friends for a few days.
“Mexico,” Mom almost sings it.
I sit upright. “What?”
“Your mom has saved enough for us to spend a few days at a resort since you said how cold London is in December.”
“You’ll be able to spend time by the pool and relax for a few days,” she says as though she has given me a wonderful gift.
I can’t be upset with them as it’s so kind. But while I love my parents, I don’t want them organizing my life, especially not when I’m in my mid-thirties. Dad is eyeing me in the mirror, so I force a smile and nod. “It sounds wonderful.” I could do with some sunshine. “Only a few days?” I say, sounding disappointed.
“Yes, darling. We leave the day before Christmas for four days. It was a great special. We’ll have to forgo our traditional Christmas lunch, but it’s worth it to do this with you.”
“Thank you both,” I say sincerely now that the shock has settled. “I appreciate it.”
I send Penny another text to give her the heads up.
My parents have arranged a ‘secret’ vacation to Mexico for four days. It leaves two days to see you before I return to London. Any chance you want to drive to San Diego before we leave? So sorry to cancel our plans. I didn’t know x
The following morning, I wake to a string of messages.
The first is from Jobe. Then Penny .
One from Hugh. Shit, has his wife had the baby?
One from George.
Jobe is calling…
My heart does a little flip seeing his name, and I smile at my impatient man.
“Good morning, Mr. Hendricks.”
“Zara.” His voice is strained.
I sit upright and lift the covers to my chest. “Hey. Is everything okay?”
“Piper died in an accident last night.”
“What?” I gasp. “What do you mean died ?”
“She was in a car with a guy, and he crashed the car. A date apparently with someone she met on a dating app.”
“What the fuck?” I croak. My heart is racing, and I can’t breathe. “She’s really dead?”
Silence.
I hold my breath. This can’t be real.
“I’m so sorry. It’s not how I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want you to hear from anyone else. Is there anything I can do?”
My eyes burn, and tears roll down my cheeks. The nausea is back, and with it, my gut tightens. I’m going to be sick. “When are you coming home?”
“Tonight. I have commitments with my family. Some things have happened at home and I promised Mom I’d be there for Christmas Eve. I’ll drive down to San Diego and see you the day after Christmas.”
I shake my head. My throat is on fire, and I can barely speak. I keep seeing images of Piper laughing at something I said at the bar. Joking around together. I’m struggling to accept she is gone. “My parents have surprised me with four days in Mexico for Christmas. I’ll call you when I get home.” I sob.
“Zara. I know this is hard, but she didn’t suffer. The reports indicate she died instantly. An object in the back seat flew into the front when the car rolled. It hit her in the head, a fatal blow.”
I sob louder. “What about the driver?”
“He didn’t make it. He was taken to hospital but died a few hours later.”
I can’t catch my breath.
“I need you to breathe slowly. In and out,” he says in a calm voice. “I’m here for you, Zara.”
“You’re not. You’re over five thousand miles away,” I moan.
“I’m a phone call away if you need me. You can talk to me anytime. I care about you.”
Nice. “I care about you too, but my heart is broken, and I need someone to hold me in their arms and reassure me everything is going to be okay,” I croak on the last words.
“Imagine my arms around you. I’m holding you ti?—”
“I gotta go,” I say quickly, interrupting him. I need to cry alone. “I’ll talk to you later, Jobe.”
I turn my cell to silent, unable to speak to anyone else today. I curl up in a ball, crying myself back to sleep.
The following day, I briefly speak to George.
Everyone at work is a mess. Understandable. I wish I were there to mourn my friend with them. My heart is hurting so bad. Overwhelmed with uncontrollable emotion, Piper’s death has triggered me to think about loss on other levels. Like what I’ll be like when Jobe decides I’m no longer fun.
I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. It drips as much as tears fall off my cheeks. I’m on a downward spiral, and I’m at a loss to protect myself from the pain. I keep seeing images in my head of Piper. My heart hurts in a way I have never felt before.
I haven’t checked my cell all morning. I don’t want to see any more messages or be obliged to reply. I can’t look at social media with a flood of images of Piper smiling and enjoying life. I don’t want to speak to anyone, not even my friends.
We leave for the airport in an hour, and I hope getting away will clear my head.
Dad comes and wraps an arm around my shoulders. He pulls me close and plants a kiss on the top of my head. “Is there anything I can do?”
I shake my head. It’s a common question, but what can anyone do? A heart transplant free of pain and a brain without memories, thanks.
The entire way to the airport, my parents peer over their shoulders, stealing glances and checking on me. I fake being asleep on the flight, then hold a book in my lap on the drive to the beachside resort. Yet I don’t read a single word.