Chapter Twenty-Two
Jesse
I’d forgotten how painful betrayal was. Alex used to blame me for everything too, calling me a drama queen.
It was never his fault, always mine. Just like Sebastian had done last night, telling me I was overreacting, that I was running away because I was scared.
Well, I wasn’t going to allow any man to treat me like that again. My dad had taught me better than that.
I had to be honest with myself. I loved Sebastian, even if I didn’t want to.
Breaking up with him was like tearing off a piece of my heart and throwing it into the fire.
But what other choice did I have? Even if he’d meant well, the bottom line was that he’d lied to me and had gone behind my back.
He’d betrayed my confidence. There would be life after him—there had to be.
I just had to pick myself up and live it. Focusing on my work was the key.
Once I reached home, I ditched my shoes and headed to the bathroom.
Tears burned in my eyes when I found one of Sebastian’s shirts there.
His scent lingered all over my little apartment, making my heart tighten painfully and hampering my breathing.
I opened all the windows in a futile attempt to cleanse my home and my soul.
Why was love so painful? If it was the most noble of feelings and the key to all the goodness of the Universe, why did it hurt so damn much?
I tried to unzip my dress, but couldn’t reach the zipper.
Sebastian had zipped it for me that morning.
After that, he’d brushed his lips over my shoulder.
A shiver ran through me—rage, sorrow, longing, fury—a mix of emotions that turned my soul into a blender.
With every second that I struggled with the zipper, I became more frustrated, and more tears ran down my cheeks.
I felt trapped, helpless. In the end, I tore off the dress, tossing the pieces aside as I slid to the bathroom floor and gave in to the sobs I couldn’t contain any longer.
My life had been fine before Sebastian Wright entered it, but it had been like a charcoal sketch.
Nice, detailed, skillfully done, but colorless.
Sebastian had brought color into it, nuances, bright shades of red for love, yellow for smiles, blue for the blueberry pancakes that filled my mornings with joy.
He’d brought passion and purpose. And even though I’d felt we were moving too fast at times, he’d been there to reassure me that we were in this together.
And through all of that, he’d been keeping a secret from me. Maybe more than one. How could I possibly know how many more?
I wiped my face with the back of my hand. I was being an idiot. Sebastian and I had dated only a few weeks. It had been fun, and now it was over. I had to move on, as no doubt he would too.
I showered, put on my pajamas, and set my alarm for seven. My phone vibrated with a text message. It was Sebastian.
I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I want to know if you got home safely. Please text me.
My heart tightened painfully at his concern. I couldn’t deny that he cared about me, at least on some level. I didn’t have the heart to let him worry.
I’m home safe. Thanks for checking up on me. Goodnight.
I set the phone back on the nightstand. Now that I’d had time to cool off, my mind started circling back to the evening’s events.
Had I overreacted? I vividly remembered the ache in my chest and my rising blood pressure when Janine had told me the truth in her condescending tone, that Sebastian had arranged for me to get the art exhibit.
That memory made me furious all over again.
Hell no, I wasn’t overreacting. No matter his intentions, Sebastian had made a fool out of me. He’d proven that he didn’t believe I could get great exposure on my own. Maybe he liked my art, but if he’d thought I was good enough to make it on my own, he would never have intervened.
* * *
After a restless night, I woke up groggy, my jaw aching from clenching it all night. I took a cold shower, doing my best to push thoughts of Sebastian away. I was usually good at blocking someone from my mind.
I stopped for donuts and a milkshake, then navigated Manhattan’s chaotic streets in my trusty old truck.
As I reached the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge, my mood began to improve.
The breathtaking view of the city skyline never got old.
Despite its downsides, I loved New York’s energy and its ability to fill me with optimism.
At Ben’s house, I changed into work clothes and surveyed the empty rooms. A hint of panic tightened my throat. Was this project too ambitious to take on by myself? But Ben had said he wasn’t in a rush, so I had no deadline. I could take my sweet time.
I put on my protective gear, shoved wireless headphones into my ears, and got to work sanding the walls.
There was something soothing about the mindless task of polishing the blank surface in front of me.
My dad and I had painted lots of houses to make extra money.
I missed the days when we’d worked side by side, the silence filled only with the sounds of tools.
The professional sander I was using now was pretty noisy, something between a vacuum cleaner and a flex tool.
Most people used earplugs when working with it, but I didn’t mind the noise. I was in my element.
By lunchtime, my arms felt ready to fall off and the heat was getting to me. I was climbing down from my ladder when a man cleared his throat behind me.
I nearly jumped out of my skin, barely managing to keep my balance. Ben rushed to catch me, grasping my hips firmly as he helped me down.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was waiting for you to turn off that thing.” He gestured at the sander.
I removed my earphones and goggles, running my fingers through my dusty hair. “I wouldn’t have heard you anyway.”
“Why didn’t you turn on the AC? It’s hot enough to melt ice in here.”
“I didn’t want to mess with it without your permission.” I used my shirt hem to wipe sweat off my brow. “Since you’re here, will you please, please turn it on?”
He chuckled and headed to the kitchen. “Come on, the remote is here somewhere. Don’t ever work in this heat again.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
I followed him through the archway. He found the remote in a drawer, pressed a button, and heavenly cool air began flowing from the AC unit.
“Oh, God.” I stood directly in front of it, letting the refreshing breeze run through my hair and ruffle my clothes.
While I was a sweaty, raggedy mess, Ben looked like a Ken doll fresh out of the box. His summer khakis were unwrinkled, his airy white shirt complementing his athletic body.
Ben grinned at me. “You can make it as cold as you want. Or as hot as you want it.”
I returned his smile, still under the spell of the AC, until I realized my T-shirt was plastered to my braless breasts.
If I were a man, I’d be shirtless right now, and no one would think twice about it.
As a woman, I had limitations. Knowing that I was working alone, I hadn’t put on a sports bra.
It was bad enough I had to do some backbreaking work at sweltering temperatures.
I didn’t need any tight garment to add to my discomfort.
I noticed Ben’s gaze on my taut nipples. While his expression remained friendly and polite, I detected a spark of something else in his eyes. As inconspicuously as I could, I turned away from the breeze and crossed my arms over my chest.
I cleared my throat. “I started by prepping the walls,” I explained, then outlined my plan.
He nodded, not looking particularly interested. “I’m sure you’ll do a fantastic job. Have you eaten?”
“I had a couple of donuts this morning.”
He wrinkled his nose. “That’s not proper food for a working woman. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of bringing lunch.”
I was touched by his consideration. “Ben, you didn’t have to bother—”
“No bother. I just need to go out to the car.”
He returned two minutes later with a fancy picnic basket and bakery bag.
As I helped unpack the mountain of gourmet sandwiches with exotic fillings and elaborate salads, a tiny alarm bell went off when I found champagne and Godiva chocolates.
This was date food, not employer food. Was I misreading the situation? Perhaps this was normal in Ben’s world.
“You’ll have to enjoy the champagne by yourself,” I said lightly. “I don’t drink on the job.”
“Not even a little glass?” He pouted, looking like a spoiled toddler with his round blue eyes.
“Not even a little glass. I’ll have a sandwich, but then I need to get back to work.”
“Okay. I’ll leave these in the fridge so you can have a snack whenever you’re hungry.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate this.”
“It’s my pleasure. Do you have any food allergies? I asked my assistant to have these wrapped individually.”
I shook my head, unwrapping a sandwich. “No allergies, but it was really thoughtful of you. This looks delicious.”
“That’s porchetta and cheddar on focaccia.”
I hated to admit the only ingredient I’d heard of was cheddar. Porchetta turned out to be some sort of roast pork that was quite dry. I would have loved to drown it in mayo, but had a feeling that was probably sacrilegious in gourmet cooking.
Half a sandwich later, I decided to try some small talk. “So, Ben, what do you do? Robert mentioned your family works in oil.”
“I’m the international business liaison for my family’s oil empire.
Sounds fancy, right?” His eyes glinted playfully.
“It means I get to travel, jet-setting to different countries. I’m the friendly face who ensures smooth operations.
But I don’t like taking myself too seriously.
It’s all about finding the right balance between business and pleasure. Here, try this.”
He reached over with a cracker covered in brown mousse, trying to feed it to me. I struggled to chew the dry pork already filling my mouth. After several awkward moments, I managed to bite into the cracker.
“I like it,” I said, nodding. “What is it?”
“Duck liver.”
I was mid-swallow, my abused esophagus wanting to expel the thing, but I forced it down. All I could think about was Sebastian’s incredible cooking, how he could make amazing meals from whatever scraps I had in my fridge. God, I missed him.
“Something wrong?” Ben asked.
I realized my expression had turned pissed off. “Nope. I was just thinking of work.”
I felt guilty for being so ungrateful. After all, Ben had gone to so much trouble to put together this meal. Well, his assistant had, but it didn’t matter. It had been Ben’s idea, and I should appreciate it.
I stood, dusting crumbs off my fingers. “Thank you so much for this excellent lunch, Ben. Now I need to get back to work.”
“Are you sure you won’t have a glass of champagne?” He lifted the bottle enticingly.
“I’m absolutely positive. Maybe when I finish the project, I’ll accept a toast.”
“That’s a promise I can make.”
I cleared off the island and put the leftovers in the fridge.
Ben didn’t offer to help, but people like him must be used to having others clean up their messes.
I’d been brought up differently. I always cleared my plate and insisted on helping with the dishes.
Sebastian was the same. He was obsessed with cleaning up after himself.
Ben stood watching me, leaning against the counter with a charming smile.
“I’m afraid I have to go,” he said. “I’ll be in L.A. for the next few days.”
“That sounds nice.” I tried to hide my relief that he wouldn’t be breathing down my neck.
He moved forward and took my shoulders between his palms. “Don’t worry, I’ll have my phone with me.” He ran his palms up and down my bare arms. “You seem to have everything under control, but if you need to talk to me about anything, just call or text, okay?”
His touch made me uncomfortable. It seemed overly familiar. Was I overreacting again? Was this how the #MeToo victims had felt in the beginning, always questioning themselves until it was too late?
I gestured in reassurance, using it as an excuse to put distance between us. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. We have the art nailed down, and if I’m not sure about something, I’ll call you.”
“Like I said before, I leave it all to you. When I gave you the key to my house, I also handed you my trust.”
It was such a corny line that I couldn’t help grinning.
Before I could reply, he bent his head and kissed my cheek. “Goodbye, Jesse. I’ll see you in a few days.”
After he left, I got back to work, still hungry and fantasizing about a cheesy pizza. I put in another six hours before I headed home and stopped by my favorite pizza place for a salami and pepperoni with double cheese.
There wasn’t a single muscle in my body that didn’t hurt like hell.
I could have killed for one of Sebastian’s head-to-toe massages.
Instead, I added the fancy bath salts I found in the bottom of my bathroom cabinet to hot water, and took a long soak.
Lily had given me the purple jar of scented beads for my birthday a couple of years ago.
It was probably expired, although salt wouldn’t go bad.
I didn’t care enough to check the label.
All I wanted was some relief from the pain, and something to relax my abused muscles.
I shuddered when I thought of the days when a power sander had been a tool of the future or the rich, and sanding had been purely manual labor for my dad and me.
I wanted to soak longer in the warm water, but exhaustion made my eyelids droop.
Fifteen minutes later, I climbed out, toweled off, and padded into the bedroom.
I donned a pair of comfy panties and an oversized T-shirt, and plopped face down onto my bed.
The last thing I remembered was the feeling of the soft pillow under my cheek.