by JC Harroway
It won’t last—one day she’ll see through you Marcus had muttered under his breath for my ears only as the women fawned over bridal magazines and discussed venues. I’d been irrationally furious as I confronted him in low tones so as not to upset Mom and Monroe. I’d told him to butt out of my life and keep his opinions to himself. I’d already tolerated his audacious bragging—how he planned to purchase Hamilton’s—over dinner.
‘We were young,’ I say. ‘We had heaps in common, but I guess we rushed into marriage.’ One of the hardest pills to swallow, aside from the fact that Monroe and I had fallen out of love seemingly as easily as we’d fallen into love, was that Marcus’s prediction was accurate. It haunts me still.
Coming back to New York without my wife I’d felt like a dog slinking home with its tail between its legs. Even the expansion of Bold into North America had felt muted. I avoided seeing Marcus and his dreaded snide expression. I felt like a child again—I’d done something wrong but had no idea what or how to fix it.
I’ve worked my entire adult life to break free of the effects of his poisonous condemnations. The success of Bold attests to that.
But not your personal life.
‘What happened?’ Ava’s voice is a cautious whisper. Her fingers gently stroke my chest.
I want her to understand me. I’m not ashamed of my divorce per se. I regret allowing Marcus’s vitriol to distract me, and I hate that I let Monroe down.
‘Six months into our marriage, Monroe lost her mother. It was a very tough time for her, and it seemed that she changed overnight. She was grieving, of course. But she pushed me away. As if she didn’t need me anymore. I felt like a failure, like I could do nothing right.’
Ava is quiet and watchful, so I press on. ‘I hated feeling helpless. It reminded me of how Marcus made me feel growing up. He’d even voiced my shortcomings as a husband before the wedding. That he was right, and there seemed to be nothing I could do to fix us, made me shut down emotionally.’
And I’ve never opened up fully since.
‘Truth is, I allowed him to get into my head,’ I say. ‘Every time Monroe and I argued, I felt like his prediction was coming true. I had no control. I just kept letting her down. I don’t forgive myself for that weakness.’
For being too hung up on proving something to Marcus to focus on the more important relationship right in front of my face.
Shock registers in Ava’s expression. ‘It doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human. Life and relationships are hard enough when you have the support of loved ones. When you’re constantly criticised and worn down over years, it’s understandable that you’d occasionally believe the negativity. Did Monroe know? About your past?’
I shrug, desperate to change the subject now. I don’t want Ava to think less of me. I don’t want to show her all my vulnerabilities. ‘She didn’t know everything. I kept the worst stuff from her because I was young. I thought I’d left all of that behind by the time I reached my twenties, but these things have a habit of rearing their heads when we least expect, especially at times of stress.’
‘Yes, I agree.’ Her voice is full of empathy. ‘I’m sorry about your marriage.’
I shrug again, because part of me still has no idea how we went so wrong. ‘My biggest failing as a husband was that I didn’t communicate well. I kept things to myself, assumed my ex didn’t need to know what was in my head. Turned out she’d wanted to know, just as I needed to understand the way she was feeling. When we needed to pull together, we pushed each other away.’
I drag Ava into my arms and kiss her until the feelings of inadequacy fade. It’s as if I can’t get enough of her—she’s a balm for my body and mind. The only time I feel invincible.
‘What about you?’ I ask. ‘Any serious relationships?’ Perhaps she’s happy alone. The thought depresses me more than it should.
She shakes her head, her eyes wary. ‘I don’t have time for relationships.’
‘You’d make time if it was important to you.’ Just as she’s made time for this thing between us, even though she hates my plans for Hamilton’s.
But this isn’t a relationship.
‘Can’t you tell? I have abandonment issues,’ she says with an overly bright smile that tells me how close to the truth her statement is.
I smile back, but as I wrap my arms around her shoulders and hold her close, one thought circles my consciousness: I don’t want to walk away when this is over.
So keep seeing her.
‘Can I see you tomorrow night?’ I ask before panic robs me of speech. ‘I’d like to take you out for your birthday, if you don’t have plans,’ I add to cover the feeling that, emotionally, I’m cracking open a dusty chamber full of cobwebs.
‘I’d love that,’ she says on a sleepy sigh.
* * *
‘I’m taking you dancing,’ I say as we exit the rideshare vehicle in the East Village. She’s excited, her eyes bright as she grips my hand and follows me down a set of wrought-iron steps to the basement club. I’ve booked a table near the stage with booth-style seating. The bar is dark and intimate, reminiscent of a speakeasy. There’s live music and a small dance floor.
At our table, we order cocktails and bar snacks from our server. I tug Ava under my arm while we listen to the band play a soul classic, which showcases the vocalist’s amazing talents.
I press a kiss to her temple. ‘Seeing your parents’ vinyl collection reminded me how my parents loved to go out dancing.’
She smiles. ‘I meant to ask you last night, before I became...distracted. What was your father like?’
‘He was just a regular guy. A protector. Kind and hardworking, and made everything great—the opposite of Marcus.’
‘Did they know each other?’
I nod and explain the connection. ‘For a few years before my father and Marcus’s wife died, both couples became friends. I guess that’s what Mom felt she had in common with him, and perhaps the reason Marcus was jealous of my dad.’
‘How did your dad die?’ she asks, squeezing my hand so I know she understands.
‘An accident. He was making an arrest. There was a scuffle and he lost his footing. He fell and hit his head—a bleed on the brain.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ She raises my hand to her mouth and kisses my knuckles. ‘You must take after him—you have the same qualities. Protective, kind, hardworking. Do you look like him too?’
I shrug. ‘I guess. We have the same hair.’
She ruffles her fingers through my hair and we laugh together before sharing a long, distracting kiss that chases away my melancholy.
‘I bought you a small gift,’ I say when we break for air. I pull a heavy envelope from my breast pocket and slide it onto the table.
‘You didn’t need to do that.’ Despite her reprimand, she takes the envelope with that beautiful smile I’ve come to crave.
‘I know, but I wanted to. It’s no big deal.’ I press my mouth to hers, lingering over another kiss, which feels like a massive deal. Because I don’t want to stop. I want to put this dreamy, elated expression on her face every day. I want to wake up with her burrowed into my side the way I woke this morning. And even scarier, I want to protect her from her sadness and ensure that she never feels alone again.
Fuck...never is an impossible length of time. Permanence. Commitment.
I don’t do that. Not since Monroe.
But Ava is different. You’re different. Older and wiser and no longer a target of Marcus’s bitterness and antagonism.
Could I risk a relationship again once I’ve put Marcus behind me? A fresh outlook, a clean slate? That’s what I hope my gift gives Ava—new perspective and a chance to reconnect with her parents over something I know she loves.
She slides her finger under the seal and removes the document from the envelope. I watch with rising excitement filling
my chest as she reads the information, her gorgeous eyes flicking down the page.
I know exactly the moment she realises the nature of my gift—an all-inclusive, month-long cooking retreat in Tuscany—because her eyes widen and she gasps.
‘Sterling, I can’t accept this. It’s too much.’ The hand holding the itinerary trembles.
‘It’s a gift—of course you can accept it.’ I can tell she’s enchanted. She’s probably just a little scared of the possibilities. After the meal she created last night, she can’t continue to hide her talents at home.
A frown forms between her brows. ‘How can I go to Italy when there’s so much to do here?’
‘Easy.’ I kiss away the worry pursing her lips. ‘You ask for my help. If you want, I’ll put a manager into Hamilton’s while I implement the merger and sale. All you’ll need to do is sign the paperwork before you board the Bold jet.’ I cup her face and stare into her eyes. ‘Summer is the only time to visit Tuscany, and the return flight is open-ended, so you can travel around the rest of the country afterwards if you want—revisit your roots.’
She shifts, breaking my hold. ‘It’s not as simple as that.’ The look she shoots me is full of disappointment. ‘So you haven’t changed your mind...? About Hamilton’s?’
I frown, my stare pleading. ‘Is that really what you still want? Think about it. Don’t just cling to the past. Your parents and grandparents would want you to be happy. Cooking makes you happy.’
‘Cling to the past...?’ She stares for so long that prickles of sweat form under my collar. ‘Don’t you think that’s a little patronising, given your entire motivation for selling my company is linked to your past?’
She’s right. I am being hypocritical. I thought I could give her something she’d love even if it can’t be Hamilton’s, and I expected a little resistance. ‘I know it can’t compensate, but I genuinely hoped you’d enjoy the trip.’
‘Another way to look at it is that I’ll also be out of your hair so you can complete your plans unopposed.’ A small frown pinches her brows.
I say nothing, because she’s right. The gift helps appease my guilt. I’m selling her family business and effectively rendering her unemployed. ‘All valid points, but I don’t want to argue tonight—it’s your birthday. Please just consider going to Italy.’
I swallow, my chest tight at the idea if she spends months in Europe. But I want her to find her wings. To rediscover her rightful path, not the one to which circumstances led her. Just as her home is full of memories, so too is her current workplace.
I want her to be happy.
You care too much.
Maybe, but I hate any form of injustice. The fact that Ava’s young life was devastated by some selfish, careless drunk fills me with protective urges. I have the means and the inclination to grant her any dream she has. I could set her up in her own restaurant tomorrow, if she asked. I’d rather use my money to help Ava than to gift Josh Brent’s.
She nibbles at her bottom lip, clearly deciding whether to drop it or persist.
‘Will you dance with me?’ I ask.
She sighs and offers a reluctant smile. ‘Yes, but I retain my right to revisit this subject tomorrow.’
‘I’ll take that concession.’ I hold her hand and guide her onto the dance floor. The band, who are home-grown talent, is excellent. The playlist is an eclectic mix of R&B, rock and roll, soul and even swing music. I tug her close for a slow dance, my heart banging against hers the way it did this morning when I woke her with a sleepy, happy birthday kiss at the first light of dawn. Her eyes shone with unshed tears I kissed away as I pushed inside her and we made slow, heartfelt love.
Her eyes sear mine as if she too is remembering how we began this day. ‘Where did you learn to dance?’ Her hand grips my shoulder, one finger lightly brushing my neck above the collar of my shirt.
I swing her around, showing off my skills and distracting myself from the way her touch tightens my body with a need that makes me forget our business conflicts. Forget that I’m only interested in casual. That I never want to be responsible for a relationship failure again.
‘I learned for my wedding. Before that I didn’t know dancing could be so much fun—an excuse to hold someone close.’ I press my hand between her shoulder blades so her breasts graze my chest.
‘You have a lot of respect for Monroe, don’t you?’
Warning bells ring in my head. I want tonight to be all about Ava. But I want to be honest. ‘Yes. She’s an amazing person. I have a lot of respect for both my business partners.’
Ava gives a small nod, her expression guarded.
‘I’m meeting them next week in London, actually.’ Why are we discussing this? I want to dance her into exhaustion and then take her back to my place and make love to her all night. A grown-up birthday to remember, to replace the ones frozen in time.
At her shocked expression, I realise I should have mentioned this earlier. I’ll be out of town for a week, and right now that length of time away from her feels like a lifelong prison sentence.
So how will you watch her leave for Italy...?
I dip my chin and press my lips to the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. ‘I’m attending the memorial for Monroe’s late mother. She, Hudson and I have tagged on a business meeting, so I’ll be gone for five days. I meant to tell you.’
She stiffens slightly in my arms. ‘That’s very supportive of you.’
I pull back and stare into her eyes, trying to read her mind. What do I want to see? That she’ll miss me? That she’s jealous of Monroe because she cares about me the way I can no longer deny I care about her?
But there are more questions than answers in her blue gaze.
‘I guess you’re right, or perhaps I’m just compensating for my failure to do that when we were married.’
Her stare is hesitant. Then she shrugs. ‘Like you said—we’re both stuck in the past.’
She’s crossing a line. I don’t know whether to feel glad that she cares about me, or annoyed that she sees me so clearly.
Can you see her situation with greater clarity than you can see your own?
‘That’s why I think you should take that trip to Italy. You’re clinging to an old life, a life that isn’t wholly yours. A life that will soon be gone.’
Fire flashes in her eyes suddenly. ‘Yes, because I’ve already lost so much... Letting go of Hamilton’s would be easier if it was my choice, rather than having it thrust upon me.’
Guilt leaves me tense from head to toe. ‘I know how much you’ve lost, and I wish I could undo your pain.’
Instead, I’m the one turning her life upside down.
‘Do you? Your gift, as generous as it is, feels like a consolation prize. One I’m supposed to simply accept in lieu of my company.’
Her accusation kicks me in the gut—I don’t need the reminder of how much I’m taking from her. ‘I don’t want to hurt you. I just want you to consider following your dreams once all of this is over.’
‘I’ll embrace a new life,’ she says, her eyes stormy with emotion, ‘if you abandon your plan for revenge over a man who’s no longer alive to witness it.’
The air is sucked from my lungs as if I’ve entered a vacuum. ‘It’s not only about revenge. It’s about rejecting the last tie with the unhappy parts of my past.’ Can’t she see I’m trying to finally move on?
She stops dancing. ‘Do you really believe that revenge-selling Brent’s will bring you lasting peace?’ Her stare is incredulous. ‘You’ll still have your memories. Your mom will want to remember Marcus with fondness. She doesn’t know what you went through.’
‘Yes, it will help.’ My tone is sharp. More softly I add, ‘Turning something negative into a success is how I’ve built an entire empire. If, with the help of Hamilton’s, I can achieve that with Brent’s I can lay the
years of bullying to rest.’
The song changes to something more upbeat, but we’ve veered into sticky territory, the atmosphere heavy with discord. The last thing I wanted on her birthday.
As we head back to our seats, I’m struck by the unsettling knowledge that just because I’m allowing her close doesn’t mean she understands me the way I think I understand her.
And I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve been here before.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ava
I DON’T NORMALLY go running this late, but it’s the first chance I’ve had in a busy day and, aside from when I’m cooking, it’s when I think best. It’s dusk. From the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, the setting sun strikes Brooklyn Bridge ahead and turns the skyscrapers of lower Manhattan across the harbour into golden turrets of an urban fairy tale castle.
Except reality bites at my heels, pushing me harder as sweat stings my eyes. I’m trying to outrun my restlessness, my thoughts, but there’s no escape from my new reality or from the way I feel about the man who’s been instrumental in its creation.
Earlier today, with a heavy heart and a trembling pen, I signed the legal paperwork for Sterling’s merger. Only the documents are still on my desk. I couldn’t bear to deliver them, still clinging to the hope that he’ll relent. Because his feelings for me have surpassed his desire for vengeance.
Fear of the great unknown stretches out before me, along with another, more insistent anxiety: that I’m falling for Sterling. Nothing else explains my conflicted state. I want Hamilton’s, but I want him more.
But what does he want, beyond his revenge? And if he cared about me, would he plough on regardless and destroy my last link to my family?
Over breakfast at Gianni’s this morning—strong coffee and warm brioche—I reflected on my options. I could ask the new owners of Lombard Logistics to keep me on—my relationships with both the staff and customers would be a great asset to their management team. I could look for a similar role in a new company—my years of management experience would certainly be attractive. Or I could take my share of the profits Sterling promises and do something terrifying and brave. Something I’m scared to even voice aloud, so momentous is the possibility.
