Never Got Over You

by Scott, S. L.

  Laughter, even the lighter giggles that bubble up, feels good to release as if some pressure has been taken off. I shift in my seat, draping one of my legs over his. “When do we tell our families?”

  “Guess it depends on if you want to have a big ceremony or to elope.”

  It’s nice to take my mind off my worries for a minute. “Tatum’s been planning my wedding since I was seven. She’d kill me if we eloped. But having a huge New York wedding with a bunch of people I don’t know, or barely at best, because we have to invite everyone my parents have ever met so they’re not offended isn’t appealing.”

  “My parents are the same way. I swear they know everyone in LA. Where does that leave us?”

  Despite the nice thoughts about the future, the concerns for my dad are tightly wedged in my heart. “I don’t know. I’m still trying to get my head around my dad having a heart attack. I know I want him to meet my husband, the father of his grandkids, and that is far more important than a big showy to-do for me.” I undo my seat belt altogether and scoot onto his lap with my arms looped around his neck. I sigh. This is what I needed. To be held. Because I just don’t know what we’ll find upon touchdown.

  * * *

  I duck inside the limo to find Jackson sitting there. “A limousine? Really?”

  “Figured if you were bringing your new boyfriend—” He goes silent when Nick ducks into the vehicle.

  Figures he’d act like a weirdo in front of my boy—fiancé. Ooohhh. That has such a great ring to it. I wiggle my finger, ready to make it public, and nothing says engaged and taken like a ring wrapped around a certain left-hand finger. Maybe I’ll pop by Tiffany’s when my dad is better. Positive. I need to think positive when it comes to him. I won’t be able to handle any other outcome than a full recovery. My mind and thoughts are such a mess. I wave my hand between the two of them. “Nick. Jackson. Jackson. Nick Christiansen.”

  “I, uhhhh . . . don’t understand.” Nonsense tumbles from Jackson’s mouth.

  Staring at my brother, I’m so confused as to what’s wrong with him. I turn to Nick quickly, resting my hand on his leg as the car pulls away from passenger pick-up at JFK. “Ignore my brother. He can be so rude sometimes. My mom would be horrified.”

  “It’s okay,” Nick replies, quieter than usual. I was nervous to meet his family but didn’t think twice about him feeling the same meeting mine. Is that what’s come over him? “It’s nice to meet you.” His expression is tight, clearly uncomfortable.

  I kick my brother’s shoe. “Why’d you have to embarrass us like this? The limo was a dumb prank, Jackson.” I focus on Nick and how I can make him more comfortable in this awkward situation. “I’m sorry. We used to play pranks on each other growing up.” My lips tighten as I grit my teeth, glaring at my brother. “I thought we had outgrown that.” Back to Nick, he doesn’t seem bothered per se, but he’s hard to read right now, so I keep rambling to fill the silence, “I know a bright pink limo isn’t exactly cool, but—”

  “It’s fine. It really is.” He laughs, but I’ve never seen a tighter smile.

  What a mess. I’m so mad at my brother for making this so uncomfortable. Jackson turns away, facing the driver ahead, but I can see the downturn of his expression in the reflection of the privacy glass. “Yeah, dumb. Sorry.”

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  When my brother angles back to face us, stabbing Nick with a glare, my gaze volleys between the two of them. “What am I missing?”

  Nick says, “Nothing.”

  Jackson grunts, “Nothing.”

  “Well, you’re not Dad, so lower the temperature of overprotectiveness and stop trying to intimidate Nick.”

  “He’s not intimidating,” Nick clarifies before I finish.

  Jackson huffs. “What the fuck is going on? This is your new boyfriend? Was this a setup all along?”

  “What?” I’m hit with the words, but none of them make sense. “What are you talking about?” He signals to Nick, who I catch vigorously shaking his head. “And what are you doing?” I rub my temple, wondering if I’m going insane.

  Sliding away from Nick to the other side of the seat, I complete the triangle of us, but now I can see both of them. Like they’re speaking their own language, their eyes never deviate from each other. I throw my hands in the air. “Oh my God, somebody tell me what’s going on.”

  That tantrum gets both of their attention. Jackson eyes Nick like he’s about to pull a fast one and then sits back. My brother says, “Clearly, she’s in the dark. Good job keeping that secret, but I’m certain she’s not going to be too happy to hear how she was used.”

  “Jackson! Stop being rude. Nobody’s using me.”

  He continues to eye Nick, and then asks, “Do you want to tell her, or do you want me to do the dirty deed?”

  A hard stare softens when Nick looks at me. A hard swallow and fidgeting with his watch don’t bring me any comfort. With my heart in my throat, I say, “Nick?” He reaches over to take my hand from the seat between us, but I pull back, needing the truth instead of being touched. “Tell me what he’s talking about. Please.”

  Giving my brother the side-eye again, Nick then turns to me, and says, “I know Jackson—”

  “I think the two of you have made that obvious. What happened that you’re sitting here in a car unexpectedly together, and I’m being told you’re using me?”

  His words are tentative when he says, “I can explain—”

  “I’m listening.”

  Jackson sits forward, and says, “It’s no big deal.”

  “Then why are you acting this way?”

  He huffs. “We’ve met in passing through work. That’s all.”

  “Really? When?” My gaze slides over to Nick, who’s sitting quietly listening. When I look back at my brother, I say, “This is a small world.”

  “Yeah, tiny,” my brother adds.

  I move toward Nick again, just a little. “That’s pretty incredible that you guys have met before. You didn’t know he was my brother?”

  Clearing his throat, Nick says, “No, not until I got into this car. I guess it’s not that out of the ordinary when you both work in the financial sector, but there aren’t many St. Jameses who have made a name like my family has.” I elbow him playfully. “Despite what you seem to think.”

  “Yeah, I’m finding that out.”

  Giving Jackson my attention again, I ask, “Why are you so bothered, and how is he using me?”

  “Just surprised.” He shrugs. “Like you said, overprotective of my sister.”

  My heart squeezes. We’ve always gotten along well, but he’s still my little brother although he acts like the eldest. “That’s sweet, but you don’t have to worry about Nick. He’s amazing. You’ll see.”

  “Incredible,” he mumbles under his breath.

  Being the bigger man, Nick holds out his hand in a peace offering because he’s the best. “Maybe we can start over, man.”

  Jackson takes hold, and they shake on it. “Yeah. Sure. No hard feelings.” Sure, now he’s all nonchalant about it. Annoying.

  I will never understand guys. I have to talk everything out, but they just shake hands and move on like everything’s hunky-dory. Whatever. I don’t have the energy for this. “Have you gotten an update on Dad?”

  “Yeah, Mom said he’s out of surgery and in recovery.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “I got the message right before you got in the car, and I was caught off guard by your boyfriend. Anyway, Dad’s doing well. Mom said she’ll be able to see him once he’s moved into a room.”

  Resting my head back in relief, I close my eyes and release a deep breath. “Thank God.” I know he’s not in the clear, but hearing he’s doing well right now is what I need to hang on to.

  With the stuff between Nick and Jackson still lingering in the air, I move to sit closer to Nick again. I whisper, “You sure you want to mar—” I stop, remembering we have an audienc
e. “To meet my parents?”

  I expect a quip or nod of reassurance. That’s not what I get, though. Nick hems and then nods without saying a word. Very unlike him. But maybe the thing with my brother and being stuck in the car together is uncomfortable. “Guess we’ll settle in since we caught prime time rush-hour traffic and will be here a while.”

  Jackson gets distracted by his phone, but Nick just stares out the window. I whisper, “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I made a mess of things, and this is just par for the course.” I lean against him and stare out the window as well.

  As soon as the limo pulls up to the hospital, I climb over Nick to get out. In my rush to get inside, I notice him and Jackson speaking back at the car. “Are you guys coming?”

  Jackson replies, “Tell Mom I’ll be right in.”

  “Okay,” I say to myself, thinking they’re still trying to work things out. Just inside the doors, I search the waiting room with no sight of my mom anywhere.

  “Natalie?” I hear my name ahead, but I barely recognize the woman coming toward me. Not that she’s not her usual beautiful self, but she’s not in head-to-toe designer, and she’s not wearing makeup. Instead, she’s in a fluffy fleece pullover and jogging pants with slip-on sneakers.

  If emotions were an outfit, that’s how I’m feeling as well. “Mom?” Our arms fly around each other, and the tears I’d had a brief reprieve from return and fall down my cheeks. “How is he?”

  “Resting.” She strokes my hair and then angles to see my face. “They gave us good news and told us everything went well.”

  “That’s good to hear, but what happened?”

  “He was supposed to be slowing down. That’s what this was all about. Enjoying the rewards of our hard work.” She sniffles. “We decided it was best to retire—”

  “What?” Stepping to the side, out of the walkway, we hold hands. Leaning against the wall, I stand there in disbelief at what I’m hearing. “When did you retire?”

  “Officially, a few days ago.”

  “What does that mean exactly?”

  A gentle smile appears, and she tucks hair behind my ears. “It means we get to have a life again.”

  “No, Mom, I understand what retirement means. You just walked away from the company?”

  Shrugging like a teen who got busted sneaking out, she replies, “We sold it. I know this comes as a surprise, but we were going to tell you over Sunday dinner.” A million thoughts are running through my mind, but I can’t seem to put a voice to them. She rubs both of my arms and then brings me into her fold. “It’s a good thing, Natalie.”

  “If it’s so good, why did Dad have a heart attack?” I snap.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “We have time.”

  She sighs heavily and says, “Let’s get some fresh air.” We walk outside and, with her arm looped with mine, stroll a few feet away from the door before I spot Nick and Jackson still talking.

  Nick rubs his jaw, staring into the early evening sky while Jackson uses his hands to explain something. It’s a characteristic action of a St. James. “What could they still be talking about?”

  She releases me, her hands in fists. “Why is he here? Hasn’t his family done enough damage?”

  “Nick?” My head jerks from her reaction. She has to be confusing him with someone else. “That’s my boyfriend, Mom. What damage could he have done?”

  Scowling, she points at him. “His family caused your father’s heart attack!”

  28

  Nick

  “Are you trying to kill him?” Natalie’s mom shouts at me like I’ve never heard from anyone before. This is a mother protecting her family, a wife protecting her husband from an attacker. From me, which makes no sense. “Leave us alone!”

  “Mom,” Natalie says with horror changing her tone. “Why are you yelling at him?”

  Shit.

  I leave Jackson on the sidewalk as I run to get Natalie out from the middle of this mess. With my hands up in surrender on approach, I say, “I can explain, Mrs. St. James. Please, just let me—”

  Ignoring me completely, Martine homes in on her daughter. “Natalie, if it weren’t for them, your dad wouldn’t be here. He was fighting for us, for you, and look where he ended up.” She grabs Natalie and pulls her behind her, using her body as a wall between us. “Get away from us, or I’ll call the police.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I understand everything. It was a good deal that wasn’t good enough for you. I won’t let you come near my daughter again, or my son.” Her eyes glance behind me. “Jackson.” It’s one call of his name that has him right there when she needs him.

  I plead with the only case I have left. “She doesn’t know, Mrs. St. James.”

  Shaking her head, she says, “What are you saying?”

  Natalie moves to her side but then comes to stand next to me. My gut twists that she’s defending me when she doesn’t have the facts. Her mom’s eyes narrow. “What are you doing, Natalie? You can’t be serious?”

  Taking my hand, she nods. “I love him.”

  Blinking in disbelief, her mother takes a few steps back and then looks at her son for an ally. “Tell her. Tell her what she’s choosing. Tell her who these people are and what they’ve done to your father.”

  Looking at me and then to his mom, Jackson says, “Mom—”

  “Tell her!” When he fails her, she says, “Listen to me, Natalie. We sold the company to them because we trusted them to treat our companies and clients like family. But they only care about business. The contract stated they were to keep all staff and support other company interests.” She moves closer again, trying to convince her daughter that I’m the devil. She jabs her finger in the air in front of me. “But these people broke that agreement when they threatened to dissolve the assets of your company.”

  My hand is dropped, and Natalie stands there unblinking. Jackson covers his mother’s shoulder and tries to pull her back. “Mom, I think we should give Nick a chance to explain.”

  “He’ll put poison in her ear while her dad tries to recover. I can’t trust him, and neither should you.” Their mother is too wound up, too angry, too emotional over her husband understandably, and looking for someone to blame. I want to butt in, to tell my side of the story, to make them understand I would never go against my word, especially where Natalie’s concerned. But what can I say that will have her believing me over her own mother?

  Natalie looks at me again and then steps closer, her hands so light, not taking any ownership like she usually does, as they touch my chest. “Tell them they’re confused, Nick. You’d never hurt me or my family.”

  I stand in my own agony, not wanting to turn her against the family that she’s telling me I’d defend. I would. I will . . . but why do I have to sacrifice the thing I cherish more than anything else in this world? We’ve barely had enough time to launch into a new life together.

  Against my better judgment, my gut tells me not to reveal more than they have already.

  “I wouldn’t hurt or betray either.” Such admissions should come easier. The words on the surface are a good thing, but buried inside the syllables is a confession that I’d give her up to keep her at peace with her parents. I lower my head while taking her hands and holding them against my stomach. Her fingers are so delicate, her wrists small. Everything about her is so breakable, even the parts of her I can’t see on the outside, like her heart.

  Is that what I’m doing? Breaking hearts because one of us will lose. It’s me or them, so I choose to hurt myself over this beautiful woman before me.

  She turns back to her mother, the same plea still residing in her eyes. “I trust him implicitly. Nick would never hurt me.”

  Her mom replies, “Ask him. Ask him who bought the company. Ask him who sat in our offices and promised to treat our business like it was a part of their family. Ask him, Natalie, if he went back on his word and cut loans from the portfolio that he
said he would leave alone.”

  My love, my reason to exist, spins in confusion until she’s facing me again. “Tell her she’s wrong. There’s been a misunderstanding.” When I don’t say anything, she fists my shirt. “Tell her, Nick. Tell her how much you love me,” she demands, raising her voice. “Tell her,”

  “I can’t.”

  Her lips part, but I don’t think she’s breathing. I take hold of her waist to keep her from leaving, but her body slowly slips through my hands. “What do you mean you can’t? You love me, remember?”

  “I remember, and I do. I love you so much, baby, but—”

  “But what?”

  Martine starts crying. “What are you doing, Natalie? You’re choosing him over your own family. Over your dad, who would do anything for you?”

  Natalie is drawn to look at her, to see the anguish on her face. Trapped between the two of us, she replies, “I was going to marry him.”

  The tense has the most impact, gutting me. I ask, “Was?”

  “Am,” she corrects, her nerves getting the better of her as her voice begins to tremble. “Mom, Nick—”

  “Christiansen,” her mother adds. “Legal Counsel for Christiansen Wealth Management. Son of Corbin Christiansen, third in line of succession to CEO.”

  I’m stunned to the spot hearing my résumé thrown out like it was a memorization project. But Natalie furrows her brow and asks, “How do you know all of that?”

  Other emotions have drained from her face, and now just the anger remains. “Christiansen Wealth Management now owns Manhattan Financial and STJ Co. But you might want to check in with your boyfriend because they’re cutting funding to your company by ending that part of the deal.” The mic wasn’t laid down. It was dropped like a ten-ton weight on top of my chest. She walks back to the hospital, the sliding glass doors opening as if commanded.

  Jackson eyes me, and then says, “Good luck,” before heading into the hospital.

  But Natalie remains, standing there watching cars come and go from the ER entrance farther down the sidewalk. I’m not sure what to say, and I’m thinking Natalie feels the same way. The truth will find a way, but I have to take the first step to fix the damage. I say, “She’s right. CWM bought Manhattan Financial. But she’s wrong when she says I betrayed you. The truth is that I didn’t put the pieces of the puzzle together. Not until today, and then it was too late. You were there with my family. You heard me assume your last name was as common as Smith in New York City.”