by R. S. Elliot
For the hot mess of tears and betrayal that awaits me.
Before she even turns the computer screen around, I already know it’s coming.
Wedding Bells on the Horizon? Hawthorne Merger may Promise a Double Union.
The title doesn’t leave very little to the imagination. The photo they’ve assigned to it doesn’t either. There’s no doubt the man in the expensive tux, beside an equally expensive and statuesque blonde, is Zach Hawthorne.
My Zach Hawthorne.
Or so I thought.
I don’t have the stomach to read the article itself. He can’t be getting married. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would he have asked me to volunteer with him? Why would he have kissed me all those times and not said a word? Why would he have even asked me to wait if he knew there was no future for us?
Because men are dicks.
Not Zach.
I try to convince myself that this is all some misunderstanding. Maybe it’s a horrible dream I’ll wake up from in the morning. Tears prickle at the base of my eyelids, and I inhale slowly to fight them back.
This will not defeat me.
So much for hating affirmations. They’re all I seem to tell myself anymore.
“Who is she?”
“Apparently, she’s the daughter of someone his dad does business with,” Lyndsey explains and spins the computer screen back to face her. “I don’t know. I went to her Instagram, and it’s all pretty much just pictures of her in a bikini or with her pomeranian.”
My head flops down into my palms. “God, I’m so stupid.”
“No. You’re not.” Lyndsey’s hand strokes my back. She leans into me, her head falling against my shoulder. “It happens sometimes. Guys just suck. And I mean, he could still really like you. This might just be more of a business thing.”
I move away from her, forcing her to look me in the eye. “Because it being a ‘business thing’ makes me feel so much better.”
“You know, like how a prince can only marry a princess.” Her eyes roll up into her head, thinking about the many flaws in that statement. “Like in the old days.”
I blink, finding no ability to do anything else. “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but this really isn’t doing it.”
“We can go key his car.” Lyndsey’s sweet words sound more like they should be addressing a small child rather than me. “Would that make everything better?”
“No.” I chuckle, despite how miserable I feel. “I’ll figure this out on my own.”
Supposedly engaged to a blonde goddess, huh? Or at least a business/marriage-merger in the works. I should have seen something like this coming. Of course, there was more at stake than his career when it came to anyone finding out about our relationship.
But I need to hear it from his own lips. I need to know the truth, or whatever story he’s invented to paint himself as a pawn and not the villain. I’ll take either at this point.
Anything would be better than the stories my mind has already created.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Aly
It took one message to Marianne for advice on where to “bump into” Zach, and about three days of planning to figure out how to make it seem natural.
In truth, nothing made any of this feel any less awkward, and I still felt a little like a creepy stalker arranging a meeting to see my crush.
What else am I supposed to do?
He’s not giving me any choice. I asked him to meet me somewhere so we could talk, but he responded with the same curious excuses he always does.
It’s not the right time. We have to be careful.
But now I know why we’re really being careful. He can’t risk anyone seeing him out with his side chick while he’s trying to conduct a billion-dollar business deal. I’m not even that great of a mistress really. He doesn’t even meet me for late-night hook-ups like you would expect someone carrying out a passionate affair to do. All he wants to do is talk to me, ask me about my day, my classes, my mother.
Most women would be thrilled, I guess, to know their man doesn’t just want her for her body. Yet I can’t help but miss that physical connection. Even just to have his arms around me, to have him near me. Anything to reveal he cares enough to be here with me.
I didn’t sign up for a long-distance relationship with a man whose path I cross almost everyday. I didn’t sign up for an affair. I didn’t even expect a lifetime.
I just wanted something real.
“What can I get you?” the barista at the counter asks.
So here I am, back to the reality of near-stalking my pseudo-boyfriend in a coffee shop he frequents every weekend. All the names on the menu look like gibberish to me, catering to some sort of movie-theme that leaves me struggling to translate Star Wars references and Harry Potter quotes just to order a simple drink.
Where’s the one that means black coffee?
“I’ll just take the strongest thing you have,” I say finally, which earns me a cheeky smile from the sixteen-year-old behind the counter.
Great.
Somehow, I feel like I’ve just signed over my soul for a taste of whatever caffeine-infused brew they hide in the back for unsuspecting customers.
“Aly?”
Speak of the Devil himself.
I turn to face Zach, not surprised by the look of disappointment coloring his features. His eyes flick to the barista, who he signals with a tight shake of his head. He takes my card from the girl and hands her his own instead. “I’ll have the same.”
The barista’s light eyes roam up and down the length of him, flashing with something mischievous and daring. She bites her lip all while ringing up the order.
I’m seriously right here. There’s no way anyone could mistake me for his sister.
“Are you sure?” I ask once she walks away from the counter. “I’d say from the look on the girl’s face, I just ordered something guaranteed to wake the dead.”
He chuckles and hands me back my card. “You just ordered a blonde espresso.”
“Oh.”
Our eyes hold one another, trying to convey secrets neither one of us truly understands. My heart pounds simply being near him again, sparking to life like a puppet being yanked at the strings. He must know how much I’ve missed him. All my tortured emotions feel plastered across my face. I could be wearing a bright neon sign that says, “Take me. I’m yours,” and I still wouldn’t be more obvious. But his features are a wrap of longing and concern that tugs tighter at my heart.
Is he happy to see me at all? Or is it just as much of a torture for him to be beside me again?
“What are you doing here?” he asks, suddenly.
“Getting a cup of coffee. I mean this is a coffee shop, so...”
“We both know you’re not here for the coffee.” He waits for my shifting gaze to come back to him before adding, “You saw the article, didn’t you?”
I smile wryly.
A soft chuckle brushes past my lips, against my will. “She’s beautiful. When’s the wedding?”
“Aly, it’s not what you think.”
“It never is.”
He glances around us. “Do we have to do this here?”
“You wouldn’t meet me anywhere else.”
“Your drinks!” The barista emerges from the coffee station and produces the two blonde espressos we supposedly ordered. She shoves mine in my face, handing Zach his tenderly with a bat of her eyelashes. I’m pretty sure I can see numbers along the outside of the cup.
“Thanks,” Zach says, and nudges me to the side. “There’s a reason we can’t be seen together right now, Aly. And it isn’t because I’m trying to marry Chloe.”
“Then tell me what it is. I’m all ears,” I say, unconvinced. There’s no way this has nothing to do with Chloe. This is about far more than being caught at school. He won’t even come to my house for fear of someone seeing us. “I’m anxious, really, to know what this phenomenal secret is.”
He loops a
n arm around my shoulders and moves me deeper into the café. “Can we talk somewhere private?”
“Like where?” I look around for a hiding space. The café isn’t overly crowded, but there aren’t any dark corners or private rooms to drink in either. “The broom closet?”
“Just follow me.”
His arm guides me toward a small set of stairs that leads down into another part of the café. There is only one couple there and a crew member mopping the floor. Zach hands me my drink, then leaves me to talk to the worker. He whispers something to the kid, then hands him a slim piece of paper, like a note.
Not a note, I soon realize, as the other couple is swiftly ushered out of the room.
“Classy,” is all I can manage to say.
“I never used to do things like this until I met you,” he explains.
“I’m flattered.”
More annoyed. He keeps trying to change the subject, and being so close to him is slowly wearing me down. Now that we’re alone, all I can imagine is hurtling myself on top of him. “So let’s hear it.”
“My father wants me to date Chloe to get this deal to go through. We had a thing a year ago, and she wants to rekindle that relationship.” His eyes wander up the length of me. That same painful desire lingers in his gaze. Apparently, I am not the only one thinking about a quick romp in the café corner. “I obviously...don’t.”
I ignore the way his eyes over me feels. Instead, I blame the coffee between my palms for the fluttery burst of warmth coursing through my body. “Well, you’re doing a great job getting that message across.”
“My father said he would cut me off if I didn’t.”
“And you simply can’t live without your fortune.”
Typical. I’m still kicking myself for not realizing who he really was all this time, how completely far out of my stratosphere he was. Would I even want to enmesh myself in that kind of world? His family would just think I was a gold-digger. The whole world would think that. And I’ve worked too hard all my life for it to be trivialized.
Who are you kidding? You want this man more than air.
Zach shakes his head. His sullen stare warns there is more to the story than he’s letting on, but I am so confused I don’t know what to believe anymore. “All that means nothing to me, Aly. But my mother...he wouldn’t let me see her again. I know him. He would do anything to get what he wants and make my life miserable in the process.”
His father.
Of course. Derek and Marianne mentioned Zach taking on something as a way to appease his father. I was simply so blinded by my pain, I hadn’t thought the two could be connected in any way.
Derek swears Zach cares about me. There were simply issues beyond our control he needed to handle first. With this confession, I can almost forgive him. Though it makes the only solution to his problem agonizingly clear.
His mother.
Even if Zach never mentioned his father, he had talked about his mother before. There’s no one comparable to her. She was his rock growing up, his world. Now, the role of protector shifts to the child who wants nothing more than his mother’s happiness. From what Marianne had said, it couldn’t have been easy for Zach’s mother to live with a man like his father. If Zach were to leave his family, leave her behind, there’s no telling how his father might retaliate. I couldn’t be responsible for something like that.
I’d never forgive myself.
“So this is it.” Well, at least I know the truth. He may not want to admit it’s over, but nothing more can exist between us if he wants to keep his mother close. “You marry the blonde goddess, and I go back to being Aly from Home Depot.”
“No, that’s not-”
“It’s fine.” I don’t want to hear any more excuses. I deserve to move on as much as he does, and I’m finally prepared to do so.
Almost. “I understand. You’re not the only one who makes sacrifices for the ones he loves, and I know all too well what it’s like to lose a parent.”
He softens, knowing what’s coming, knowing already that this is over.
“I would never stand in between you and your mother, Zach. So there is no obligation. I just should have heard the truth a long time ago.”
As I turn to leave, he grips my sleeve and pulls me back. “Aly, wait. I...I can’t lose you.”
“I’m not going to be your mistress or whatever it is you people call it.”
“No.” He removes his hands from my arm and plunges it into his hair. “I just need some time to sort this out.”
“That’s all you ever need. Time. Time to wait, time to explain. Well, you’re running out of time, and I’m running out of patience.”
Zach stares at me in silence. Maybe contemplating how much I truly mean the words I’ve just said. I’m not even sure how much I believe them.
“Why didn’t you tell me Jackson was blackmailing you?” he asks.
The blood in my veins curdles. Every artery clogs, cutting off the blood supply to my heart and the oxygen to my brain.
“He isn’t blackmailing me.” Which is true. “He just sent me a text accusing me of sleeping with you to get the apprenticeship.”
“And this was before…”
“Yes, it was before.” If he’s asking me about it, Jackson must have come to him for more leverage. Jackson certainly wasn’t getting anywhere with me. I have no money for blackmail. But if he knows who Zach really is, how much he’s worth, Jackson might have said anything to convince Zach to pay for his silence. “What did he say to you? Is that why you’ve been…”
“He mentioned something similar.”
His clipped words worry me. He’s hiding something. Again. “And? Did you believe he knows something?”
“No. But we shouldn’t take any chances.” Zach reaches for the coffee in my hands and sets them both on a table beside us. His arms fold about me, and I breathe in the warm citrusy musk of his cologne.
This is home. This is everything.
This is foolish. Yet, I can’t seem to convince myself to care.
“Please, Aly. I know this isn’t easy. But I’m going to make it work.”
My body absorbs into his. I am lost to the heat radiating off of him, his scent, and the firm form of his body beneath his plush sweater. I want to stay lost, to forget where I am. These are empty promises, I warn myself. Though sometimes, we just need to believe in magic.
His hand cups my chin, lifting my face up toward him. Before I know what’s happening, his lips press against mine, and I am falling all over again. It doesn’t last long. Not enough for me to completely forget the gravity of the conversation we just shared.
We make our way back upstairs. The same crew member he paid is standing at the top, guarding the entrance. I walk ahead of Zach as he talks to the kid. Across the room is a tall blonde. She seems completely out of place in a coffee shop like this. Not that the steep prices of the coffee are anything to sneer at.
Her normal coffee selection, I imagine, involves something imported fresh the morning of and brewed in a solid gold coffee maker. Instead of sugar, she probably sprinkles diamonds into her cup.
Other customers have started to notice her, too. Beyond the ridiculously overpriced outfit that simply screams “mug me,” her beauty is at a celebrity level. I bet she has a personal trainer, or consults with a strict hourly food calculator that regulates every meal and calorie.
She looks perfect. Unreal. I would never live up to her.
Zach appears beside me. His eyes widen with confusion, trying to make sense of the vision in front of him. A lump bobs at the center of his throat. He shifts his gaze to me quickly, then back to the radiant beauty.
“Zach,” she says, finally noticing him across the room. Her tiny heels tap against the tile floors. Anxiety wells within me just watching her balance in those shoes. “I’ve been looking for you.”
I hang back, taking an alternate path to make it seem less obvious we were just together. It doesn’t work. She senses the tension
between us, or catches one of Zach’s regretful side-glances, and delivers a scathing glare of her own in my direction. She doesn’t offer any further acknowledgement of my presence than that. A woman like me is so far beneath her notice, I guess. Instead, she loops her arm through Zach’s and draws him tighter to her.
“Come on, honey bear. We have to leave soon, or we’re going to be late.”
She leans in to kiss him, and my heart lurches forward.
I can’t watch this, and yet my eyes remain fixed on the two ahead of me. To my relief, Zach jerks his head away, disguising his action by calling out one final “thank you” to the kid watching the downstairs entrance.
Finally free of the hypnotic allure of their intimacy, I tip my attention down to my coffee cup. How many times has he kissed her already? How far has this new chapter of their relationship traveled all in the name of appeasing his father?
This week started out so promising.
I just want to curl up in a nice warm blanket and sleep for the next three days. But I have work in thirty minutes and class the next morning. No time for oversleeping and wallowing in regret. I’ll just pour myself into my work and focus on getting the organization up and running. That should take my mind off of things.
My cell phone rings. The name “Oakland Regional Center” flashes across the screen. My chest tightens. I haven’t seen that number in over a year. I forgot I’d even saved it into my phone. They can’t be calling about our medical payments. We’ve been on time with them so far, and they are usually handled through a separate company.
I answer it. “Hello?”
“Hi, I’m trying to reach Miss Aly McKenzie.” The calm voice of the receptionist on the other side of the phone unnerves me.
“This is her.”
“This is Oakland Regional Center. We need you to come down to the hospital right away,” she says.
“It’s about your mother.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
