Honestly? I can’t believe my luck keeps shifting from bad to fantastic. For once, things are going right.
I hope.
As I watch Tomas drive off, part of me wants to dance around the parking lot in celebration but I’m afraid to jinx myself and this fragile new start between us. It’d still be too easy for me to do something wrong and screw this up.
Seems like the only thing I can do well in my personal life up until this point is screw things up. What other explanation is there?
Happiness finally seems within my reach. I know this isn’t a done deal, but I’m going to proceed with my plans as if it is. Once I finish all the paperwork for this deal and it’s filed, then I’ll notify my firm, tell them I’m moving, and see if they’ll work with me. If not…oh well. I’m moving regardless.
Then I’ll have to sell my apartment in New York, which shouldn’t be difficult. I’ll offload it before I sell the one in Miami, because all my things are in Miami, anyway. I’ll have to arrange movers for that. The New York studio, I bought it furnished and don’t keep anything there other than basic toiletries. I can have a cleaning service go in and freshen things up and then get it listed with an agent without even returning to the city.
Miami, however, I’ll need to do in person. I’ll have to pack, but it shouldn’t be difficult. Heck, a lot of the furniture I can sell with my condo, because I won’t need it.
I prefer Tom’s furniture, anyway. It’s not just comfortable, but comforting.
Cozy.
I’ve missed that.
Or, maybe I can convince Tom to take a week off, we can drive down, rent a truck, and drive everything back. Or I can drive down, start packing, and he can fly down for a weekend, help me load a moving truck, and we can drive back together.
Miami isn’t my home. One of my mistakes was letting Mom have too much say in my life about my career, and too much of a hand in decorating my place when I moved back to Miami. It’s to her taste and standards, not mine, all done under the auspices of her wanting to “make life easier on me.”
Controlling me is more like it, but I threw myself into my work, thinking it would lessen the pain I felt over walking away from Tom and Maudlin Falls.
Being honest with myself means admitting that I’ve never felt comfortable in what’s supposed to be my “home.”
Maybe that’s one of the reasons I love Tom so much. From the night we first met, he always made me feel comfortable.
Tom is my home.
What I need to do right now is go collect my things from the hotel, check out, and file the first round of paperwork with the county ahead of next week’s zoning hearings. Once this poop hits the fan at the office, I have a feeling my name will be mud around the firm. I can only stall them for so long.
My major hope is to delay them long enough I can already have the process so far under way that the developer can’t come back with a counteroffer for Keith that makes him rethink selling the property. I don’t think that’ll happen, but a large enough payout might make anyone reconsider their options.
Once the historic designation is completed, however, and filed with the county and the state, it’ll mean the buildings and cemetery will be protected even if he does one day sell the property.
Marshaling vocal support from the town for this project won’t be an issue now that they won’t have to put any massive amounts of money into it. The effort would be compounded ten-fold trying to stop the developers from putting in a Mega Warehouse. It could be done, but with that much money behind the project, I wouldn’t be shocked if palms end up greased in some way and it goes through anyway. More difficult for a housing development to slide by under the radar when the logical arguments about additional residential impact—with insufficient infrastructure to support them—can’t be denied.
But a shopping center?
That’s mostly a plus gain for the county in terms of taxes and employment with minimum disruption to the existing landscape. I know I can apply for grants for him from a variety of organizations and even federal government agencies to help get this project off the ground for Keith.
I use the time during my drive to the motel to plan a wedding in my head. Because there’s no way I’m letting Tomas go now that I’ve won him back. I used to think not getting married meant I was more sophisticated and emotionally elevated.
Now?
I need that man to be my husband.
If he’ll say yes.
Prenup? Absolutely—to protect him. He’s got way more tangible assets than I do.
I pull into the parking spot in front of my room and spot a shiny black Jag parked in the spot in front of the next room.
It only draws my attention because it looks like—
No. It can’t be.
Except when I step out of my SUV, the door to the room next to mine opens and, yep.
There stands Freddy.
I want to strangle him. That’s why I don’t acknowledge him with anything more than a glare when I head to my room.
“Desi? Desi!” He hurries over as I insert my keycard in the lock. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”
“Not really. Why are you here?”
It literally takes him aback that I’m not sucking up to him. “I knew you were here for the deal and thought I’d surprise you. Besides, when your mom told me yesterday you were insisting we broke up, I knew I had to come see you.”
“That doesn’t answer my question. And how’d you even know I’m here?”
“Oh, I bribed Marisol to keep me posted so I could surprise you.”
He sounds proud of himself and I silently swear at her in my head.
When he tries to follow me into my room, I stop and turn, putting up a hand, which forces him back a step. “Where do you think you’re going?” I ask.
“Uh, into your room with you, so we can talk in private.”
“We have nothing to talk about.”
He looks shocked. “Oh, come on, Desi. I know what’s going on here. You wanted another fling with your ex. Okay, fine. You’ve had it. Time to finish this deal and come home to Miami. You have a career there, you know.”
The utter nerve of this man. “Why do you think you have any right to tell me anything about my life?”
“Uh, hello? We’re in a relationship?”
I literally laugh in his face. “Uh, no, we are not. I broke up with you, and I meant it. Why do you think I haven’t been returning your calls or texts?”
The shock on his face shouldn’t give me nearly as much satisfaction as it does. “But your mom—”
“My mom is inappropriately interfering in my life in an extremely dysfunctional way. I’ll deal with her. You and I are not an item and haven’t been for weeks. We are not ever going to be an item again. I know you have unrealistically set your aspirations on reconciling with me, but it’s not happening.”
I remember my other beef with him. “Besides, let’s talk about how you lied about the details of this deal. You didn’t include all the information about the historical buildings and the graveyard on the property. That changes everything, and you damned well know it. The graveyard, by state law, has to be protected.”
A dark glare fills his features. “Look, you’re being unreasonable.”
“Unreasonable?” A thought hits me. “No one’s ever told you no, have they?”
“Why should anyone tell me no?”
Yep. It’s all clear to me now. Not only have I not slept with him despite his attempts to talk me into it, I’m breaking up with him and not the other way around. “Look. Nothing about our relationship makes me want to take it any farther than it went, or pick up where we left off. Nothing. There’s a reason I didn’t sleep with you and it starts with the fact that I don’t trust you. I damn sure don’t trust you after I found out the trickery you attempted with this deal.”
The wide-eyed shock on his face nearly makes me laugh. “How could you say such a horrible thing about me?”
I shrug. “
It’s the truth. I see how easily you lie to people, and that means you’re probably going to lie to me, if you haven’t already. I can’t be with someone like that.”
“Uh, news flash, we’re attorneys. It’s what we do.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve practiced law for nearly twelve years now, and I’ve never had to lie to or for my clients.”
He primly folds his arms over his chest. “You aren’t making much sense. And if you’ve never lied for your clients, you’re not nearly as good of an attorney as you think you are.”
“I’ll put my billable hours up against yours any day of the week and twice on Sundays, pendejo.” I point. “Out of my room. Now.”
I’m enjoying the heck out of the worry creasing his exfoliated forehead and perfectly shaped eyebrows. “So what are you saying?”
I don’t want to tell him too much. I know if I do, it’ll make it over to the partners before I’m ready, and I want at least another day to get everything filed and make sure my poop’s in a group before I have to take some swings at the big guns all by my lonesome. “I’m saying that you lying to me and failing to disclose crucial details to me exposed me to potential legal jeopardy, and I’m filing a complaint with the senior partners about that when I get back to Miami.”
His gaze widens. “You can’t do that!” I know for a fact I’m not the first person to file a complaint against him, but his personal connections within the firm have protected him to date.
Had I known about the other complaints—which he confided to me when he was too drunk to remember even saying it, and which led me to finally dump him when he was sober—I never would have dated him to start with.
Not even for my mother.
I raise my voice because despite being an attorney, he hates attention being called to him when he’s being called to the carpet in public. “Leave, now. Because I’m pissed off you’ve created more work for me to salvage this deal. When I tell the partners how you’ve screwed this up—”
“Okay! Okay!” He glares at me as he takes a step back toward the door. “Dinner tonight?”
“No! Pack your stuff and get out of here.” I slam the door in his face, forcing him to take another step back or get hit by it.
“I’ll check in with you later!” he calls to me through the door.
I snap the deadbolt.
He’s going to be keeping an eye out for me to leave, I’m sure. That means I need to work fast. I go ahead and take a shower, since my stuff’s all here. Then I get packed and peek through the window. His car is sitting there. I open the door just a crack and can see his curtains are drawn.
Good.
I close my door again, make one final sweep of my room, and gather all my stuff by the door. Then I turn on the TV and set the sleep timer so it’s not blaring loudly and disturbing my neighbor on the other side.
But Freddy should be able to hear it.
I’m about to make a dash for it when I hear his door open. I’m peeking through the view finder when he walks over to my door and knocks. I step back from the door and stand by the bathroom. “Who is it?”
“It’s me. Can I get you something for dinner?”
“No. Go away.”
“Okay, fine. I really want to talk though.”
“Go away, Freddy, or I’ll add harassment to my complaint to the partners.” In my mind, I’m already revising my plans. I’m not going to ask the firm to let me work from here—I’m going to give them notice outright.
Working at the same firm with Freddy will be impossible, because now he sees me as some golden ring to fight for. With my mother egging him on to “win me back,” I’m sure.
I have no interest in that or in him.
I finally hear a car start a moment later. When I look, I see him pulling out of the parking lot. I give it a couple of minutes and then bolt for my car with all my stuff while leaving the card key on the table in the room. I’ll call the front desk later and tell them I’m checked out. I don’t want them sending housekeeping out too soon and tipping him off that I’ve left.
Now I can get back to Tom.
I can finally go home.
Chapter Thirteen
Tomas
I feel like I’m caught in a dream.
Fortunately, not a nightmare. Not anymore. I swing by the store first, just to make sure nothing’s caught fire or blown up while I’ve been gone. I ignore a few looks that mean there has been low-level chatter about me, reassure myself everything’s fine with the store, and get out again as quickly as possible without discussing my personal life at all.
Driving home, I think about how my world’s shifted on its axis over the past twenty-four hours.
Desi’s home.
He wants me.
He wants me forever.
I shouldn’t get my hopes up this soon, right?
I mean, that’s stupid and reckless and…
He’s home.
I really want to give him the benefit of the doubt, even though I asked him for time and he’s eagerly agreed to give it to me. As far as I know, he’s never lied to me. He says he wants to make things right between us.
Without hesitation, he agreed to every single one of my conditions without asking for any modifications.
An attorney. Who doesn’t want to negotiate about something.
That sounds like a guy eager to make amends. Maybe it makes me stupid, but I’m willing to give him a chance.
Yes, that’s obviously my pain and loneliness talking. Except I’m beyond the point of caring about the reasons why I’m heavily leaning toward going with my gut and trusting him.
It feels good pulling into my driveway and hugging the left side of the pavement, like I always used to, leaving Des plenty of room to park next to me. It took me a long time after he left to start parking in the middle of the driveway. The first time I did, I cried, because I think I knew even then it meant he wasn’t coming home. Not for good.
Even the residual headache I feel from my overindulgence last night can’t dim my mood. There will be a lot of talking tonight, I’m certain. We can cook dinner together, snuggle on the couch, and then see what happens from there.
As much as I’d love to make love to him tonight, I’m not sure if my body will be into it after last night and the emotional turmoil of this afternoon’s discussion. I’m thirty-four, not twenty-four. It’ll be enough just to hold him, be held by him, and relish the comfort of his presence in my bed while I’m not too drunk to appreciate it.
I think about the rings, which are upstairs in my dresser drawer.
Does it make me hopelessly needy that I want to go put mine on right now?
When I let myself in, Jester greets me at the door with happy, chirpy maows I haven’t heard him make in a while.
Come to think of it, he’s rarely made them since Des left for good.
I scoop him into my arms. Maybe I wasn’t the only miserable one and I was just too self-centered to realize it.
“Hey, he’s coming back. He promised us, and I believe him.”
“Maow!” He struggles to get down so I put him on the floor and he darts into the kitchen. Apparently, one of us didn’t get the pantry door shut, because the peanut butter jar’s on the floor over by the garage door and there are several other cans and jars scattered on the floor, apparent victims of his struggle to liberate the peanut butter. Fortunately, none of them have broken open.
“Good grief.” At least he didn’t get the lid off of it. I rescue it, return it to the pantry, and pick up everything else while struggling to keep him out of the pantry at the same time.
“Come on, dude!” I finally manage that task just as my phone rings.
Desi’s ringtone.
My heart races as I answer. “Hey. Change your mind?”
He snorts. “No, but I just had a visitor at my motel.”
“Who?”
“Freddy.” He proceeds to tell me about the encounter. “It’s suspicious he’s here in town.�
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A cold, icy ball settles in the pit of my stomach. “Gee, ya think?”
“I swear, I’m packed and on my way there to you. But if he shows up—”
“Why would he show up here?”
“Because he’s just like that. He’s a liar and a bullshit artist. I didn’t realize how much of one at first, because we don’t have a lot of contact at work and he’d only been with the firm for about six months.
“I never would have dated him except for Mom pressuring me to go out with him. He’s the son of a friend of hers. I only went out with him as long as I did to keep her off my back. He was always obsessed with my relationship with you, asking me questions about us that I wouldn’t answer because I told him it was none of his business.”
“That’s not creepy at allll, Des.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Hopefully, he won’t show up, but I bet he does.”
“Does he have a gun? Do I need to worry?”
“No, he’s not that kind of crazy. He’s not violent. If he should happen to show up, don’t tell him anything about what I’m doing to kill the deal. I told him it would take me a few days to fix his mess and I hope he believed me. I want to finish wrapping up the remaining loose ends before I put in my notice to the firm.”
That pulls me up short and derails my anger. “Your notice? As in you’re quitting? I thought you were going to try to work from here?”
He makes a grunt I’ve missed for too long. Determined, stubborn. Totally Desi. “No. Freddy is upset that I walked away from him. I know what he’ll do, and that’s continue making my life miserable once he knows what I did with this deal. He’ll catch some flak from people at work over it, too, which will bruise his ego.”
His tone softens. “I have plenty in savings, but it might take me a while to build up a practice locally.”
My pulse spikes as I absorb the ramifications. “I don’t care. If you’re asking if I mind supporting you while you get on your feet, the answer’s of course I don’t mind. I want you here. I’d be perfectly happy if you decided to be a happy house hubby and made my dinners every night.”
He laughs, and that’s a great sound. “Don’t tempt me too much. Being a kept man sounds like a great idea at this point. But no, it won’t be that bad. I’ll just need to watch my budget for a while in the beginning while I get my office set up and everything.”
How Many Times Do I Have to Say I'm Sorry? (Maudlin Falls) Page 10
