While I’m expecting that Jackson has already turned off his phone and probably won’t see my messages until tomorrow, I keep my phone on and in my bed all night while I lie there, trying and failing to sleep.
Chapter 17
Mel
Jackson finally does forgive me. Four days later, I’m meeting him for our weekly brunch. I sit down at our usual table and wait for him to show up, a few minutes late.
“Hey, Mel,” he says, smiling cheerfully as if nothing had happened at all. Jackson is like that: once something is forgiven, it’s forgotten, too.
“Jackson,” I reply, standing to give him a hug. “I’m so sorry about—well, you know.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” he says quickly, “but I did want to talk about it.”
I nod. “Of course. Anything you want.”
“I don’t care that you saw him again, really,” Jackson begins. “I was shocked, and I reacted poorly, but that honestly doesn’t bother me. I’m just worried.”
“Worried?” I echo, confused. “Why would you be worried?”
Jackson sighs. “Tyler’s a prick,” he tells me, as if it’s a fact rather than his opinion. Until a few days ago, I can’t even say that I’d have disagreed.
“He’s manipulative, and a liar. Guys like him will do or say anything to get what they want.”
I cross my arms. Jackson has always been protective of me, but I thought that it would subside as we got older.
“And what do you think he wants from me?” I challenge, and Jackson looks at me like the answer is obvious.
“The same thing all guys want, Mel,” he says. “He’s using you because he wants to sleep with you.”
I shake my head. “Look, I thought the same thing before,” I confess, “but you haven’t talked to him lately. He’s not the same person he was five years ago.”
“Of course he is,” Jackson argues, “and he always will be. You think guys like that change? Come on, Mel. Be smart about this.”
“Okay,” I concede, wanting to prevent another fight, “I hear you. I just really think that you should consider giving him a second chance. He’s different now.”
Jackson rolls his eyes. “That’s just what he wants you to think,” he says. “Believe me, I know guys like Tyler, and they’re all the same. Once he gets what he wants, he’ll be on his way again, and he won’t care who he leaves behind.”
That was true, once, I suppose. Could Jackson be right?
He looks at me sympathetically. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” he tells me, and I nod.
“I won’t,” I promise. It can’t hurt to keep my guard up. After all, Tyler was raised with everything handed to him, and is clearly used to getting what he wants. Plus, all the success he’s had since then couldn’t have come without stepping on a few people along the way.
Jackson gives me a scrutinizing look. “So, you’re not going to see him again?”
It’s completely unlike him to step into my personal life like this, or to want to give me relationship advice. Normally, this is a topic that Jackson would avoid, so I know that if he’s pressing it, he must really feel strongly. Maybe he’s right—Jackson knew him better than I did, anyway, so what do I know?
“I’m not going to see him again,” I promise.
“Good,” Jackson sighs in relief. “Now that that’s over, how about we order some mimosas?”
Chapter 18
Mel
It takes all of twenty-four hours for me to break my promise to Jackson. I’d planned to cut Tyler out entirely, really I had, but when he sent me a text the next morning, a sweet greeting alongside a casual picture of himself all dressed and ready for the gym, I realized I couldn’t just not speak to him ever again and leave him entirely in the dark.
I spoke to his secretary and—though it took quite a bit of convincing—I managed to convince him to give me Tyler’s new address. If I’d thought his apartment was impressive years ago, his current house is mind-blowing.
I’m in awe when the cab drops me off as close as he can get to the doors of the mansion, which is still quite a distance away. It’s gated, but Tyler’s secretary gave me the code, so I type in the numbers and it opens wide for me to walk through the gate and into the long driveway.
I finally make my way to the front door and ring the bell. I’m starting to think he might not be in when I hear a rustling noise behind the door. A moment later, it swings open to reveal Tyler, standing there wearing casual jeans and a T-shirt.
“Mel,” he says warmly, sounding less surprised than he probably is to see me. “What brings you here?”
I shift from foot to foot. “I was in the neighborhood,” I lie.
An inquisitive grin spreads across his face. “Doing what, fighting crime?”
I flush pink. He’s already seen through my excuse, which I should have expected, considering his house is more than half an hour away from my apartment.
“Fine, you caught me,” I admit. “I dropped by to see you.”
He moves from the doorway to usher me inside. “Make yourself at home,” he says lightly, closing the door behind me.
I take a seat on a couch in the living room, glancing around and trying not to look like a child at a zoo, excited and entranced by my surroundings. He’s clearly put more effort into decorating this place than his apartment, though the paintings and decor are all still fairly minimalistic. It at least has a theme, looking more like an adult home than a bachelor pad.
“You have a beautiful home,” I say, turning to watch him pour two glasses of wine in the kitchen. Against my better instincts, I take the one he offers to me.
“Thank you,” he says. “Though, I have to be honest—I hired an interior designer. I’m horrible at that sort of thing.”
I laugh at the predictability. “Well, they did a good job,” I maintain.
Tyler sits on the couch beside me, his body angled toward mine.
“So, Mel,” he says seriously, “what really brings you by tonight?”
I take a deep breath to steady my thoughts. “There’s something I wanted to talk about,” I confess.
“Oh?” he asks, raising one eyebrow. “Is it about Jackson? I wanted to ask if you two had talked.”
He’s concerned, polite, but still pressing for the information he wants. It’s very on-brand for Tyler.
“We did,” I tell him honestly, “and we’ve worked things out. Everything’s okay.”
Tyler looks relieved. “Good,” he says, his tone low and seductive. “I’m very glad to hear that.”
He leans in toward me slowly until his lips are hovering over mine, and suddenly, everything that Jackson told me about Tyler seems irrefutable. Though I can still feel the magnetic draw to Tyler, I pull away, putting my hand up over my mouth to stop him from kissing me.
“Stop,” I whisper. “We shouldn’t.”
Tyler looks confused. “Why not?” he asks, sitting back against the couch.
“Because,” I reply, “I know what you’re trying to do.”
“Then fill me in,” he says, “because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Is he playing dumb? Or is he just surprised that I’ve figured out his game?
“You’re going to chew me up and spit me out,” I say. “It’s how guys like you are.”
Tyler looks wounded. “Where is this coming from?” he asks. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, not exactly,” I confess. “I just…I don’t want to get hurt.”
He shifts closer to me. “And I don’t want to hurt you,” he says softly. “Talk to me, Mel. Tell me what’s going on.”
I stand up, setting the wine glass on the table beside the couch.
“Jackson and I have been talking,” I say, “and I’ve done some thinking of my own…and it all adds up to the bottom line that I can’t see you anymore.”
Tyler stands, walking after me as I turn to leave. “Don’t go,” he pleads. “Not without telling me
what you’re so upset about.”
“You!” I exclaim, turning to face him. “And me. Us. This just isn’t right. I can’t keep hurting Jackson, and I don’t know if I can trust you after what you did to him.”
“How do I convince you that you can?” he asks. Looking into his eyes, I can see that he’s serious, but it doesn’t change how I feel.
“I don’t think you can,” I reply sadly. I bite my bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”
This time, when I leave, Tyler doesn’t follow me.
Chapter 19
Tyler
I’ve never felt crushed in the way that I do as I watch Mel leave my house. She’s not willing to talk to me, which is equal parts upsetting and infuriating, and she already has her mind made up. It’s clear to me that there’s only way I can possibly make things right with her: I need to make things right with her brother.
For the first time in five years, I pull out my phone and call up Jackson Page. I use my business cell—there’s no way that he’d hear me out if I were to use my own phone—and wait through four rings until I get his voicemail.
“Mr. Page,” I begin, putting on a voice that I hope is both unrecognizable but not too ridiculous, “this is Don Miller, from corporate. Your boss and I have been talking, and—”
“Hello?” Jackson picks up the phone in the middle of my message. “I’m sorry for not picking up; I was in the shower. What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to talk about what I can do for you,” I counter. It feels deceptive—and it is—but this is the only way that I’m going to get a face-to-face meeting with Jackson.
“Sir?” he presses, waiting for me to continue.
“Your boss has told me a lot of good things about you,” I lie, “and the numbers for your store can tell their own story: you’re something special.”
I really, really hope that I’m not saying anything that’s untrue that might give me away. Jackson doesn’t stop me, so I guess I haven’t lost him, yet.
“I want to talk to you about a position higher up,” I offer, and it isn’t entirely a lie. “Are you interested?”
Jackson laughs disbelievingly. “Of course I’m interested,” he agrees. “Of course. When would you like to meet?”
“How about Friday evening? We can discuss the specifics over dinner—on the company, of course,” I say.
Jackson doesn’t even think about it before accepting.
“Great,” I finish up, “I’ll see you then.”
I arrive early on Friday night, sitting at a table in the back, and wait for the two Page siblings to arrive. Mel accepted the invitation immediately—she’s in the same boat as I am in all this, after all—but I held back from telling her the venue, lest she hear from Jackson that he has a business dinner at the same place at the same time. Instead, I sent a car to pick her up.
Mel is the first to show up. She’s dressed in a short black dress, her hair falling loosely over her shoulders, looking easily gorgeous and effortlessly flawless. When she sees me, she smiles, heading toward the table.
“Hey,” she says, keeping her voice even and neutral.
I didn’t tell her any specifics about the dinner. I certainly couldn’t tell her the truth, but I didn’t think it necessary to make up a complicated lie, either. All I mentioned over the phone was that I thought that we should give being “just friends” a try. It looks like she’s dressed for a date, but I don’t point that out.
“Hi, Mel,” I say, standing to hug her, then pulling out her seat for her. She gives me a warning look, and I shrug. “Hey, we said we’re keeping it friendly; we didn’t say I can’t still be a gentleman.”
“I’ll allow it,” Mel decides, “but watch yourself, Tyler.” The glare she gives me is playful, almost seductive, but I just laugh.
“I’ll try to control my chivalrous urges,” I reply.
Mel sits down and picks up a menu, beginning to look it over. “Have you ordered drinks yet?” she asks.
“We’re actually waiting on someone else,” I confess, and Mel puts the menu down in confusion.
“Who else did you invite?” she asks.
As if on cue, Jackson walks through the doors of the restaurant. I watch him ask the hostess for the fake name under which I’ve reserved the table, then start toward us.
“Jackson?” Mel squawks as soon as she sees him, and I can tell the moment of recognition when Jackson sees the two of us, too.
“Son of a bitch,” Jackson mumbles under his breath.
I stand to greet him. “Good to see you,” I say. “Don Miller.”
Jackson is not amused by my joke. “What the hell is this?” he snarls. He’s standing, hovering close to the table but clearly not sure as to whether or not he’s going to sit.
“A meeting,” I reply, “just like I told you on the phone.”
His eyes flit to his sister with a frown. “Did you know about this?” he asks, and I shake my head before Mel can even get a word in edgewise.
“She had no idea,” I reassure him. “I just needed you both here tonight.”
“For what?” Mel asks. “You still haven’t told either of us what we’re doing here.”
I motion for them to both take their seats, and they do, albeit reluctantly. This is already farther than my worst-case scenario had gotten in my head, so I count the fact that Jackson didn’t just turn and leave as soon as he saw my face as a victory.
“There’s something that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for the past five years,” I begin. “I know that things didn’t end well between us, Jackson, and I’m terribly sorry for my role in that. Believe it or not, I’ve changed a lot over the years, and I’ve come to see that I didn’t handle that decision as well as I could have. I’m not trying to make excuses, but I want you to know that I really am sorry.”
I pause, waiting for interruptions. Jackson is nodding along, his facial expression unreadable, so I continue.
“Mel, you’re the reason I haven’t been able to just let this go. From the moment I saw you, I was blown away by how beautiful you are. Once I had the opportunity to talk to you, to get to know you…I couldn’t get over how smart and funny and kind you are. You’re one in a million, and I’m not about to let you go because of a mistake I made in my past.”
“Tyler,” Mel says, “what are you talking about?”
“I know I screwed up with the deal I offered Jackson,” I say, turning my attention to her brother. “You never forgave me, and I don’t blame you. But I’m not that guy anymore.”
Jackson looks skeptical. That’s fair—I didn’t expect him to believe me.
“Yeah?” he challenges. “What’s changed? Because to me, it looks like you’ve tricked me into coming here so you can get what you want. Again.”
I wince at the accusation, but I’m not letting it deter me. “I only lied because I knew you wouldn’t believe me if I told you the truth,” I admit.
“And what is the truth, Tyler?” he asks. “That you’ve seen the error of your ways and reformed yourself?”
“That I’m not the money-hungry, self-absorbed jerk I was five years ago,” I reply. The self-criticism gets his attention, and he doesn’t argue with me. “I want to make things right between us.”
“How?” Jackson presses.
“By offering you the role of vice president at VirtuGym,” I offer. “For starters.”
Jackson is stunned silent, but Mel isn’t.
“Jesus,” she says softly. “You want him to rejoin the company?”
“That’s right,” I maintain. “I want a return to the dream team, the two of us working side by side. And, of course, that includes a huge salary increase. What are you making now?” Jackson opens his mouth to answer, but I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter; I’ll start you on $250K a year.”
Jackson’s jaw drops. “Tyler, listen—”
“Wait,” I interrupt. “I’m not done yet. I want you to take half of my shares, too. You’ll be the vice president, b
ut an equal owner. And whatever else you need to make this an offer you can’t refuse.”
Chapter 20
Mel
I sit in stunned silence as Tyler waits for Jackson to respond to his offer. It’s generous, to say the least. The kind of money that Tyler is offering to my brother is life-changing, not to mention that it comes with the added perks of being back in the driver’s seat of the company—his baby, which I know he’s been mourning since he lost it.
The drama of it all is almost enough to distract me from the things that Tyler said about me.
“Tyler,” Jackson begins, standing up from the table, “it doesn’t matter what you offer. I’m not going to take another deal from you.”
Tyler shakes his head, rushing to try to get Jackson to sit back down. His clock is ticking, I’m sure he knows, and this is the only way I can possibly allow him back into my life again. I’m through going behind Jackson’s back, sneaking around like a high-schooler trying to stay out after curfew. From now on, I want to be honest about everything.
“Surely,” Tyler placates, sounding and looking smooth but definitely hiding frustration, “there must be something. Everyone has—”
“What, a price?” Jackson finishes, and Tyler looks actually hurt.
“I was going to say a dream,” he corrects. “I know what I took away from you. You were my friend. I want to give you something that can somehow make up for that loss, if there is such a thing.”
Jackson scoffs. “You still don’t get it, do you?”
My Brother's Best Friend - A Second Chance Romance (San Bravado Billionaire's Club Book 8) Page 9
