I blink as a cigarette butt hits the ground at my feet. Strong hands wrap around my shoulders. It’s Walt, gaunt and tired. My only refuge.
He’s asking what happened, but I can’t speak yet. So he holds me close while I cry instead. Here for me, like I’m here for him.
I automatically check the parking lot floodlights for signs of Nate. But there is no tall, broad figure coming our way. No knightly billionaire swooping in to save me.
He left. He actually left.
I hope, for his sake, he chooses to save himself this time.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nate
I wake up in my brother Benji’s guest bedroom with a headache the size of a jumbo jet. My stomach tosses as the blinds are pulled, letting in copious amounts of Ohio sunshine—a rarity for the Midwest. Which Benji points out before setting a steaming mug on the nightstand.
It’s been close to a week since Vivian dumped me on my ass. I tried calling her, she didn’t pick up. Texts have gone unanswered. Walt hasn’t ignored my calls but he let me know she needs space. The last time we talked he told me he’d find another job if he had to, whatever would make this “transition” easier for me.
I should have appreciated the selflessness of his offer, but I couldn’t since it seemed like the final nail in the Nate-and-Viv coffin. I, rather miserably, told Walt he always had a job at Owen Construction as long as he kept his nose clean. Then I climbed into my car and drove to Benji’s to get hammered. I’d been holding it together until then.
Or so I thought.
When my brother answered the door last night, he gave me a bland blink and said, “About time. Tequila or whiskey?”
“Hot ginger tea,” he tells me now. “Cris assures me this will fix you.”
Does it fix broken hearts, because if it doesn’t, I don’t have high hopes. I give him a look to communicate that, and he holds his hands up in don’t-shoot-the-messenger fashion.
He’s dressed for the day. He’s no doubt been busily crunching numbers in his home office since five a.m.
“Brought you this too.” He chucks a newspaper at my chest. I fumble it once before holding it up. My vision is blurry, but I make out the bold headline.
“Owen Masterpiece Opens to Exuberant Public.”
It’s an article about Grand Marin and its many amenities. I should feel pride and validation. Accomplishment. I scan the article and find nothing but praise. Words like “decadent” and phrases like “perfect gathering place” and “five-star cuisine” litter the article. But I don’t feel proud or validated. I am empty. I had Vivian in my life, sharing my passion, sharing my bed. Now I have nothing.
“My head hurts.” I toss the paper aside.
“Drink the tea.” My brother leaves, but not before instructing, “Get your ass dressed.”
I cradle my throbbing head as I stand and stumble to the shower. I’ve spent the last several days working my ass off—aka, pouting over Vivian. Nothing helps you forget your troubles like sixteen-hour workdays. Except I didn’t forget her. Which is why I came to Benji’s to drink and drown my sorrows.
He let me moan and wail about the unfairness of it all. Listened to my indignant claims that she didn’t appreciate me and how I did everything for her. I climbed up on a pedestal of my own making and told the tale of how I, Sir Nathaniel Owen, singlehandedly swooped in and saved Vivian from her own life.
He, of course, called me on my shit. I railed at him for that, even though somewhere in my tequila-pickled brain, I knew he was right. Like a good brother, he sat with me and drank. Clearly not as much as I did given his chipper state this morning. He must’ve switched to water when I wasn’t looking.
When Vivian stalked away from me and into one of Chicago’s not-so-safe neighborhoods, I followed. You didn’t think I’d let her run off alone to be mugged or God knows what else, did you? I didn’t stop caring about her just because she dumped me, although it’d be easier if it would’ve worked out that way.
I followed as she made the five-block trek to the hospital where she doubled over and cried. I was at the edge of the lit parking lot, intending to run to her, pull her into my arms and say whatever I had to in order to win her back. Then I planned on taking us to a hotel and stripping her beneath me so I could remind her how good we were together. I’d hold her in my arms through the night and we’d wake up good as new.
That’s not what happened.
Instead, Walt pushed away from the wall he was leaning on and crushed a cigarette under his shoe. He became the man she wouldn’t have wanted me to be right then. I slunk back into the shadows and let him.
I have a thick skull. It’s taken me the better part of a week to accept what she said in that pizza place.
She doesn’t love me. That’s the bottom line.
If I could find two remaining brain cells to rub together, I’d realize a smart man would take that news as a win. She’s difficult and challenging and combative. She doesn’t want me. That should be the end of our story. I can move on with my life.
But I never claimed I was smart.
Benji said I did the right thing leaving Walt to tend to her. That I can’t expect to come between family. He pointed out Viv and I are the same. That I’d do anything for my own family too. He’s right. I would. I didn’t mention Viv had already become like family to me. I couldn’t bear seeing the pity in his eyes; the headshake communicating I’m a bigger moron than he originally thought.
I shower and suck down Cris’s godawful tea, and then make my way to the open-plan kitchen/living room. She’s standing at the counter, tapping a tablet, her brow furrowed in thought. She looks up when I walk in.
“Good morning.” As usual, her smile is bright.
“There was something wrong with this tea,” I grumble, returning the mug.
“Benji warned me you’d be grumpy.”
Grumpy is a tame descriptor for my volatile mood. I scowl but she only brightens further.
“It’s a family hangover recipe.” She rinses the mug in the sink and then fills it with coffee from a brimming pot. When she slides it over the counter to me, I cradle it in both hands.
“You’re forgiven,” I say and hear a gentle laugh.
I settle onto a barstool at the marble island. She leans both hands on it like a diminutive bartender. “How are you, really?”
“Oh, you know. Ran my girlfriend off.” I should have stayed in Ohio. Given Vivian another day to herself. Maybe then this wouldn’t have happened. Can you tell I’m in the bargaining stage of grief?
“Walter Steele’s daughter? I doubt you have the power to run her off.”
I lift my face and my eyebrows at the same time Benji walks into the kitchen, his hand wrapped around his own coffee mug. “Vivian is Walter Steele’s daughter? Holy shit.”
My attention is on Cris. “How did—”
“I recognized her the moment I saw her.” She waves a hand of dismissal. “Didn’t you?”
No. I was besotted by long hair and a sassy attitude. Cheap shoes and that entrancing wiggle in her walk.
“I recognized her brother,” I say instead. “Then she told me. Or maybe I asked her. I can’t remember.” God. How many brain cells did I annihilate last night? I scrub my forehead. “The point is, we talked about it. Eventually.”
“She seemed guarded around everyone but you. She must love you.” This from Cris.
“Very funny.” But it’s not funny. Cris is a woman and as a woman has a very unique take on my situation. Which leads me to ask, “Why would Viv dropping her guard mean she’s in love with me?”
“You found her tender underbelly, Nate,” Cris answers. “And then she rolled over and showed it to you.”
“Uh, yeah, and then she left. People in love don’t leave.” Plus she told me she was incapable of loving me. Not the most wholehearted of assurances.
“You left your mom,” Benji tells me. “And you love your mom.”
My frown deepens, and Cris shifts on he
r feet like she’s uncomfortable. Benji’s allowed to call me on my shit, straight-up. He knows that. Cris does not know that and probably worries we’re about to come to blows. He gets a pass because he’s adopted too. He understands the pain of losing family, and the challenge of acclimating to a new one.
“She didn’t leave you so much as show up for her brother. You made her choose, Nate.” He shrugs. “She chose.”
“I didn’t make her choose.” But did I? “I simply warned against micromanaging him. I wanted her to realize her life was her own. I wanted her to depend on me. To trust me.”
To love me.
I fiddle with the bracelet on my wrist and listen as it gently scrapes the face of my watch. “I went to visit my mother but she wouldn’t accept my help. She told me I was dead to her. I don’t want Vivian to feel that sort of pain, especially from a family member she’s so close with. I was trying to keep her from being hurt.”
“Now who’s micromanaging?” Cris asks softly.
This time when I scowl, she steps partially behind Benji and shoots me a nervous smile.
“I just remembered I have a phone call to make.” She scampers from the room and my brother folds his arms over his checkered shirt.
“Way to go, now you ran off Cris.”
I do not laugh at his lame-ass attempt at a joke.
“We all fuck up, Nate.”
“Yeah. Some of us more than others.” I stare into my coffee like it might hold the answer, but after I finish that cup, I realize it doesn’t. Cris and Benji have disappeared into his office. I hear them chatting quietly. Me? I’m sitting here like a pouting giant who’s run out of village people to terrorize.
The adage about loving someone and setting them free trickles through my mind and as loath as I am to admit it, for the first time in my life I wonder if it holds some truth.
Vivian
Dee went back to Atlanta yesterday.
I didn’t stay in my brother’s apartment. I’ve been holed up in a decent hotel near his neighborhood. Worried as I am about him, I didn’t want to be underfoot. Especially when Dee ended up coming home with Walt immediately after her stay at Chicago Memorial Hospital. Shannon wasn’t happy, but she understood there was only so much she could do. When Dee made the decision to call her sister and return home, it was hers. I know it was hard for Walt to let her go.
I feel his pain.
I arrive on my brother’s doorstep expecting to find him disheveled and depressed that his fiancée is gone, but instead he’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, a cup of coffee in his hand.
“Hey.” He opens the door wider and I step in. The apartment is clean, and nearly empty.
I give him a once-over. “You seem…okay?”
He nods in a seesaw direction like he’s not sure how to answer. “I’ve been meditating. It helps.”
It must. I should try it. My head’s been a tangled mess ever since I told Nate I couldn’t be with him any longer. I had to block his number so I wouldn’t be tempted to answer his calls. Or maybe he stopped calling. It’s what I told myself I wanted him to do. Now I’m not sure.
I haven’t texted or called him. I’ve had the urge about a hundred times. But I was the one who ended it. I asked. I received. This is what I deserve.
Move on. Go forward. Push ahead.
I’ve been doing a combination of those things since the world discovered my father was a criminal. Since I discovered my life was built on a foundation of his lies. Pressing on should come as second nature by now. Why did I believe I could settle down and live a life that wasn’t mine? Being Vivian Vandemark was supposed to offer me a reprieve from people knowing who I am. She wasn’t supposed to be an identity I lost myself in.
“How’s Dee doing?” I ask Walt.
He lets out a heavy sigh. Like me, he’s accustomed to hiding how much he hurts. “The last time we talked she said she’s clean for good. She said landing in the ICU was a wake-up call.”
His tone is flat. I wonder if he believes her. My heart bleeds for him and for the addiction haunting his every step. I want better for him. I’m pissed that the world won’t let him have it.
“I should have seen this coming,” I say as I pour myself a cup of coffee I don’t need. I’m overly alert, despite my lack of sleep the last few nights. “I should have—”
“Stop.”
I carry my coffee cup to the built-in bar in the kitchen and sit next to him. He looks exasperated. Confused. Heartbroken.
Relate.
I lay my hand on his arm. “This isn’t your fault.”
“I mean it, V. Stop.” Anger etches lines into his forehead. His sharp cheekbones are dark and shadowed.
“Stop what? Looking out for you? I’m your older sister. It comes with the territory.”
“You’re three years older than me. You don’t know a hell of lot more than I do.”
My head jerks on my neck. “Thanks a lot.”
“I’m a grown man.”
“You’re an addict.”
“So are you.” He holds my gaze, daring me to ask him to explain.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You deserve better than you accept. Always have. You dated a billionaire who is a hell of a nice guy, Vivian. And then you blew up your life. As per your usual.”
“I’m looking out for myself,” I defend. “And you’re wrong. I accepted lots of things from Nate.”
“Things, sure. Shoes. Clothes. But not a future, which I suspect is what he wanted. What about Grand Marin? The property manager offer.”
“What about it?”
“You blew it off.”
“I didn’t blow it off! I had to come here. I had to stay—”
“You didn’t have to do anything! Admit it. You’re punishing yourself for the shit that went down while you were one of the head honchos at Dad’s company. You watched everything crumble, felt helpless, and decided never to put your ass on the line again.”
His shot hits its target—the center of my chest. He’s right, which I suspect he knows given the way he watches me.
“You wanted that property-management gig. I could tell when you mentioned it. And you wanted Nate. I could tell when you collapsed in my arms at the hospital and wouldn’t listen when I told you to call him and tell him you fucked up.”
I purse my lips. “It’s too late now.”
“Is it?”
Silence hangs in the air as heavy as lead. He sips from his mug and stays silent. I decide to change the subject.
“My future isn’t in Ohio. I’ve been thinking about moving to Chicago.”
“No, V.” He laughs, which hurts my feelings.
“Why not?” I push my bottom lip out. He has the audacity to laugh again.
“You don’t want to live here. I don’t want you to live here.” He pads that blow with a comforting hand to my shoulder. “I’ve fucked up a lot. I know that. But I’m figuring it out. I’m trying to live my life. You should do the same.”
Then again, maybe meditation turns you into a jerk.
“You only get one life. Or in your case, Ms. Vandemark, two.”
I slug him in the shoulder and he smiles. His smile reminds me of the kid he was before he started drinking. He had a light, easy way about him. He was a hell of a lot of fun. He was my best friend. He still is, I realize. I’d do anything for him.
Including blow up my own life. Twice, as it were.
“I appreciate you showing up the night Dee was in the hospital.” He grows serious and it makes him sound mature. Wise. “But I regret asking you to come. If you’d stayed in Clear Ridge you wouldn’t have lost Nate.”
I drink my coffee too fast. It burns my throat and my eyes water. At least that’s why I tell myself my eyes are watering.
“You don’t know that.”
“You self-sabotage almost as well as I do,” he tells me. “There’s no rehab for pushing people away.”
“What could he possibly love about me?” The
question has plagued me each and every sleepless night I’ve spent in my hotel room.
“If you can’t see why…” Walt trails off. He cuffs the back of my neck, lowering his gaze to mine. “You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever known.”
A traitorous tear spills down my cheek. He swipes it away and sits back in his chair. I bite my lip. I’m tired of crying.
“One more thing,” he says. I have a feeling he’s made a decision and it doesn’t involve me. I brace myself.
“I don’t want any more of the money you saved for me.” Before I can argue, he adds, “I mean it. I don’t want a safety net. Not one I didn’t install myself. Most of my problem is I’ve been bailed out my entire life. And most of your problem is you’ve been taking the blame for everyone around you who fucks up.”
I frown.
“I have a good job. I make my own money.”
“I know,” I whisper. He wasn’t fired or penalized in any way. I expected as much. Nate’s not petty.
“My plan is to someday run my own site. As soon as I get my shit together.” He drains his coffee and sets the empty mug in the sink. “I gotta catch the L if I hope to be on time. Late people aren’t handed promotions, or so the foreman keeps reminding me.”
“I had no idea you aspired to climb the company ladder.”
“I have potential,” he says, proudly. “That’s what Nate told me.”
My heart. Oh, my heart. Picturing Nate mentoring my brother flays me. I’ve been underestimating Walt for years. I’ve been swooping in on a wave of self-importance and telling myself I had to take on his problems. Nate knew what I didn’t. Walt needs someone to believe in him, not coddle him.
Don’t we all?
“At least consider taking some of the money,” I say, unable to fully sever the cord. “I don’t know what to do with it.”
“Whatever you do, don’t buy an apartment near mine.”
I make a peeved noise in my throat.
“Love you, sis. I don’t want you to hover.” Walt is ready to be free of the chains of his old life too. My over-involvement was one of them. “Lock up when you leave. Toaster pastries in the cabinet.”
Once Upon a Billionaire: Blue Collar Billionaires, Book 1 Page 22
