by Kelly Wood
“Any other words of advice, Yoda?”
“Go call Gray. Tell him you are sorry. Tell him you love him. Tell him you are a fool and he has every right to give you the bird and walk away. Tell him all of that. And keep telling him until he listens. Gray’s reasonable. More so than you.” Peter gave me a look. “Fall on your sword. You messed up here. Not him. It’s time for you to do the work.”
“I get it. I’ll try.” I kissed his cheek before walking to the office to call Gray. Again. I turned back before entering the office and yelled to Peter. “Does this mean I still have to go out with Ben tonight?”
“Yes!”
“But, why?”
Peter took his time turning around before answering, “Because you are bullheaded and stubborn. You think one little heart-to-heart from me is going to pierce that thick skull of yours? No, it’s not. You need to see what I am talking about.”
I wanted to stick my tongue out at him and deny my stubbornness, but it was a family trait. One I couldn’t deny any more than my face being the spitting image of my father’s.
In the office, I sat on the desk chair I used earlier to spy. I had already gathered up some papers I needed to take with me. They sat on the desk, mocking me. Taunting me to do some actual work. Instead, I spun in slow circles as I thought things over. I thought Peter had a point. I was starting to see how Ben took. I didn’t think it was malicious or intentional. I honestly thought he was trying to make me happy. The outcome just didn’t happen, and it was to my detriment. I literally, had nothing when Ben left.
With Gray, it was different. It was . . . well, it was my fault. I acted on impulse. Some primal, deep-seated fear bubbled up and took over. If I'm truly honest with myself, my very first reaction, the very first thought in my head, was yes. The second was run.
But, my bad behavior aside, I didn’t lose everything. I could still work freelance. I could still travel if I’d like. The only part of my life that had changed was Gray not being there with me. And that was, one hundred percent, my fault, and my fault only. A mistake I hoped I was able to fix. Please, God. I sent the prayer up and hoped for the best.
I didn’t know what Peter meant by falling on the sword, but I did listen to him about calling Gray. I stopped spinning before I got too dizzy. I wanted to have a clear head. I left him a message telling him I was sorry for my behavior. That I would really like to apologize and talk to him. That I loved him. I hesitated before hanging up. I finished with, “Please.” One word, spoken in desperation.
I didn’t even know where he was. I didn’t know if he would get this message, but I hoped. He could still be in Mexico. He could’ve gone back to his home in Vegas. He could’ve jumped a flight to anywhere. I would’ve loved to see him in person, but I had to settle for a phone call.
Chapter Ten
Ben and I sat in a small Italian restaurant in Lincoln Park. I’d been here before with him. It was our favorite romantic dinner out. Was, being the keyword. I was a little put off that he’d brought us here. I hadn’t been here since our breakup. One great thing about Chicago was the restaurants. If one brought on old memories rather forgotten, there were a dozen more waiting to take its place.
The food was still just as good. We skipped ordering tapas, instead we chose our own meals. I wasn’t in the sharing mood. So far, the conversation had limped along with “what did you do today’s?” and “how’s your family?” blahs.
“Do you still work for your father?” I asked, trying to make conversation. I tried to put on a good face when all I wanted to do was go back to Peter’s. I wanted to snuggle up in my bed and read a good book. Or, any book. I laughed at myself and waved my hand in the air. “Ignore that. You’ve already told me you’re on your own.”
“Nervous?” Ben asked.
“Yes.” I answered honestly. “I’m not really sure why I’m here.”
“Regan, relax. Let’s just talk like old friends.” Ben sipped his wine, the lighting caught his watch, and sent off a sparkle. I remembered that watch. He had worn it for as long as I could remember. For as long as I had known him, I guessed. If I remembered correctly, it was his grandfather’s. A vintage Rolex. It was his grandfather’s gift to himself. A way to tell the world that he’d made it. That he’d made something of himself from the scrappy street kid he had once been. Ben took another sip, the watch sparkled again. I focused on the light catching the jewelry and took deep breaths to calm my mind. Ben had wanted to share a bottle of wine, but I ordered iced water. Maybe I should’ve had one glass to calm my nerves, but I reminded myself this wasn’t some cozy first date dinner. “What about you? I’ve read some of your articles.”
“You have? How?” Surprise was evident in my voice.
“I came across one on a travel website. I do a search now and again to see where you are and what you are up to. What are you working on now?”
“No articles right now. I told Peter I’d help him out by doing my old job until he could hire someone. Well, catch me up. You mentioned London. Where’d you go? What did you do? How did you get here?” I bopped my head along with each sentence, feigning interest. I wasn’t here to talk about what I was up to after all these years.
Ben sipped again, buying some time before answering. I realized he was nervous and trying to hide it behind the wine. “I was unhappy in England. I didn’t like what I had left behind.” I ignored the ‘left behind.’ Your choice, bub.
“But, you love London. You’ve told me a hundred times in the past. But, of course, you told me a lot of things. In the past.” I couldn’t help but make a little jab. I was well aware of my childish side rearing its ugly head.
“I do love London. I just didn’t want to be there then.” Ben paused, looking at me for a moment. “I’m sorry. Again.”
I waved my hand as if it didn’t matter. And part of it didn’t. The shock over seeing Ben out of the blue had subsided. I realized the anger and hurt I was feeling over the situation wasn’t worth hanging on to. And, that’s exactly what I was doing. I was hanging onto the hurt, but nothing more. I wasn’t pining away for his love. Maybe I hadn’t actually loved him as much as I had thought.
“While there, I grew . . . disenchanted with my work. I wanted something I could find meaning in. I went through the paces, did my job, but my heart wasn’t in it any longer.”
Your heart wasn’t in a lot, then, I thought. I quickly chastised myself for my pettiness.
“My father’s head of security took me under his wing. He was a cranky old man. Said whatever was on his mind. Always chomping a cigar between his teeth. I loved being around him. He outwardly portrayed what I was feeling and couldn’t act on.” Ben’s eyes had a glazed look like he was seeing the old man, not the restaurant in front of him. “I found I loved the work. The mystery of it all. The intrigue.”
“You make it sound like a movie,” I said. Ben laughed. A deep, rich laugh that came from his chest.
“I probably looked on it as a movie. It was different from anything I had experienced before. I interned under him, learning everything I could about corporate security. Now, I own my own firm. Here, in Chicago.”
“Doing?” I prompted. When Ben didn’t answer, I continued. “What exactly is corporate security?” Ben, being Ben, was giving half-truths. Not quite all the information. He was glazing over the facts, just touching on reality. Gray would—
The light bulb popped on over my head. The point of Peter’s plan tonight. He said I would need it drilled into my thick skull, and he was probably right. I had always learned best by experiencing something for myself. If Gray has something to tell me or a question to answer, he just laid it on the line. He played his cards in one hand. No holding back in case the information was more useful later down the line. Ben always had an ulterior motive. He doled out just enough information as he deemed necessary. No more. No less.
“I handle sensitive matters for high-profile clients.”
“Such as? Come on, Ben, just spit it out.” I slum
ped back in my chair, the tug-of-war for information tiring me out.
“I did. I handle sensitive matters for high-profile clients.”
“That’s bull. I want an example.” I rolled my eyes at him. Ben ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. It was a habit of his for as long as I had known him. The movement was jerky, hurried. Almost angry. Like he wanted to pull it out by the roots.
“Let’s, see. For example? A client’s son was caught cheating at his boarding school. It was his junior year. He was on the verge of being suspended. His college career would have nose-dived before it even started.”
“What? He’d have to go to a state school then? How terrible!” I laid on the sarcasm. Oh, the outrage!
“For him? Yes, it would’ve been. I went there. Smoothed things over. The kid is at Harvard now.”
“Probably cheating.”
“Possibly. I like to think he learned his lesson.”
“Please.” That time, when I rolled my eyes, I feared they might get stuck I put so much effort into it. “What did you have to do? Buy the school a new annex? Large anonymous donation? What?”
“Now who sounds like a movie?” Ben smirked. “It was actually much less expensive than those options. I found out what the headmaster would personally prefer to keep private. He was more than willing to reprimand the student without suspending him. The allegations were also stricken from his transcripts.”
“To sum it up, at worst you are a blackmailer for hire. At best, a glorified maid for the rich.” Ben’s face showed his disgust at my summation.
“That is rather judgemental. I help people. I help people who need it.”
“For the right price?”
“Yes. But, it helps nonetheless. I may toe the line on legality, but I have never crossed it.”
“I’m guessing it depends on who views the line. The headmaster might have a different opinion.”
“You know what they say about opinions . . .” Ben didn’t finish the adage, letting it hang between us.
“Thank you for dinner, but I’m beat. Excuse me.” I stood from the table, grabbing my purse before turning to the door. I’d heard enough. I’d learned Peter’s lesson, so there was no need for me to stay. Ben muttered a curse word behind me. The scrape of his chair being pushed back against the floor warned me he had risen. I kept walking but picked up my pace.
Gray would never use people like that. Never. If some little brat got busted for cheating, he should pay the price. I would bet all of my dollars, that snot-nosed punk is still out there cheating his way through Harvard.
I made it through the front door before Ben caught up with me. I thought I’d have plenty of time to disappear around a corner. He caught my arm at the elbow, wheeling me around.
“You don’t get to judge what makes me happy. Got it? I’ve worked hard to get out from under my father’s thumb.” I turned to leave, forcing Ben to make a choice. Either walk with me or pull my arm off to stop me. He walked beside me after a brief hesitation. I jerked my arm from his grasp.
“What does my opinion matter? You do what makes you happy. You always have.” I didn’t yell the words. I spoke them softly. I could see the comparisons between Gray and Ben starkly now. Gray was so kind, it was almost painful. I paled in comparison to his kindness. He truly wanted to help people. He carried grocery bags for old women blocks out of his way. He got up early and shoveled the driveway at my parents’ house just so my stepdad wouldn’t have to. When I asked him why he would make himself late to walk an elderly person to their car, he said he hoped someone would do those things for us one day out of kindness.
“Because it does. I still care about you.” Ben put his hand on my arm to halt me. I stopped walking and faced him.
“But, I don’t care about you.” I stamped my foot in frustration. It came out sounding worse than intended. I took a deep breath and started over. “Not the way I used to. I spent months wishing you would call. I had to throw my phone away to stop from calling you, begging and pleading for you to tell me what I did wrong. Seeing you again, it brought those feelings up, but I realized something else, too.”
“What?” The word was nothing more than a whisper.
“Those feelings were only there because I was allowing them to be. When I really think about how I feel about you, it’s nothing more than a long-lost acquaintance. One I hope is doing well and is happy, but not one who will ever make the Christmas card list. More of just a fond memory, or a funny anecdote.” I reached for his arm, hoping a soft touch would lighten the blow. “I’m sorry.” I let go and turned for Peter’s condo.
I never looked back. I had finally closed the door on that chapter of my life. It was over. I felt freer than I expected. I hadn’t realized how much Ben walking away had weighted me down. How much it was still defining me. It was definitely a blow to the ego when it happened, but it was my choice to continue letting it affect me or not.
It was easily a two-mile walk back to Peter’s, but I didn’t mind it. In all honesty, I was slightly irritated at Peter, but only because he was right. I needed to see the differences for myself. The rest of me was pleased with Peter. He had an insight into people that psychologists should envy. He came by naturally what they spend years trying to understand in people.
After a few blocks, I paused in the opening of a brownstone and tried calling Gray again. I left him another message asking to speak to him. I would try again tomorrow. I would keep trying until he forgave me enough to let me apologize to him face-to-face. Until then, I jumped in a cab and headed home. I’d try again tomorrow.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, I left Gray another message reminding him that he had always compared my stubbornness to a dog with a bone. That the sooner he realized that, he could just call me back, and we’d all be happier. It was probably not the recommended course of action in ‘how to win a guy back,’ but I was on the verge of stalking. I needed him to call me soon before I was arrested.
It was time to man up. I decided to see my family. They would ask me ten thousand questions about why Gray wasn’t with me. I didn’t know how I would answer them at that moment. I might just ignore them and play dumb. I could pretend like he was standing next to me the whole time. Maybe? I thought sheer concern for my mental well-being would stop them from pushing the issue, then. Maybe that wasn’t a bad idea? I’d get to skip out on the interrogation because of my fragile mental state. I liked it.
The train ride into Indiana was pleasant. I had some work with me I should’ve been looking over, but I opted instead to enjoy the scenery. I even dozed off at one point. Luckily, I didn’t miss my stop.
My twin sister, Peyton, was waiting for me with her two kids and a super-mom minivan. She was a stay-at-home mom, only working during tax season for extra money. Peyton was pregnant again. She wore pregnancy like an accessory. Like it was no big deal, just a necklace she threw on for the next nine months or so. I had a feeling pregnancy wouldn’t look that good on me. I wished I could deny it, but I knew I would whine and be miserable the whole time.
I did my standard brainwashing when I get into the car. Who’s your favorite aunt? Aunt Regan! Who do I love the most? Me! Christine was six and Lizzie was four, so they haven’t figured that one out yet. I hoped to have some silly talk with my nieces before getting to my mom’s house, but Peyton had other plans.
“Where’s Gray?” she asked.
“Hi, sis! How are you? Safe travels? The kids and I are so glad you are home.” I used my sugary, sweet voice.
“I can see you are fine, you are sitting right next to me. Clearly, you had safe travels. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be sitting next to me. And, obviously, we’re happy you are here by the screaming and running at the train station. Happy, now?”
“Still a smart aleck.”
“Still dodging the question.” Peyton rolled her eyes at me. What an annoying trait?
Peyton usually drove like she was completing a road race. Today, she was follow
ing the speed limit and actually stopped at stop signs. She even put a DVD on for the kids to watch. That alone should’ve sent my spidey-sense tingling. She never lets the kids watch TV in the car unless they were on a long road trip.
“What’s the deal?” I asked.
“Just making sure we have plenty of time to talk before getting to Mom’s house. Spill it.” I debated about lying and evading, but it was much harder with your twin than other people.
“While we were still in Mexico, Gray proposed. We were standing on top of a Mayan ruin, looking around at the view, and bam! I didn’t see it coming.” My words ran together in my haste to get them out. Peyton’s eyes flicked my way, her head nodding up and down as she absorbed the information.
“What did he say?”
“Will you marry me? What’d ya think he said?”
“That’s it? No speech before. No, ‘I want to spend the rest of my life with you?’”
“I’m pretty sure he said some really nice things before that, but I was having trouble focusing. I kept staring at the ring.”
“Why? Was it huge?”
“No, it was . . . well, perfect. Small. Vintage, I think. You know how I love old stuff.” I did love old stuff. I think it was the writer in me. I loved knowing there was a story, a history, to the piece. I loved imagining the conversations it had heard. I realized it was just a ring.
“Do you love him?”
“Yes.”
“Then, why did you run?”
“You know why I ran.” Peyton concentrated on the road, taking a minute before answering. She was driving a winding route through the country to get to Mom’s.
“I thought you were smarter than that.” I barely heard the words, she had almost mumbled them.
“What? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That I thought you were smarter than that.” I raised my hands in frustration.
