“God, no, Oz, I’m shitting you. I was born on the Fourth of July. I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy of a boy. Emphasis on dandy. Open the present. It’s not diamonds. I swear. I… that was a moment of weakness. And… just open the damn thing while I’m still radiating in the afterglow.”
“You know… you’re a confusing woman, Jemma. Beautiful. Great in bed. But confusing.”
“Practice, honey. Now open it. I want to see your face. I love all of your faces, Austin. Your orgasm face is incredible. Now I want to see your… happy face. The real one.”
Austin opened the box. It was like those television gifts; he lifted the perfectly wrapped top off of the perfectly wrapped bottom… and inside. “Plane tickets? Jemma?” He thought she’d forgotten about the traveling the world thing. “I can’t…”
“Ticket, singular. Silly. Look at the ticket, Oz, before you say you can’t. Just… open your mind for one minute and stop being so… fucking blind.”
He lifted out the boarding pass. One way to New York City. First-class. His fingers trembled as he held it. “We’re going to New York? In February?”
“You’re going to New York. Your flight leaves in two hours. You can be on it… or I’ll let you take the rental and you can drive back to your parent’s house with your sister and niece and your mom and your truck driving father… or you can get your head out of your ass and go after what you want.”
He held the pass in his hand. Watching the paper tremble. “It’s not that simple, Jem.”
“It is, Oz. Go get your man. Or go home and be miserable. It really is just that simple. Be happy. Or fuck men you don’t love that will never fill the hole in your heart.”
“Jemma?” He searched for something to say to make her see that there was nothing there.
“I love you, Austin. I could love you with all of my being. But you don’t love me. And it’s not Rory either. It’s him. It’s always been him for you.”
“Because some mass hallucination we all had, said I was his true love in another life, doesn’t mean there’s anything between us. And besides… if he felt the same, he wouldn’t have shut me out.”
“You shut him out, Austin. You shut everyone out. Heath was there when you saw that hallucination you can’t get over. He was there. In both lives. He’s waiting for you to forgive him for letting you… him… whatever… die. He’s just as lost in all of this as you are. And it doesn’t matter if it was real. If you were together in a past life, why can’t it be real in this life? I just know you’re bleeding out and I’m just a bandage. We’re not meant to be. As much as I want it. Need it. We… aren’t real.”
“Jemma—”
“Marry me, Austin. You don’t have to love me. We’re good together. We can be together and happy… enough.”
He had no answer to that. The hope in her eyes faded as fast as it came.
“That’s what I thought. You can fuck me. But… I’m not him.”
“I don’t see him when we’re together. I see you.”
“I believe you. But you don’t see yourself with me. And that’s what hurts. Not as much as it hurts seeing the misery in your eyes. You watched yourself fall in love with a young man. You watched as you were murdered for loving that man. And you’re terrified, history will repeat itself. So you left him. And he let you go because you needed time to process that shock. It’s been more than a month, Oz. If you don’t go after him now… you never will.”
He felt his knees give out. The lush carpet softened the blow when he sank to the floor. History repeating itself… that’s what kept him awake at night. Dreams of it happening again and again and again. As if he allowed himself to love this man, he’d be… crucified.
“He… what if he—”
“So, what if he doesn’t? Then you’ll know. And you’ll move on and you’ll heal. And you’ll start living the life you’re supposed to live. And that’s not with Rory. Or with me. And… if it’s not him. Austin… love honestly. But love yourself first.”
She stopped arguing and went back to the vanity. She pulled her hair back in a simple ponytail tied at the back of her neck with a black elastic band. The black turtleneck shirt showing every non-curve of her beautiful body. The tight jeans revealing the package she tried to hide. She looked like a man for the first time since he’d met her. The eyeshadow at odds with the light stubble she’d yet to shave away.
“What about you? Are you going to New York or… back to New Orleans?”
“Honey, no, it’s fucking freezing in New York. And my family is in New Orleans. I’m not ready to deal with their fawning right now. So… I’m going to do what all women do when their hearts are broken. I’m going to California, and I’m going to cut my hair… or get bigger tits. I haven’t decided yet. And I’ll be happy. For a week or two.”
“And about the nightmares?”
“I had nightmares long before I met you, I’ll survive. And get over it all. Eventually. While you’re whispering pillow talk to him… get him to call off that asinine plan to build a five-star hotel in the middle of that fucking mess of a town.” She came over to him. Her feet in a pair of simple black Oxford shoes. She leaned over and cupped his chin. “Come on, Austin. We will miss our flights. And the sooner Gerard gets through security, the faster Gerard gets back to being Jemma.”
Austin nodded. And held her hand to his mouth. “I love you Jemma.”
“You say that… but you don’t mean it.” She pulled her hand away and walked away to finish packing.
Austin climbed to his feet and found his still packed bag over by the door. All he had to do was… go. He had everything he needed. “I don’t know where to find him.”
“His address is in the box. And your hotel isn’t far from his building. You have his phone number. You could call him. Or stalk him. However, your romantic little heart wants to do it. Just go get him. And… Austin… love him well. He needs it.”
She closed her rolling case and picked up a bright pink leather jacket to complete her outfit. “The car is waiting. I sent the rental back so… I’m happy you made the right decision.” She cupped his chin again and kissed him softly before patting his cheek. “Go get him, Tiger.” She smiled, sadness filling her eyes as she hesitated. “Let’s go. If we don’t… I’m keeping you.”
She rolled her case out the door, and Austin followed. All the way to the airport. She went her way… and he stood at the gate that would take him to his happy ever after… the boarding pass crumpled in his hand… his name called for the last time… and the doors closed on his foolish dream of a future he didn’t deserve.
Chapter Forty-Eight
He’d sleepwalked through the last week of meetings. His board was on the verge of voting no confidence in him. Heath didn’t care. This wasn’t what he wanted to do with his life. This was his father’s dream for him. One he’d blindly followed until the end.
“You’re not eating? Is there something wrong with your steak? Would you like to send it back and order something else?” His mother tapped his hand, bringing him back from where ever he’d been drifting off. Again. “Heath, darling, what’s going on with you?”
Heath curled his hand around hers. She got that stunned look on her face, that she got whenever he tried to show affection and pulled her hand back. Heath sighed and picked up his knife. He wasn’t hungry. But lately, he never was. And these weekly dinners with his mother were… tedious.
“I’m tired,” he said as an apology. She’d been on his case since he came home from Georgia. About everything. Especially the media hounding her while he was gone. And the collapse of a marriage she hadn’t known about in the first place. “No… actually… I’m not tired. I want to sell my shares of the company, Mother. I want out.”
His mother owned his father’s half of their family stock. Heath owned the other half plus one. Making him the majority owner of the majority owners. She’d been left the other half to hold in trust for him until his thirtieth birthday, which had come and gone withou
t a mention of turning them over to him. Not that he wanted them.
“Is this about that actor? Are you seriously considering taking your relationship with that man public? Heath. No. I won’t have it.” His mother didn’t disappoint him. She didn’t give a fuck who he fucked. As long as he kept his lifestyle out of sight. She didn’t want his homosexuality to rub, the more conservative members of the board, the wrong way. “And seriously, Heath, some little Hollywood wannabe… I’d say, starlet. Do they call the young men starlets? Lord knows, your father had his fair share of the female starlets before I put my foot down. I don’t understand the infatuation with the breed, male or female. And now he’s making you look like a fool. What were you thinking, trying to hide a marriage of all things, in this era? You’ve made a fool of yourself. Chasing after a man so much younger than you.”
“Are you done, Mother?” Heath set his cutlery down. He was finished. Completely finished. With everything.
“You embarrassed me, Heath. At least your father had the decency to be discreet.”
“I married him because I thought I was in love with him. And I won’t apologize. I’m sorry this has become a three-ring circus. That was not my intention. Nor did I think he’d try to fight the divorce after the papers were signed. We both signed a prenup. It was not my fault he thought he was worth more than me. My lawyers are handling it. But that doesn’t negate the fact that you ignored what I said, entirely. I want to step down from Father’s company. I want out, Mother. Completely out.”
“I have no intention of discussing that. Your father’s will was ironclad.” She set down her cutlery and picked up her empty wine glass. A waiter hurried to refill it. It was damned embarrassing. Like she was royalty, and he was her servant.
Heath didn’t want this life. He’d never wanted it. And after Georgia… he wasn’t sure what he wanted from this life. Whatever it was, it wasn’t an actor du jour and a seat on the board of a company he didn’t give a shit about. His bank account was full enough… for three lifetimes.
He folded his napkin and laid it on his plate. The waiter hurried to take his plate, another to refill his glass. He waved him off. He’d need to call an Uber if he started drinking. If he started drinking, he feared he’d never stop.
“Well, Mother, I was hoping to negotiate a buyout with you. You have half of my shares…” Heath held up his hand when his mother tried to justify why she hadn’t turned them over. “Keep them. Choke on them. I don’t care. But… either find the capital to buy out my half… or I will sell them to the first person who comes along. And you won’t have control anymore. And before you try to tell me what is and isn’t allowed, just know that I’ve had my lawyers on it since I returned. And I am well within my rights to sell the shares in my possession.”
“Which is exactly why I am not releasing the remaining shares to you. Your father was afraid you’d do something like this. He thought you were weak. Only waiting for him to die to sell us out, lock, stock, and barrel.”
“He was most likely right. But… I’ll give them away for pennies on the dollar if I have to. I don’t give a shit about the money. I never did. I never wanted to be a financial tycoon. That was his thing.”
“What do you want to do, Heath? I mean, besides screw barely legal young men and drink yourself into an early grave?”
God… he signaled the waiter with the wine. Instead of allowing him to pour it into his glass, he took the bottle and drank straight from the opening. “Got any whiskey? I’ll take the most expensive bottle you have. To go. And if someone will call a car, that would be appreciated.” He handed over his credit card to the man. “Put it all on here.”
“Heath. You’re embarrassing me.”
“I don’t give a fuck, Mother.” Heath drank deeply from the bottle. Regretting finding the bottom so soon. He set the bottle on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Overdoing it a tad. Probably. Since Georgia… what the fuck did he care what anyone thought of him? “You have two days to raise the capital to buy me out. Or buy enough shares to retain controlling interest. And I want the Georgia property. It’s mine. I know it’s in debt to the company. I want it. All of it. No matter what it costs. Take it up with the board. Two days. Or I sell out to the Winklevoss twins.”
“Who are the Winklevoss’s? Do we know them?” His mother’s voice quivered. She clutched her necklace at her throat before she remembered who she was.
“Old money. Big in tech. I highly doubt it.” He lied out his ass and didn’t even flinch. The waiter came and Heath took the whiskey, already open for him. He signed the bill and left a massive tip to make up for his rude behavior and stood up. He didn’t wait for his mother to stand, nor did he offer to pull out her chair. She could stay and finish her dinner for all he cared. “Two days, Mother. I have a meeting with my ex that I’ve been putting off. I’ll see your lawyers in two days.”
He walked out to find a luxury car waiting for him when he’d expected a taxi or an Uber. They’d called a car service. Well, he was fucking Heath Cortlandt. ‘Bout time someone gave him his due. He waited for the doorman to open his door and he slid in and cracked open the whiskey. One long swallow scalded his throat to his nutsack. “Fuck, me, that’s strong.”
Maybe he wasn’t going about this getting drunk thing the right way. He pulled out his phone.
“Where to, Mr. Cortlandt?” The driver asked him. Heath looked up, startled to find himself not alone. “Mr. Cortlandt?”
“Ah… hell. I don’t even know. Too early to go home, isn’t it?” He checked his phone while he thought about it. A text from Clark, from hours ago, the only thing he’d missed. He pulled up social media… why, he didn’t know. Searching for… Clark. “Do you know this club?” He held out his phone for the driver to get the location.
The driver typed the name into his GPS. “Yes, sir.”
“Take me there.”
Traffic was light for a Sunday night. The drive to the club didn’t take long enough to talk himself out of this insanity. He checked his phone again when the driver pulled up to the curb in front of the club. The line stretched a mile down the street. He passed a name in his contacts on his way to another. Pausing over it.
He wondered what he was doing on a Sunday night in Tennessee. Or, more specifically, who he was doing. If he should call him and find out… if he missed him. He moved past that contact and paused on the other name on the list. This time he hit connect.
He paid the driver and tipped him. The line meant nothing to someone like him, whether or not he wanted the perk. One look at his face and the doorman let him right in.
He waited at the bar. He’d left the expensive bottle of hooch in the car. “Beer,” he ordered. God, he wanted a Guinness. Poured by a hostile Irishman. Maybe he just wanted to hear Rory talk dirty to him. Just once. Maybe he’d be better off finding a pub somewhere, one with a lonely bartender with reddish-brown hair… to pound his frustrations into. Instead of taking the bait and following his ex to a very public place.
“You’re here.” He heard the deep rumble of a voice in his ear. God, the man could seduce the dead with that voice. “Why are you here?”
“Why did you text me? I thought we weren’t speaking.” Heath tilted the glass to his lips… he cursed the light beer for not being a stout.
“We need to talk. I don’t like the way we left things.” Leaning against the bar, Clark turned to face the crowd… he’d always craved attention. Such a vain man. Gorgeous. And worthy of the attention. But still… a fault in his personality that Heath hadn’t recognized until it was too late.
“We left it with signed divorce papers. That your lawyer refuses to file. Because you think you can overturn the prenup. You can’t. And you’re just wasting your money trying to force the issue.” He drained the beer. It wasn’t strong enough to endure this hell that his life had become in the last year.
“That isn’t what I want and you know it.” Clark leaned into him, but damned if Heath would give h
im what he wanted. His attention. If he wanted it… he’d have to… prove it.
“Then what do you want, Clark? We agreed to keep our finances separate. We’ve done that. You keep your money. I keep mine. You keep your house in Los Angeles and I keep mine.”
“Houses. You keep your houses. Plural. How many houses do you own? Do you even know? When I met you… you never told me you were filthy, fucking, rich.”
“Ah, there it is. The real reason.” He turned to face his ex, finally. Hating himself for the gut reaction he had every time he laid eyes on the man.
“You lied to me, Heath. For more than a year. I loved you and you never let me in.” Clark leaned in, his mouth close enough that Heath could smell every drink he’d had in the past half hour.
“And you cheated on me with your co-star. You never told me you were seeing her before we met. You never told me you were sleeping with her when we were together. I never cheated on you, Clark. I could have loved you forever if you’d only been faithful to me.”
“I was faithful to you. For months. When you bothered to notice that I even existed.”
“When I stayed in California with you or followed you to a movie set. Or ghosted you at your mandatory schmooze fests, where you left with her, instead of me. Because you couldn’t get caught kissing your husband. It might destroy your reputation as a lady’s man. Having a husband. The husband you came to when you… needed a good fucking. Because that’s the only thing she couldn’t or wouldn’t do for you. Some fading star in a low budget CW show. Not even on a real network… doing movies that should go straight to video if that was such a thing now.”
“Ouch… was that supposed to hurt me?” Clark replied, his nose in Heath’s face. His pupils dilated as if he were messed up on more than booze. “You can’t hurt me more than you already have. I’m immune.”
“You’re high, Clark. And this was a mistake.” Heath turned to leave. He’d pay for this later. Probably out of the wallet.
Into the Gloaming Page 37
