Fighting for Her

by Amy Brent

  “For four years, you acted like a heartless asshole towards me, Fletcher,” she said in a weak and broken voice. “But this if the first time I see that it wasn’t an act. The heartless asshole is who you are. The man I fell in love with this weekend was the act.”

  Still glancing at me, Grace pulled in a long breath through her mouth and held the air in her lungs for a few seconds. Her face was stern and focused as if she was thinking about something deep and I couldn’t help but wonder what it was. Then, she released her breath slowly and spoke.

  “I quit,” she said, and with those words hanging between us, she whipped her tears and walked out of my office.

  I stared at the closed door for what felt like ages. Deep down, I knew I had to go after her and beg for forgiveness, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. So, I did the only thing I could think off. I pressed the fifth position on my cell phone’s speed dial and walked toward the liquor cabinet.

  “Hey, Charlotte,” I greeted as I opened a brand-new bottle of whiskey.

  Grace

  I left the office feeling gutted. It was still hard for me to believe that I had actually quit my job, but I had. After leaving Fletcher’s office, I had collected my things, marched over to HR and resigned. There was a part of me that thought I’d feel free, but I didn’t. I just felt empty and sad and completely broken.

  Tears prickled my eyes as I walked down the street, but I refused to let them fall down my face. Fletcher was a dick who didn’t deserve my tears, or my sadness, or my heart. Unfortunately, I had given all of them to him already, but I was bound and determined to get all of them back.

  I was about a block away from my apartment, when my phone rang. I had been in this exact situation so many times before, I should have known that it wouldn’t be Fletcher calling to apologize. Still, my idiotic heart filled with hope just to be broken yet again when I saw Harrington’s name on the screen.

  Forcing my voice to sound happy and alive, I greeted, “Hey, Harry.”

  “Hi, babe!” he exclaimed. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed your voice.”

  My heart ached at his words and my stomach turned. Thanks to Fletcher, I had ignored Harrington’s calls the entire weekend. The only contact we had had was a brief text exchange the previous night where I had asked him to call me as soon as he got back in town. My intention with that was to meet him to break things off, but now everything had changed.

  “Are you back?”

  “Yeah,” he replied. “Just entered the city. If you can do lunch, I could swing you by your office.”

  Harrington’s words made my mind go into overdrive. There were still two and a half hours until my usual lunch break, and we both knew that with his mother no longer in town, he had nowhere to go which meant he would just sit in his car or at a Starbucks until I was able to meet him. That in itself was a sign of care and devotion, and it made me think about how wonderful a man he was.

  He was selfless, kind and clearly into me. Yes, the spark between us was pretty much inexistent, but with Fletcher so engraved into my heart, I hadn’t given him much of a chance. Maybe I should.

  “I’m actually not at work today. If you want to come over to my place, we can hang out. I’ll even make us some lunch.”

  “Sounds great!” The excitement in his voice was clear and surprisingly contagious.

  Despite the hole in my chest, I smiled, and though the action felt incredibly weird and unnatural, it also felt like a lifeboat. It was like I was drowning and Harrington was the only thing keeping me afloat. For that reason, I was determined to hold on to him with every ounce of strength left in me.

  * * *

  The doorbell rang, and my dead heart skipped half a beat—which I considered a win. I knew my broken ticker would never have a full beat to skip again.

  “Hi,” I greeted Harrington as I opened the door.

  He looked handsome as always, in a casual blue t-shirt and black jeans. One of his hands was .hidden behind his back, and a broad grin was spread across his gorgeous face.

  “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you this weekend,” he said as he leaned forward to give me a peck on the lips.

  I closed my eyes and clasped my hand on the back of his neck. Opening my mouth to him, I tried as hard as I could to feel something. It didn’t have to be fire Fletcher ignited inside of me—it didn’t even have to be a spark, to be honest. All I wanted was to feel something, anything.

  Taking my cue, Harrington deepened the kiss. His tongue stroked mine, his hand flattened against my lower back, and he pressed his taut body against mine. I cleared my mind of all thoughts and simply focused on the sensations his warmth brought me.

  It wasn’t instantly, but about a couple of seconds into the kiss, I felt a light tingle in the space where my heart used to be. It wasn’t anything life altering or intense, but it was real. It was a possibility for something more.

  When we finally pulled away from each other, I felt almost happy and hopeful.

  “What are you hiding behind your back?” I asked as I opened the door wider for him.

  His smile got even larger as he walked in and pulled out a gorgeous bouquet of red roses. “They made me think of you.”

  This was the first time I had ever gotten flowers from a boy, and though my heart was a broken mess at the moment, it warmed a bit more toward him.

  “You shouldn’t have,” I told him with a smile as I took the flowers and walked to my kitchen to get a vase.

  “Of course, I should,” he said as he followed me. “A woman like you should get flowers every day.”

  With the flowers in the water, I looked at Harrington with tears in my eyes. In all honesty, the tears were sad ones that belonged to Fletcher, but I hoped that Harrington took them as emotional ones devoted to him. It was, after all, a much better explanation for my reaction, and the one I deep down wanted to have.

  With that loving smile he always had, he moved closer to me once more. Holding me tenderly by the hips, he pressed his forehead against mine.

  “I know we haven’t been together for long, but I really like you,” he whispered, his minty breath fanning across my face.

  He looked nervous enough for me to know where that speech was heading, and though I was nervous as well—for entirely different reasons—for the first time, I didn’t dread it. I wouldn’t deny that I still loved Fletcher and probably always would, but Harrington’s love and kindness made me want to change my heart. It made me want to love him instead.

  I held his gaze and smiled as he went on. “I wanted to say this tonight after a nice dinner, but I’m afraid I’ll lose the nerve if I wait,” he started in a nervous tone. “I’m falling in love with you, Grace. I know you’re not there yet and I won’t pressure you. I also know your job and life are here, and I won’t ask you to give those things up. Honestly, I don’t know how we’re going to do this, but I know I’d like you to be my girlfriend. I want at least a chance to make you fall in love with me.”

  The tears I had been holding on since I left Fletcher’s office, finally spilled down my face. Harrington’s words were everything I wanted to hear, and though the mouth saying them wasn’t the one my heart called for, I could see the potential for happiness I would never have with Fletcher and, at that moment, that was the spark I needed.

  I had had passion and fireworks with Fletcher. Now, I wanted stability and companionship. It wasn’t as exciting, but I imagined that in the long haul it would be what was going to make me the happiest.

  “Okay,” I said, and his smile almost touched his ears. “I’ll be your girlfriend and, if it’s okay with you, I’ll make your life easier by following you to Boston.” His nostrils flared, and his brows pulled together in confusion. I smiled at him and explained, “I quit my job today. As much as I loved working there, my boss was impossible, and I literally had enough of his crap. A change of scenery is exactly what I need right now.”

  Harrington laughed and took me into his arms. He started babbling
about how amazing everything would be and how much I would love Boston, but I was done talking. I was done planning and thinking and giving myself time and space to change my mind, so I pressed my lips to his and kissed him with every ounce of hope he made me want to have.

  For the first time in the three weeks we had been seeing each other, I allowed myself to relax and enjoy his touch. Before I knew it, we were removing each other’s clothes and walking to my bedroom. Our lovemaking was as sweet and nice as Harrington himself, and though it was far from being life altering or exciting as it had been with Fletcher, I was perfectly okay with that.

  Fletcher

  The party was perfect. There was good music playing, my speech had gone great, the millionaires in attendance were opening their wallets to support our charity, and I had lost count of how many compliments I had gotten for scoring a date as lovely as Charlotte. Everything was just as it should be, and still, without Grace, everything felt wrong and empty.

  I had no desire to dance or mingle. I cringed every time Charlotte touched me and loathed every single friend who came to talk to me. In my mind, they were all the reason why I had lost the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I hated them all.

  “Don’t you look glum?” Charlotte asked as she sat beside me at the large round table.

  With a sigh, I looked up from the whiskey I had been swirling around in my glass and turned my face to her. As always, she looked gorgeous. Her beautiful face was impeccably made up in colors that complimented her green eyes and royal blue dress and her long blond hair was styled in soft curls that cascaded down her back. I really was as lucky to have her as people kept telling me, but the truth was that I didn’t want to have her. All I wanted was Grace.

  I forced a smile and lightly touched Charlotte’s hand. “Just tired, angel. I haven’t been sleeping too well.”

  “I’m sorry, dear.” Her dermatologically enhanced lips smiled at me in a way that almost convinced me that my sulkiness wasn’t boring her to death. “How’s Grace?”

  My brow raised in curiosity. In all the years, we had known each other she had never once asked me about Grace. I honestly had no idea Charlotte even knew her name.

  Considering Hawthorne’s warning, I took her question carefully. I had given up too much to maintain the structure and security Charlotte provided to my social standing, and I wasn’t willing to risk it because of her curiosity.

  With a disinterested look on my face, I shrugged. “Don’t know. She quit on Monday.”

  “Oh,” she said, shocked. “And you haven’t tried to talk to her since?”

  There was a quality to her tone that confused me. It was as if me not calling a former employee was the craziest thing on Earth.

  “Why would I try to speak to her?” I asked in a very matter of fact tone. “She was my assistant, and now she isn’t. I don’t call every employee who quits.”

  Beside me, Charlotte let out an audible sigh. When the sound failed to extract a reaction from me, she slapped me in the arm.

  “What the fuck, Charlotte?”

  “My question exactly,” she deadpanned. At my confused expression, she continued, “We’ve been coming together to parties like this for years, Fletch. And, in all those years, there hasn’t been a single party where you haven’t tried to fuck me in the bathroom or at least grope me under the table. Today was the first.”

  My brows were pulled so close together my forehead hurt. “I’ve told you, I’m tired. Also, what the hell does that has to do with Grace?”

  “Don’t be dense, Fletcher. And don’t insult me,” Charlotte said with a roll of her large green eyes. “I may be blond, but I’m not dumb. For the last year, Grace has been calling me late at night to say you want to see me. She always sounds like a puppy who’s been kicked, and you always call me ten minutes later, drunk out of your ass and sounding like death, to say you’re still very busy and won’t be able to see me. It’s clear that something happens in the office when it’s just the two of you around, and based on the shitty way you’re acting, I can see why she left you.”

  Worry and outrage filled me in equal amounts. Although her explanation made sense, I still sensed Hawthorne’s hand in this. He was one of the nastiest, most competitive men I had ever had the displeasure to meet, and despite his little speech about how good Charlotte and I were together, he was recently divorced, and she was the most eligible bachelorette in our circle. There was no question he would try to get her for himself.

  “Did Hawthorne say anything to you?” I asked, my gaze firm.

  Charlotte sighed. “Yes, he said you two were flirting like teenagers in front of a locker, and I told him I didn’t care. That I was glad, actually.” My brows pulled together, so she explained. “I really like you, Fletch. You’re a great lover, but more than that, you’re a good friend.

  “With that said, I know you have no romantic feelings for me, and I’m okay with that. You needed an anchor into this world, and I needed someone to take my mind away from my dead husband. We helped each other, and it was great while it lasted, but we both deserve more than that. I think Grace could be that more for you.”

  My heart pounded violently, and my hands were sweating profusely. I had hurt and humiliated Grace to maintain my relationship with Charlotte, and now she was breaking up with me because of Grace. I was the punch line of life’s worst joke, and it felt like crap.

  I shook my head and held her hand with a little bit more urgency. “I’m not going to lie. I do have feelings for Grace, and there was something between us, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings for you, Char. I do. When it came to it, I chose you.”

  Charlotte’s smile broadened, and she cupped my cheek with one of her hands. “You didn’t pick me. You chose the security you think you need, but you don’t. You’re the richest man here. You’re way richer than me, to be honest, and because of that, no one cares how you got your money or how new it is. No one cares that you didn’t come from a great American family or that you didn’t go to their fancy prep schools because they all know you’re still their better. That fear of being rejected or labeled as unworthy is in your head, and honestly, letting go of a woman you love because of social standing is a shitty thing to do.”

  “But Hawthorne . . .” I started, but Charlotte quickly cut me off.

  “Is an insecure asshole with, from what I hear, a very small dick who wants to see you miserable, because that way, he might feel a little less like a loser.”

  Taken aback by her words, I blinked a couple of times and then started laughing. Charlotte’s blunt honesty was one of the things I liked about her, and seeing that trait focused on Hawthorne made my day.

  She laughed as well and winked. Then, once our chuckles died down, she exhaled a deep breath. “She’s smart, polite and gorgeous, Fletch. If you truly like her, stop drinking, get your shit together and go after her.”

  Deep down, I knew that getting Grace to forgive me and take me back after all the crap I had put her through would be hard, but Charlotte’s words gave me the strength to at least try.

  With my mission for the night complete, I kissed Charlotte’s cheek and wished my friend all the luck and happiness in the world. She wished me the same as I left her alone at the party and went home.

  Once I arrived at my apartment, I put my self-improvement plan into action. I cleared my liquor cabinet, trashed every item that belonged or reminded me of other women, and even emptied a whole session of my closet for Grace. I knew that most people would think me crazy, but I was determined to get her back in a big, permanent way.

  * * *

  The next day, when I arrived at the office, I ordered Tina—my new assistant—to go to HR and get me Grace’s information. It was mindboggling to me that after four years working so closely together and the beautiful days we had spent together, I still didn’t know where Grace lived. It was yet another thing I had to apologize for once I saw her again.

  When Tina walked back into my office, i
t was almost lunch time. Her hands shook as she handed a strip of paper with Grace’s address and I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Don’t worry, Tina,” I assured her in an honest but respectful tone. “You’re doing very well. I’m not replacing you.”

  The woman’s shoulders visibly relaxed at my words, which made me chuckle. Shaking my head, I requested that she called my driver and then cleared the booze out of my office’s cabinet. Regardless of how good or bad my meeting with Grace was, I was determined to be the kind of man she deserved, and that man was clearly a sober one.

  It took me about fifteen minutes to arrive at Grace’s apartment. Although the building was close to the office, it was in an older and more run-down area. To be honest, the place didn’t seem dangerous, but to me, it was still beneath what Grace deserved. I was determined to change that as soon as possible.

  I told my driver to wait in the car and walked toward the building entrance. Since there wasn’t a buzzer or anything, I walked straight up the stairs and knocked on the door. When there wasn’t an answer, I knocked again. And again. And then one more time. At that last vigorous knock, the door right behind me opened.

  “Can I help you?”

  The voice made me turn around. Framed by the door frame was a tall, curvy woman with a spatula in her hand. I cleared my throat.

  “Yes,” I started. “I’m a friend of Grace Taylor. Do you know when she’ll be back?”