I am, too. I never fully understood that expression until now. My vision is literally blurry and I'm so furious that a red-hot sort of film is webbed over my thoughts, stretching out, reaching its way to the outer corners of my eyes.
I'm standing, somehow. My chair shoved back. And I'm turned toward Alec's office. Sam's saying something, or telling me to wait or… I don't know. Don't care.
And then I'm in Alec's office, without really even telling my feet to move me there. I shut his door and then I'm at his desk and he's glancing up at me in surprise—a fucking smile on his perfect, stupid lips. "Are you here for a knot-tying lesson?"
Like he's pleased to see me standing here.
Like I'm such a fucking idiot, I'd run in here over a cherry stem to flirt.
"You think that's what I'm here to use my tongue for?" I ask, my voice scathing.
But he doesn't get it. Dumbass. He's still smiling. Like maybe I'm being suggestive. Yeah. Let's nip that shit in the bud. "How could you send me that fucking video?"
"I thought you enjoyed it." His eyes dip in confusion—which is almost more infuriating than anything else. He's playing dumb, because he thinks I'm dumb enough to fall for it.
I take a few steps back, sliding behind a desk chair, needing to distance myself from him. Deep breath to keep from screaming. And to keep the swelling in my throat from closing it completely. "That was before I found out you have a fiancée."
Yep. That wipes the stupid fucking gorgeous smile from his face. "Piper."
"Piper," I repeat. The girl I should feel bad for, for being with an asshat like Alec—but I can't because apparently she'd eat me alive for flirting with him—and that sounds like a challenge and I never back down from one of those. So, instead, I want to hate her. And I hate girls who hate girls for that sort of reason. Ugh. Alec's watching my face, calmly, like I didn't just bust him on being a huge hypocrite. "You asshole."
"Now wait a second." He lifts a finger, his face stern. He's going to lecture me? Yeah. No. Fuck that.
"No. You made me—"
Sam's voice buzzes through the phone on Alec's desk. "Um, Alec?"
"What?" Alec snaps, his gaze hot on mine.
"Sorry to interrupt your…um…meeting, but Denise is on the phone."
"I'll call her back." Alec slams his palm against the phone, effectively hanging up on Sam, still not dropping his eyes.
I glare at him. "You made me feel like such shit about Friday. For lying to you. But you? You sleaze on strangers in bars when you're about to get married. Who's the bigger dick now?"
"You have no idea—"
"If I had any other options, I'd walk the fuck out of here. I'd quit. But I can't. Nobody will hire someone who got fired from a fucking hair salon." I'm too pissed off to be embarrassed about it, but that'll probably come. So that's great. "Get me transferred. I want to work for someone else, be someone else's assistant." Like Denise, I almost say. But everything I felt yesterday? Thinking I wanted to be her when I grow up? What a joke.
I'll never be her. I'm not smart enough. Not nice enough.
And it's too late, anyway. I'm already grown up. I'm already who I'm going to be. The fucking fool who's dumb enough to get fired from a hair salon. Who's dumb enough to fall for lies that come out of the pretty mouth of a pretty face.
Exactly like her dumb mother.
"Are you done?" he has the total effing gall to ask.
"Just getting warmed up, actually. Unless…" I pause, the tiniest glimmer of hope flaring. "Unless you're letting me make a jerk out of myself because you aren't actually engaged. Are you?" I ask, my voice steady. "Engaged?"
His jaw goes tense and his eyes drill into mine. "Yes, but—"
"Nope. No buts. I'm out. Find me a new boss."
"There's another side to this." His voice is annoyingly placid. His expression is too.
"Alec?" Sam buzzes in again.
Alec suddenly cusses under his breath, and his expression slips. He's closer to losing it than I thought. Well, good. "I said to tell her I'll call her back."
"It's Mr. Chambers. Your dad, I mean."
"Give him the same fucking message." Alec's snarling now, and there's a quiver in Sam's intake of air before the line's disconnected.
"You should treat your assistant a little nicer," I say. "Considering he's the only one you have left."
"You don't get to come in here calling me names," Alec says, standing, his voice rising in a way that makes my heart jump. "You don't get to come in here throwing accusations around when you don't know the entire story."
"You're engaged. You took me home. You got mad at me for lying to you. These are all the things I need to know. I'll be out there, at my desk. Waiting to hear from you who my new boss is. Unless you want me to do this through HR."
I turn to storm out, happy with the last word, but the steel in his tone spins me back around. "You don't get to play this both ways."
"Excuse me?"
"You want to make this an HR issue? I'll walk you there myself. But I think you're this pissed because you feel something for me and you're hurt. And if that's the case, you need to step off your high horse and listen to what I have to say."
"My high horse?" The words sputter out of my mouth and I search for something else to say, but I can't find anything. I'm too mad.
"Just listen," he says. "I'm not… I can't tell you certain things, but I can assure you, I wasn't sleazing when I brought you home on Friday. Or when I sent you that video last night. I have every—"
"Does she have cancer? Is this some thing where you're still with her because dying? Because that still makes you a huge douche canoe." I grab the chair separating me from his desk, squeezing—and, frustratingly, not even making a dent in the leather.
Alec jerks his head to the side once. "She's not dying."
"Then what is it? How the hell are you so okay with what you've done?"
"I can't tell you, but I s-swear, Teagan, I'm not doing anything dirty or…douche canoe-ish." He's pleading with me, but there's an underlying anger making him stiff and his words short. His stutter tugs at me, which is so fucking annoying. So does the clench of his jaw, and the way his hands are pressed so hard against his desk that his knuckles are white.
Why do I find him attractive still? Why do I want to press his buttons until he snaps completely? This is so messed up.
"I'm supposed to stand here and say, what? Oh sure. Tell me there are things you can't share, but it's cool. Flirt with me, send me videos. I'll eat that shit right up."
"No, it's—"
"Girls who are always doing that in movies? They piss me the hell off. Oh, yeah, keep secrets from me. I'll go along with it. Uh, no. I don't fit that mold, never will. You can go screw yourself."
Of all the reactions he could have, laughter is not one I expect. But it's what he does. I frown. "This isn't funny."
He wipes his mouth. "It isn't. I know. But you're so fierce in your conviction."
"And that's laughable to you?"
"It's respectable, honestly." He sounds surprised. Surprised I'd be respectable in this situation? Fuck that.
"What the hell do you know about respectable?" I'm seething, staring at his stupidly calm face.
"Alec?" Sam's voice cuts through again.
"Goddamn it, Sam. Give everyone the same message." Alec hangs up on him again.
A moment later, Sam's knocking on the door. Quietly, tentatively peeking his head through.
"You seem determined to try my patience today," Alec says. His voice is mild but irritation tightens itself in the set of his jaw.
"I'm sorry, Alec. But your dad…"
"What?" Alec barks. "Out with it."
I turn as Sam steps into the room. He closes the door softly, not coming closer than he has to. "Your dad wants you to meet him at the hospital. Your grandfather had a stroke."
I spin toward Alec and the change in him is immediate. The anger is gone from his stance, the humor from his eyes. He lo
oks…hollow. In shock, maybe. "Is h-he…" He clears his throat. "Is he still alive?"
"Yes," Sam's word comes out almost in a whisper. "But he was unresponsive when he arrived. Last night."
"Last night? Jesus." Alec sinks into his seat.
My own anger droops; it's still there, but hidden under the weight of Sam's message. I can't believe Alec's dad didn't demand to speak to his son. His son who, somehow, looks very much like a little boy right now. Lost and confused.
I should say something.
I should open my mouth and say something.
But what? A second ago I was telling him to fuck off—how will anything that comes from my lips seem sincere now?
"Should I call your driver?" Sam asks.
Alec starts to nod, but words push themselves through my mouth, finally. "I can drive you."
He looks at me.
"I mean, if you don't want to be alone. Not that you'd be alone because Miles is great, but I—"
"Yes. You drive me. Please." His voice is shaky. It makes my heart hurt in an entirely new way.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I AM SURE forgetting that my car's a total piece of shit until we're in the parking lot is some sort of karma biting me in the ass. I stop short half a row away. "Maybe we should call Miles."
"Just take me, please." Alec keeps walking, heading straight for the hunk of junk.
Right. Because I already told him about my car, and he knows it's the fugliest thing in the lot without my having to point him in the direction. I hurry after him, my face in flames, and slide into the driver's seat. I reach over to unlock his door, doing my best to ignore my embarrassment when he ducks into his side. "Sorry for the complete downgrade."
"I've always dreamed of riding in a ten-year-old Toyota with a broken taillight." He tries to crack a grin, fails pretty epically.
"How do you remember every little detail of everything like that?"
He closes his eyes, resting his head against the seat, though he's so tall he nearly misses. "I remember every little detail when it comes to you, it would seem."
"I…" Don't know what to say to that.
"Turning out to be a pain in my damn ass, though."
"I'm a pain in your ass?" I pull out of the parking lot, shaking my head. "Funny. You're the one who's—" I cut myself off. His grandfather's in the hospital. This fight can wait.
"Oh, no. Please, let me have it." His eyes are still closed, a whisper of a smile still trying to happen across his lips. "I know I deserve it, and the distraction will be nice."
"There's nothing nice about what I want to say to you." But it's hard to be furious with someone who looks so damn vulnerable. Especially someone who's usually more aggressive. Now, though, he has these little blue veins running across his eyelids and they…I don't know…make me want to make everything better.
Which is fucking annoying.
Literally every person on Earth has veins in their eyelids. His should have zero effect on me.
His eyelashes are almost long enough to rest on his cheeks. He seems so innocent.
He's engaged.
Okay, there. A little of the anger comes to a simmer. That helps. "Which hospital am I taking you to?"
"Riverview."
"Are you sure? Do you need to check with your dad?"
"My grandfather funded a wing of the hospital—it's named after him. He only lives about a mile from it."
God. These people live on a level I couldn't even dream of. I know where it is, so I keep quiet and I drive, thinking he might want silence to process his thoughts or feelings or whatever. Until he says, "Talk to me. I can't stand sitting here in the quiet."
"What do you want me to talk about?"
"I don't know. You. Life. Keep telling me off about Piper. Anything."
Hearing her name makes my chest hurt, makes my blood rage. "Your grandfather had a stroke. I can wait on all the yelling I have left to do."
He doesn't respond, sitting there with his eyes closed, his face drawn.
"Are you close with him?" I ask.
"Sometimes." His fingers lace together in his lap, a casual gesture but there's tension in his grip. "It's complicated. He's complicated."
"Why?"
"I'd rather not get into it right now, until I know if he's going to be okay."
Right. That makes sense. God. I'm not very good at this distraction thing.
"Um…" What do I talk about? Why is my mind blanking? "I love movies. Do you watch them?" Does he watch them? I'm a moron. "I mean, obviously you do. Otherwise you're an alien."
He nods. "Mostly during summers. School keeps me too slammed."
"Have you seen The Great Gatsby?" I watched it two weekends ago. Stuck with me. I didn't cry, but that ending hit me so hard it still makes my chest feel tight—not that this is something I'll ever share with him, or anyone.
"Awesome score. The book is better."
Ugh. Books. "Okay—what about…" Think. What sort of movies would Alec be into? "Fight Club. Tell me you didn't love that movie."
He halfway unshutters his lashes to focus on me. "Good movie. Still not as good as its book."
"Get the fuck out of here. No way the book was better than that masterpiece."
"Read it and you'll see."
"Wow. You're a tough crowd."
Something kind of sort of resembling a laugh rumbles in his throat.
"No digs at my all-time favorite… Interview with a Vampire." I watch it at least once a year. There's something so horrible and sexy about it.
Finally he offers a real smile that has me grinning in return even if I'm still mad at him, even if after this I'm still done working for him. Done speaking to him.
"You're missing out," he says, "on some awesome books. I have all three—I'll lend you one, or all. Though Fight Club is so dog-eared, I should probably buy you a new copy."
"Reading's not my thing." I shrug, like it doesn't bother me. Like it hasn't always bothered me. "I can't lose myself in a book the way I can in a movie."
"But you miss so much of the story with movies." Great. He's ruining one of the few things I actually love.
"Music, then," I say. "Tell me your favorite artists—and I'll pull an Alec, systematically telling you why you're wrong to enjoy them."
I'm rewarded with a full laugh this time, and we spend the rest of the ride arguing over Franklin Charles and Castle Zero. Spinster Malady and Demi Jade. The merits of my favorite drummer, Norris Marshall, and why I wish he'd leave Gold Rush Standard. I might be a little biased. I know, personally, what a complete twat the lead singer is—via Cassidy and her mistake of a fling with him last summer.
"I met Norris last summer," I say, pulling into the hospital's parking lot. "He's incredibly sexy and genuinely nice and… I might love him a little." He's also very married and his wife is cool as hell, too.
"No kidding?" Alec asks. "I saw him solo once in Virginia Beach—one of the best shows I've ever seen."
"Get out." My heart does a funny little tripping thing.
He smiles, though there's tension etched into his face. "I'm not James Bond. You need to park first."
"No. I mean I was there. At that show." Norris was in Virginia Beach for one night, randomly, and threw together a last-minute solo gig.
He studies me and I can tell he wants to ask me about it, about the strange coincidence of us both being there. But a second later, he looks out his window and I can also tell his mind's splitting—weighted much heavier toward the fact that we're at the hospital. Because his grandfather had a stroke.
I want to talk about it, too. But he's engaged. And I shouldn't want to know him any more than I already do. The memory of that concert is something I cherish, and I don't want to weave Alec into it. Plus, we're here. I'm parking. We have to go in. Or, at least Alec does.
"I'll wait here," I say. "Or, I can drive you up to the entrance, if you want."
"Come with me," he says.
"I'm not sure that's approp
riate." I hate how much I long to ease the anxiety in his eyes, in his shoulders.
"I get it." He opens his door, turning to me before stepping out. "I'll call Miles for a ride after. I don't know how long I'll be. You don't have to stick around."
I nod. And a minute later, I cuss, throwing my own door open, chasing him down the parking lot. "You don't have to walk in there alone," I say, halfway reaching out to take his arm, dropping my hand instead.
"Thank you." We catch eyes for a moment and I swear in his I see a world of conflict, a world of destruction. He's feeling things deeply enough to travel straight from him into my own heart, where it twists and aches and makes me wish I had the words to take away all the pain.
But I walk silently beside him into the building, and that will have to be enough for us both.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ALEC'S PHONE IS in his hand and when it buzzes he glances down, reading from it to me. "My brother's on his way. He spoke with my dad, and Grandfather's in a private room on the third floor in the family wing."
We head straight past registration because Alec knows exactly where he's going. Thank God, because I'm too blown away to think about asking for directions. The family wing. The casual way he threw the term out there is a shock to my system all over again.
The only wing my family's ever had is fried. And from a greasy, cardboard bucket.
While we wait for an elevator, a short black doctor walks toward us, a still-steaming cup of coffee in his hands.
"Dr. Greenwald," Alec greets the man, who smiles somewhat tersely before speaking.
"Alec, good to see you. Sorry for the circumstances."
We stop right inside the doors and he waits patiently for Alec to respond.
"How's m-m-my…" He shuts his mouth, swallows, and starts over. "How is he?" He shakes the doctor's hand without pause, but his expression shows what the stutter cost him, and I want to squeeze him. There's something about this beautiful man looking so broken that tugs at me in a way I haven't quite experienced before.
This must be compassion. I wasn't sure I had it in me, before this. Which is really freaking sad all on its own.
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