by Box Set
“Yeah, and coming right on the heels of getting dumped by me…”
“Yeeeaaah.” The people closest to Jeremy had been doing an awful lot of lying to him lately. Melody could understand why he was upset, although she wished he hadn’t chosen her book club night to get sloppy drunk and need rescuing.
“I know we’re not together anymore, but I still care what happens to him, you know?” Lacey gazed across the room, frowning. “I just want to make sure he’s got someone to get him home safe.”
Melody looked at Jeremy. He made a pitiful sight, slumped over the bar, morosely swirling the ice around in his glass. “You owe me,” she told Lacey. “Big time.”
Lacey gave her a lopsided grin. “You can put it on my tab.” She pointed out a hallway next to the bar. “Take him out the back, okay? There might be paparazzi out front.”
Melody followed her through the crowd of customers to the banquette where Jeremy was sitting.
“Hey, Jeremy,” Lacey said, tapping him on the arm.
“Huh?” He peered up at her with heavy-lidded eyes.
“Melody’s gonna drive you home now, okay?” She nodded at Melody, who was standing on his other side.
Jeremy’s gaze swung to Melody and registered her presence before returning to his drink. “I’m good where I am, thanks.”
“Come on. Get up,” Lacey said.
“I don’t need a goddamn babysitter, Lacey, and I don’t have to do what you want anymore.” His vehemence was undercut by his slurred delivery.
“Jesus, really?” The crowd at the bar waiting to order drinks was getting hairy, and one of the other bartenders was making desperate, get-your-ass-back-over-here motions at Lacey. “Shit,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “I’ve gotta get back to work.”
“I’ve got this,” Melody said. “Go on.”
“Thank you,” Lacey mouthed before rushing off.
“Jeremy, come on,” Melody said, turning back to him. “Let me take you home.” She took him by the arm and tried to urge him off the barstool, but he had at least sixty pounds and eight inches on her, and he didn’t budge an inch. It was like Tweety Bird trying to move Hector the Bulldog.
He gave her a slow, dull-eyed blink. “What’re you doing here, Melody?”
She gave up trying to pull him off the stool and let go of his arm. “Lacey asked me to drive you home.”
“Lacey,” he echoed, dripping with resentment. “Of course she did. Because Lacey always gets everything she wants. She gets to fall in love with someone else and she gets you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You two are only friends because I introduced you, but she’s the one who gets to keep you after the breakup, and I get nothing—I get no one. I don’t even have Drew anymore.”
Ouch. But also? Not exactly fair. Maybe Melody hadn’t reached out to him much since the breakup, but he hadn’t done any reaching out either. If anything, he’d been keeping his distance. She’d thought that was what he wanted.
“Hey.” Melody leaned over so she could look him in the eye. “No one gets to keep me. Lacey said you needed a friend tonight, so here I am, dropping all my Friday night plans for you.”
He looked away and didn’t say anything. Because he was a big pouty baby.
“You know what?” she said, reaching her limit. “I’m missing my book club to be here right now. I read Les Miserables! Do you know how long that book is? Really long, Jeremy—it’s really long! I baked scones, too. Cranberry ones!” she shouted, poking him in the arm for emphasis. “From scratch!” Another poke. “Which are now going to go to waste because you needed someone to take your drunk ass home. So you are going to get up off that barstool and let me drive you home, do you understand?”
For a moment, he looked taken aback by her tirade, but then he pushed himself to his feet, swaying a little. Melody fit herself under his arm and steered him toward the hallway Lacey had indicated, which led to the delivery entrance in the back.
Jeremy kept his arm around her the whole walk back to the car, leaning on her for support. He smelled like a distillery, and his steps were slow and lumbering, but he managed to keep himself upright and walk in a more-or-less straight line. Still, he was heavy. It was a relief when they finally made it to her car and she could deposit him in the passenger seat.
“Thank god,” she breathed as she collapsed into the driver’s seat. “It didn’t seem like that long of a walk on the way to the bar.”
Jeremy didn’t say anything. He had slumped down in his seat with his head against the glass and his eyes closed.
“I’m sorry about Charlotte and Drew,” Melody said, feeling guilty about yelling at him before. She probably should have checked on him more after the breakup. Maybe he’d been hoping she would reach out to him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” he said without opening his eyes.
Alrighty, then, maybe not.
“You’re not going to yack in my car, are you?” Skipping book club to drive him home was one thing, but vomit in her car was more than she was willing to put up with, no matter what he was going through.
He opened one eye wide enough to register his offense. “No.”
“Good.” She pulled up the GPS app on her phone and shoved it at him. “Put your address in there.”
While he was doing that, Melody twisted around and dug a bottle of water out of her yoga bag in the back seat.
“Drink this,” she told him, trading the water for her phone. She set the phone in the holder on the dash, buckled her seatbelt, and started the car.
“Melody?”
She glanced over at him, eyebrows raised.
“Thank you for coming to get me.”
Her annoyance melted away, and she reached over to give his forearm a squeeze. “You’re welcome.”
Here was a thing Melody had not known about Jeremy Sauer: he still lived with his mother.
In Professor Xavier’s mansion from X-Men, apparently—or something that looked like the Hollywood Hills equivalent of it. Which—okay, if Melody’s mom lived in a freaking mansion, she might still be living at home, too. Except, no, scratch that, not even in a mansion would she ever again live with her mother voluntarily.
“Wow.” Melody goggled at the imposing architecture as she parked her car on the circular driveway in front of the massive front door. “What’s it like, living in a castle?”
Jeremy gave an indifferent shrug. “It’s just a house.” He seemed to have sobered up a little on the drive, but his mood still left something to be desired.
“Really? ’Cause it looks exactly like the fairytale castles I used to imagine when I was a kid playing princess and the dragon. My dog Waffles was the dragon—he was a dachshund. Very ferocious.” She held her hands up in the shape of claws and made a ferocious face.
The corner of Jeremy’s mouth dimpled into something that might almost have been a smile. “Do you want to see the inside? Since you’re here.”
“Inside there? I don’t think I’m dressed for it.”
“You’re dressed fine. It’s not black tie. It’s my house.” He tilted his head. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour,” he said, pushing the car door open.
Melody turned off the engine and followed him, because how often did you get an invitation to see Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous up close and personal?
He held the heavy wooden front door open and gestured her into a large entry hall. Inside, the house was as still and solemn as a museum after hours. Silvery light slanted in through a bank of cut-glass windows on the landing above, illuminating an enormous stone fireplace that looked like it belonged in a Viking earl’s mead hall. A collection of stuffy formal furniture was arranged artfully around the room.
Between the somber furnishings, the dark paneling, and the gothic architectural elements, the effect was a lot more Haunting of Hill House than cozy family home. The only thing remotely warm or personal was a round table holding a collection of fr
amed family photos.
“Is that you and Hannah?” she asked, pointing to a picture of a big-toothed boy with a cowlick holding a baby in his lap.
He smiled faintly. “Yeah, she spit up all over me two seconds after that picture was taken.”
The photo beside it was of a gawky, teenaged Jeremy and a man who could only be his father standing on the deck of boat. “You look just like your dad.”
“That’s what everybody says.” Jeremy gazed at the picture a moment before tilting his head. “Come on. You’ll probably like the library.”
“Library?” Melody said, brightening at the prospect. “Yes, please.”
He ushered her down a hallway lined with oil paintings in heavy gilt frames and into the library. Wide-eyed, she drifted to the middle of the room and spun slowly, taking in the space around her.
It was everything she had ever imagined a library should be: dark and mysterious and ornate, with a marble fireplace and wood paneling and leather chaises and a huge wooden desk…and the books! Floor-to-ceiling bookcases covered every wall, and every single shelf was filled to bursting with books of every conceivable subject matter. There was even a library ladder! Her whole life, she had fantasized about having a library with a ladder.
She went straight to it and climbed up the first few rungs to caress the antique leather bindings on the top shelf.
“You like it?” Jeremy asked behind her. When she turned around, he was smiling.
“It’s amazing!” She shook her head in wonder as she stepped down. “Did you spend hours in here when you were a kid? You must have.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, regarding the room blandly. “I wasn’t really allowed in here when I was a kid.”
Melody made a sympathetic moue. “Oh.” It was possibly the saddest thing he’d ever told her. What was the point of living in this kind of splendor if you weren’t allowed to enjoy it?
He shrugged. “I was never much of a reader anyway.”
One of the paintings on the wall caught her eye and she drew in a breath. “Is that a Whistler? Like, a real Whistler? That he painted with his actual hands?”
He nodded. “My dad was a big art collector.”
She moved across the room to study it up close. “It’s incredible. I can’t believe you have this hanging in your house!” The detail in the brushwork was extraordinary. It was a whole different experience than looking at a print or a photo on the internet. The urge to run her fingers over the texture of the paint was so strong, she clasped her hands behind her back to restrain them.
Jeremy came over to stand beside her. “I didn’t know you were into art.”
“Oh, I’m not, really. But I took an art history class for my humanities requirement and Whistler was one of my favorites. I love his nocturnes. They’re sort of dreamlike, but still grounded in realism, you know? There’s something soothing about them.”
Jeremy cocked his head to the side, studying the painting like he was looking at it for the first time. After a moment, he said, “There’s another one in the hall upstairs if you want to see it.”
Melody bobbed her head, bouncing on her toes. “Yes, please!”
He led her back to the front hall and up one of the two grand staircases flanking the room. Past the landing with the cut glass, up another half-flight of stairs, then down a long gallery overlooking the entry. At the end, they turned into a short hallway where another Whistler was on display. Unlike the gray and gold cityscape in the library, this one was a seascape in cool blues and violets.
“This was always one of my dad’s favorites,” Jeremy said.
“It’s beautiful.” She could see why his father had liked it. It was a quiet scene: just a body of calm water stretching out forever with three small ships in the distance. Something about the sweeping horizontal brushstrokes and subtle interplay of color filled Melody with a feeling of peace.
While they were admiring it, a door at the end of the hall opened and Geoffrey Horvath stepped out wearing nothing but a ladies’ pink silk bathrobe. “Jeremy!” he exclaimed, stopping short at the sight of them.
Melody’s eyes widened. Beside her, she heard Jeremy suck in a sharp breath, which she assumed meant he was as surprised as she was to encounter the Sauer Hewson CFO wandering around in what she could only assume was the CEO’s bathrobe. Yikes.
“Geoff?” Angelica Sauer appeared at Mr. Horvath’s side in a silk peignoir that matched his pink robe. Her face froze when she saw her son. “Jeremy. I thought you were out for the night.”
“Evidently.” Jeremy’s voice was as cold as she’d ever heard it.
Melody edged behind him, hoping maybe Mrs. Sauer and Mr. Horvath wouldn’t recognize her. That would probably not be terrific for her future prospects at the company.
“There’s no need to take a tone,” Mrs. Sauer said.
“Really? My father’s best friend is sleeping with my mother and you don’t think that calls for a tone?”
Mr. Horvath cleared his throat. “Jeremy—”
“How long have you been sleeping with my mother?” Jeremy demanded.
“Jeremy,” his mother said sharply. “Obviously, this isn’t how we wanted you to find out—”
“Does Hannah know?”
“No, of course she doesn’t know. She’s at a sleepover tonight.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“I don’t really see how that’s any of your business.”
“How long?” Jeremy shouted, loud enough to make Melody flinch.
His mother lowered her eyes. “Five years.”
“Five years?” His voice sounded strangled. “You were sleeping with Geoffrey when Dad was still alive? When he was dying?”
Melody glued her eyes to the floor, trying to make herself invisible. She shouldn’t be here for this—she shouldn’t be hearing any of this. The situation was bad enough, but the fact that it was unfolding in front of a stranger made it all so much worse.
Jeremy’s mother took a step toward him. “It’s complicated. You don’t understand. I was only trying to protect you.”
“No, you were trying to protect yourself, Mom. Because that’s the only person you’ve ever cared about.”
Mrs. Sauer’s cold mask cracked into pure anguish. She made another move toward Jeremy, but he spun on his heel and stalked off.
Leaving Melody on her own with Angelica Sauer and Geoffrey Horvath in their respective states of dishabille. So, basically her worst professional nightmare come to life, only in reverse, because in her nightmares, she was the one half-naked in front of the company’s top officers.
She offered them a strained, apologetic smile and ran after Jeremy, who was halfway down the stairs already. By the time she caught up to him, he was sitting in the passenger seat of her car. She got in behind the wheel and twisted in her seat to face him.
He looked absolutely wrecked. Like a little kid who’d lost his parents. She’d thought his life was so perfect, but it was an illusion. Underneath the surface, everything was a mess.
“Will you get me out of here, please?” he said in a choked voice.
“Where do you want to go?” she asked, aching for him.
His jaw clenched. “Absolutely anywhere that’s not here.”
Chapter 14
She took Jeremy back to her apartment, because she didn’t know what else to do with him.
He didn’t say a word in the car, or during the walk upstairs. As soon as she had the door open, he sank down on her couch and buried his head in his hands. “Fuck this whole month.”
Melody set her purse down and sat on the couch beside him. After a moment’s hesitation, she laid her hand on his back.
He sighed against her fingers, blowing out a long, shaky breath. “Lacey found someone else. Charlotte and Drew have each other. Even my mom has Geoffrey.” He let out a bitter laugh. “And I’ve got nothing, because I screw up everything I touch.”
There was that debilitating self-doubt again. Melody
’s hand moved up and down his back, following the lines of tension. “That’s not true.”
“All this time, I thought Geoffrey believed in me, but it turns out he just felt guilty about screwing my mother.”
“You don’t know that.”
He scrubbed his hands over his face, head still bowed. “I was a complete ass to Drew, and now he’s not talking to me. I treated Charlotte like shit. And when I tried to be better, I still managed to screw things up with Lacey.”
Melody’s fingers curled into his back. “I’m not sure what happened with Lacey was entirely your fault.”
He sat up, and Melody retracted her hand as he leaned back against the couch. “I couldn’t make her happy,” he said, glaring at the opposite wall. “If she’d been happy with me, she never would have fallen in love with someone else.”
Fair enough. On the other hand… “Maybe she just wasn’t the right person for you. You know, you might want to consider widening your dating pool beyond the Lopez sisters. Just a thought.”
His glare swung her way and softened. “I’m sorry to drag you into all my problems. You didn’t ask for any of this.”
She shook her head. “Do you not remember that whole thing where you found me bawling my eyes out in my car? I owe you.” Which gave her an excellent idea. “Ice cream!” she said, leaping up from the couch. “That’s what you need!”
“You don’t have to—”
“Shush,” she said as she pulled open the freezer. All the ice cream shops were closed, but she always kept a supply on hand—for emergencies, of course, which this definitely was. She carried the tub of ice cream and two spoons into the living room.
“Extreme Maximum Chocolate Fudge Chunk,” she said, dropping onto the couch and setting the ice cream between them. She presented Jeremy with a spoon. “Pour vous, monsieur.”
He accepted the spoon and arched an eyebrow as he peered into the tub. “I don’t know, are you sure it’s chocolatey enough?”
