by M. E. Parker
I rolled over again and closed my eyes as the tears continued to flow. I don’t know how long I laid there before falling asleep. The doorbell woke me. I was startled at first but then realized where I was and remembered my situation. I quickly looked at my phone. It was a little before ten o’clock, Jack wouldn’t be back for another hour. I looked down at myself. I was a mess. I was wearing baggy sweatpants and a tank top with no bra. I quickly grabbed one of Jack’s work shirts that was lying on his dresser and put it on and headed towards the stairs. I had no clue who could be at the door. Deliveries never came until the afternoon and Ted and Sarah both let themselves in.
I unlocked and opened the door just wide enough to put my head through. “Can I help you?” I asked the stunning redhead standing on the porch.
“Hi.” She said, flashing a bright smile. “Is Jack around?”
I took a quick appraisal of her. She was about my height, but she was wearing tall wedge sandals. She had on a short dark red silk dress that seemed more appropriate for a nightclub than for day wear. The dress had a deep v-neck that exposed a lot of cleavage. My eyes drifted to the Louis Vuitton Neverfull slung over her shoulder. Her left hand was gripping the strap and my eyes moved passed the gold Rolex on her wrist and her manicured nails to the stunning ring on her left ring finger. It was princess cut—at least five carats. Her crimson hair was curled, falling on her shoulders and her makeup was flawless. Her big round dark brown eyes sparkled as she continued to smile at me.
I cleared my throat, running a hand over the back of my head, feeling the tangled mess in the back of my hair. “Umm—Jack’s not here actually. He’s on his way back from Nashville, can I tell him you stopped by?”
She held out her right hand to me, “I’m Tiffany Johnson.”
I reluctantly took her hand as my heart dropped. I looked down at my own hand, realizing I was in desperate need of a manicure. I had cut my bare nails short and the thumbnail on my right thumb was chipped from gardening and I had even bothered to file it.
It was her. It was Jack’s Tiffany. I was sick to my stomach. Why today? I thought to myself and then managed to pull myself together and respond. “Yes. Jack has mentioned you, I’m Claire Hawkins. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too!” She said in an overly cheerful, overly fake voice. “Jack and I must’ve gotten our wires crossed this morning. I expected him to be home by now.” She cooed. “You don’t mind if I just come in and wait for him, do you?”
Of course, I minded. What the hell? I suspected she was full of shit, but she mentioned that they had talked earlier that morning. I couldn’t know for sure, so I just opened the door and let her in. She practically pushed me down as she walked passed me. I watched her take appraisal of the place before she headed towards the kitchen and threw her Louis Vuitton on the kitchen island and took a seat at one of the barstools. She sat down and started playing with the massive diamond on her finger. “So, Claire, you have to tell me, how do you know my fiancé?”
I stood in the kitchen facing her, wrapping Jack’s shirt tighter around me wishing I could suddenly disappear. I cleared my throat again, “I’m doing some consulting for the farm.”
“Oh, that’s right. I think he mentioned you, you’re the super smart girl who’s looking at his books?”
I shivered and then felt nauseous. “Did you say fiancé? Jack mentioned that you two had split up a couple of years ago.” What the fuck is going on?
She giggled. “We did. You know he and I were first loves. That’s what we do, break up and get back together. I think when we saw each other in Nashville last night, we both knew it was time to stop that and just realized that we were meant to be together. He mentioned he was going to talk to you when he got home. I hope I haven’t caused any problems?” She giggled again but didn’t wait for my response. Apparently, it was a rhetorical question. “Did he tell you Claire, that he built this house for me?” She said as she looked around.
“Yes.” I managed to squeak out as I started to shake. Tears were stinging the backs of my eyes but there was no way in hell I would let that bitch see me cry. I needed to get away, I needed to process.
“MEN!” She huffed. “I can’t believe he’s brought in all of this shit furniture from that old house. I’m going to have to redecorate this whole damn place.” She said laughing.
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, without success, but I managed to steady my voice, “If you’ll please excuse me Tiffany, I need to go upstairs and change, I have someplace I have to be.”
“Of course, sweetie, I’m sorry I kept you.”
Her voice was syrupy sweet, and I felt like I was going to throw up. I ran up the stairs, through the bedroom door and into the bathroom. I vomited in the toilet and went straight to the sink to rinse out my mouth. I looked in the mirror. There was mascara from last night smeared under my eyes. My face was pale. My hair was matted. I was a complete mess. I didn’t want to believe it. But she had said the one thing that made me realize it was the truth, ‘he mentioned that he was going to talk to you when he got home.’ He had told me earlier in his text that he needed to talk to me about something. It was Tiffany that he wanted to talk to me about.
There was no time to shower. I quickly brushed my teeth, cleaned the makeup out from under my eyes, and then brushed my hair and put it in a ponytail. I think I was in shock. I needed to cry, but I couldn’t let myself, not until I was safely away from there.
I quickly changed into jeans, a white t-shirt, and a light cardigan sweater. I pulled on my work boots and made my way across the hall to Jack’s office. There was an empty cardboard box in there. I stopped at his desk and wrote him a note and placed it on top of my report. A tear managed to slip down my cheek and I quickly wiped it away, begging God to keep the tears away for just a little longer. I pulled up flights to Boston on my phone and booked the next one. I would need to haul ass if I wanted to make it. I sent a text to Ted.
I ran back across the hall and filled my suitcase with everything that would fit in it. I grabbed an empty duffle bag from Jack’s closet and filled it with everything I could. I piled the rest of my clothes in the cardboard box and left it sitting in the closet. I looked at the red cowboy boots sitting next to the box and turned around and walked out.
Chapter Eighteen—Jack
As I pulled into the driveway to the house, I started to get nervous. I knew all that I needed was to see Claire and then everything would be okay. The Nashville trip had been crazy. What were the chances that I would actually see Tiffany? I had no idea that she had worked at that steakhouse. I was pissed at Todd. I had confided in him about Claire—I shouldn’t have. It was probably all of the whiskey. But when Tiffany showed up at the bar we went to after the restaurant, I knew Todd had to have told her where we would be. I left the two of them together practically the minute she showed up, making the excuse to leave that I had to get back to the farm early the next morning. At least I had gotten what I had gone for, I thought to myself as I parked in front of the house.
As soon as I got inside, I looked to my left and saw Tiffany sitting at the kitchen island. What the fuck is she doing here? I thought to myself. “Where’s Claire?” I growled.
She looked at me with her best innocent smile and said, “Who’s Claire?” I wasn’t going to put up with her shit.
I went to the bottom of the steps and called up to her. “Claire?” When she didn’t answer, I went up, taking two stairs at a time. She wasn’t in her office or mine, so I went to the bedroom. She wasn’t in there either, so I checked the bathroom. That’s when I realized none of her things were in there. I walked out and looked in the closet. Everything was gone. All I saw was a cardboard box sitting on the floor, with her red cowboy boots sitting next to it. There was also a small black box sitting on the shelf above the boots.
I ran back down the stairs. My heart was beating out of my chest. I stopped for a second, trying to catch my breath. “Tiffany, where’s Claire?” I asked tr
ying to remain calm. She wasn’t looking at me. She was standing in the kitchen with her back towards me rubbing the cabinet doors.
“You know Jack, you should have put in dark wood cabinets. No one is building with painted cabinets anymore.” She turned to me with a fake ass smile.
I was about two seconds from losing it. “Tiffany, I’m going to ask you again. What are you doing here and what did you say to Claire? You need to tell me now.”
“I’m telling you silly, I don’t know who Claire is. Why are you freaking out?”
“I’m not freaking out Tiffany, but I need to know about Claire.”
“There’s nothing to know from me Jack. She wasn’t here when I got here.”
“You’re lying Tiffany. She had to let you in.”
“I let myself in Jack. The door was open.”
“Tiff, that’s impossible. The door locks automatically.”
“Geez Jacks, when I said the door was open—I meant it was literally standing open. I walked in and called for you and no one answered, so I just waited. I just wanted to talk to for a second.”
I couldn’t decide if I wanted to believe her or not, but all I knew was that I wanted her gone so I could find Claire. “Okay---you’re second starts now. What do you want?”
She rolled her eyes, “Jacks—why are you acting like this? We could be good together and last night, when I saw you, I knew that I still loved you. We’re meant to be together. We should be back together.” She stuck out her chest, I’m sure she was hoping I would check out her new boobs. But that wasn’t going to happen.
“Tiffany, we are never ever getting back together.”
“Jesus Jacks, you don’t have to get so pissy about it! God…really, ‘we are never ever getting back together’? That’s so dramatic, and so unlike you. What’s the big deal about this girl anyway?”
I sighed. “Everything.” All I knew was that she had to go so that I could find Claire. “You need to go Tiffany, and don’t come back. I got stuff to do.”
The minute Tiffany walked out the door, I called Claire. She didn’t pick up, it went straight to voicemail. I immediately texted her, but she didn’t respond. As I walked up the stairs, I decided that I was sure Tiffany was lying. She had gotten to Claire somehow and I needed to fix it.
I walked into the bedroom again. I could still smell her. I wandered into the closet and opened the cardboard box—it was filled with her clothes. The red boots I gave her were sitting next to it. I ran my hand across the little black box that was sitting on the shelf. I picked it up and opened it. It was a picture frame. When I turned it over, my heart skipped a beat. It was a black and white picture of Claire and me. It was the one I took the first night I brought her here. She looked so beautiful that night. That was the night I realized I loved her. I think I loved her from the moment we met, but it took me a few days to realize it. I hated myself. I should have told her. I should have told her that I loved her. I tried to call again, she didn’t answer. I sent several more texts, begging her to call me.
I called Ted and asked him if he had heard from Claire and he said that she had texted and asked for a farm truck and he had a couple of the guys drop one off for her at the house. I didn’t tell him what was going on. I wanted to talk to her first. I was hopeful that maybe she wasn’t leaving town since she had one of the trucks, but I knew better. There was no reason for her to take all of her things if she wasn’t leaving for good.
I walked into my office and that’s when I spotted it. Her report was sitting on my desk and there was note lying on top of it. I walked over and picked it up.
Dear Jack,
Thank you so much for everything you have done for me. Spending time with you and working with you on the farm has been the best experience of my life. I will never forget any of it.
I’m sorry to leave this way, but I think it is best for both of us that I make a clean break. My contract is up, the report is finished (I hope you find it useful), and it’s time for me to start my future with Hawkins’ Industries.
Please pass on the box of clothes in the closet to Sarah, she can donate them or give them to someone in need. I borrowed a work truck to get to the bus station and I will leave the keys under the floor mat.
Thanks again for everything, you’ll always have a piece of my heart.
Claire
I read it three more times before I felt my heart shattering into a million pieces. She didn’t leave because of Tiffany. Tiffany wasn’t lying. She probably hadn’t even seen Claire. Claire left because she wanted to. She didn’t want to be here, and she didn’t want me. She hadn’t even had the guts to tell me to my face. I wadded up the note and threw it across my office and then I picked up the report and chucked it against the wall and watched as it fell apart—pages scattered on the floor.
God, I loved her. I loved her more than breathing air. I always knew there was a possibility that she wouldn’t want to stay here forever. I was ready for that. If she had just told me that she wanted to work in Boston, I would have worked something out. Hell, I’d give up the farm if I had to. That’s how much she meant to me. Even on the ride home from Nashville, I was thinking about hiring someone to run the farm if Claire wanted to move. I could travel back and forth.
I walked downstairs and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and a glass and made my way back up to the office. After I drank one, I sent her a nasty text. Just found your note, thanks for having the decency to tell me in person. Of course, she didn’t respond. By the third drink, I was numb. The tears on my cheeks had dried up. I told myself that I’d be fine. I’d survived much worse. I had survived the death of my parents and my uncle. I had survived Tiffany’s betrayal. I would survive losing Claire. I ignored the multitude of texts and emails that came through my cell phone. I ignored my office phone that rang continuously. I couldn’t deal with farm business. I just needed a day, maybe two, to fall apart, I told myself. Then I would put the pieces back together and it would be business as usual. I would forget about her.
That night though, I needed to remember. I needed to grieve. I texted Ted and told him that I had stomach flu. I told him that he and Sarah shouldn’t come by in case it was contagious. He asked about Claire and I told him that she was visiting with her Dad in Boston. I didn’t want to answer any more questions. I just wanted to be left alone. I walked around my office and picked up the note she had written and smoothed it out and laid it on my desk and then I went to work picking up all the pages of her report and putting it back in order. I went to the bedroom and got the picture that she had left and sat it on my desk. I pulled the little black box out of my pocket and set it on the desk unopened and stared at it. It was the promise of a future that I would never have.
I laid my head down on my desk and then opened the box and looked at the ring. It was perfect just like Claire. It was half the size of the one that I had bought for Tiffany, but it cost twice as much. That’s because it had to be flawless, just like Claire. I had the jeweler in Nashville order the stone from New York. I looked at the round diamond sparkling up at me. The large stone was surrounded by tiny diamonds. It reminded me of a flower. When I picked up from the jeweler this morning, I imagined it on her finger. I was tempted to buy something bigger, but I knew she wouldn’t want it. She wouldn’t want to have to take it off to ride horses or work in the garden. I felt tears rolling down my cheek and wiped them away with my shoulder.
I stared at the picture of me kissing her on the cheek. I wanted to hate her for leaving. I wanted to believe that she was just some spoiled brat who was just moving from adventure to adventure. But she wasn’t and I couldn’t hate her. I would love her forever. I wanted her to be happy even if she couldn’t be happy with me. I sat up and poured myself another drink and opened her report to the first page and started reading.
It took me a couple of hours to read through the report. My head was spinning after I had read it. It was so much more than I ever expected. I was blown away. If I implemen
ted her recommendations and plans, it would mean tens of millions of dollars in additional profits over the next five years. It wasn’t just about the money though. It was about her ideas. She understood my vision for the farm perfectly. She had found a way to keep most of the workers on through the slow season. She had a plan to build low-cost housing on some of the land that was unsuitable for farming. It would allow out of town workers and their families to move to town, boosting the economy and creating more jobs. This report made me love her more than I already did.
I reached for my phone—I wanted to call her. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to tell her it was okay that she didn’t want me, that I just wanted to hear her voice, but I couldn’t do it and I knew she probably wouldn’t take my calls anyway. I spent the rest of the night finishing off the bottle of whiskey, remembering every single time we made love, remembering every single time she laughed, every time she smiled at me, every time I held her in my arms. I didn’t want to forget—even though I would need to, I didn’t want to let go.
I woke up the next morning. I didn’t remember getting in bed last night. My head was pounding. I realized I was sleeping on her pillow. It smelled like her. I thought to myself that I couldn’t let Sarah clean this room. I could still smell her here. I never wanted that smell to go away. I stumbled into the bathroom and then back to bed. I texted Ted again and told him I wouldn’t be working. I tried to sleep most of the day and then when I couldn’t lay there any longer, I went downstairs and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and made my way back up to my office—where I sat, drank, and stared at her picture and the ring. I read her report again, trying to memorize every word.
That was my routine for the next few days. I hadn’t shaved or showered. I was pulling a new bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet when Ted walked into the house. I didn’t know what day it was or what time it was. I wasn’t sure when I ate last. Ted grimaced when he saw the bottle of whiskey in my hand. “What the hell Jack? What’s going on with you?” He walked over and grabbed the bottle out of my hand. “Talk to me, son.”
