After everything we’ve been through, she’s going to move across the fucking country? Jesus Christ.
My mind searches for something brilliant to say, but all I keep thinking is that she’s going to leave me again.
“Say something.” London’s soft voice is brimming with fear.
“Wow.” I push the word out. “New Jersey.”
“Look, I’m not happy about this. I don’t really want to take it, but I’m torn. It’s a great opportunity, one that probably won’t come around again, but then there’s us, and the kids . . .”
“I can’t move there, London. The kids can’t handle another uprooting like that,” I explain.
“I know! I know this, which is why I’m so broken up about it. Look, I didn’t want to tell you until I’d decided, but I can’t lie to you, and we’re a couple now. Couples talk about things like this and make decisions together.”
“So you haven’t taken it?” I ask.
“No, I haven’t.” London’s eyes fill with tears. “I can’t leave you. I can’t do it, and as much as I want this job, and God, it’s probably going to mean the end of my damn career, I don’t care. I just don’t. I love you. I love you and I don’t know if you love me back, but I won’t give up on what we have right now. Not for anything.”
I try not to revert to when we were kids, but I’m right back there again. I remember it so clearly because it was the worst day of my fucking life. There I was, with the girl I had been in love with for years but never had the courage to tell, and she told me she was going to walk away from everything—for me.
The Northwestern scholarship—something only ten people in the country were offered, and she was going to walk away just for me.
How’s this for some déjà vu shit again?
Now, it’s a job.
Fuck my life.
“Ian, please. Say something.” London lets go of my hands and wipes tears from her eyes.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Something. Anything. What you’re thinking.”
I’m thinking this is a sick joke the universe is playing on me. I feel like I’m in a time warp, stuck in this loop where I’m forced to give her up time after time. Stand by silently while she walks away, angry and hurt. “I—I don’t know what to think.”
She starts to cry harder. “How do you feel?”
Like punching something. Like begging you not to go. Like I’m about to lose the best thing that’s ever happened to me. “I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure?” she parrots, her voice rising. “Are you saying you don’t love me?”
“I didn’t say that.” Because seeing her cry is going to weaken me, and I know what I have to do, I stand up and walk toward the window, shoving my hands in my pockets. “I just need a moment to think. You sprung this on me out of nowhere.”
“I’m sorry. I should have told you about it sooner, but . . . I was actually hoping I wouldn’t get it.”
“How long have you known about it?” I ask. Does she hear the tremor in my voice?
“About three weeks.”
I spin around and face her. “Three weeks? You’ve known a transfer to New Jersey was a possibility for three weeks and you never said anything?”
She rises to her feet, fresh tears spilling. “I’m sorry! I wanted to, honestly I did, but we were so happy, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t even like thinking about it.”
“Problems don’t go away just because you refuse to think about them. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”
“You don’t.” Her voice breaks over a sob, and it kills me not to take her in my arms. God help me, I want to so badly.
I want to tell her the truth—that I love her and don’t want her to leave, but it would be so unfair. She’s worked too hard to give up her career now. My chest is painfully tight. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have hidden this from me.”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t hide it!”
I turn toward the window again so she can’t see my face. “You should take the job.”
“What? No!” She comes over to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Ian, please. Talk to me. Why would you tell me to take the job?”
I can’t look at her. “Because you deserve it. You’ve worked all your life for that kind of title and position. It’s what you’ve always wanted.” I swallow hard and force myself to say it. “And there’s nothing here worth staying for. You should go.”
“But . . . but I love you. I love the kids. I love the life we’re making together. You don’t think that’s worth staying for?”
I shrug. “Not if it means giving up your career.”
Her voice is small and fragile. “Don’t you love me?”
Oh, fuck. I have to lie to her. And it’s going to destroy her. Crush her. Annihilate her.
But it’s going to save her from making a huge mistake—if I tell her the truth, she’ll pass up the opportunity of her dreams for me. Sure, she’s saying she doesn’t care, but I know her better than that. She wants this job, and it will be my fault if she doesn’t take it. Dream over. I couldn’t live with it back then, and I can’t now.
No matter how much it hurts.
Turning toward her, I make myself look her in the eye. “I care about you, London. You were an important part of my sister’s life, and you mean a lot to my family.”
Her lower lip trembles. “That’s it? After everything we’ve been through the last couple months, that’s all you have to say to me?”
“What do you want me to say?” My gut feels like it’s being torn apart by a pack of wolves. “Look, we’ve had a good time together, and maybe if you hadn’t gotten a promotion, we’d have stayed together longer. But this was bound to come to an end sooner or later.”
“It was?”
No, but that’s not what comes out of my lying mouth. “Yeah.” I run a hand over my hair, knowing I’m the biggest asshole in the world right now. But I have to be brutal, or she won’t go. “I mean, how much longer was this going to last?”
“I don’t understand.” Shaking her head, she wraps her arms around herself like she’s cold and takes a step back from me. “How could I have been so off about this? About us? How could I have been so blind?”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. We were having fun. We deserved it, after what happened to Sabrina and David. We needed each other to get through it.”
There are no words to describe how much I hate myself right now. Saying that to her makes my heart ache because if it hurt me that much to say it, I can’t imagine how it sounded.
“That’s what this was for you? Grief therapy?” Her eyes are wide and shining.
“Well . . . sort of. Wasn’t it that for you?”
“No. No, it was much more than that. I love you, Ian. I’ve always loved you. Even when I hated you, I loved you.”
“That makes no sense.” But it does. Of course it does.
She starts to laugh, even as tears continue to drip down her cheeks in mascara-streaked tracks. “You know what makes no sense? Me, thinking this time was different. Me, thinking you’d changed. Me, believing I could be the one you wanted forever, that we had a future together. I see now what an idiot I was.”
“London, come on.” Dammit, I don’t want her blaming herself.
“No. You don’t love me. You don’t care about me. You never have.” She turns for the back door, and I can’t stand it.
I chase her down, grasp her arm. “Just wait a minute. That’s not true.”
She tries to shake me off, glaring at me over her shoulder. “Let me go, you son of a bitch. Once and for all.”
But I tighten my fingers around her wrist. “You’re wrong. I do care. I just see things clearer than you do. You need to take this opportunity or you’ll regret it.”
Her eyes narrow. “Thank you for mansplaining my life to me. Now let go.”
I don’t want to. Because I know that the moment I take my hand off her is the moment
I lose her forever. I’ll be more alone than I’ve ever been. And more miserable, because now I know how good we can be together.
But I have to put her first. I have to be brave enough, strong enough to do what needs to be done. That’s what a man does.
I loosen my grip, and she yanks her arm away, unleashing a torrent of gut-wrenching tears at the same time.
Devastated, my throat tight, I watch her spin around and rush out the back door. She takes off across the yard without even shutting it behind her.
With my heart in a vise, I keep her in my sight until she disappears inside her house. I imagine her running up the stairs to her bedroom and throwing herself facedown on the bed to sob into her pillow just like Sabrina used to do when she was young.
Fuck, it hurts. Closing my eyes, I tip my forehead to the glass and gently bang it there a few times. I had no choice, I tell myself. I had no choice.
“Uncle Ian?”
I turn around to find Morgan there behind me, an uncharacteristically nervous look on her face. I clear my throat. “Yeah?”
“I thought I heard shouting. Is everything okay?”
Squaring my shoulders, I put on a blank face. “Everything is fine.”
“Where’s Aunt London?”
“She went home.”
“Why?”
“Because she lives there.”
Because I hurt her.
Because she’s not mine anymore.
Because every time I think we can get this right, I’m forced to sabotage it.
Ignoring the little voice in my head that insisted I was choosing sabotage for my own sake, I brush past Morgan and head for the kitchen. Lately, London and I have been packing lunches for the kids the night before. It makes the mornings less hectic, and right now I need something to do with my hands or I might put a fist through the wall.
Morgan watches me take out slices of bread, peanut butter and jelly. “Doesn’t she usually help you with the lunches?”
“Why don’t you help me tonight?”
She doesn’t answer right away. It’s clear she knows something is off. The little shit is so perceptive, just like her mother. “Okay.”
I hand her the butter knife and the jar of Skippy. “Here. You do that while I get the drinks.”
In the pantry I grab two small bottles of water for her and Chris and a juice box for Ruby. While I’m shoving them into their lunch bags, Morgan glances at me. “What are you mad about?”
“I’m not mad.”
“Yes, you are. I can tell.”
“Fine.” I go over to the fridge and yank it open. “I’m mad because nothing I do seems to turn out the way I want it to.”
“What didn’t turn out?”
I grab a few snack packs of carrots and ranch dressing and stick them into the bags. “It’s complicated, okay? But I had to make a tough decision.”
She nods slowly and puts the sandwiches she’s made into small Ziploc bags. “Did someone have to get hurt?”
“Yes.” I brace myself on the counter and exhale. “But it had to happen. There was no other way.”
“Uncle Ian, I—”
“Go back to bed, Morgan.” I straighten up and stand tall above her. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“But I—”
“Go!” I roar, hating myself even more for being rough on her. This wasn’t her fault. But I couldn’t let myself soften, or I’d be lost.
My niece bites her lip, and for a moment, I think she’s going to burst into tears and run away. But she doesn’t—incredibly, she rushes toward me and throws her arms around my waist, pressing her cheek to my chest. It’s exactly the kind of selfless, affectionate thing her mother would have done.
At first I’m so stunned, I just stand there like a dummy. A lump forms in my throat. My heart aches. My eyes burn. But she holds on tight, and after a moment, I wrap my arms around her and hug back. Somehow this twelve-year-old knows me better than I know myself.
That’s why I’m grateful she doesn’t ask any more questions before she goes up to bed.
When she’s gone, I finish making the lunches, stick the bags in the fridge, and turn off the lights. When I crawl beneath the sheets, I reach over to the other side of the bed, even though I know it’s empty. Hour after hour passes and I can’t sleep, my mind full of memories, my heart full of sadness. I keep telling myself I did the right thing, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.
I fucking miss her already. I always will.
Twenty
London
I stumble home with hot tears streaming down my face and huge, gasping sobs wracking my chest. Somehow I manage to get up the stairs to my bedroom, even though I’m crying so hard I can barely see, and I throw myself across my bed and weep until my eyes run dry.
Why does this have to hurt so much? Why was I stupid enough to open my heart to him again? Why didn’t I learn the first time that Ian Chase will never love me the way I love him?
It feels like hours that I lie there choking on my regret. Eventually, I haul myself off the bed, get undressed, and throw on a ratty old T-shirt. I skipped dinner tonight, but I’m not hungry. I have an open bottle of wine in the fridge, but I don’t want it. I should wash my face and brush my teeth and take my pill, but I can’t find the energy. Instead, I crawl beneath the covers, curl into a ball, and squeeze my eyes shut.
I don’t want to think about him anymore. I want to be strong. I want to push through this. I want to be the kind of woman I’ve always admired, the kind that learns from her mistakes, stays focused on her goals, and doesn’t let anyone get to her.
“Damn you, Ian,” I whisper into the dark. “You made me need you, and I never wanted to need anyone ever again. You made me break a promise to myself that I’d never trust someone like you. You made me forget what it was like to have a broken heart.”
I make my decision—I’m going to take the job. I’m going to show Ian that he doesn’t have the power to hurt me anymore. I’m going to move to Atlantic City and make a new life for myself. I’ll miss the kids terribly, but it’s what I have to do. Sabrina would understand.
If I stayed here, where I’d have to look at his house every day and remember how close I came to having it all, I’d fall apart.
I have to go. He’s left me no choice.
The next morning, I inform Casey that I’ve decided to accept the offer.
He smiles confidently. “Of course you accepted it. Only a fool would turn down an opportunity like this, and I know you’re no fool.”
Don’t be too sure, I think to myself. “When should I plan to head out there?”
“As soon as possible. Have your assistant book a flight for tomorrow if she can. Take today to tie up loose ends here and get the paperwork taken care of.”
“I’m traveling first class,” I state flatly, daring him with an icy stare to deny me.
He nods. “Whatever you want.”
What I want is to stay here and raise a family with Ian. If I can’t have that, I can at least demand to be treated with the respect I deserve at work. It’s all I have now.
I spend the rest of the day packing up my office, on the phone to Atlantic City getting details about the new position, and writing emails introducing myself to my new team. The contract is faxed over that afternoon, and I notice they’ve even included the hefty bonus I asked for, which I figured they’d reject. I would also get corporate housing in a luxury condo until I could find something more permanent, a company car, and an expense account that made my eyes pop.
In every way, this promotion was a dream come true.
It just wasn’t my dream anymore.
My assistant gets me on a flight for the following morning, and at the end of the day, she gives me a hug and tells me she’ll miss working for me. We carry a few boxes out to my car, and I drive away from the office for the last time, feeling oddly empty and unemotional.
When I get home, I find a note taped to my front door. For a moment, my heart r
aces hopefully. Could Ian have come to his senses? But when I unfold it, I discover it’s not from him.
* * *
Aunt London, please come over as soon as you get home. I need to talk to you.
Love, Morgan
* * *
I don’t even think twice. When one of those kids needs me, I have to be there. And I want to tell them about the job myself. I need to explain why I’m moving across the country and reassure them I love them and I’ll still be in their lives.
Without even bothering to change out of my suit, I go out the back door, cross the yard, and head around the house with the note in my hand. It’s been a while since I’ve knocked on Ian’s front door, but I don’t feel right just letting myself in the back anymore.
I knock three times and hold my breath, willing my face to remain neutral in case Ian answers. But it’s Morgan who pulls the door open. She looks happy to see me.
“Hi,” she says. “Come in.”
I hesitate. “Is your uncle here?”
She shakes her head. “He’s picking Ruby up from dance.”
Disappointment and relief all at once. “Oh. Okay.”
I follow her up to her room, where she sits cross-legged on the unmade bed. Dropping down next to her, I cross my legs. “How did it go today with . . . everything?” I glance toward the hallway bathroom where she’d been in crisis mode last night.
“Oh! Fine. Everything with that was fine. The housekeeper got me some things this morning.”
“Good.” Had Ian instructed the housekeeper to do so? That was thoughtful of him. My heart softens traitorously toward him.
“Aunt London,” Morgan begins, her eyes drifting sideways. “I have to tell you something.”
I put a hand on her knee. “You can tell me anything. Always.”
She takes a breath and meets my eyes. Hers are tearful. “I heard you and Uncle Ian last night. I know about the job offer and the move to New Jersey. I know everything.”
“Oh.” For a moment, all I can do is blink at her. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I was coming downstairs to ask you something, and I heard you talking in the living room.” She wipes her eyes.
Hold You Close Page 18
