Was she the last one I had to meet today? Doesn’t that make fifteen? God, I’m losing it…
I was trying to do everything I could to break my routine, to start getting over Jonathan and anything that reminded me of Statham Industries. I hosted staff meetings at pastry shops, found a new park to do my weekly running, and drove out of my way to go to a different beach when I wanted to relax.
I even asked Helen and Sandra to set me up on group dates on the weekends to prevent me from sulking alone at night. But, no matter how nice some of those men were, none of them compared to Jonathan. At all.
I stood up and ordered another cup of coffee, stopping once I saw the front page of the Wall Street Journal. The headline was “Too Good to Pass Up!” and Jonathan was on it. He was smiling in a well-tailored tuxedo and standing on stage addressing his employees at the IPO ball.
Don’t pick it up…Don’t pick it up…You have to get over him, you have to get over him…
I grabbed my latte and sat back down. I desperately wanted to text him “Congratulations” or ask “How does it feel to finally be public?” but I wasn’t sure if he would text me back. And I knew that if he did, I would disregard whatever he said and write “I miss you.”
I opened my folder and started going though the directors’ proposals, making small notes here or there, shaking my head at how perfect their work was.
“Is this seat taken?” a deep voice said.
I flipped a page and didn’t bother looking up. “No, not at all. You can take it away.”
“I wasn’t planning on taking it away. I wanted to know if I could sit down with you.”
I lifted my head up and my eyes widened as soon as I saw the man’s face.
Jesus…
This man was perfection in every way. Every. Single. Way. With his deep brown eyes, dark and sexy bedhead hair, and tanned skin that I could see underneath his unbuttoned shirt, he made me forget whatever I was working on.
I was trying to figure out how old he was; he looked young, but not ‘Jonathan-young.’ As a matter of fact, he looked like he could be my age or maybe—he licked his lips and my thoughts immediately stopped.
“So…” He pushed a few dark locks away from his forehead. “Can I join you?”
I nodded.
“Thank you.” He smiled and sat down, looking at my notebook. “You work for Signature?”
I nodded again.
“My company used them for our phone campaign last year. They do pretty good work.”
I cleared my throat. “What phones? And what company do you work for?”
“The iPhones, Apple. But I don’t work for them. Everyone works for me.” His eyes gleamed.
“You’re Damien Edwards?”
“Yes, and you’re stunning.”
I blushed. “Thank you…”
“What’s your name?”
“Claire, Claire Gracen.”
“Pretty…” He smiled again. “Am I interrupting something important?”
I shut my folder. “Not at all.”
Chapter 27
Jonathan
My life had fallen apart and I couldn’t catch a break: First, Claire broke up with me—out of nowhere, and begged me to leave her alone, forcing me to take a two week vacation to Los Cabos so I wouldn’t run after her.
Then, as soon as I returned to the states, as soon as I walked into the HR department and started to help them with their restructuring plan, I learned that she’d put in a two weeks’ notice.
I thought about showing up to her farewell party—backing her into a corner and forcing her to admit that she wasn’t serious about leaving me, but I stayed in my office instead.
As the weeks passed, I thought she would call or text me—to at least say “Congratulations on the IPO being official,” or “I’m still willing to be your date to the ball” but she didn’t. She didn’t say anything, and I showed up to my IPO ball as the only executive without a date on his arm.
“John? Man, are you there?” Corey cleared his throat. “Hello? Hello!”
“Yes?”
“I have the pictures from last week.” He slid them across my desk. “How much longer do you need me to do this?”
“Until I figure out what the fuck happened…” I opened the folder and thumbed through the photos: Claire was shopping, having drinks with Sandra and Helen, cheering on the twins at their cheerleading competitions, and sitting on the beach with my charm necklace around her neck—staring off into the distance.
“She’s cruising down to Florida next week. She and her friends are taking a short ride to the Virgin Islands and then they’ll be flying back.”
What? “She’s getting on a plane?”
“There’s a ticket in her name so I assume that’s what’s going to happen…”
“When was the ticket purchased?”
“Last Friday. She, Helen, and Sandra went to the airport to get them instead of buying them online for some strange reason. That reminds me, she’s been going to some type of phobia therapy at a private clinic every Tuesday and Thursday. I’ve verified that the sessions are three hours long and they’re one-on-one, but there’s doctor-patient privacy so I can’t tell you exactly what it’s for.”
I know what it’s for… “Thank you very much, Corey. I’ll um…I won’t need you to do this for too much longer.”
“Take all the time you need.” He gave me a half smile. “It’s not a hassle at all.” He patted my shoulder and walked out of my office.
I still couldn’t figure out how the hell me and Claire went from making love one night to breaking up the next day. It didn’t make any sense, and I’d tried to think of every hypothetical scenario possible: She’d met someone else her age or older, someone had said something to her—making her feel bad about our relationship, or she woke up and decided that she really didn’t want me anymore.
Yet, none of those scenarios added up: From the pictures, her life was the same—I just wasn’t in it anymore. She’d never mentioned anyone saying anything to her and I’d checked her phone records over and over. There were a few stray numbers here or there, but the conversations were always a minute or less so I figured they were probably quick conversations with her associates. And that last scenario, the most hurtful one, didn’t make much sense either—not when she’d almost said “I love you too” right after I said “I love you” the night before we broke up.
I tossed the pictures into the trash and called the IT department. “Could you please send me those phone records again? Could you expand the field from one month ago to three months ago please? Yes…That’d be fine…Yes, that would be the week of my birthday…Thank you very much.”
Chapter 28
Jonathan
“Mr. Statham? Mr. Statham?” My therapist tapped her notebook.
“Yes?”
“Did you hear what your mother just said?”
“No.”
“She said she’s starting to remember some of the past now. Are you ready to sit over here with us so we can discuss that?”
I stood by my floor to ceiling windows and sighed. “Miss Tate, can we please reschedule this session? I apologize, but I can’t give you my undivided attention today.”
“Not a problem…I’ll have my secretary call Angela in the morning.”
“Thank you.” I heard her gathering her things and walking out the door. I felt a small hand on my shoulder and turned to see my mother looking up at me.
“Are you alright?” She tilted her head to the side. “I’ve never seen you like this…You’ve been moping around for weeks.”
“No. I am not alright.”
“What happened?”
“I—”
“Mr. Statham?” Angela stepped into my office. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you promised that I could go home early since it’s my birthday and…Well, it’s one o’ clock and you haven’t mentioned—”
“I’m so sorry, Angela. I completely forgot.” I walked over to my des
k and pulled out a drawer. I lifted a red gift bag up and handed it to her. “Happy Birthday, I really appreciate everything you do. I told HR that you’ll still need to be paid, but you don’t have to come back until Monday. Enjoy the rest of the week off.”
“What? Thank you! Thank you very much! I’ll make sure a temp will be here for you before I go…Oh, and Mrs. Statham,” she said as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a new sPhone. “This came in for you yesterday. I had them give you a new number again.”
“Oh! Well, I finally figured everything out dear. I don’t need any more sPhones. I’ll just keep the number I have.”
“Good, because I think seven numbers is enough.” She laughed. “I’ll see you next Wednesday, Mr. Statham. Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome.” I took my place at the window again and sighed.
My mom put her hand on my shoulder. “Are you going to tell me what happened now?”
“Claire left me…”
“What?” She gasped. “When was this?”
“The day after we all had dinner together…”
“Did she say why?”
“Not really.”
She patted me on the back. “I’m so sorry to hear that…Have you tried calling her?”
I didn’t answer. I wanted to call her every day—to ask if she was still out of her damn mind, but I promised to let her go so I left it alone.
“I’ll take that as a no then,” she said, sighing. “Things happen for a reason, son. Maybe you should date someone your own age next. You had to know it wasn’t going to last a long time with an older woman…She probably had an agenda that you didn’t even know about…”
I moved her hand off my shoulder and glared at her. “Thank you, mother. This is really helping.”
“Oh come on! I know you liked her a lot but—”
“But what?”
“Nothing…Just take it from another older woman: These May-December romances aren’t long-term material. I mean, I liked Claire from the moment I met her. I thought she was beautiful, charming, and hell—I would’ve never guessed that she was forty, but that fact remains. At the end of the day, you two are better off apart. You just don’t know it yet… Would you like to eat lunch with me today? We can talk about this for as long as you need to…”
“Sure. But I don’t feel like leaving my office. Could you get that new Italian restaurant’s menu from Angela before she leaves? We’ll order in.”
“Of course.” She stood on her toes and kissed me on the cheek. She patted my back one more time and headed for the door.
As soon as I heard the doorknob turn, something in me snapped and I spun around. “Wait, mom. One second…”
“What is it? You want Chinese instead?”
“How did you know Claire’s first name the day I introduced you two?”
I didn’t know why I’d never caught that before. I’d been playing our breakup and the preceding weeks in my head every day. I was sure it was nothing, but I needed to make sure.
“What are you talking about?”
I walked over. “The day I introduced you to her…Angela said Miss Gracen over the intercom and you asked me who she was referring to. I said my girlfriend, but before I could tell you her first name was Claire, you reached out and said it first. How was that possible?”
“I don’t know. I guess you mentioned her to me before and I happened to remember, so—”
“No. I didn’t.” I noticed that she was shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I never mentioned Claire to you by name. Ever.”
“Maybe you thought you didn’t, but you—”
“I didn’t. Answer me.”
She didn’t say anything. She just stared at me.
“Answer. the. question.”
“Calm down, Jonathan…I think you’re confusing yourself because you’re hurt and angry right now; you shouldn’t be taking this out on me. I’m going to get that menu so we can—”
“Stop.” I placed my hands over the door, blocking her escape. I looked directly into her eyes and then I saw it—that look of guilt, that look she always got whenever she didn’t want to admit to something.
I narrowed my eyes. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Watch how you talk to me! I’m your mother! You can’t just—”
“What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do?”
“Nothing…Can you please move so I can get the menu?”
“No.”
She shook her head and walked past me, taking a seat on the couch. She patted the seat next to her, but I stood still by the door.
“I met her at my gift shop a couple months ago…She bought those sea hooks you got for your birthday from me.”
“And?”
“And nothing…I didn’t put two and two together until we were in your office that day and I remembered that her name was Claire...Is that not okay? Does that make me a bad person?”
I blinked. I was about to drop the subject, but then something else hit me. “Why did Angela say you had seven phones with seven different numbers? You’ve been calling me from the same number since you got out of rehab…”
Her face suddenly turned red and she gasped. “No reason, I—”
“Tell me the truth.”
“It’s not what you—”
“Stop bullshitting me! You said something to her didn’t you?” I should’ve caught this a long time ago…Why didn’t I see this?
“I—”
“I will lock both of us in this room until you start talking.”
She sighed. “I just told her that she was wrong for dating you…that someone her age should know better…And ever since that day I saw her in your office, I told her that she was wrong every chance I got…”
“I want the details.”
“Please don’t make me—”
“Now.”
She swallowed. “At first I was just calling her…and then I…” She stopped every few sentences, telling me how she called Claire every day and left threatening voicemails, how she sent her mean emails with photo shopped pictures, how she asked Angela to get her a new phone with a new number every Monday so the calls wouldn’t be traced to her own phone.
“And me and Vanessa—”
“Vanessa was in on this too?” I balled my fists.
She nodded. “She was the one who told me that Claire was only after you for your money so…We hired a private investigator to dig up some dirt on her past and I used it against her…I even hired an investigator in Pittsburgh to follow her ex-husband and his new wife around so I could throw that in her face…I thought she was using you…I thought—”
“Did I ever ask what you thought? Did I ever say, Mother, tell me what you think about Claire?”
“No…”
“No? Are you sure?” I wasn’t going to hold back anymore. “Or is that something else you don’t remember?”
She began to cry.
“Do you want to know why the answer is no? It’s because it doesn’t fucking matter what you think and it never will. I don’t need—”
“I was only trying to protect you! I didn’t know that —”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know, a lot of shit you can’t seem to remember lately. But since we’re sharing stories now, let me help you out. Let me tell you exactly why what you think will never matter to me: You were never there when I needed you to be. Ever. You let me, a fucking kid, take care of a toddler while you and my father were out doing god knows what. You showed up high to everything I had at school—you were so fucking high you made me drive the car to the store when I was eight! But you don’t remember that do you? You don’t remember how you never did shit for us—how we had to beg you to come back with food, or how you left us in a trailer that damn near killed us. You still have yet to even apologize for that because you don’t want to own up to being the horrible fucking mother that you are. “
“I was on drugs! I’ve apologized over and over and you just keep draggin
g this out because—”
“Get out.”
“Please just lis—”
“Get. Out.” I pulled the door open and walked over to my desk. I was done with her.
Sobbing, she slid her purse strap over her shoulder and headed for the door. She twisted the doorknob and slowly pulled it open.
“Wait.” I sighed.
She looked back with tears in her eyes. “Yes?”
I glared at her, tempted to say “I never want to hear from you again. Stay the hell out of my life,” but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
As furious as I was with her, I was now even angrier with Claire. She didn’t even think to tell me about everything that had gone on; she’d simply used my mom’s behavior as an excuse to take the easy way out.
“Take a seat.”
“No…” She wiped her face and sniffled. “I don’t care how mad you are at me, you’re not going to treat me like—”
“SIT DOWN, mother.”
She moved away from the door and walked over to my desk, plopping down on a seat.
I took a deep breath. “You and I are going to talk, without our therapist. You’re going to be completely honest with me and I’m going to be completely honest with you. Once we’re done talking, if nothing good comes of it, we’re going to go our separate ways…I want you to know that I’ll always take care of you and give you whatever you need, but we don’t have to pretend like this relationship is something worth salvaging if it’s really not. Can you—”
“I want to be a part of your life regardless of this conversation. I don’t think it’s fair for you to write me off like I’m some type of—”
“Was what you did to Claire fair to me?”
“No…” She sighed. “And I’m sorry, but I—”
“I said ‘if’ this isn’t something worth salvaging, so you better be completely honest with me. Are you willing to do that?”
“Yes…”
“Good. Give me one second and we’ll start.” I picked up my phone and called executive affairs. “Milton, get me the proper paperwork to impeach a member of the board. I want it within an hour and I’ll be exercising clause seventeen to make the impeachment effective immediately.”
Silk Page 295
