Beloved (The Belonging Series)

by Corinne Michaels

  Me: Hey. Gonna start dinner.

  Ashton: K. I’ll be leaving the city soon.

  I look through the kitchen and realize we’re out of pretty much anything edible. I can either head to the store or order in. The sensible choice would be to go to the store, but after the day I’ve had, I decide to say screw it.

  There’s a knock at the door. Weird. The doorman usually calls if we have visitors.

  “Open up, Cat,” a bubbly voice says. Gretchen.

  With a huge grin, I throw the door open.

  “What are you doing on this side of the river?” I ask.

  “I had a case here in Jersey, so I figured I’d see if my two crazy-ass friends were around. And lucky me, I get you!” She grins as she walks through the apartment.

  “At least it’s lucky for one of us,” I snort.

  “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be here. What gives?” she says, assessing my outfit and facial expressions.

  “I had my meeting today for that prospective new client. I finished early. Figured I’d work from home.” I shrug, attempting nonchalance.

  Gretchen glares, giving me her lawyer look. The one that sees through you as she weighs each word you say and interprets your tone. She does that and then she chews you up. I should’ve remembered who I’m dealing with. Even fielding questions from crazy reporters hasn’t properly prepared me for her.

  “So why do you look like shit? Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on, Cat? Considering I don’t believe you for a second.” Her voice is stern but sympathetic. She knows the nightmare I went through. I knew it would only be a matter of time until she started pushing me to talk.

  We head into the kitchen and sit at the table. I look down, trying to find a way to put into words what’s jumbled in my head, as my fingers trace the grain of the wood. “I’m a mess, Gretch. It’s been three months since Neil cheated on me, and sometimes it feels like it happened yesterday. Sometimes it hurts so much it’s hard to breathe, but I have to pretend I’m great.

  “Then today I had to present against him at the client meeting I told you about. Not only was Piper there …” I trail off, looking up to see her reaction.

  “What? Oh wow,” she says, stunned, before recovering. “You’ve had quite a day, babe.”

  “You could say that. And then I find out he stole my presentation.” My head falls to my hands and I release the flood of emotions I’ve been restraining. “This is the man I was supposed to marry?” I drop my hands, letting out a ragged breath. My voice trembles when I ask, “How can I still love him, Gretch?”

  “Do you really love him?”

  “Yes … No … I don’t know. I’m so stupid! I don’t understand how he could have loved me and then done such messed-up things. I thought I knew him. I trusted him, gave my heart to him—only to have it ripped out of my chest. Why did I let him do this to me?” The tears I’ve been fighting threaten to spill over.

  “I feel like something changed about a year ago. At least that’s when I noticed it. He got distant and moody and started skipping out on things.”

  “I remember. I noticed too. When I questioned him about it, he proposed. I figured he was nervous about taking such a big leap.”

  “You never really know someone. But the more you sit here and question yourself, the more you’ll drive yourself bat-shit crazy. Trust me. My mother used to say this to me and I think you should hear it: love is a verb—it’s an action. Can you tell me what he did to show you he loved you? Anyone can say the words, but they need to prove it. His choices are his choices and now you have to make yours.” Gretchen grabs my hand and holds it tight.

  In the beginning he did show me. He cared and did things to make sure I felt special. It was the little things that meant the most—the handholding, the stolen moments between us, an unexpected note or text—but slowly that all changed.

  “I know I’m not to blame for his choices, but his choices affected the rest of my life,” I reply, my voice filled with bitterness and hurt.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, hun. What he did affects today—but you decide if it affects tomorrow. The only power he has is the power you give him. You know how brave and strong I think you are. Not many people could handle what you saw and dealt with. Sure, you cried, but you still went to work, kicked ass, and found a way to smile.”

  It’s liberating finally letting it all out. With Ashton I always guard a small part of myself—the vulnerable side. Sure, we share everything, for the most part, but she’s so much stronger than me. Gretchen would let me sulk and mope forever, but Ashton doesn’t play that game.

  “Oh, if you would have seen me, I don’t think you’d be saying that.” I laugh and squeeze her hand.

  Gretchen smiles with warmth and love. “I did see you. I saw the mess you were, but I saw the strength behind it too. Look at you now. You had a fucked-up day, but you’re not sitting here sobbing. You’re surviving, and you’re up for yet another promotion. Of course there are going to be bad days, but you dictate how many. I don’t want to mother you, but anytime you want to talk, you know I’m here.”

  My phone rings, interrupting our heart-to-heart. Taylor’s name flashes across the screen, which is odd because we usually text or email. She never calls, not unless it’s an emergency.

  “I gotta grab this.”

  “No worries. I have to get going anyway. I love you! Remember what I said, though.” She stands, giving me a kiss on the cheek before heading to the door. I smile at how great our impromptu visit was, waving as the door closes behind her and the phone rings again.

  “Hi, Tay.”

  “Sorry to bother you, but I thought you’d want to know immediately,” she replies excitedly.

  “Okay, what’s going on?”

  “Raven Cosmetics called. They’d like to speak with you first thing tomorrow morning. They asked if you’d be available for an 8 a.m. phone conference with the CEO. I said absolutely. I hope that’s okay,” she says nervously.

  “Yes, of course. I hope this is a good thing.”

  “I’m sure it is. I’ll confirm the meeting and email you the details.”

  “Thanks. I’ll work from home in the morning and be in the office around eleven,” I tell her.

  “See you then. Let me know if you need anything before you come in.”

  “I will. Have a great night.”

  I hang up the phone, surprised that we’re having a conference call instead of another meeting. I don’t know what that means, but I need to stay positive. I did the best I could, and all in all I feel good about how I presented. Even with Piper being in my face and unwanted thoughts of her and Neil resurfacing every time I looked at them, I kept it together.

  There’s a part of me that still doesn’t understand how it all happened. What could possibly have brought them together? Sure, she has beautiful blond hair and bright blue eyes, but I never thought Neil saw her as more than a friend. I never imagined she’d be the demise of our relationship.

  I hear my phone chirp and look down, hoping it’s Ash letting me know she’s close.

  Ashton: Hey. I got tied up at work.

  Me: It’s fine.

  Ashton: I think I’m staying in the city tonight. You ok?

  Me: I’ll be fine.

  Of course she’s not going to come home the one time I need her to. Is anything going to go my way today? I needed my ex-fiancé to act like an adult, I needed him to leave me alone and not make an attempt to further obliterate me, and I needed my best friend to help me cope when said ex asshole ignored my needs completely and behaved like a selfish bastard. My phone starts ringing and I see Ashton’s face pop up on my screen.

  I smile to myself, swiping to answer. “I’m okay, Ash.”

  She giggles. “Liar. I can tell by your text message that you’re not. What happened today?”

  “Well, let’s see. First, Piper consults for Raven Cosmetics, so she was in the meeting.”

  “What?” she shouts. “Did you
punch her in the throat? Or bitch-slap her? I wish I could’ve seen that.”

  “Yeah, Ashton, that’s what I did in a client meeting. No, I didn’t, although I wanted to.” I take a deep breath and quickly tell her the story of my afternoon with all the sordid details and drama.

  “What did you do to piss God off? I’ve never met anyone who has such shitty luck.” Ash laughs. “No matter what happens, this will work out. If not, we’ll get drunk and make fun of people.”

  “I still don’t know why the hell I keep you around. I gotta go. I have an early phone meeting with the Raven people and I need to be prepared.”

  “Okay. I probably won’t make it home. The new doctor is up my ass about the clinical trials he’s running. I need to be in the lab in case something happens. I’m sorry I can’t be home for you today, but please promise me you won’t eat a pint of ice cream. Just break out the old rabbit and—”

  “And that’s where we hang up. Thanks for the advice. I love you.”

  “Love you too. Seriously, an orgasm will

  totally—”

  I disconnect before she can finish, laughing at her ability to change my mood. There are no words for that girl. She really is my twisted sister. I decide it’s time to throw myself into work.

  As I sit at the table, I replay the day’s events. If I were an outsider, they’d be hilarious. Since I’m the one involved, however, they’re not. I have two choices: either I do my best and win the only way I can, or I lie down and let Neil win. Right now, I’m more eager than ever to nail this phone interview and win this job. I go straight to my desk, change my email password, along with the passwords for any other account I may have logged in to from his computer, and get to work on my Raven project.

  When I finally look at the clock, two hours have passed and I’ve accomplished a lot. I crunched numbers with an intensity I haven’t felt in a long time. I’m ready for tomorrow.

  As I step into my room, all the confidence I built up working over the past few hours vanishes. I look around, feeling uncomfortable and ashamed. It looks like a disaster zone in here. This isn’t me. I’ve always been neat and organized, ready to tackle the world. But the person living here is anything but that. My side table is covered in dirty dishes, piles of clothes are scattered everywhere, the trashcan is overflowing with tissues, and empty ice cream containers and candy wrappers litter the floor. Is this what I’ve become?

  Feeling determined to pull myself together and start rebuilding my life, I begin cleaning up my room, finding my strength through cleanliness and organization. Sometimes putting things in their rightful place is therapeutic. Right now, it’s giving me some small measure of control. The hurt and pain are still there, but I need to put this behind me. I need to move on.

  Today has reminded me that the life I thought I had and the man I thought I loved aren’t things I should want anymore. The future I dream of doesn’t look like this. It’s full of devotion and happiness, not sadness and betrayal. I deserve more. Silently, I promise myself to guard my heart from now on. Love is a gift, and I will not give it freely to anyone.

  Just as I’m thinking this, I accidentally knock over a frame, which crashes to the ground. Though the glass doesn’t shatter, when I pick it up I see a huge crack down the center between Neil’s face and mine. Broken—like we are. It’s the photo from our first anniversary. I’m clinging to his back and he’s looking adoringly at me with a huge smile on his face. We were so happy and in love. It shone through our eyes as we laughed at whatever joke we shared. We were always playful and silly in the beginning—he brought that out in me. But at some point it stopped. We went from happy to comfortable, and then he made his choices.

  I can’t keep thinking about this. All I want is freedom from him and this idea of what our relationship was or could have been. Alone in my room, I let it all go. Silent rivers of tears stream down my face as the weight of the last three months comes crashing around me. All the lies, hurt, and infidelity, the broken promises … it’s destroyed a part of me. I know that even when I’m fully over everything, there’s a part of my heart that will never be repaired. There’s a fissure that will always be there, a wound that will one day heal and scar over, but it will never be forgotten.

  Grabbing an empty box, I start to place the pictures and the memories that accompany them away. I’ll never heal if I keep pretending he’ll come back. I glance at our engagement photo. It’s amazing the difference between this picture and our first anniversary shot. He’s not looking at me like he did in the first photo. In this one he’s barely smiling—his eyes look empty, as though he’s looking past me, not at me. Why didn’t I ever notice that? I was so blinded by my need to be loved that I overlooked the truths that were staring at me every day.

  Intent on putting things away, I eye the jewelry box that holds my engagement ring. Tentatively, I open the lid and stare at the shiny diamond nestled in the ring slot. I place it on my finger one last time, and the light creates prisms that bounce off the walls as I twist it around. Tears continue, but instead of feeling weighted by them, I feel as though each one is cleansing me. Reluctantly, I take it off my finger and tuck it back in the ring slot. Back in the box that I received from the other man in my life that I wasn’t enough for. I pull out my “Fuck You” ring that I purchased for myself with Neil’s money and slide it on my finger. Even though the purpose of the ring was to distract me from Neil and my empty ring finger, when I look at it now I remember Neil. I don’t want to remember anymore. I take the sapphire ring off, placing it next to my engagement ring. They are a symbol of the past going where it needs to go—away.

  While I’m clearing out my heart, I decide that my father’s last gift and the belongings inside it need to be put to rest. These are two men who’ve caused me tremendous pain—their love was tainted, if it ever was love, and I have no room for it anymore.

  Glancing around the room, feeling better about the way it looks, I grab the jewelry box representing my father and Neil and place it on the top shelf in my closet. Staring at the ornate box for a moment, I allow a few final tears to fall as I say good-bye. Then I close my closet door and lie in bed, noticing as I drift off to sleep how my heart feels lighter and how breathing isn’t quite as hard as it has been.

  The alarm blares at six the next morning. I roll over, hit the off button, and shuffle into the kitchen to start my Keurig. It’s amazing how much better I feel after having a night of restful sleep. Grabbing my cup of coffee, I head to my desk to prepare for my phone call with the people from Raven.

  With coffee in hand, I fire up my laptop and get to work. The new email alert sounds off so long that it almost seems as if I’ve held my finger down on a keyboard for a minute or so. Great. I’m out of the office half a day and I have over one hundred new emails. I skim through and see a few new possible client assignments that look promising and one that I’d love to grab if Raven Cosmetics doesn’t work out. I open the email from Taylor, which goes over the details for today’s call, and see that she’s attached a few files with updated sales figures for the company. They show a small decline from last month’s figures but nothing too drastic.

  After going through the remainder of my emails and taking care of some mundane things around the house, the conference call reminder pops up on my phone. Dialing in, I mentally prepare myself to hear Piper’s and Neil’s voices so I won’t be blindsided by them. I hear the beep and announce my name and company.

  “Hello, Ms. Pope. This is Danielle.”

  “Good morning, Danielle. I hope your morning is good so far.”

  “Yes, thank you. We appreciate you fitting us in last-minute,” she replies.

  “As I promised in our meeting, I haven’t taken on any other accounts in hopes that you’ll select CJJ to represent you,” I say, projecting my strength through the phone.

  “I’m glad to hear that. After we conclude our call, we have a call scheduled with Boyce PR. Mr. Cole should be on in about two minutes. We were advised
by Piper of her opinion, and we want to be one hundred percent sure we choose the right person.”

  “I understand completely. Do you have anything you’d like me to clear up prior to Mr. Cole joining us?” I ask earnestly.

  “Our questions this morning will focus on you and your company. I think either company would provide a similar approach, but we would like to know more about you since you would be the person primarily responsible for ensuring clear and consistent branding. Also, I wanted to let you know that I’m not an assistant—I’m actually the director of product development. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest, but I wanted to get a feel for both you and Neil without either of you being influenced by my title.”

  “Honestly, Danielle, I never believed you were an assistant, but thank you for being frank.” I let out a short laugh. “I assure you—”

  A tone cuts me off, alerting us that someone has joined the call.

  “Good morning.” A deep, hoarse voice fills my ears. My body tenses and something stirs deep inside. “Danielle?” he asks.

  “Yes, Mr. Cole, good morning. I have Catherine Pope on the call, sir. She’s with CJJ Public Relations,” Danielle informs him.

  I shake my head, trying to release the tension triggered by his voice, and prepare to impress him. “Good morning, Mr. Cole. It’s a pleasure.”