“You’re seeing it now,” Michael murmured tenderly, carefully wiping her tears away. He drew her closer. “It’s okay,” he promised, gently rocking her where they stood. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“Don’t let go,” she pleaded.
“I’m right here,” he whispered in her ear as the first rain drop fell. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
CHAPTER 18
Theresa stormed past the spluttering receptionist at Banister & Banister and ploughed straight into Reese’s office. She found him on the phone, laughing jovially. Seeing her, his eyes went wide and his face turned the color of chalk. He reminded Theresa of a cartoon character.
“Sutton, let me get back to you, all right? Ciao.” His voice was smooth as untrammeled silk. Like always, Theresa thought bitterly.
Hanging up the phone, he sauntered out from behind his desk. “This is a surprise.”
“So was your absence at my father’s funeral yesterday.”
The pain of the statement lodged in her throat. He had promised to be there. She left him a detailed message with the time, place and directions. Yet he never showed. Phil, when he wasn’t sobbing, had asked repeatedly where her “hot shot boyfriend” was. Michael didn’t say zip about it, even though he must have been wondering, too.
It was Michael who helped keep her mother upright beside the open grave.
Michael who acted as her rock when it should have been Reese.
Before Reese could respond, the receptionist, a barrel-shaped older woman, appeared in the doorway with a security guard. “There she is,” she declared, pointing dramatically at Theresa.
The guard’s concerned eyes sought Reese’s. “Everything all right, Mr. Banister?”
“Everything’s fine, Raymond. You and Elinore can get back to what you were doing.” Clearly deflated that Theresa wasn’t going to be arrested, Elinore disappeared behind the massive bulk of the guard, who failed to close the door.
Theresa did it for him.
She stared Reese down. “Well?”
Reese was cool. “Well what?”
“Why weren’t you at my father’s funeral? You said you’d be there. I needed you. What happened?” She was fighting to keep her voice level, but she wanted to curse and throw things.
“Didn’t you get my message?”
“The one that said you were delayed in Miami?” she jeered. “Yeah, I got it.”
He shrugged. “Well, there you go, then.”
“There you go, then?” Theresa echoed incredulously. “Reese, you left that message while I was at the funeral, even though you knew what time the funeral was. Are you telling me you didn’t do that on purpose?”
His mouth folded into a frown. “You’re being ridiculous, Theresa.”
“There are more important things than business, Reese. This was one of them.” She shook her head. “You know, for someone who claims to hate what he does for a living, you sure as hell go above and beyond the call of duty.”
“Doing things right is important to me,” Reese returned coldly.
“Really? And what about doing the right thing?” Her heart was spasming in her chest, an erratic, rapid-fire rhythm. They were headed toward the moment of truth. “Reese?”
He leaned against his desk, feet casually crossed at the ankles, arms folded across his chest as a look of bored resignation played across his face. “You want to know the truth, Theresa?”
“Yes, please. I would find it a refreshing change.”
“The truth is that work is more important to me than some two-bit, goomba funeral.”
Theresa blinked as she sank down in a chair. She was beyond stunned. She was stupefied.
Reese was watching her intently. “Is that a satisfactory explanation?”
Theresa looked at him, at the cool, blue eyes she had once imagined her children inheriting, at the sandy blond hair that fell so boyishly across his brow, and she felt her insides turn to ice. “You’ve been using me,” she said, knowing suddenly that it was true. “You thought that if you wooed me long enough, you’d eventually wear me down and talk me into selling FM PR.”
“Very good.” Reese slowly, tauntingly, applauded her.
It all made brutal sense now: the foot-dragging, the evasiveness, the lack of affection. “How long were you prepared to carry on with this charade?” she forced herself to ask.
“As long as it took.”
“Didn’t you think I would have figured it out eventually?”
“Who knows? It took you this long,” was his snide reply.
“And that night I came to your apartment before Ty and Janna’s party and you said you were sick—?”
“What do you want to know? Her name, or how long we’ve been together?”
It took every ounce of self-control she had not to flinch. Or cry. Jesus, how she longed to cry. But she’d be goddamned if she’d give this bastard the satisfaction.
Reese slid back behind his desk. “I have work to do.”
There were a million questions crowding her brain, all of them jostling for attention, while in her heart, pain and anger vied for dominance. She looked hard at him, at this stupid fantasy man of hers that she’d spent hours deluding herself about, and felt nothing but cold, pure hatred.
“I want to know something. I want to know how you came up with this plan. I want to know why you picked the strategy you did.”
He looked put out by her question. “My uncle and I are professionals, Theresa. We thoroughly research every company we help Butler acquire, searching for weaknesses and ways to make inroads. Our research on you turned up the Lubov case.”
Theresa tensed. “And so—?”
“So we focused on you.”
“Why?” Theresa demanded sharply. “What inroad did you see in me?”
“Someone successful but over thirty and still single, and therefore open to being romanced. But carefully, because of her history of abuse.”
Theresa’s head was spinning. “You heartless, unethical SOB,” she yelled, winging the bracelet he’d given her at him. “How can you stand yourself?”
Reese looked unperturbed. “All’s fair in love and war. And when it comes to corporate acquisitions, it’s war.” He chuckled lightly. “Although in your case, I must say I went ‘above and beyond the call of duty,’ to quote you.”
“How so?”
“Meeting your family?” He sucked in his lips. “Please.”
“I know,” Theresa agreed, in a sarcastic voice. “Don’t they realize there’s more to life than family dinners? Why, they don’t even sail! Philistines!”
Reese narrowed his eyes. “Are you mocking me?”
This time, Theresa was the one applauding. “I’m mocking you, your values, your shallow existence—”
“An existence you aspired to,” Reese pointed out with a condescending smile. “Which made you such an easy target.”
“You’re right,” Theresa admitted. “I did aspire to it. But you know what? I had a revelation the other night at my father’s wake. I’d rather be at a Sunday dinner at my mother’s house, playing with my nieces and nephews and listening to my mother and brother fighting, than swanning around Manhattan, making sure the right people see me. My family are kind, loving human beings, which is more than I can say for you. You’re pathetic. You weren’t fit to cross my parents’ doorway, never mind sit down at their table and break bread—”
Reese yawned. “Are you done?”
“Almost.” Theresa crossed to his desk, her splayed hands firm on his neat little piles of papers as she leaned forward to get into his face. “Research this, asshole: FM PR will never sell out to Butler. Never. You got that?”
“Then you’d better be prepared to be battered into bankruptcy, because that’s where you’re headed.” He picked up his phone. “Butler will bury you.”
Theresa smiled. Tossing her hair, she strode toward the closed door of Reese’s office and flung it open wide.
“Bring it on.”
Theresa’s bravado began fading within minutes of leaving Reese’s office, just as she feared. She contemplated going in to work despite having taken the day off, but in the end decided against it. Instead, she spent the day at the library, a haven of her childhood and still one of her favorite places in the city. She read newspapers, magazines, journals. She watched people come and go as the sun faded and the day drew to a close. Finally, driven by hunger, she went home and fixed herself some dinner.
When she was done, she started walking.
She walked all the way from her apartment at Fifty-ninth and First down to Times Square, then back up again. Several times, seeing but not seeing, she banged into people on the street. “Sorry,” she’d murmur hastily, then keep walking.
“Crazy bitch,” one man called after her.
She was walking to save her sanity. She was certain if she walked long enough, she would begin to feel numb. That was preferable to the despair she carried inside her. If she stopped moving, she would be forced to confront the painful truth head on: that deep down in her heart, she’d known all along that Reese’s feelings for her weren’t genuine. She’d forced herself to believe otherwise, because she was so determined to make all her girlhood fantasies about big city romance come true. She’d thought herself too smart for such delusion, but clearly that wasn’t case.
She was as capable of self-deception as the next woman.
And she’d let a good man, maybe the right man, slip through her fingers.
She’d been out for more than three hours when it started to rain. She walked anyway, not caring that her drenched clothing clung to her body or that her hair lay pasted to her head. All that mattered was putting one foot in front of the other until she became so exhausted she couldn’t move. At that point she would call a cab, go home and collapse into the oblivion of sleep.
She walked two more hours.
Eventually, she forced herself to take in her whereabouts, noting she was back in midtown. A quick check of her watch revealed it was a little after midnight. Surprising herself, she walked to Ty and Janna’s.
The night doorman didn’t want to let her in.
Theresa dug into her purse and produced her business card, pointing out Janna’s name on it, too, along with the name of their company. The doorman reluctantly capitulated. She was let inside and he buzzed upstairs. Looking like he couldn’t quite believe it, he told her she was cleared to go up to Ty and Janna’s apartment.
They were both waiting at the door in their bathrobes. Janna looked sick with worry as she hustled her inside.
“Oh my God, Theresa.” Janna quietly closed the door and asked Ty to get her some towels as well as his spare bathrobe. When he disappeared, Janna reached up and touched Theresa’s cheek. “Talk to me, honey.”
Theresa began shivering. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to Janna, though she wasn’t quite sure what she was sorry for. She forced herself to focus. “I’m sorry to disturb you so late at night.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Ty reappeared with the towels and bathrobe and Janna led Theresa to the bathroom. “Dry off and change. I’ll go put on some water for tea. What kind do you want?”
“Got any cyanide instead?”
Janna didn’t react.
“That was a joke, Jan.” She closed the bathroom door.
Her clothing was so wet it was dripping onto the floor, making little puddles on the marble. Theresa stole a look at herself in the mirror. No wonder the doorman didn’t want to let her in; she looked like a madwoman, her supposedly waterproof mascara a dark, angry bruise beneath her eyes.
Now that she was no longer moving, she began to feel. Cold. Humiliated. Angry. How much time had she wasted feeding false hopes? How much work would she have to do now to rebuild her self-esteem? Dr. Gardner’s going to have a field day with this, she thought ruefully as she donned the oversized bathrobe, tying its sash tightly around her waist.
She wanted to hide in the bathroom.
If she went out into the kitchen, she’d have to talk about what had happened, and she wasn’t sure she could do that. But then she thought: Why else would you have shown up here, if not to talk?
Gathering her dripping clothes into a bundle, she reemerged. Janna took them from her and promptly loaded them into the dryer. Then she forced Theresa to sit down on the couch. Ty was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s your husband?”
“He’s in the bedroom, giving us our privacy.”
Theresa ducked her head, grateful.
“Talk to me, Terry. What’s going on?”
Just as she had in Reese’s office, Theresa simply blinked. She didn’t know where to begin. With her conversation with Reese? With the realization she’d had at the funeral? With how safe she’d felt in Michael Dante’s arms the first night of the wake, when he’d followed her out into the parking lot? For some reason, the image of him kneeling with the price tag stuck on the bottom of his shoe flashed in her mind and she laughed.
“Theresa?” Janna asked, alarmed.
“Don’t worry, I’m not losing my mind,” Theresa assured her. She peered down at her bare feet. They were waterlogged, shriveled. She knew she had to stop stalling. “Reese was using me,” she began.
She lifted her eyes to her best friend’s. Like a dam breaking, the words started pouring out of her, furious, unstoppable. She told Janna every horrible detail, from his reluctance to touch her to the details of his wooing plan. Janna listened intently, requesting Theresa pause only once, when she went to the kitchen to fetch their tea. Theresa talked until her jaw hurt and there was nothing left to say.
And when she was done talking, she began to cry.
Blowing her nose into tissue after tissue, she wondered if it were possible to run out of tears. She’d cried more in the last four days than all the days of her life combined. Whether she was crying for her father or herself, she didn’t know. Maybe it didn’t even matter. “I’m sorry,” she apologized again, winding down.
“Don’t be,” Janna chided. “You’ve had terrible emotional shocks on two fronts.” She clucked her tongue disgustedly. “That slimeball. I thought he was up to something.” She put her arm around Theresa’s shoulder, giving it a loving squeeze.
Theresa’s bruised heart swelled. It would have been so easy for Janna to say “I told you so.” But she didn’t, and Theresa knew she wouldn’t, because that’s not what true friends did, and Theresa had never, ever had a truer friend than Janna MacNeil.
“I’m such an idiot,” Theresa lamented tearfully.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am,” Theresa insisted. “Only an idiot would have let Michael Dante go. Only an idiot would have chosen style over substance.”
Janna reached forward for her teacup. “It’s not too late.”
“Yes, it is. He’s got a girlfriend.”
“He does?”
“Yes,” Theresa said, tearing up again. “Didn’t you see her at the reopening? A little redhead, even shorter than you.” She winced. “Sorry, that was a really mean thing to say.”
Janna waved her hand dismissively, asking, “Are you sure she’s his girlfriend?”
“Yes,” she said miserably. “I saw them canoodling in the corner.” The memory still smarted.
“Hmmm.” Janna contemplated this. “Well, maybe it’s not serious. Who knows?” She took a sip of tea. “I think you should call him.”
“Oh, right.” Theresa shook her head. “And say what? ‘Sorry I jerked you around, but guess what? I’ve finally come to my senses and realized what a great guy you are. Can I have a second chance?’ ”
Janna’s gaze was steady. “Why not?”
“Because, believe it or not, even after this debacle with Reese, I do have some pride.”
“I think you’re being ridiculously stubborn,” Janna declared.
“Would you call Ty if you’d treated him like garbage and you knew he was involved with someone else?”
Janna looked uncomfortable. “Well . . .”
“The answer is no, you wouldn’t. I think I have to hop on board the reality train, and you should join me.”
“But Michael still cares about you. It was all over his face at the wake and funeral.”
“That was kindness you saw, Janna.” Theresa put her head in her hands. “Michael’s a good person. He saw I was in pain and he wanted to help. End of story.”
“I don’t know,” Janna rebutted.
“I do.” She looked up at Janna with pain in her eyes. “I blew it.”
She regarded Theresa sympathetically. “So now what?”
“I throw myself into work and contemplate joining a religious order?”
“Don’t give up on men. They’re not all bad, you know.” Janna motioned with her head towards the bedroom.
Theresa smiled wanly. “I know.” She craned her neck in the direction of Janna’s laundry room. “How much longer, do you think?”
“It’s after one in the morning, Ter. Why don’t you just crash in the spare bedroom?”
“Are you sure?” Theresa asked. “I’ve been enough of an imposition already.”
“Of course I am. I want you to sleep in, too. In fact, I think you should take the rest of the week off. It’s only three days. Terrence and I can pick up the slack.”
Work. Theresa’s heart sank as Reese’s final, vituperative words came back to her. “We need to talk about the business, Jan.”
“Not tonight.” Janna stood. “Don’t get up if you hear movement in the kitchen around five-thirty or so. Ty’s got an early morning flight to Ottawa for the first round.” She leaned over and kissed Theresa’s cheek. “Please try to get some rest. And don’t ever apologize for coming to me when you need help. You’re my best friend.”
With that, she disappeared into the bedroom. Theresa finished her tea and headed for the spare room. Her head barely touched the pillow before she was asleep.
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