Golden blond.
Holy shit.
It’s Jessie.
Chapter 6
Nick
My phone slides out of my hand into my lap. My tie feels like it’s choking me, and I have to loosen it by several inches before I suffocate. I haven’t laid eyes on Jessie Schultz since she screamed at me for making out with Chrissy in the parking lot outside her father’s funeral. And I’m not ready to see her right now.
I believed I could get her to forgive me by showering her with presents. I waited a respectable amount of time, then I started in on her. I got her home address and her email address, and I wooed her with flowers, candy, and even some jewelry that she had sent back to me. She never responded to any of it.
I thought about cornering her outside her apartment or work. I thought about it a lot. But in the end, I decided against it. Jessie had never seen me in a wheelchair before, and when I imagined approaching her in my chair… I don’t know. It felt like it would be more painful to get rejected in person. It was easier to see my emails and phone messages go unanswered. I got the message either way.
It’s been three years since that funeral, and this is the first time since then I’ve been within striking distance of her. And it’s here, in my own goddamn club.
What the hell does Chrissy think she’s doing? I don’t need this shit right now. I’ve got enough stress from work.
I pick the phone up off my lap and type with fumbling fingers: Get her out of here.
She doesn’t respond.
I add: Now.
Then: I mean it.
And finally: I want her out or you’re fired.
I see her pull her phone out of her purse. She reads my messages off the screen. She knows exactly where my table is, so she’s able to look right at me, wink, then put her phone back in her purse.
At least they don’t come to our table. Our host Duke seats them at a table close to the stage, but far enough away from us that I could probably be inconspicuous if I wanted. But at the same time, they’re close enough that I can see them really well. That is, I can see Jessie really well. It’s the first really good look I’ve gotten at her since… well, since high school.
Christ, she looks fantastic.
She dropped the baby fat she had back in high school, although she’s curvy as hell and she’s still got those tits that are practically spilling out of her tight black dress. Her golden blond hair is loose around her face and runs down her back, picking up a purple tint from the overhead lighting. I still remember the first time I laid eyes on her when I was only fourteen years old, how she made me feel like I was willing to do anything for her.
It turns out nothing has changed.
Would you like to join us? Chrissy texts me.
Of course I would. What kind of dumb question is that? But Jessie hates me, and not just because of what happened at the funeral. It turns out that when we were eighteen and I was refusing to see her like an idiot, she thought she was pregnant. And I had her sent away because I was too ashamed to let her see me in a wheelchair. That’s the kind of thing you don’t forgive a guy for.
And then she caught me making out with Chrissy. The final nail on the coffin. No chance of getting back together after that.
Best case scenario if I go over there is she won’t speak to me. Worst case is she starts yelling at me again.
I really don’t need this shit.
“You okay, Nico?” Tony asks me. “You look a little… sick.”
I undo the top button on my shirt. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Natalie looks at me with disinterest. I wish she’d at least pretend to like me when we’re in public. “Do you need to go home?” she asks.
“I said I’m fine,” I mutter.
It’s clear Chrissy isn’t taking my threats seriously. She and Jessie have placed their drink orders with Carrie. As soon as the waitress scurries away, Chrissy picks up her phone. Before I can wonder, my phone buzzes again:
If you don’t join us, I’m bringing her to you.
Shit.
There’s another issue. Three years ago, at Mr. Schultz’s funeral, I was sitting in my car when she caught me making out with Chrissy. To date, Jessie still has never seen me in my wheelchair. Not once. And the truth is I’m not excited for her to see it. She’s the love of my life—I don’t want her to see me as any less of a man than I used to be.
But Chrissy is forcing my hand. And it’s stupid to think I can avoid her ever seeing me like this. This is what I am now. I should just go over there and get it over with. Maybe in person, she’ll finally accept my apology and we can put the whole thing behind us.
I signal to Carrie, who races to our table like her life depends on it. She leans over the table to give me an eyeful of her cleavage. “What can I do for you, Mr. Moretti?”
“Those two ladies over there,” I say to Carrie. “They just ordered drinks. When the drinks come, tell them it’s on me. Okay?”
Carrie nods, looking less than thrilled by my request.
I sit there, my stomach turning. I wait for the drinks to come out, all the while considering making a run for the door. When Carrie puts the two colorful margaritas on their table, she points in my direction. I see Jessie craning her neck to see the guy footing the bill. When she sees my face, her eyes become huge. She lifts her hand in a half-wave.
I nod back.
I can’t break eye contact with her after that. Another singer is on the stage, but I don’t hear a word of it. Jessie is all I can see or think about. And the way she’s looking back at me, I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing.
I should go over there. I know I should. Maybe she doesn’t hate me anymore, even though I can’t figure out why she wouldn’t.
Eh, fuck it.
“I’ll be back,” I mutter to the other people at my table, as if any of them care.
And then I’m wheeling myself over to their table. My disability is in full view—there’s no way I can possibly hide it from Jessie at this point. There’s no way to fake being able to walk. It would be handy if I could, but I can’t. This is inevitable.
When I get to the table, the two of us just stare at each other. She looks even more beautiful up close than she did from across the room—she’s only gotten hotter over the years. I want her so bad, it’s physically painful.
But then I realize she’s looking me over just as carefully. I wince when I think about what she sees. I look down at my legs and see they’ve gotten slightly off-kilter while I was wheeling across the room. I want to fix them, but it would be worse for her to see me fixing them. Even if she knows I’m paralyzed, it’s a different thing for her to see my adjusting my lifeless legs.
I wish she could be looking at the old Nick Moretti. If there would be one time when I wish I could magically be my able-bodied old self again just for an hour, it would be right now.
“Nick,” Jessie says breathily, breaking the silence that penetrates the space between us. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I say back, because I’m that suave.
I can’t quit staring at her and it looks like she’s got the same problem. Except I assume she’s staring at me for a different reason.
Well, at least she’s not yelling at me.
“Thanks for the drinks,” Jessie manages.
“You’re welcome,” I say. “I hope you’re enjoying our club.”
“Our…?” Jessie blinks her blue eyes. “You own this club?”
“Right,” I say. “How else d’you think Chrissy got in so easy?” I take a deep breath, angry at myself for letting the Brooklyn dialect slip into my speech. When I’m with old friends from the neighborhood or when I’m nervous, I can’t hide the accent. It’s never really left—in my head, “d’you” is still one word, not two. But I wanted to show Jessie that I’d changed—that I’m better than that idiot from Bensonhurst I used to be. Even if I can’t walk anymore like he could.
At the sound of her name, Chrissy stands up and brushes off
her dress. I take advantage of the distraction to quickly readjust my legs. “I hope you’ll excuse me,” she says. “I’m gonna go to the ladies room and let you both catch up. I bet you got a lot to talk about.”
We do. I have a million questions I’d like to ask Jessie, but I can’t make myself say anything. At least I see her left hand is bare—no wedding band or engagement ring. That answers one of my questions—the most important one.
I lean in closer to talk to her, and I can see her lean in too so her golden hair falls forward. I remember the first time I kissed her, how I could smell her shampoo—some kind of flowery smell. That was nearly twenty years ago, but I’d still know that smell anywhere. It always reminds me of Jessie.
“Look,” I say quietly, “I just want to tell you that… I’m sorry for what I did in the past. All of it. I was just a stupid kid, and… if I could take it back, I would.”
“Oh,” she says.
“Is that an ‘oh’ of forgiveness?” I try to joke.
She breaks eye contact with me to stare down at her drink. “I’m not sure.”
“I just…” I take a breath, wishing I could’ve had more to drink before I came over here. “I wish I’d done things differently. I want you to know I never stopped thinking about you. Never stopped regretting the way I left things.”
“And how about making out with Chrissy?”
Ouch.
I deserve it though. Kissing her former best friend outside her father’s funeral was a shitty thing to do.
“I’m really, really sorry for that,” I say. “But to be fair, I was tired of being the only guy in Manhattan who hadn’t made it with Chrissy.”
Jessie gets a tiny smile on her face, and I breathe a sigh of relief that my second attempt at a joke didn’t fall flat. I used to be good at making Jessie smile. I miss it.
“So you really own the hottest club in the city, huh?” she muses.
“Seems that way.”
“I guess you’re as successful as you always wanted to be then.”
I nod slowly. “In business—yeah. I’ve done okay.”
“More than okay.”
I wonder how much she knows about my business dealings. I wonder if she ever sees my name in the paper. Considering some of the stuff that gets said about me, it’s better if she doesn’t. “Yeah, more than okay.”
Jessie is quiet for a minute, and I take the cue from her to shut the hell up. If she’s decided to forgive me, I’m not going to wreck it by saying something dumb. I’m going to sit here and listen to the music playing until Jessie decides she wants to talk to me.
“That singer is really good,” Jessie finally comments.
I glance back at the stage, where Alice is singing an old song I recognize but can’t name. She does have a great voice for our stage—throaty and sultry. “Yeah, she’s talented,” I say. I can’t help but add, “You’re better though.”
Her cheeks turn pink in a way that makes my chest hurt. “Stop it.”
“You are,” I insist. And I mean it. Jessie could sing circles around Alice. I went to see her in every single performance she did of West Side Story in high school, and I’ll never forget it. “Do you still sing?”
“In the shower,” Jessie gives a strangled laugh. “I used to go to karaoke night at a bar downtown, but… I haven’t been there in over a year. I felt like I was getting too old for it.” She shrugs. “Anyway, the answer is no, I guess. Not professionally, anyway.”
Even with Alice crooning in the background, I can still imagine the sound of Jessie’s singing. I can’t believe it’s been over thirteen years since I heard it. The thought of never hearing it again pains me.
“I’ll hire you for the club,” I say.
Jessie’s eyes widen. “The club? You mean… this club?”
“Sure.” I shrug. “Why not?”
Actually, the more I think about it, it’s a perfect idea. And a perfect excuse to see her again. At a time when Tony and Natalie aren’t across the room watching us, and Chrissy isn’t on her way back from the bathroom any minute.
“No…” She covers her cheeks with her hands. “I’m not… Nick, come on. I’m not right for this club.”
“You think I don’t know what’s right for my own club?”
She just shakes her head. “Are you just doing this so I’ll forgive you?”
“No,” I say, “because you already forgave me. Right? This is just a smart business decision.”
She shakes her head again.
I glance back at our table, where Natalie is clearly watching us. Although she and I have an arrangement, she doesn’t like it when I flirt with women right in front of her. Not that I really give a shit about what Natalie thinks, but I don’t want her to make a scene. It’s the last thing I need right now.
“Listen,” I say to Jessie, “have lunch with me tomorrow. We’ll talk more about this. Okay?”
Jessie chews on her lip. I feel suddenly self-conscious again about the fact that I’m on wheels, but there’s not much I can do about it now. If I want her, I’ll have to win her over the way I am. And I do want her. I’ve fooled myself for this long, but now that I’ve seen her again, I’ve realized something I wish I’d known years ago:
I can’t be happy without Jessie Schultz.
I should never have given up trying to get her to forgive me. I should have gone to the ends of the Earth to get her back. And now that I’ve got another shot at it, I don’t intend to blow it.
“Okay,” Jessie says finally.
“Great.” I let out a breath. “How about Blue Moon? Do you know it?”
She nods. “It’s… very expensive.”
It’s also wheelchair accessible. I know it because it’s another restaurant where my family owns the building. So we’ll eat for free, although I’d happily pay for any meal with Jessie. “Noon?”
“Sounds perfect.”
I can’t stop staring at Jessie. I’m reluctant to leave the table, but I glance over and see Natalie is making a face. She says it makes her look like a fool when I hit on other girls in front of her. I better go back.
“Is that your girlfriend over there?” she asks me.
“I…” I glance back at Natalie. “Yes, but… no. Sort of.”
“Sort of,” Jessie repeats.
“Nothing serious,” I say quickly. Nothing I wouldn’t end in a second to be with her.
She nods and looks like she’s going to say something more, but then she keeps her mouth shut. “So I’ll see you for lunch tomorrow.”
“Noon,” I say again.
I’m not sure I can wait that long.
Chapter 7
Jessie
My head won’t stop spinning after I see Nick.
The last time I saw him, at that funeral, all I felt was anger. It was easy to be furious at Nick when he was in that car with Chrissy and I could hardly even see him. But tonight… I don’t know if it was the years that had gone by since then or the fact that we were finally face-to-face, but I felt anything but angry.
I wanted him.
I always thought that night we made love at prom was the most intense night of my life but this was a close second. My heart literally skipped a beat when I saw him looking at me across the room. And then he came out from behind the table and I could see that he wasn’t able to walk, confirming what I had heard from everyone I knew, yet never entirely believed until that moment.
He seemed so nervous when he was trying to apologize to me. I’m not used to Nick being nervous. I’m good at being nervous—it’s my specialty. But Nick always seemed so confident.
He’s the same and he’s also different. Obviously, he’s different in that he used to be able to walk—that’s clearly not a possibility anymore based on the wheelchair and the ease with which he used it. He was obviously a guy who had over a decade of practice maneuvering a chair. But there were other differences too—he spoke differently. Aside from a few slips, I could barely hear the Brooklyn accent that used
to be so pronounced. And the clothes he was wearing were so obviously expensive. He looked every bit the part of a successful businessman.
But he’s also the same Nick. He still has those same penetrating, sexy dark eyes. He’s still so freaking handsome, I wanted to throw myself at him. No, more handsome. And that confidence he always wore was still there—except when he was talking to me.
Also, the way he looked at me was still the same. That hadn’t changed at all.
When I came out with Chrissy tonight, I genuinely hadn’t expected to meet somebody. Much less The Somebody.
For the next hour, I have trouble focusing on the acts onstage. I keep looking at Nick, and most of the time, he’s looking right back at me. But sometimes he’s talking to his brother, who looks like an only slightly classier version of the gangster he used to be in high school. Other times, he’s talking to the girl next to him. The one he reluctantly admitted was his girlfriend.
That girl? She’s gorgeous. No, she’s moved beyond gorgeous. She looks like she should be in her own species of woman, because no regular human female could possibly look like that. Nick claimed it wasn’t serious, but God, it’s really hard to imagine he or any male in his right mind could choose me over her.
“Look at the way that new waitress is fawning over Nick,” Chrissy comments. “She wants him so bad.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” I say, even though I absolutely had. Every time that girl goes over to their table, she smiles at him like he’s a movie star. Nick barely seems aware of it though.
“Oh please,” Chrissy laughs. “The two of you have been staring at each other nonstop since you saw him there.”
“No, we haven’t,” I lie.
“You’re blushing, Jess.”
I duck my head down so she can’t see my face. “Anyway, he has his girlfriend over there.”
“Natalie?” Chrissy makes a face. “She’s the most repulsive person I’ve ever met. He’s only dating her because…”
I narrow my eyes. “Because what?”
“Because he doesn’t have you.”
The Girl I Didn't Kill For (Jessie & Nick Book 2) Page 4
