“Milton...”
“That means that if you should ever get a divorce, your-ex-wife will automatically be entitled to over four billion dollars. If you last for more than ten years and your earnings continue to grow like they have in the past, you’re looking at handing over seven to eight billion easily. Do you understand that?”
“I do.”
“Glad to hear that. I’ll arrange for the attorney to come back.”
“There’s not going to be a pre-nup, Milton.”
His jaw dropped. “I thought you just said you agreed with me.”
“There can’t be a pre-nup if I’m not getting married...”
“What?” He gasped. “You two were just here weeks ago telling me about the wedding venue...It’s over?”
I didn’t answer him.
“Jonathan?”
I sighed. “I’ll call you later tonight to go over that mistake in the master file you mentioned at this morning’s meeting. I have a feeling we’ll need more than one accounting team to sort that out.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but then he shook his head. He took his folder back and patted me on my shoulder before leaving my office.
As soon as the door closed, I leaned back in my chair and shut my eyes.
I can’t believe this shit...What the fuck is Claire thinking?
I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions about the wedding, about marrying Claire, but invitation and cake bullshit aside—what she’d pulled last week had rocked me to my core.
At first, I didn’t want to believe that I’d seen her and Ryan inside of Starbucks when I drove by. I refused to believe it. So, I’d driven around the parking lot, telling myself that Claire—my Claire, would have called me the second Ryan showed up anywhere near her. Like she promised.
I’d decided that my eyes were playing tricks on me so I simply parked my car. With flowers in tow, I’d headed towards the Starbucks, but then I saw her again—with Ryan, pressed up against her car with her fucking leg around his waist, with her lips inches away from his mouth.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get that image out of my mind...
I hadn’t been home in a week, and I had no plans to return any time soon. I was too damn angry to be anywhere near her.
When she’d broken up with me last year and went her separate way for three fucking months, I was livid. Infuriated. Inconsolable. But this recent stunt of hers was—there were no words for this shit.
What part of ‘I don’t share’ does she not understand? What part of ‘Call me ASAP if Ryan shows up’ is difficult to comprehend?
She’d been sending me numerous text messages to apologize, trying to explain her side of the story and beg me to come home, but I never answered. And I sent each and every one of her hourly calls directly to voicemail.
I didn’t want to talk to her right now. I didn’t want to talk to her ever.
“Mr. Statham?” Angela’s voice suddenly came over the intercom.
“Yes?”
“Miss Gracen is—”
“I’m not here.”
“Sir, she’s standing right outside your door.”
“I’m. Not. Here.” I gritted my teeth. “Are we clear?”
“Yes sir...”
I waited for an hour, until I was sure Claire was gone, and then I stepped outside. I walked around the corner and stood at Angela’s desk. “Did my—” I stopped myself. I’d almost said my wife. “Did Miss Gracen leave another note?”
“Yes sir.” She handed me a folded sheet of white paper and I took it into my office.
I debated whether or not I should toss it into the trash with all her other ones, but I decided to open it:
Jonathan,
I know you’re very angry with me, but please give me a chance to explain what you saw last Friday...I’m sorry I ever allowed it to happen, and it’s not what you think. I promise.
I love you and only you, and I wish you would come back home...
Yours,
Claire
I crumpled her letter into a ball and tossed it into the trash. I took a deep breath and shook my head, trying to think about what I needed to do to get this off my mind.
I called Angela back.
“Yes, Mr. Statham?”
“Is the security team meeting still going on right now?”
“Yes sir.”
I sighed. “Write this down: I want last Monday’s interior and exterior security video footage from the Powell Avenue Starbucks—everything between the hours of four o’ clock pm to seven o’ clock pm. And I want audio. The very second that Corey gets out of his meeting, ask him to put his best team on it.”
“I will sir. Is that all?”
“No.” I balled my fists. “I want them to hack into Smith & Hayes Associates in Pittsburgh and get me Mr. Hayes’ full client list. I want the name of every client he worked with before he made partner, even the clients he worked for when he was a fucking intern. I also need a list of every single law firm in Pittsburgh—big, small, independent, commercial, every last one of them.”
“I’ll make sure it gets done. Um...Are you still sending flowers to Miss Gracen this week? The order has to be put in within the next half hour if you still want to send something.”
I was silent.
“Mr. Statham? Is that a yes or a no?”
I shut my eyes and tried to block out this past week. I’d never missed a day sending Claire flowers. Even when she was in Costa Rica, I’d called a local flower shop and made sure she woke up to a new set of blooms every morning.
Not sending them felt wrong—hurtful, and even though she’d damn near made me cry last Friday, I couldn’t bring myself to say no.
I sighed. “It’s a yes, Angela...But no note—just the flowers...”
Chapter 14
Jonathan
“You don’t look too good.” Hayley slid a bottle of water across my desk. “And you barely spoke at this morning’s meeting. Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Are you living in your office now? I haven’t seen your car move all week and you didn’t come over with Claire for dinner last night...”
I didn’t answer.
She sighed and walked around to my side of the desk. “Look, I know it’s none of my business...”
“It isn’t. Did you break up with your secret boyfriend yet? I’ve noticed that your work has improved from terrible to average.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I rolled my eyes and opened the water bottle.
“Mr. Statham?” Angela called over the intercom. “Corey’s here for your three o’clock meeting. Should I tell him your meeting with Hayley is running over?”
“No, we’re finished here. Send him in.”
Hayley gave me a hug and smiled. “I didn’t spend six hours trying on bridesmaids’ dresses for nothing, Jonathan. You better talk to her and fix whatever it is. Claire loves you and you know it.”
“Goodbye, Hayley.”
“I love you too.” She jumped up and headed for the door as Corey came in.
Then I looked up and saw it. Plain and clear. The way Hayley’s eyes lit up as he held the door open for her, the way he almost leaned down to kiss her good bye, but held back and smiled instead.
What. The. Fuck.
I waited until he closed the door, until he took a seat at my desk—directly in front of me.
“So...” He cleared his throat. “About the Meyer’s account. I was thinking we could investigate their background a little more before we fully commit. What do you think?”
“Are you fucking my little sister?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“It’s a yes or no question. Are. You. Fucking. My. Little. Sister?”
“I...It’s not like that.”
“Yes or no.”
He sighed. “No...Not—”
“Yet? You plan on fucking my little sister?”
“Johnathan, man...It�
��s not what you think it is.”
“For your sake I would hope not.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “When the fuck were you going to tell me about this shit?”
“I wanted to tell you weeks ago, but I knew how you would react to this...What I have with Hayley is nothing like what I’ve had with all those women in the past. And if you would just listen to me for a second I can explain.”
I couldn’t hear anything he was saying. The only thing I could focus on was breaking every single bone in his face, pushing him out the window, and watching him fall to an early death.
I didn’t care how long this shit had been going on or why. He wasn’t worthy of Hayley as far as I was concerned—best friend or not; especially not the same best friend whose body count was more than quadruple mine.
“I would never hurt her,” he said. “I swear.”
“Get the fuck out of my office.”
“Don’t do this, man. Just—”
“I can only deal with so much bad shit at a time, so excuse me if I don’t want to talk to the man who is days away from fucking my little sister and hanging her heart out to dry. Just get the fuck out.” I turned around in my chair and waited until I heard the door close.
Is this shit really happening?
I picked up my phone and called Angela.
“Yes, Mr. Statham?”
“Did Miss Gracen send out a memo to every person in my life and tell them to make me as fucking miserable as possible this week?”
“Um... No sir. Not that I’m aware of.”
“Can you please check?”
“Yes sir...Are you still meeting with the ring designer this afternoon?”
“No. Cancel that please.” I hung up and sighed. I’d called Miss Valenti yesterday to ask if Claire had ever stopped by to design my ring and—surprise, surprise, she hadn’t.
I knew I’d previously joked with her about not knowing who she was anymore when she revealed that she’d been taking erotic classes, and when I found her in that bondage room at her bachelorette party. But with our wedding falling apart at the seams and her ex-husband slipping into her life again, I could honestly say that I didn’t know who she was right now.
She wasn’t acting like the Claire I loved...
I rolled over in my bed, reaching for Claire—cursing at myself for even doing that. It’d been a week and a half since we’d last spoke and her phone calls to me still came every hour on the hour.
I was still staying in my executive suite at the office, collecting the notes she dropped off and actually reading the more recent ones. The one she’d sent yesterday read, “You are the only love of my life. Please hear me out—Claire.” And the one she’d sent today read, “I missed when you used to send notes with the flowers...That’s what made them special...”
I could practically picture her face as she received my note-less flowers, could literally see her shaking her head and trying not to cry. As much as it hurt me to know that she was in pain, I couldn’t bring myself to console her because I was hurting too...
I sighed and looked at my watch: 2:58. Even though I was still hurt—beyond hurt, I figured that when she called this time, I would try to pick up.
At exactly three o’ clock, my phone rang and I held it up to my ear.
“Hello?” I tried to hide the pain in my voice.
“Hey, Jonathan.” It was Caroline.
“Caroline? Hey, how are you?”
“I’m okay. Me and Ashley want to come home this weekend and eat dinner with you and mom if that’s okay...We’re kinda tired of campus food.”
“That’d be fine. I’ll...I’ll set that up. Is that all?”
“Almost...Do you think me and Ash are identical-identical or just identical?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, how long did it take you to figure out who was who after we’d met you for the first time?”
“A week.” I laughed. “Why?”
“Good enough. I’m going to ask Ashley to take the rest of my tests for Strategy Physics.”
“Excuse me?” I heard her gasp and I knew she hadn’t meant to say that last sentence out loud. “You’re going to risk expulsion? Is that what you just said, Caroline?”
“What?! No...”
“You have ten seconds to tell me what the hell is going on. Don’t you dare bullshit me.”
She sighed. “I missed the first two weeks of classes because I overslept...I went out partying every night and—I mean it’s Physics, like my best subject. Or so I thought...I can’t get into the flight program with less than a B minus...”
“And?”
“This isn’t like regular physics...It’s a strategic level course. It’s not about how many you get right, it’s about which ones you get right. Apparently the problems I pick to solve are the ones only worth two points...” Her voice cracked. “There are only four tests this semester and I already failed the first one. Terribly. I need to make an A on every single one to get the B minus average...”
“I take it that Ashley isn’t failing?”
“Ha! Are you kidding me?” She scoffed. “Of course not. Strategy is her best asset. She has the highest score in the class...I tried to get her to help to me, but I just don’t get it...”
I sighed and shook my head, telling her how disappointed I was that she would even think to ask Ashley to cheat for her, and that I was upset because she wasn’t taking college seriously. I told her that I would hire a private tutor for her, but she’d have to commit to twenty hours’ worth of sessions a week—at night, during party hours. I knew that was the only way she’d take it seriously.
She sounded like she was trying not to cry, but I could tell that she was. “When will I start the tutoring?”
“Tonight. I’ll have Greg fly out to get you. I’ll help you with some of it here.”
“Okay...Thank you...” She sniffled one more time before hanging up.
Claire’s four o’ clock call came across my phone and I wanted to pick it up, but I couldn’t.
Instead, I ordered two kettles of Caroline’s favorite hot chocolate and had a local candy store set up a small sweets bar in my office. I figured that a long night of physics problems would keep me from thinking about Claire.
It was a little after eight o’ clock when I heard knocking at my door.
“One second.” I set a few calculators down on my desk and opened it.
It was Claire. And Caroline. And Ashley.
“Hello ladies.” I avoided looking directly at Claire. I knew she’d been crying by the way she’d done her makeup, by the way she’d brushed her hair over her face, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything to her.
“Just because I have an A in the class doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be whisked away in the private jet, Jonathan.” Ashley grabbed a chocolate stick from the candy bar. “I’m offended that I didn’t get a call. Don’t you love me too?”
I rolled my eyes and showed them over to my desk. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
While Caroline took out her books, I let my eyes follow Claire over to the couch where she was placing her head on a pillow. As I went over problems with the girls, she lay curled up in a ball, watching us without saying a word.
As usual, Ashley and Caroline were great learners. They watched every equation I broke down, and asked questions whenever they didn’t understand.
It took a while—five hours, for Caroline to finally grasp what she was doing wrong, but I gave her problem after problem to make sure she wouldn’t forget anytime soon.
“Finally! It took you long enough to figure that one out!” Ashley smiled at Caroline’s paper. “I think we should do this again next weekend. Do you know how many pictures I put up on Twitter of the two of us in your jet? Wait until people see that we can do that anytime we want...”
“Your modesty never ceases to amaze me.” I shook my head at her and stood up. “Do you think you have a better handle on it now, Caroline?”
She
nodded. “Yes, thank you so much...”
“Anytime. I’ll have a tutor for you tomorrow night. Greg is waiting downstairs to take you back to the airstrip.”
They both hugged me and Claire before walking out of my office and I felt my heart swelling. I was still getting used to having a family, but I liked it. A lot.
As soon as I heard the ping of the elevators, I turned around and looked at Claire. I narrowed my eyes at her and tried to walk over, but I couldn’t do it.
I still didn’t have anything to say.
I walked into my executive suite and lay across my bed. I’d hoped she would simply fall asleep on the couch and let me talk whenever I was ready, but I felt her slipping into bed next to me.
“Please let me explain,” she whispered.
I didn’t say anything.
“I was leaving Starbucks when he showed up... He sat down at my table and asked me to give him two minutes to talk. I didn’t want to, and I swear I wasn’t going to, but there was this look in his eyes.”
“Is there a point coming?”
She took a deep breath. “I told him to say whatever he had to say and when he told me Amanda was terminally ill...I felt bad, but I left anyway...Then he followed me to my car and we started arguing...I tried to fight him off, but he—”
“Do you still have feelings for him, Claire?” I finally turned around to face her. “Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. Tell me the fucking truth. Even though he ripped your heart to the point where I had to fight you every inch of the way to put it back together, even though he cheated on you with your best fucking friend and left you miserable for years, do you still have feelings for him?”
“No! No, I promise. There’s nothing there.”
“Are you sure? Is there a reason why you still haven’t designed my wedding band? Why the invitations I could’ve sworn you sent out weeks ago, have still not arrived in any of my friends’ mailboxes? Or better yet, can you please explain why the cakes we both agreed on were canceled as of two weeks ago and you chose not to tell me?”
“Jonathan—”
“What the fuck is the problem, Claire? Why are you self-sabotaging the wedding you begged me to have?”
Mid Life Love: At Last Page 17
