“I guess.” With an exaggerated pout, Bree continued, “You have a fancy job, and a fancy life, and soon you’ll be married and living in Tuscany.”
“I don’t even like Tuscany.”
“Love makes you do crazy things.”
“I never said I was in love,” Rachel said with an uncomfortable laugh.
Bree propped a hand on her hip. “I’m not blind, Rach.”
“Miss, can I get a Monte Cristo sandwich to go?” a customer, waving a twenty, said at the worst possible time. Bree handled the transaction quickly and delivered an on-the-house Coke with a smile. Then she was back to Rachel.
“Besides, I can’t be in love with him,” Rachel said. “I don’t think he’s in love with me.”
Bree clucked her tongue like Rachel was being petty. “Why would you say that?”
“Because he flew to Hawaii yesterday morning.” He was excited about the trip—almost too excited. Seeing him jazzed about leaving stung.
Bree screwed her eyes up to the ceiling. “So?”
“So? He’s been acting downright twitchy since he offered his penthouse as my home away from home, and then yesterday he was bouncing off the walls because he was going to Hawaii.”
“Well, it is Hawaii. And you shouldn’t be surprised. His job requires traveling.”
“I know he travels. Traveling is not the issue.” Rachel huffed, knowing she sounded petty and grouchy. “I’m excited to hear from him already. Like, I’m already waiting for him to call.”
“That’s because you love him.” Bree beamed, fluttering her lashes.
Thank God Rachel hadn’t told Tag that. He’d have booked a trip to the moon instead of Maui.
“He has been gone less than a day, and I miss him so much my chest hurts. I can’t help but remember how much I depended on Shaun and how he ended up leaving. Tag hasn’t given me any indication we’ll stay together for the long haul.”
“Do you want to stay with him for the long haul?”
Rachel pressed her lips together. She didn’t know. Yes. No. Maybe. She needed a Magic 8 Ball.
“But he hasn’t asked you to leave,” Bree said.
“No, he’s been intensely polite about my being there,” Rachel said flatly. Her newfound situation smacked of what Lucas’s wife, Gena, had told Rachel in that restaurant bathroom. Tag had a lot of girl space friends. Because he never wanted to hurt them, so he let them down as easily as possible. “Shaun slowly cut me loose, too, Bree. Months and months passed by before things imploded. I can’t let that happen again.”
Remembering the slow fade and painful breakup was enough to make Rachel break out in hives. Was she on the brink of another breakup like it?
“Rach.” Bree’s eyes filled with concern. “It makes sense for you to be nervous about where things are heading. Love is big and scary. You’re both probably adjusting. I’ve seen you with him, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He looks like a man in love to me. Maybe he hasn’t admitted it yet. To himself or to you.”
Rachel considered the possibility. How long until he admitted it? Until she did? They could lose another season dancing around each other and never making any progress. She couldn’t take that. Not again.
“Once he calls you’ll feel better,” Bree said. “I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating. Tag is not Shaun. He’s not plotting your corporate demise.”
Another customer sat at the bar, and Bree moved to greet him.
Rachel pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time, calculating the flight to Honolulu, how long it’d take to land and arrive at the Crane Makai hotel…
Bree was right. Tag was nothing like Shaun. He bested her ex in every way. But she couldn’t escape the idea that her loving Tag was a one-way street, and she knew exactly where that street ended—with her, alone, picking up the pieces on a life she hadn’t ordered.
She needed to find out what was going on in Tag’s head.
* * *
Tag called the next afternoon at one her time. She was typing an email and stopped midsentence when her cell phone showed his name. She slipped away from her desk and she stepped into the hallway by the elevators for privacy.
“Hi.” She heard the breathlessness of her greeting.
“Hey, Dimples.”
His rumbling, soothing voice made her miss him that much more. And it’d been one day. She was so screwed.
“I hear surf and sand.” She pictured the beach. The blazing sun. Surfing. Part of her wilted when she wondered if she’d ever see Hawaii with Tag again.
“You can’t hear sand.” He chuckled, the sound easing her nerves.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. I wanted to call and check in. Have everything you need?”
“I’m not wanting for anything.” She paused as a coworker walked past her with a full cup of coffee. After he was gone, she decided to be brave and added, “Except for you.”
“I like that.” His tone dipped into a low, sexy tenor. “So. I have good news.”
“The bar design is working?” Pride laced through her. She’d worked hard with him to make the Oahu bar project as seamless as possible.
“I think so, but that’s not the news. I’m standing on a patch of ground where there will someday be a new Crane Hotel.”
“Did you buy the land?” He’d mentioned he was going there to look at it.
“Not yet, but the Realtor is on his way, and I’m going to tell him yes. I already called Reese. It’s perfect. I can envision the direction the hotel will face, where the bars will go—maybe your designs.”
He sounded happy. Happy, and like he was a million miles away. From Chicago, from her heart.
“That’s great,” she forced out, feeling that gap widen further. She was ready to leap with him, but was he ready to leap with her? There was no way to tell for sure, and the timing was off…unless…She’d felt so distant from him lately. Like they hadn’t been on the same page. She’d turned over and over the idea of him joining her at her cousin’s wedding this weekend. Maybe he’d reconsider?
“I had a proposition for you, actually,” she said before she lost her nerve.
“Let’s hear it.”
She swallowed and cleared her throat, willing herself to ask. No. She wouldn’t ask. She’d tell him what she wanted. Be bold. After all they’d been through together, she should be able to speak her mind instead of tiptoe around him.
“When you get back,” she said, “I’d like to take you to my cousin’s wedding in Ohio.” She held her breath after she asked, feeling like she was at the edge of a very steep cliff.
Tag didn’t do weddings. Gena had told her that. Heck, Tag had told her that. She told herself she wasn’t testing him, but in a way this felt like a test. An easy way to determine how “in” he was with her would be him either accepting or dodging that commitment.
“The…wedding?” His voice was cautious, lost beneath the wind blowing over the speaker of the phone.
“It’s Saturday,” she pushed. This was important to her. If they were going to be together, he couldn’t shy away from a simple request. They would attend weddings and other family gatherings in the future if what they had grew into more. She wanted it to be more. “I know you won’t be back home until Friday, but we can leave Saturday morning. It’s only a six-hour drive.”
More wind. Then silence.
“Tag?”
“I can’t. I’m sorry.” Gone was the light happiness in his voice, replaced by rigidity.
The answer hit her like a slap. He was saying no to so much more than attending a ceremony with her. He was saying no to them.
“I’ll have a lot of work to catch up on when I’m back. Especially if I pull the trigger on this deal. Oh, hey, the Realtor is here. I’ll call later. And, Dimples, don’t forget, the moving company is scheduled to be at your apartment this afternoon. Make sure they get everything they’re supposed to into storage for you, okay?”
“Sure,” she mu
mbled, feeling her heart crush like an aluminum can.
“Hey, why don’t you take my Aston Martin to Ohio? Unless you prefer flying. I can book you a flight tonight if you text me the particulars.”
“A flight?”
“Whatever you like, Dimples. I’m happy to help. Gotta go.”
He hung up and despite his generosity and the sweet way he said her nickname, she still had the horrific urge to cry. She leaned against the wall and stared down at the floor, her mind muddy.
She wasn’t going to drive Tag’s two-hundred-thousand-dollar car to Derby, Ohio. And she wasn’t taking a private jet, either. Her invitation to the wedding was about forging a real connection with Tag—about him overcoming his fear. She’d tackled all of hers, and at times, it hadn’t been easy. Yet, he wasn’t willing to leap that same hurdle for her.
Unacceptable.
She couldn’t be the only one moving forward in this relationship. She couldn’t be the only one wanting more, or they’d stay in this endless loop forever…or until one of them left.
She’d fallen in love with him. And while Tag was willing to provide moving trucks and fancy cars and private jets, he seemed incapable of giving her the one part of him she wanted most.
His heart.
Chapter 25
When Tag arrived at his penthouse, he was ready to drop. The overnight flight had been rough, and thanks to the cabin shaking like a Mexican jumping bean, he hadn’t slept a wink.
Despite the motion sickness, he’d stayed awake and worked. Thanks to a long night of sleep deprivation, his brain was fuzzy and his head was throbbing, and all he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for days. He had to grab at least a few hours, or he’d be jet-lagged forever.
Despite the rough flight home and the hectic schedule while he was there, he was glad he made the trip. There had been a narrow window to buy fast and close quickly, and another party had been interested in the land. He and Reese had arranged to have their lawyer fly over to facilitate the agreement. And like that, the Crane Maui hotel had a foundation. Now it was done and Tag had never been so grateful to be at his own penthouse.
There was an added benefit to his trip: the relentless feeling of plummeting headfirst into Terror Town had dissipated. Whatever he’d been upset about while sharing his place with Rachel—whatever bizarre fear had rattled him—was gone. He’d missed Rachel so much, he could hardly stand it. He’d called and texted her a few times, but the long-distance contact hadn’t been enough. He couldn’t wait to wrap his arms around her, smell the sweet scent of her hair.
He stuck the key in the lock and let himself in, dragging his suitcase behind him. Rachel was standing in his living room, a sight for his incredibly sore eyes.
Like the first time he saw her outside his apartment building, he felt the hit low in his gut. At the time he’d been transfixed by her blond hair and full, glossed lips, and wondering what secrets this exquisite creature held. Now he knew. He’d had her blond hair wound around his fist, and he’d kissed those lips more times than he could count. He’d learned she preferred to sleep on her side facing the windows and that she always left her towel on the bathroom floor. She took her coffee black, her breakfast to-go, and always, always slept in pajamas. Even when he begged her not to.
A smile crested his mouth. God. He’d missed her.
“Hey. I thought you’d be at work.” He wrapped an arm around her and held her close. His chest filled. “Mmm. You smell good.” He kissed her hair, then moved to kiss her mouth, but she turned her face and pulled away from him.
Her eyes were shuttered, her mouth unsmiling.
What the hell?
She moved to a suitcase by the door—this one hers, which stood next to another large bag. She hooked her purse onto her shoulder and tilted her head. “You’re early. I thought you’d be home later today.”
Her tone was flat. Her eyes were flat. In his head, a warning siren blared.
“I left right after the closing.” His eyes tracked back to her luggage. “Dimples, what’s going on?”
“I’m going to Ohio today,” she said. Formally.
The wedding. Thank Christ. He’d thought for a second she was moving out. His brain was more sluggish than he’d thought. He was borderline panicked, and all she was doing was going on the trip she’d told him about.
“Right. Have a nice time. Are you taking my car?” He rubbed his eyes and yawned, feeling every minute of sleep he’d lost.
“I’m not taking your car, Tag.” Her tone was still flat, her forehead creased.
Whoo-ooop! Whoo-ooop! The siren in his head screeched.
Okay. It wasn’t just the jet lag. Something was definitely wrong.
“I’m going to need you to lay out what’s going on,” he said. “I don’t like this.”
“I didn’t plan on doing this now, but maybe I should…” Her blue eyes held his, devoid of the heat and desire he’d grown accustomed to seeing there. In their place was acceptance. Pragmatism. “Things had to end sometime, right?”
End? His heart hammered double time. He released the death grip on his suitcase handle and came to stand in front of her.
“Hang on.” He pushed the front door closed and put his hand flat on the wood. He couldn’t comprehend what she’d told him. It was like his mind was lined with fur. “I’ve had a long, sleepless night. An exhausting flight. Let’s—”
“I had fun, Tag.” Her smile was polite. “I don’t want you to think I have any regrets, because I don’t.”
My God, she’s seriously doing this.
“I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done,” she continued. “You really helped me through a bad patch.”
“Dimples, hang on.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his head pounding as hard as his heart. His head swirling, dizzy.
“I feel like it’s best to end things now before it gets harder to walk away.”
He opened his eyes to find her eyes swimming in sadness. He wasn’t sad. His chest was as empty as if his heart had been scooped out.
“Who said anything about walking away?” he managed. Barely.
“You did,” she said quietly. “In a million subtle ways. The way you left for Hawaii after I’d stayed with you for a few days. The way you have kept me as close as possible in bed, but as far as possible elsewhere. I’m not angry, Tag. I’m not. And this is a good thing for you. You’re off the hook. For the wedding. For the future. It’s better for both of us if we don’t drag this out.”
His synapses were running at a slog, but one thought snapped into place. “This is about me not going to a wedding?”
“It’s okay. You are who you are, but I need to be who I am.”
She might not be angry, but he sure as hell was. Pissed, he stepped forward and looked down at her. “And who are you, Dimples?”
She met his gaze and said, “A woman who is capable of doing things without your help.”
She didn’t want his help any longer? After he’d closed the bar for her when she was ready to drop? After he gave her a place to stay, had offered his home and car and plane to give her whatever she needed? After taking the time to crack open the woman underneath the scared one she presented to the world?
“You mean now that you’ve taken everything you needed from me, you’re good to go?” His nostrils flared, anger surging through him. Voice raised, he continued. “You found your sexual self and your ability to take no shit from your ex, and you secured the job of your dreams in a building with my goddamn name on it, and now you’re capable?” he all but shouted.
Rachel blanched, her cheeks dulling. He’d surprised her, but what had she expected? For him to say “no problem” when she dumped him on his ass? She’d gutted him. He could barely process the pain lying in wait to flay him later.
“Glad I could foot the bill and help you through your life transition, Dimples,” he said. Because right now, he was feeling pretty fucking used.
“That’s not fair.”
&nb
sp; “No shit.” He pulled the door open for her, his heart lurching and his nose stinging. “Have a nice life.”
She looked like she might cry the tears he was viciously staving off, but then her phone chimed. One look at the screen and her face was once again placid. “That’s my cab.”
“Better catch it.” That last word came out quiet. He didn’t move toward her an inch. She didn’t come to him either, simply lifted her chin and collected her bags.
“Bye, Tag.”
Then she was out the door.
And out of his life.
* * *
“She dumped you?” Lucas dodged a plastic toy, avoiding suffering a concussion by a very narrow margin. “Not now, sweets,” he said to his daughter. “Daddy needs his brains right now.”
Tag had driven to Lucas’s after Rachel left. Tag had let her go, closing his front door and staring at it, his heart aching, his entire body buzzing and dull from lack of sleep. In his compromised state, he was afraid if he chased after her, he might drop to his knees and beg her not to leave.
He wasn’t about to do that. He had some pride.
After pacing his penthouse like a caged tiger for the next twenty minutes, he’d conceded there was no way he could sleep, so he’d grabbed his keys and called Lucas on the way.
“She used me,” Tag said now. He blinked, his vision grainy, brain set on stupid.
Lucas chuckled.
“What’s funny?”
“You look more confused than angry. Like someone put Shakespeare in front of you and asked you to point out examples of iambic pentameter.”
Tag felt his mouth screw to the side.
“Proving my point.”
“I’m past angry. I was angry an hour ago when I opened the door for her to leave my house.” But angry wasn’t necessarily the right word. Hurt. Pissed. Confused. Yeah, confusion was his reigning emotion at the present.
Lucas handed the baby off to Gena, whose laser-like eyes fried into Tag like he was a rotisserie chicken. “Once the baby is down for her nap, I’ll deal with you.”
Tag watched her go, then refocused on his friend. “What’d I do?”
The Billionaire Next Door Page 26
