“Sorry, it was a bit —“
“You don’t need to apologize,” he’d interrupted. “I didn’t deserve to after the way I treated you.”
The rest of the conversation flowed easily, and we rediscovered the love and admiration we have for each other, without all the baggage and stresses of work and my inability to cope with the loss of Tanner.
We talked for an hour, and then he’d asked, “Can I come see you now?”
“We’re on Liam’s private island in the Virgin Islands, having our honeymoon. But don’t worry, we’ll fly you out here soon.”
And we did, two months later.
“Harper’s pregnant,” were the first words he’d said to me when he saw me. His voice was the most excited I’d ever heard it. Over the following few days, I came to realize he saw his new baby as his chance to do things right this time. Considering what a disaster his relationship with my brother and I turned out to be.
Suits me fine. Now he’ll have someone to take over Knight Global Events, in twenty-five years’ time. He’ll be working till he’s eighty while he prepares his new child, my half-sibling, to take it over.
I’ll have to keep an eye on him and my sibling though, considering I own fifty-one percent of the company now.
During his stay on the island, Liam, him and me ironed out a deal. We obviously didn’t want to own competing companies, and I’d decided I didn’t want to run Elite Exhibitions. Instead, we merged them into one company, with Liam and me owning controlling interest and my father the remaining forty-nine percent.
My dad’s happy as a pig in shit, running the world’s largest events company. Though we installed the best Elite Exhibitions person as his right hand strategist, and gave my father strict instructions to listen to her or risk losing his position.
It’s a great deal, as it was a win for everyone.
Instead of me taking the CEO job, Liam pushed even more of his work off on Victor, and the two of us share the rest of Liam’s old work. We work about twenty hours a week. Together. We talk about strategies and businesses to buy or sell and we both love every second.
“Okay, enough of this,” Liam says, and picks me up. He carries me to shore while I hold onto his neck.
“Swimming done for the day? What’s next, sailing?” I ask, wondering which of our activities to do next.
“Sunbathing.” He lays me onto the wet sand and our feet are tickled by the surf.
On the day after the wedding, when I hung up on my father, I scrolled through all of the messages that had been left. It seemed like everyone I’d ever met had sent a text or left a voicemail. Only one of the names filled me with regret. Kirsten.
“How the fucking hell didn’t you tell me you were getting married?” she’d screamed in one of the voicemails.
I still apologize every time I talk to her. Which is almost every day.
After the internet blew up, the charity grew in leaps and bounds. We’re now nationwide, and numerous tv shows have highlighted the particular issues teens and young adults with heart problems face. Like Kirsten says, nothing does wonders for awareness like marrying the world’s most elusive billionaire.
She comes to visit us regularly here on the island, theoretically to discuss the charity, but I know my best friend, she’s here for the R&R.
Another of those phone messages was left by my mother. I didn’t phone her back. She walked out on my life when I was a teenager, and she thinks I’m going to let her walk right back in? Not a chance. And I still haven’t missed a divorce celebration with my dad at the Fat Kok.
“Still no sign,” Liam says, placing his big hand on my belly.
“They said three or four months,” I say.
“I can’t wait.”
“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one who has to go through it.”
“I was thinking we should go back on Good Morning America in a few months, when it’s noticeable.”
“Oh God, don’t tell me you’re going to want them to film the birth.”
“Ooo, there’s an idea,” he says, though I know that’s a step too far even for him.
“For someone who kept himself hidden for so long, you sure like the limelight,” I tease.
“Nah, I just like breaking the internet.”
I take a handful of sand and throw it at Liam’s torso.
“Hey, what was that for?”
“I thought you were going to say you like publicly professing your love for me.”
“That too,” he says, and presses his lips against mine.
Thank you so much for reading my story! I hope you enjoyed it.
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Dirty Billions
I left her, and now I'm going to beg her to be the mother to my son.
She's the best woman I ever could have dreamed of, and I screwed it up. I never should have left her.
Sure I made a pile of money, but without her it was meaningless.
Now I'm committed to making things right, for my son, for myself, and most important of all, for her.
And that means getting her back. I've longed to have her in my arms all these years, and denying that was the biggest mistake of my life.
She's a woman who gives nothing but love and support to everyone around her. No one would make a better mother to my baby son. No one would make my life as complete.
She just has to forgive me first.
Jenny
“Holy hell,” I moaned. My head throbbed, though more from the pain of turning thirty than the celebrations last night. At least I had a spa day to look forward to. Before returning to my lonely one bedroom apartment. Alone. All by myself.
I hauled myself out of the unfamiliar bed and made for the kitchen. I’d stayed here overnight because of the central Chicago location of my best friend Abbie’s condo, making it an easy place to crash after our late night celebrations.
“Good morning,” I said, forcing myself to sound cheerful.
“Hey, happy birthday, sweetie,” Abbie said, and hugged me.
“I am so looking forward to my massage.” Mostly because I’ll be horizontal.
“I wish I was having one.”
“But I’ll see you afterwards, for lunch and the hydrotherapy pool.” Unless Abbie decided to bail and meet up with her boyfriend Jay.
“Yeah, when you’re all relaxed we’ll all be tense.”
“You should come, now you’re the big boss. Lord knows you could use a massage.” I poured myself a cup of coffee, knocked it back in one and poured a second. I was in desperate need of the caffeine to get me through the day.
“I am not the big boss, just Sam’s boss. And I haven’t had a paycheck yet, I’m broke.”
We sat at Abbie’s little dining table, drinking our coffees. She was lost in her thoughts, which was fine with me. I don’t know how long I could have kept up the facade that I was happy it was my thirtieth birthday. I had to keep some enthusiasm in reserve for when they joined me for lunch.
Naked and face down in the dim light, the recorded wind chimes and birds rang out from the speaker over background music that could only be a sitar. Sienna, my therapist for the morning, kneaded my tense neck muscles, providing some relief for my pounding head.
This sucked. I was not in my twenties anymore. I was officially old. And what did I have to show for it? No man. No marriage. No house. No babies. I kicked myself internally, forcing myself to stop being so negative. I had a good job in marketing at a big company. To be paid for creativity is wonderful.
But the already echoing noise of my biological clock ticking got even louder overnight. The countdown to my last egg seemed as though it had truly begun.
�
��There’s the birthday girl,” Sam said running up and hugging me. “Ready to get naked with me?”
I rolled my eyes at her. Sam, Abbie and Marla entered the plush relaxation room where I’d been sitting, relaxing just as the name suggested.
“Happy birthday! Are you all nice and relaxed from your pamper morning?” Marla asked.
“Yes, thank you guys so much for such an amazing present.”
“Don’t get too excited, really we wanted to come check out the fabled hydrotherapy pool at this place,” Abbie said
“I’m going to say this right now,” I said looking at Sam, “the nudity is optional. You guys did bring your swimsuits?”
“Hell no,” Sam said.
I bent my knees to keep the water at my neck level. Abbie and Marla, who had acted so excited about not wearing swimsuits over lunch now turned as self-conscious as me. They too kept the water at neck level.
Sam, on the other hand, stood at full height and let the pool’s water jets pound against her tits.
“You’re nuts,” I said to her.
“Gotta feel alive! You should try it, someone at your advanced age needs it most.”
Thanks, Sam.
“You guys don’t know what it’s like to be thirty,” I said, sounding far more whiny than I’d intended.
Friday night and all day Saturday wasn’t enough for me, we’d extended the festivities with a dinner out on Sunday evening as well. I’d insisted, in part as a way to ease the ache of failing to be where I thought I’d be at thirty.
“Jen, it’s just a number, it doesn’t mean anything,” Marla said.
“Sure, just a number to you, you’re twenty eight. Wait till it’s your turn, then you’ll understand.”
“Whatever, who cares. Look at Madonna, do you think she feels old?” Sam asked.
“You’re comparing me to Madonna? She must be nearly sixty.”
“It was just an example. You know what I mean. Age is all in your head.”
“Tell that to my ovaries.”
“If you want a family so bad, why do you keep breaking up with your boyfriends as soon as you’re with them for six months?” Abbie asked. Or snapped, really.
She was right, I must’ve had eight or nine boyfriends during the six years she was with Matt. Without exception, I dumped every single one of them once things started getting serious. I guess I didn’t think there was any point wasting time with them once I realized they weren’t the one I wanted to settle down with.
Or maybe because none of them measured up to Collin.
Collin, the only man I’d ever had a long term relationship with. We were together for nearly three years, during the end of college and our first year after it. I thought we’d be together forever. Then he decided to act on an opportunity and move to London, England to start a nightclub.
At first he promised we’d have a long distance relationship, and that he’d only be gone six months. When those six months were up, he moved to Paris to start another nightclub. Then Sydney. I lost track of his movements after Dubai. It hurt too much, seeing that he always had a different woman hanging off him in the photos of every opening.
He not only broke my heart, he made it impossible to have another relationship because no one measured up to him.
“I’ve got to get home and prepare for work tomorrow,” Marla said.
“Me too, I really want to do my best in my new role,” Abbie said.
“Oh man, it’s only six thirty. I need you guys, this thirty thing was fine yesterday when I was still twenty nine, but today is a whole new story.”
“I’ll stay out with you, Jenny, we can party the night away, unlike these two career focused fools,” Sam said. You could always count on Sam.
“Hey, may I remind you I’m your boss now?” Abbie said to her.
“Damn, I should have waited until you left to say that, shouldn’t I?”
“I don’t care how hungover you come into work tomorrow, just be prepared for me to put you to work.”
“Whatever, Calvin.” Sam stuck her tongue out at Abbie. Who knows what went on in that company they worked for.
“Okay sweet cheeks, we have to get home. I have this real hardass boss and I know she’s going to bust my balls in the morning.” Sam downed the last of her wine.
“But there’s still have some wine left.” I lifted the bottle to pour more into Sam’s glass but she put her hand over it, blocking my attempt.
“It’s all yours. As fun as it’s been, it’s Sunday. I’m surprised someone of your advanced age isn’t already home in bed,” Marla said.
The three hugged me goodbye and shoved me in a cab with the bottle of wine. Their last birthday gift to me: a comfortable ride home. Though I wasn’t at all looking forward to going home to my empty apartment.
I made myself comfortable on my cream sofa, my laptop opened on my knee and a glass of wine in my hand.
In my desperation to find myself in a serious relationship, I’d signed up for a local dating site, Chicagodates.com. Eager to check my profile to see the hoards of men who’d contacted me wanting to marry me, I bypassed checking my email and my Facebook and logged straight into it.
My heart sank when I saw exactly zero messages in my inbox, and I took a big gulp of wine just as my phone started to ring
This sucked. No one on the internet was interested in me. Clearly my profile needed work.
“Hello?” I said, lifting the receiver to my ear.
“Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”
“Thanks Mom. How are you feeling?”
“Let’s not talk about me right now, this is your birthday. I can’t believe my baby is thirty.” That was code. She wasn’t doing well. Her cancer was so aggressive that even after treatment, the doctors only gave her two years, max. But with a healthy diet and some natural therapies, my dad and I hoped to have her around for much longer. It killed me enough that I was in Chicago and she was in Maine. I should have been visiting and spending as much time with her as I could before it was too late.
“I know right? I’m old.”
“You’re not old. Well, maybe too old not to have found somebody yet, but there’s still some hope for you.” Here we go. She was desperate for a grandchild, and as her only child that all fell on me. Why did she do this to me? I hated the thought of losing her before she had the chance to hold a grandbaby in her arms, but I wasn’t about to rush out and get knocked up just to make that happen. Unless, of course, I found someone on Chicagodates.
“Thanks mom, I appreciate that.” We chatted a little longer and, torn between love and annoyance, annoyance finally won over and I ended the call.
I dumped the remainder of the bottle of wine into my glass. It was never my plan to come home and get drunk alone. Especially on a Sunday night. It just kind of happened. After seeing that I didn’t get any messages on Chicagodates, and the conversation with my mother and her hints at wanting a grandchild before she dies, I needed another drink. And another, and another.
Thirty. Time to stop messing around and settle down. I poured a tequila shot, paused, stared at it wondering what the fuck I was doing pouring a tequila shot alone at home on a Sunday, and downed it.
My eyes phased out of focus at the computer screen as I scrolled through the hundredth male profile on Chicagodates. I couldn’t help but compare them to everyone I’d dated in the past.
Before long, I was reflecting on all the men I’d ever dated, trying to figure out if any of them would have been marriage material if I hadn’t dumped them. But my mind kept going back to one ex-boyfriend: Collin.
No boyfriend had ever lived up to his standard. Was that because he was my first real boyfriend and first boyfriends were always special? Or was it because our three year relationship never officially ended, only…fizzled out? What would’ve happened if he’d never moved to London? I’m sure we would still be together now. My mother might even have that grandchild she was so desperate for.
Instead we hadn’t seen each
other in seven years. We’d kept in contact by phone at first, which quickly moved to email and then to nothing. He’s not even on my Facebook. The last contact I had with him was six years ago, a brief note from him saying he was leaving Paris to open a nightclub in Sydney.
In order to get over the hurt, I stopped Googling him long ago.
It was impossible to resist knowing what he was up to now. I typed Collin O’Keefe in the search bar, skimmed over what popped up, and choked on my wine.
When I was just about over my eye-watering coughing fit, I looked again at what had caused it.
‘Chicago’s own Collin O’Keefe is back in town to open Luscious, the latest project in his worldwide nightclub empire. We talked to him about how he built a multi-billion dollar empire and what he hopes to achieve in his native city.’
My breath had quickened to such a rate that I was on the verge of hyperventilating. I downed the last of the wine to steady myself and try to understand my feelings.
I couldn’t bring myself to read the rest of the article, instead I clicked on Google images to look at his face. His gorgeous face with his possessive eyes that could hold a woman captive jumped out at me. Even if he was just a memory to me.
“Let me in!” I tried to push past the mountain of a man but I wasn’t getting anywhere. He put his hands on my upper arms.
“Lady, you’re drunk. You can’t come in.”
“I am not drunk.” I’d only had a bottle of wine and four tequila shots. I wasn’t that drunk.
“Listen to you, you can’t even speak clearly.”
“I need to see Collin!” I tried to shake him off me, with no luck. The man was simply too big.
“Collin? Who?”
“Collin O’Keefe! Tell him I’m here to see him.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Jenny. Tell him his Jenny is here for him.”
Another massive man came over and they spoke to each other, but in low voices and I couldn’t hear them.
Arousal Page 17
