Next to You

by Julia Gabriel

  Time slowed to a crawl and the remote fell from her fingers, glanced off the glass tabletop and fell with a dull thunk to the floor.

  "Jared Connor would go on to found Accendo, the Silicon Valley company he later sold to Google for three point two billion dollars. The brothers did not respond to CNN's requests for an interview nor release any statements today concerning their father's execution. Officials at San Quentin confirmed that neither attended the execution." The newscaster glanced away from the teleprompter, looking relieved to be done with the story.

  Phlox sunk to her knees in shock, tears welling in her eyes. Jared had said he was burned in a house fire that had killed his parents. Mina had said that Jared rescued Jake from the house. But neither of them had said anything about Jared and Jake’s father setting the fire.

  Fuck. She shoved the heels of her hands against her eyes, pushing back at the tears. Why hadn't Jared said anything? He must have known this was coming up. They didn't carry out death sentences on the spur of the moment. Fuckfuckfuck.

  She slowly rose and found her cell phone in the kitchen. She ignored the salad she'd been making, her appetite now vanished. She tapped Jared's name in her contact list and listened to it ring over and over. He wasn't picking up. No huge surprise there.

  "Jared. It's Phlox. Call me. Please," she said when his phone rolled over to voice mail.

  His father had been on death row. For killing his mother. And nearly killing Jared and Jake too. Phlox couldn't even wrap her head around it, around the sheer unfathomable awfulness of it.

  And shit! He was Accendo. Even Phlox had heard of that deal. Sold to Google for three billion dollars. What the fuck was he doing working as a caretaker?

  Jared Connor? No one’s seen that guy in years. David’s words in the restaurant came back to her. You know what his nickname is? Bruce Wayne. Reclusive billionaire and all that … At least I’m not losing out to Batman, right?

  It was too much information to process all at once. She left another voice mail and several texts for Jared, then dialed Jake’s number. He didn’t answer, either.

  Maria. The Maria Group. Phlox realized with a sickening certainty who their angel investor was. Jared had offered her company thirty million dollars. Why the hell would he do that?

  She collapsed into a chair. Why didn’t he tell her? Why the hell was he hiding out pretending to be a caretaker? Was he by himself in the cottage? He should be at Jake and Mina’s house on a day like this. She suspected he wasn’t though.

  At bedtime, she sent one last text. Please call me, Jared. I saw the news. Please.

  * * *

  Morning light sliced a shadow across the long oval conference room table. Rye was spinning one of the large leather conference room chairs around and around on its axis. Sitting in hers, Phlox felt small and more powerless than she had felt since the day of the accident. She picked at her muffin while Zee, Rye and Jess discussed business matters around her.

  “The insurance company is covering most of the medical claim payouts,” she heard her brother say.

  “The factory wants to know what to do with all the recalled product,” Zee said a few minutes later, when the conversation had moved on to another topic.

  “Still working on the Maria Group,” Jess said, a few minutes further on. “There seems to be quite the firewall around the company. Very secretive.”

  The discussion fell silent after that, until Zee asked, “Phlox? Are you feeling okay?”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t have brought you back this soon.” Rye’s voice was laced with concern. “All this has tired you out, hasn’t it?”

  Phlox waved her hand in the air. “I’m fine.”

  Zee poked at the plastic plate in front of her. “This poor muffin isn’t.” Phlox had picked at the muffin until it collapsed into a pile of crumbs.

  “Boy trouble, that’s all,” Phlox said.

  “Dinner with David didn’t go well?” Rye asked. “Maybe you just need to give him time. You barely knew each other before.”

  “Not him.”

  “The caretaker?” Zee said. “What happened?”

  “You’re going out with a caretaker?” her brother said, incredulous.

  “I was.” She sighed. “Now I’m not sure.”

  “Phlox, you are not making one shred of sense,” Rye said.

  “I fell in love with the guy Cherise hired to take care of the house in Connecticut. His name is Jared Connor. Apparently he’s also a billionaire.”

  “Wait—you’re dating the Jared Connor?” Rye said.

  “Your caretaker is a billionaire?” Zee added.

  “No one’s seen that guy since he sold his company to Google—”

  Suddenly everyone was talking all at once.

  “Wasn’t his father execu—” Everyone fell silent at Jess’s half-finished sentence.

  “Shit,” Zee said after awhile. “How’s he doing?”

  “I don’t know,” Phlox replied, fighting back hot tears. “I can’t get in touch with him. He’s not answering my calls.”

  “You’re sure this is the same guy?” Rye pulled out the chair next to her and sat down. He draped his arm across her shoulders in a brotherly fashion. “Why would he be working at your house?”

  “I’m sure,” she sighed. “And I don’t know why he’s working at my house.”

  “The Jared Connor I’m thinking of—” Rye touched his cheek.

  “Yes, that’s him. That’s why he doesn’t go out in public much.”

  Rye turned to Zee and Jess. “Can you give us a moment?” When the other two women were gone, he said, “Where do you think he is?”

  “My house, I guess. His brother lives in Boston but I have a feeling he isn’t there.” She felt Rye’s hand clasp hers. “I’m pretty certain he’s behind the Maria Group, too. That was his mother’s name.”

  Rye gave a low whistle. “Thirty million dollars, sis. That’s no wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am.”

  “I can’t believe you just said that.”

  Rye gently tipped her face to look at him. “Do you love him?”

  She nodded.

  “Then go to him. Drive up there. Zee and I can hold down the fort here for a day.”

  “He doesn’t want to see me if he’s not answering my calls.”

  “It’s your house, sis. You can go there if you want.”

  Chapter 27

  It was early afternoon when Phlox pulled into the gravel driveway of Twelve Oaks. There was no sign of Jared’s pickup. Maybe he had gone to Jake’s, after all. The thought eased her mind somewhat, even if it didn’t ease her disappointment at not getting to see him. Jake and Mina would take care of him.

  She ran straight to the cottage and knocked on the door as hard as she could. When she got no answer, she retrieved the spare key from the main house and let herself in. The minute she stepped inside, she knew for certain he wasn’t there. Ghostly vacuum stripes criss-crossed the carpet. The sofa cushions had been plumped and the pillows arranged just so against the arms. She walked into the tiny kitchen, tears pricking at the memory of him in that silly apron and bowtie. And then he’d gotten angry when she touched his face.

  The kitchen was neat as a pin, too. No dishes sat drying in the rack. She pulled open a drawer. The kitchen towels had been washed and folded. The dishwashing liquid was neatly stashed beneath the sink. Even the motley collection of potato chips and tortilla chips was gone.

  Her heart felt like someone was squeezing it, trying to force every drop of blood from its painful depths. So he had just packed up and disappeared? Just like that? No goodbye, no “I’m quitting,” no word whatsoever.

  She pulled out her phone and texted him. I’m WORRIED about you. Where ARE you? Yes, shouty caps. She didn't really expect him to reply. She had called and texted all last night and the silence had been deafening.

  But then her phone pinged.

  At home.

  At home? What the fuck? Hadn't the cottage been his home?

 
Jake's home?

  My home. In NY.

  She stared at the words until another text appeared. Where are you?

  He had a home in New York? Well, why not? Mr. Three Billion Dollars. He could have a home any-fucking-where. In CT, she texted back.

  Minutes passed and no reply came. She sent another text. I'm calling you. Please answer.

  His phone rang and rang. Voice mail was about to pick up when he finally answered.

  "Hi," he said quietly.

  Hi? That was all? She closed her eyes, her anger already softening at the sound of his voice. She missed him, wanted to wrap her arms around him, kiss him senseless. She should have been with him yesterday.

  "Where is your home in New York?" she asked.

  He was quiet for a long moment before answering. "Midtown."

  She drew in a sharp breath and held it in her lungs before exhaling. She'd driven all the way up here and all this time he'd been a mere cab ride away?

  "Who are you, Jared?"

  "What do you mean?" His voice was wary. He knew he was in deep shit. Well at least he had the grace to understand that.

  "Why was there a billionaire living in my caretaker's cottage? Can you tell me that?"

  "I'd rather not discuss this over the phone."

  "Why didn't you tell me?" she pleaded. "God, Jared." Her voice fell to a whisper. "I could have been there for you."

  "And would you have had anything to do with me, if I had?"

  "Why wouldn't I?”

  There was silence on the other end.

  "Talk to me, Jared. Please."

  "My father tried to kill me, Phlox. Do you get that? My own father didn’t lo—"

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I love you, Jared."

  “He didn't want us there, you know that? He specifically told his attorney to tell me and Jake not to come."

  "Would—would you have gone?"

  "I don't know. Maybe." There was a long sigh on the other end. "I don't know. It's complicated."

  "I'm coming back to New York." She grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

  "No. I'll come to you. Stay there."

  "Jared. I'll drive down and pick you up."

  "I have cars, Phlox."

  Of course he does. Billionaire. Cars, plural.

  * * *

  Phlox ran her hand under the kitchen faucet, then flicked the water into the pot of cooking oil simmering on the range. The water sizzled and sent a spray of hot oil droplets into the air. A few weeks ago, she would have jumped back in terror to avoid the burning shower. Today, she stood stock still and let the drops rain down on her forearms and hands. She dared the oil to burn her.

  Bring it on.

  The pain felt good. It distracted her from the other pain she was feeling—Jared’s pain. Why hadn’t he told her about his father? Trusted her? All this time she’d been prattling on about her company’s problems and going to movie premieres—problems that paled in comparison to his. She’d been right about him from the very beginning. His worst scars weren’t the ones on his skin.

  She dredged chicken breasts and drumsticks in flour and dropped them into the pot of oil. She wasn’t careful about it either. The backs of her hands were spotted with angry red marks from the spattering oil.

  Why do men have to be the strong, silent type? She dredged and fried, dredged and fried, laying each new batch of crispy golden chicken on a plate of paper towels. She could have been there for him. Supported him. Comforted him. All the things she was dying to do, in addition to worrying about him.

  Was he driving too fast right now? Little Aidan’s words came back to her. “Mom wants us to let her know if he drives too fast.” Somehow she doubted Mina was worried about the pickup truck. Jared had been like a kid in a candy store when she let him drive her Audi to and from the movies. He probably had a dozen sports cars of his own.

  Her worry was shot through with threads of anger though, too. Of course, he knew about market circuit breakers and level three trading halts. He was a fucking tech billionaire. Hell, he’d probably been on CNBC and Fox Business himself. A Maria Bartiromo groupie? He probably knew her personally.

  The more she fumed about it, the more she felt as though she’d been played for a fool. It had all been just sex, hadn’t it? Nothing more than that. He’d made her feel sorry for him so she would sleep with him. And pretending to be a caretaker? Genius. He didn’t have to worry about women trying to get to his money if no one knew he had any.

  No, ma’am, I’m just the hot and hunky gardener.

  By the time she lifted the last pieces of fried chicken from the pot of simmering oil, she was good and angry and picturing what would surely be the considerable pleasure of pelting him with a drumstick when he arrived. She was snapping the cap off a beer when she heard a knock on the back door, then the gentle wheeze of the screen door hinges. She looked up at him.

  He looked like hell. Bleary-eyed and unshaven, his clothes so wrinkled it looked like he’d slept in them for days. The edges of her anger began to soften. His father had been executed. Whatever Jared had done over the past few weeks, it was hard to be mad at him right then when he was so clearly a wreck.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. His eyes shifted to the range behind her, where the pot of oil continued to hiss and sputter. He rushed over and turned off the burner. “What are you doing?” He pulled her away from the oil.

  “Frying chicken.” She nodded at the plate on the island.

  “I can see that. But there’s a KFC a few miles away. I can vouch for their food.”

  She turned and began pulling plates from the cupboard, another beer from the fridge. He grabbed her arms and stopped her.

  “I know you’re mad at me for not telling you who I was. I don’t tell anyone, generally.” He pulled up her hands and frowned at the burn spots on her skin. “You need to get some aloe vera gel on these.”

  “You made me feel sorry for you so I’d sleep with you.”

  He pulled her hands up to his lips and kissed them. “Phlox, I tried to avoid sleeping with you. I tried to avoid you entirely. I was trying not to get fired by being the ugly troll living on some rich woman’s property. But you wouldn’t leave me alone.”

  “So you slept with me just to get me to leave you alone.”

  Jared sighed. “Phlox, you were throwing yourself at me, which is an unusual occurrence for me. Women aren’t exactly begging me to have sex with them. I admit, my head was turned by you. There was a beautiful woman chasing me. My ego was flattered.”

  He cupped her face in his calloused palms and kissed her. “But it’s way more than that now. For me, at least.”

  “Why couldn’t you tell me who you were?” She turned away and began arranging the plates and flatware on the island. She uncapped the second bottle of beer. “I don’t have any of your wine. Sorry. The wine superstore here doesn’t carry it.”

  “Our production is too limited for that kind of retailer. How do you know about the winery?”

  “I had some in a restaurant recently. It was good.”

  She opened the fridge and grabbed a bowl of coleslaw. Jared lifted it from her hands and set it on the island.

  “Was this at your boyfriend’s restaurant?” He scooped coleslaw onto the plates.

  “He’s not my boyfriend. Just a friend.”

  “Phlox, when a man puts his arm around you, he’s not just a friend. You might think so, but he certainly doesn’t.”

  “How would you—”

  “I saw the two of you together, walking from your office to the restaurant.”

  “You were stalking me?”

  Jared pulled out a stool and sat down, like he was settling in for the long haul. She supposed they were. They had a lot to talk about.

  “I wanted to see you, so I came into the city.”

  “So when I called you that night, you weren’t up here?”

  “No. I was in New York, drowning my sorrows in whiskey while you were on a date.”

/>   “I only went so I could tell David that I didn’t want to resume things with him. I told him that I had met someone.” She laughed sharply. “He told me who you were but I didn’t believe him. He called you a reclusive billionaire.”

  “That about sums it up.”

  “And that your nickname is Bruce Wayne.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “So you never answered my question. Why are you pretending to be my caretaker?”

  “I wasn’t aware that I was pretending. I thought I was doing a pretty good job with it.”

  Phlox glared at him. “You know what I mean. Why couldn’t you ‘fess up after we got involved?”

  “I was afraid you’d be angry that I lied. And then you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me. In my defense though, I wasn’t expecting to fall in love with my boss. Usually, my employers are older and … not so attractive.”

  Phlox picked at a chicken breast and pushed coleslaw around her plate with a fork. He was right. She would have been furious at being lied to. She was kind of furious now.

  “I knew it would be bad for your company, too,” he added.

  She looked up from her plate.

  “I mean, not you knowing who I was. But the two of us dating openly.” He took a long draw on his beer. “Every time my business got press coverage, my father would be mentioned. It’s not something people can forget.” He touched his cheek. “I’m a walking advertisement for his crime. If people know we’re together, that’ll get mentioned every time. It won’t be good for your company’s brand.”

  “I think our customers are bigger people than that.”

  He shook his head. “Experience has taught me otherwise. Plus, it would drag Jake’s family into the spotlight too. That’s why I—”

  His voice cracked and Phlox was up and next to him in a heartbeat. She laid her chest against his back and wrapped her arms around him.

  “My father isn’t famous on his own,” he continued. “If it weren’t for me, no one would even know he existed. When I sold Accendo, Jake and Mina had just gotten married. Then Emma was born, then Aidan. So I decided to step out of the public eye to keep Jackson Connor out of the public eye. I reinvented myself as a caretaker and disappeared. It was working until I met you.”