by JC Harroway
I clear my throat, battling strong emotions I can’t name. ‘You have a gorgeous family, Dove. They love you very much. They’re proud of you too.’
She nods, her eyes becoming shiny.
Her family hadn’t meant to, but the kindness and acceptance they extended me brought out all my ancient insecurities and made me feel like a fraud. An alien who didn’t belong. The contrast between Monroe’s big, caring family and my solitary existence is massive. We’re chalk and cheese. Even if I could overcome the things holding me back from pursuing a relationship, I could never be everything Monroe needs.
‘You know,’ I say on a whisper, ‘I see how it is for you. Your older siblings have paved the way and seem to have so much in common. You want to remember your mum, to be just like her too, but it’s okay to be yourself, to be different. It doesn’t make you any less.’
She stiffens under me and frowns. ‘I know that—you make me sound a bit pathetic. What’s your point?’
Good question. Why am I giving her emotional advice? What the hell do I know about complex relationships and family dynamics?
‘You are so far from pathetic, Dove. You’re smart and funny and ambitious. I don’t know what it’s like to have a family, but I know about work. And I know you. Are you really willing to give up everything you’ve worked hard for to keep house and change nappies? I can’t see you being satisfied with that.’
I’m crossing a line with her, but I want her to see that she’s perfect as she is. That she doesn’t need to compare herself to anyone. ‘Perhaps you have some unresolved grief over Cathy. It’s understandable. You’re the youngest. You had less time with her than your brothers and sisters—’
‘You’re wrong.’ She shoves at me, extricating herself from my arms. ‘I don’t want to give up anything. I want it all—a career, a life and a family. I thought you understood that. And why shouldn’t I have it?’ Hurt turns the green flecks in her irises to burning gold.
‘You can have it all. You should have it all.’ I cup her face, my thumb brushing over her cheek. ‘I’m saying this all wrong. I just meant that Cathy would be proud of you just the way you are.’
‘I know that.’ She swings away and sits on the edge of the bed. I stroke her back, my palms burning to feel all her skin.
‘Don’t leave.’ I press my lips to her shoulder, silently begging. ‘What the fuck do I know? Just ignore me.’ I rest my forehead against her back and suck in air, sick with the urge to drag her under me and chase away these feelings of inadequacy and confusion, to forget the torment shredding me alive. Why else would I have stepped out of my comfort zone to offer personal advice?
She spins to face me, speaking with those expressive eyes of hers, which glimmer with her forgiveness. ‘You know me better than you think. Your advice is as valid as anyone’s. And perhaps you have a point—I am still grieving. But it’s just because my parents, my family, gave me such a strong sense of belonging, I feel like I need my own tribe one day. Does that make sense?’
I nod, thinking of Sterling and her and Bold—my own place to belong.
‘Yes. Yes, it does.’ I hold her tight, my panic settling.
‘While we’re on the subject of grief, I want you to know something too.’
I brace myself.
‘I’ll always be here for you, Hudson. Always.’
I want to reject her compassion and insight, which is much more finely tuned than my own clumsy attempts. It’s not the words but what she leaves unsaid that makes me feel raw and exposed. Because, where I know I can trust her professionally and as a friend, I’ve never trusted anyone beyond that.
* * *
The next morning, I glance through the glass wall of Monroe’s office to where she’s chatting to her assistant in the open-plan area beyond. She’s wearing a pink silk blouse and tight skirt with heels. She’s relaxed, smiling, animated. I watch her like a man lost in the desert watches the drip of condensation on an ice-cold glass of water. And still I’m parched.
She left the hotel some time in the early hours of this morning. Despite being desperate for sleep, restlessness infected me for the remainder of the night. A vile thought muscled its way into my mind. Soon I’ll be back to my old self. The next woman I sleep with will be a one-night stand. The idea should bring me peace. A sense of normality returning to my life.
Instead I want to puke.
No. I’ll simply focus on work for a while. Monroe and I have had enough sex to last a lifetime. Although right now it feels as if I’ll never be satiated.
Sterling shifts beside me, scrolling through his phone. We’re here for our final meeting. I’m leaving before dawn tomorrow—and making a quick business stop in Singapore before heading home to Tokyo. Only it no longer feels like home. It never did.
Before Monroe, I never needed a home. But she’s made me question everything about my life. She’s stormed through my world and forced me to examine my sad existence. Now there’s no way back to where I was before Typhoon Kano struck.
I pace to the bar in Monroe’s office and pour myself a glass of water. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘No thanks,’ Sterling says, his voice tense. The clatter of his phone as it hits the glass table draws my attention. ‘So are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on, or do you want me to ask Monroe?’ His expression is stony, and I know I’m busted.
Relief washes through me as I stare at the view of Canary Wharf from Monroe’s window. I’ve been a coward to avoid this inevitable conversation. The decent thing to do was to confront it head on. At least I can finally offload some guilt by coming clean.
The skyline blurs before my eyes as panic shunts my blood too fast. This is the train wreck I dreaded. Sterling’s anger and betrayal will be justified. It’s not the ending I’d have chosen, but at least I can admit that this thing with Monroe is over.
‘You’re right. Dove and I... We...’ I don’t have the words to explain what me and Monroe are. No longer just friends. More than fuck buddies. ‘Fling’ sounds inadequate, and yet it was always temporary.
I make a fist of self-directed frustration. I turn back to my friend and business partner, the mixture of guilt, remorse and failure a foul taste in my mouth. I never wanted to hurt anyone, especially my partners. The closest thing I have to family.
‘You’re sleeping together, aren’t you?’ His expression is unreadable but he must be pissed at me. I’d be pissed at him if the positions were reversed. In fact, I’d be fucking furious. The idea of him and Monroe, together intimately, turns my stomach. I look away, seeking composure. I have no right to be possessive over Monroe. I can’t give her one tenth of what she had with Sterling. And even that wasn’t enough.
You should never have touched her.
‘I’m sorry.’ My voice comes out rough thanks to the pressure constricting my throat. ‘I didn’t know how to tell you. I wasn’t even sure I should. It wasn’t serious.’
His muttered curse echoes across the room. ‘So it’s over, is that what you’re saying?’ His hands are gripped in front of him on the table, and he’s coiled with tension, as if he could fly into a rage at the slightest provocation.
I shrug. Nod. Squeeze the glass in my hand so hard I fear it might crack. ‘Pretty much. I’m leaving tomorrow.’
‘Does she know it’s over? Have you spoken about it, or are you just going to sneak off like a coward and leave her wondering?’ His expression turns murderous. He loved her once. He knows me and what I’m capable of. Or incapable of. He knows Monroe and what she wants.
I abandon the glass of water and shove my hands in my pockets. ‘Don’t go getting all protective, as usual. I never played her. We both knew what we were doing. That it was temporary. She knows me as well as you do, remember.’
I glance at Monroe in the outer office. She’s bent over her assistant’s shoulder, pointing out something on the comp
uter screen. The way we left things last night was as ambiguous and non-committal as you could get. She dressed, kissed me goodbye and left. I waited all night for the relief that we’d started to wean ourselves off sleeping together. Only, the minute the door closed behind her I wanted to chase after her and drag her back. Never to sleep again if it meant I could stay suspended in the insatiable need I have for her.
‘You’re right.’ I sigh. ‘I plan to talk to her today. I think she’ll be fine.’ We don’t need to officially end it because it always had an expiration date. It was never a thing.
It felt like a thing...
‘So you’re going to go back to being colleagues? Or do you plan to fuck her whenever the three of us meet up, because I’ll tell you right now—she deserves better.’
A defeated sigh blasts from me. ‘I agree, she does. She knows that too—she’s not stupid. She knows I’m a bad bet.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ His astute stare narrows.
I look closer, see new fatigue around his eyes. Something is off with him too.
‘I didn’t promise her anything. We still want different things. Monroe wants a big family, marriage...’
‘So?’
‘So, if you couldn’t make her happy, what hope do I have? I’m not used to all that. I don’t know how to be anything other than alone.’
I pace back to the conference table and brace my palms on the glass top. ‘She won’t find what she’s looking for with me. Anyway, there’s more. We messed around once before—after the divorce.’
‘You fucking bastard...’ He jerks to his feet.
I nod, taking it on the chin. There’s a line you should never cross, and a friend’s ex is on the other side of that line. ‘It was just one time. I haven’t laid a finger on her since.’
‘Until now,’ he spits. ‘The one time I’m not there, and you two can’t keep your hands off each other.’
He makes it sound as if we planned it. As if we couldn’t wait to have him out of the way.
‘It wasn’t like that. There was a storm... It just happened. But it was my fault.’ I should have resisted. Fought harder.
‘Bullshit.’ He paces the room. ‘There’s always been something between you two.’
My head whips round to stare at him as if he’s sprouted a second head. My ‘No!’ is like the crack of a whip.
‘I’m not saying she didn’t love me,’ he qualifies. ‘She did.’
The reminder shouldn’t bother me, but nausea threatens.
‘Only Monroe and I are responsible for the breakdown of our marriage.’ He shakes his head, demoralised.
‘I know. I was there,’ I mutter, recalling how conflicted I’d been, wanting to support them both, and then later fighting my attraction to her. Monroe and I were an inevitable mistake waiting to happen.
‘You don’t know everything. I told you how I fucked up, but she was to blame too. Yes, she’s looking for commitment, but she didn’t fully commit to me.’
My pulse ricochets around my chest. ‘What do you mean?’ I don’t want to talk about her like this, behind her back. But, by the same token, I want to know.
‘Before we met you, I begged her to consider moving to New York with me, just for a couple of years. She refused point-blank. Said she could never move away from her family, and I accepted that.’
‘Yes, she told me...’ An ache settles under my ribs. It’s ridiculous to think we could have a future. She lives here and I’m six thousand miles away.
But you don’t want a future...
‘After her mother died she pushed me away. It was as if I couldn’t do anything right. Try as I might, I couldn’t compete with the support she had from her family, nor could I compensate for what she lost. I hate feeling like a failure, so I switched off too. We never recovered.’
Nausea burns my chest. If Sterling, who has so much more in common with Monroe than me—who is so much more emotionally available than me—failed, how can I possibly ever be what she needs? If I try, I’ll fail too. Only I’ll lose more. Sterling will always take Monroe’s side. They’ll be a team again. They’ll both hate me. Bold will implode. I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for my whole adult life. Funding Blackhearts. My emotional peace of mind. My financial safety net.
I could never rebuild it all alone.
Sterling and I fall into uncomfortable silence. Resolve settles over me like an invisible shield. Knowing when to walk away is my stock-in-trade. Some investments just aren’t worth the risk.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Monroe
RETURNING TO MY office is like entering a walk-in freezer, or perhaps a lion enclosure at feeding time. They’re both standing, and there’s a caged and prowling energy to my business partners. I only ducked out of the room for a few minutes, but something major has gone down in my absence.
I swallow. I can guess.
I keep my smile glued in place. Sterling has worked it out and Hudson has confirmed our fling. My instincts brace for an attack. Except I’m a grown woman, not a child. I don’t have to defend myself to my ex-husband and the man I’ve been sleeping with.
I bring up the next screen on our meeting agenda, acting as if everything is normal. I’ve been acting for days.
‘Excuse me for that interruption. Shall we conclude with the last agenda item—Hudson’s proposal for expansion?’
I wait for them to retake their seats, keeping my eyes averted. I can’t bear to see Hudson’s panicked face, telling me he’s reached his limit. He looks as though he’s already decided we can’t work beyond what we’ve shared this week.
As for Sterling—it’s none of his business who I fuck.
‘Hudson, do you want to zip through your plan?’ Keeping my face a bland mask takes eye-watering effort.
He swallows and launches into his spiel—taking on more corporate investments and fund management for third parties, expanding across Europe and Asia and the rest of the States. We’ve heard it before. On paper it makes sense. But now that I know the driving force behind Hudson’s money-making—to protect the vulnerable parts of himself—I’m determined to take a second look.
‘I’m concerned that we’ll be spreading ourselves too thin,’ says Sterling, voicing one of my own arguments against radical expansion. ‘It will mean a lot more travel for each of us and less work-life balance.’
I wince internally, because Hudson has very little of that. He’s an island. He doesn’t need other people, as he proved yesterday when he left Mum’s memorial instead of confiding in me about Wendy.
‘Not necessarily.’ Hudson clenches his jaw. ‘We start a mentoring program—bring in the best newcomers. Start them off small and make them prove themselves. Dove?’ He turns to me, his beautiful eyes so familiar I see every emotion displayed there.
I look away.
‘My preference at this point is to focus new business on start-ups and continue to manage and grow our existing funds. Personally, I’m as busy as I want to be.’
I meet his stare, resolved. There’s more to life than making money, at least for me, and it seems for Sterling.
The ensuing debate is fraught with an unthinkable disharmony.
Then Sterling’s phone emits a tone, snapping the tension. He checks the screen.
‘I don’t think we’re making progress. Can we revisit this discussion at our next video meeting?’ He stands, tucks his phone into his pocket. ‘Something has come up that I need to sort out.’
‘Of course. Nothing serious, I hope?’ I accept his kiss to my cheek, frowning at the strain pulling at his expression.
‘No. Just New York business.’
We’re all on our feet now, our easy camaraderie a distant memory.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow at brunch,’ Sterling says, to me only. ‘Eleven, the Dorchester. Don’t be late.’
He
shakes Hudson’s hand. They wish each other safe flights, but there’s no warmth in their farewell. It cracks my heart in two.
And then he’s gone, his long legs carrying him across the outer office to the lifts with purpose.
With dread sitting in my stomach like a rock, I face Hudson.
‘What happened while I was out of the room?’
He rubs his hand over his face. ‘He figured it out. About us.’
‘I thought as much.’ I wince; I don’t mean to sound accusatory, but I already sense Hudson’s withdrawal. ‘How did he take it?’ I’ve seen him more upset. Something else is going on with Sterling—he’s been distracted this visit.
Hudson’s shuttered expression speaks for itself.
‘He warned me off, of course. He knows us both. He knows that you need more than I’ll ever be able to offer.’ He can’t look at me.
‘What I need is for me to decide.’ Pressure builds at my temples. I can’t avoid this any longer. I’ve been holding myself back for days. Making myself small to accommodate Hudson’s feelings. His fear. I’ve tried to move at his pace. But last night, in his arms, I felt worshiped, adored, loved. Even after he’d clumsily tried to warn me off or sound me out, I’d come so close to telling him how I feel that I had to leave to stop the words breaking free.
‘What do you need?’ I ask, seeing the answer written on his handsome face, that glutton-for-punishment part of me needing confirmation.
His sad smile slashes me deep. ‘Outside of Bold, I don’t need anything, Dove. I told you that.’
I press my lips together and nod. There’s no malice in his stare or his tone, only heartbreaking inevitability, as if we were destined to arrive here.
Only I’m not just going to lie down and take a beating. I’m going to fight my corner, as I always do.
