“I saw the pictures,” she said upon my answering. “Are you crying?”
“No,” I sniffled. “I’m sick.”
“Come stay over here. You shouldn’t be by yourself right now.”
“Okay,” I said, and agreed to drive to their house later on, after I’d showered and napped on my bed. I needed to be by myself for a little while. Needed time to process everything that had happened earlier.
Later that night, when darkness had fallen over, there was loud knocking on my door that startled me awake. Fuck. Shit. I was supposed to go to my dad’s. I checked my phone and saw the missed calls from Meire and Dad as I walked to the door and opened it. Victor was standing on the other side dressed in jeans, a Dodgers cap, and a black hoodie. I knew it was him because I knew him, but you could barely make out his face with that thing over his head.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice a croaked whisper. It was getting worse.
He held up a bag. “Soup.”
I closed my eyes and stepped back so he could walk in.
“Didn’t we break up? Did I imagine that?” I asked, closing the door and following him down the hall.
Bonnie jumped on her back legs and wagged her tail when she saw him. Stupid dog. Hadn’t I spent an hour crying over him to her? Why was she being nice to him?
“Get comfortable while I heat this up,” he said, rounding my kitchen counter and tearing the bag open.
I looked at him for a long moment, studied his face now he’d taken the hood off: the planes of his chiseled jaw, the light scruff, the light brown hair curling under the baseball cap, those hazel eyes that made my knees go weak, his long fingers as he popped the lid on the plastic container. Each second that passed made my heart hurt a little more. I turned around and left the kitchen, opting to sit in the living room and switch on the TV. Maybe if I had a distraction I wouldn’t have to think about how over we were.
Victor returned with a bowl of soup and a glass of orange juice and sat beside me. He put the juice and a napkin with two blue pills down on the coffee table and turned to face me. He was too close.
I could smell the scent of his body wash and shampoo.
So close.
I could see the lines of brown on his greenish eyes.
Too close.
I could practically taste his lips against mine. I swallowed and cringed at the pain, and when he lifted a spoonful of soup up for me to drink, my eyes widened.
“You can’t feed me,” I whispered. The dip in his brow, and the look in his eyes told me he was crestfallen.
“Please, Nic,” he whispered, a plea. I’d never heard him plead before. It made my chest squeeze, my eyes water.
“I can’t, Victor. It’s all or nothing, and you know it can’t be all.”
The spoon clinked against the bowl as he closed his eyes. “It can be,” he said, opening his eyes again, “just not right now.”
“I get it.”
“I really . . . this . . . it wasn’t just for fun,” he said.
“I know.” I swallowed. “But we still have to keep our distance. You being here isn’t helping anything.”
He nodded slowly. “I couldn’t just . . .” He sighed. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I am, Victor. I’m okay. I’ll be okay, but you can’t be here. You can’t say no to me and tell me this isn’t good timing and then show up in my house with soup. I’m strong, but I still have feelings.”
Feelings that were overwhelming me.
“I know. I’m sorry,” he said, sighing. “I really am.”
“Thank you for the soup.”
“You’re welcome.” He paused, taking his cap off with one hand to run his hand through his hair. “I’m going to leave now.”
I nodded. He glanced at me again.
“I’m going to leave because this is the responsible thing to do,” he said. “If I was careless, I’d stay.”
“That’s . . . good to know,” I said. And it was. Maybe not now, but someday there would be a future for us. Maybe someday we’d work out.
If I was careless, I’d stay.
When he left, I drank my soup, picked up Bonnie, and then headed to my dad’s. Meire didn’t even let me knock before she opened the door and pulled me into a hug.
“Your dad is not very happy. He’s not even going to the office tomorrow.”
My heart dropped. I was afraid of that. I let go of Meire and started walking toward his study, where I knew I’d find him.
“There’s soup for you in the kitchen. I’ll warm it up,” she called out. I didn’t bother to tell her I’d already had some. I could have another bowl.
“Thank you,” I called out, cursing my teenage self for all the times I’d talked shit about her for marrying my dad. I wasn’t one to welcome new people with open arms. I was always cautious about letting people in because I’d seen so many people get burned by loved ones, and I just never wanted that to be me. The irony.
I knocked once on my dad’s office door before walking in. He was sitting behind his desk with his hand on his forehead.
“Hey, Dad.”
His head snapped up. He smiled softly. “How are you feeling?”
I shrugged. “Like shit.”
“Nicole.”
“Like crap,” I said. I never understood why crap was accepted while shit was frowned upon.
“Can you please explain these to me? I’m having a hard time understanding them,” he said, waving the pictures of Victor and me around. I took a deep breath and let it out as I sat across from him.
“There’s nothing to explain. It was windy and we were trying not to be loud so the realtor wouldn’t hear what we were saying about the house. End of.”
His brows rose. “You’re sure?”
“I’m positive,” I said, but the more his blue eyes searched my face, the more nervous I felt. Every time I lied to my dad I felt like I was going up against the Supreme Court justices and pleading my case. Technically I wasn’t really lying. There was nothing going on between Victor and me anymore.
“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “I was worried I’d have to let him go.”
My heart lurched. I leaned forward in my seat, suddenly feeling all the energy come back to me at once. “Let him go? Why?”
“It doesn’t look good if a lawyer is involved with his client. I’m sure I don’t need to explain that to you.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. He’d met Meire when she’d hired him as her estate attorney after her husband died. Not the same, but close enough, and Dad had made it very clear that their relationship didn’t start until after her things were taken care of and she was no longer his client.
“I know, Dad. Like I said, nothing is going on. We are friends, though. I don’t think that’s against the law.”
“It’s not, but you need to steer clear until this blows over. Victor is very serious about his job and I don’t want anything interfering with my making him partner.”
“I won’t.”
“Are you dating somebody?” he asked suddenly.
“No,” I said, and it pained me to say it. Physically pained me as I thought of Victor and his smile and his grouchiness.
“Well, find someone.” He paused. “Well, that’s probably a good thing to be single at this point. Probably good for you too. I’m having a company party to announce Victor’s promotion in a couple weeks.” He paused. “I’m not trying to pimp you out, love, but if you want to bring someone as a friend, do so. I’m just trying to make this,” he holds up the pictures again, “go away for everybody’s sake. I’m sure he will bring a date, so I won’t have to worry about him. People will see you guys with other people and this will be erased.”
“I hear you,” I said.
And I wasn’t lying. I heard him loud and clear. It still didn’t help the deep cut I felt at the idea of Victor dating another woman. Someone he didn’t have to worry about being careless with. I excused myself and left his office, not
even bothering to get my bowl of soup before I went to the guest house. I face-planted onto the plush queen-sized bed and let out a single sob before I fell asleep.
“WHY WOULD YOU invite her to your birthday party?” I asked my sister, who looked at me like I was an idiot. It had been a couple weeks since I’d seen Nicole and I was doing pretty good at avoiding her as a whole. The only time I communicated with her was through Corinne, and it was solely about the divorce and the agreement she had with Gabriel to attend an event with him.
“Because I like her, and I was handing out invitations the day I met up with her to talk about Sunny’s wedding dress. Or did you forget that you practically begged me to call her to see how she was feeling when she was sick?”
I blinked. That was beside the point. I couldn’t call her after I took the soup to her house. I was being a pussy but I was man enough to admit that the sound of her voice would break me if I wouldn’t be able to touch her or see her. Estelle waved an envelope with my name on it and jerked me out of my thoughts.
“Are you five? Is this your fifth birthday party? Who the fuck hands out paper invitations?”
She rolled her eyes and flung an envelope across the table. It hit me in the chest before I could catch it. “If you don’t want to go, don’t go. Nobody told you to act like an asshole to a perfectly perfect girl.”
I let out a breath and shook my head, trying my best not to roll my eyes right back at her. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Nicole in a couple weeks. That was nothing. It wasn’t even enough time to miss a person, but there I was, missing the shit out of her and thinking about her every time I closed my damn eyes.
“When is that party your boss is throwing for you?” she asked.
I ran a hand through my hair, closing my eyes momentarily. “After he tells everyone about my promotion. When is your adult-child party?”
She glared at me. “Do you think Nicole will go to the office party?”
“I doubt it.” I hoped not.
“Are you taking a date?”
I looked at my sister. “What are you getting at?”
“I’m just curious.”
“I’ll probably take somebody. I need to make sure people understand the pictures circulating aren’t what they’ve made them out to be.”
“Aren’t they?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Are you done?” I paused. “I know you’re dying for me to find the love of my life and all, but some of us don’t think love is the end-all be-all of life.”
It was a good thing I was a good liar.
“Some of you are idiots.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She took a deep breath. From the way her ears were turning red, I could tell she was getting upset about this. I tried not to smile. She was so funny when she got upset. “It doesn’t matter. Even if she goes and you take someone it’ll be fine. She’s dating this really hot guy.”
Until she wasn’t so fucking funny. “What guy?”
She shrugged. “Some guy named Brent that lives by her house. It’s pretty convenient, really,” she said, her smile widening as she looked at me. “He’s gone over a few times. She says he has an incredible body. I mean, I know he does. She showed me a picture.”
I felt like there wasn’t enough room in my body for the air that I needed. I clenched my jaw, trying to rein in my anger and keep all the words in, because the last thing I needed was to give her more ammunition. I thought about the cases sitting on top of my desk and looked around the coffee shop, my eyes everywhere.
“Good for her,” I said when I felt like I could speak without sounding like I wanted to murder whoever the guy was.
“That’s what I said,” Estelle said, lifting her cup of coffee and taking a sip. My eyes focused on her paint-stained hands. I was dying to get out of that place already. “I think he’s a producer or something.”
I exhaled. What the fuck, Nicole? What the fuck? Did she completely ignore the we just can’t be together right now part? Was she really moving on? A sense of déjà vu fell over me, when I’d asked her to leave the first time, and she had, and three weeks later she’d gotten engaged.
Fuck.
My.
Life.
“Like I said, good for her,” I repeated.
Estelle smiled as she stood up. “I have a class to teach in twenty minutes. Let me know if you’re going to make it to the party.”
“Obviously I’m going,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
I started opening the envelope as I walked away and reading the invitation, but she was too far for me to say anything to. A costume party. She was turning twenty-eight and was having a costume party for her birthday. I hated themed parties. They meant going out and looking for specific outfits and spending money on those outfits and then keeping them on at the actual event instead of just wearing whatever was already in your closet. And a fucking pirate-themed party?
“You’re fucking kidding me,” I muttered, putting the invitation away and tossing it to my passenger seat. Oliver wasn’t going to hear the end of it when I saw him on Sunday. I’d have to buy something online. Once that was out of the way I could figure out who I was going to take as my date to the office party going on in my name. They were honoring me and I was already dreading it. Under normal circumstances I’d be glad to go and stand up there, thanking the people who’d helped me get there. But under normal circumstances, Nicole would be on my arm and we’d be able to walk around openly. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t be dating producers named Brent.
A few days later, I couldn’t stop thinking about it and I realized I was running out of options, and I didn’t like running out of options. I wasn’t the kind of man that could just sit back and take a punch. I liked to be the one punching. I knew it wasn’t right, I knew it wasn’t necessarily professional, but I was in the business of not giving a fuck. If Nicole wanted to go off and date other guys, I couldn’t stop her. I actually appreciated it. That way the spotlight was off of me for the time being and I could take care of unfinished business.
For two weeks I had been okay showing up at the office and getting patted on the back by Will and pretending the story about his daughter and me was fabricated. It was easy enough to go in, get lost in work, meet with clients, look into their cases, go to court, defend them, and close a case. I was on autopilot. No. I was back to where I was before Nicole ambushed her way into my life. I was back to being me. The difference was that I was an unhappy version of myself. I’d tried to get in touch with the douchebag that was Darryl Cusack, who happened to be the source Quinn gave me for the “leaked” pictures, but he hadn’t responded to any of my messages. The guy clearly didn’t want me to find him. Gabriel Lane was my last resort, and I didn’t intend to use that card at all if I could help it. My last resort was to exchange information with some of Quinn’s photographers.
They’d tell me where I could find him, and I would give them a few pictures they were after. The day after I put that out, I got a call from one of them letting me know Darryl was eating at a popular Italian restaurant in West LA. I showed up there with an old friend of mine, Jessica. She was the kind of friend I used to take on group dates, one of the girls my sister couldn’t stand, but she was also always down for whatever, whenever, wherever. As soon as she heard there would be paparazzi there, she agreed. She owned a hair salon, so I assumed she thought it would be good for business. I figured as soon as they got pictures of Jess and me hooking up, they’d move on and bury the story about Nicole and me. Who liked old news anyway? Jess and I played it up outside, holding hands, kissing right outside the restaurant, laughing at some stupid comment she made about possibly having gum under her shoe but not being able to bend down because of her short dress, and basically doing shit people who went on dates did. I hated every second of it. Her lips felt wrong against mine. Her hand felt wrong when I held it. It was just . . . wrong. I hadn’t even thought about giving Nicole a heads-up about the photos,
but I hoped she never saw them, and if she did, I hoped she had enough sense to know it was all for show and that I’d done it with her best interest in mind.
From my seat I had the perfect view of Darryl’s table. He was there with a known actress and a couple of her friends. When I saw him get out of his seat and head to the bathroom, I excused myself and did the same. When I got back there, my friend Sergio, one of the waiters, handed me a pair of gloves and I asked him to block the entrance of the bathroom with a sign. I waited for the other man in there to walk out and put the gloves on before turning around and locking the door when I walked in. Darryl did a double take when he saw me.
“You know what I appreciate about you, Darryl? That you stay true to yourself,” I started. I took a baseball out of the pocket of my jacket and started throwing it up and catching it softly. “I don’t know if you know this, I’m sure you do because it seems you’ve taken a liking toward me.” I raised an eyebrow. “And I’m flattered, though I don’t bat for that team.” I shook my head. “Before I got into divorce, I practiced criminal law. It only lasted about two years.” I tilted my head as I thought about it. “But in those two years I earned the trust of a lot of criminals. People you wouldn’t think I’d know. I don’t have to tell you how shady people can be, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you the lengths people go through to make sure they stay out of jail.” I paused for dramatic affect. His eyes were a little wider now as he looked at the ball I was throwing up.
“Where did . . . is that my . . .” he started, frowning as he looked at the ball in my hand, recognizing it from his home office, where it was taken from.
“So this is what you’re going to do next,” I said. He looked more concerned about the ball than he did scared, and that was fine. I didn’t want him scared. Scared people went to the cops. Nervous people went to bed with their secrets.
“You’re going to pull whatever photographers you have following me and Nicole, and you’re going to give me their names. That’s all you have to worry about. I’ll make it all go away.”
Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3) Page 22
