Mid Life Love: Complete Series Boxed Set (Books 1 & 2 )

by Whitney Gracia Williams

  Now, as usual, if you choose to be a planning assistant, I’ll fly you out a couple weeks before the reunion to help me with certain aspects of coordination, but you must help for at least five hours a day. (You know how HUGE this event is to all of us and we have to make sure each year is better than the last.) If you are an assistant, you’ll help finalize the final itinerary and be responsible for setting up the gift bags for our class of 500 awesome people.

  If you’re busy and have a life (Yes, James Klein, we all know you’re a huge golf star now and your schedule is hectic), just send me your travel/lodging preferences (up to two tickets per person) and the assistants will mail your official tickets a week before the reunion.

  Looking forward to seeing you in a few months!

  Harrison Woods

  I clicked through the attendees that had signed up and noticed that next to Claire’s name was a “no response” checkmark.

  I called Corey again. “Corey, I need something else...I need you to intercept any emails regarding a Schenley High School class reunion from a Harrison Woods. He’s the CFO of Disney.”

  “Disney? Are you serious?”

  “Can you do it?”

  He sighed. “Their firewall might be a bit challenging to get through...Give me a few seconds...”

  “If you can bypass any emails about insignificant party details that’d be great. I just want the finalized RSVP list.”

  “Got you something even better...Do you see it?”

  I looked at my screen and saw a spreadsheet detailing each member of Claire’s high school class and every California reunion they’d attended throughout the years.

  Claire hadn’t attended any. Ever.

  “Were all of these reunions in California, Corey?”

  “It looks that way, which is crazy because the high school is in Pittsburgh. Looks like it all started with their ten year reunion and then it became an annual one. That Harrison guy literally pays for each and every one of these things. It must be a pretty good tax write off.”

  “Hmmm...Okay, thanks.” I hung up and called Ashley.

  “Hey, Jonathan.” She picked up on the first ring.

  “Hello. Are you busy right now?”

  “Not at all. I actually just opened the care package you sent me. Are you calling because you meant to send five hundred dollars and not three hundred? Don’t worry. I knew that was a mistake.” She laughed, jokingly. “You can wire me the rest.”

  “That’s more than enough to get you through the week,” I said. “I’m calling to ask you something: When’s the last time you talked to your dad?”

  “Um, two days ago. Why?”

  “Just wondering...Has he mentioned moving out of Pittsburgh?”

  “No. He did mention taking me and Caroline to a hockey game this winter since his firm gave him free season tickets—which is odd because we both hate hockey.”

  “So, he still lives in Pittsburgh?”

  “To my knowledge, yeah. I’m sure he would’ve told me and Caroline if he was planning on moving. He tells us everything.”

  “Right. Well, thank you for letting me know.”

  “You were serious about only giving me three hundred dollars?” There was a smile in her voice. “Don’t you think that’s an odd amount to give someone every week? The first few times were okay, but it’s getting out of hand now.”

  “Goodbye, Ashley.” I hung up.

  I was about to call Claire, but I heard my doorknob twisting and—there she was.

  She was dressed in a short white dress and high heeled grey pumps, with a one of a kind triple pearl strand necklace I’d bought for her last weekend.

  “Are you familiar with the phrase ‘knock first’?” I raised my eyebrow.

  “Am I interrupting a private session? Is there a woman sucking you off under your desk?”

  “Not today.” I stood up and walked over to her. “She only does that when she’s really happy with me.”

  “She is really happy with you.” She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me. “I know our meeting isn’t scheduled until later, but can we cancel it? I want a different wedding planner.”

  “You came here just to tell me that?”

  “I came here because I’m on my lunch break. Speaking of which, if you’re going to continue sending my staff a catered lunch every day, they prefer sweet tea and lemonade over Coke.”

  I smiled and kissed her neck. “I’ll have it changed by tomorrow. How many minutes do you have left on your break?”

  “Ten.” She stepped back. “Is that a no to changing wedding planners?”

  “It’s a ‘maybe’ because this is your third wedding planner...Are you trying to stall marrying me?”

  “What? Of course not... I just want our wedding to be perfect. And actually, I’ve been reading a few in-depth articles about huge weddings and most of them agree that the ideal planning period is six months to a year.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “My point is that I think you should re-consider the time limit you gave me because that’s not enough to even scrape the surface of everything I want to do...Since you claim you want nothing more than to make me happy, I think you should be a bit more generous when it comes to this—especially since this day is so important.”

  “Claire...” I looked directly into her eyes. “I’m going to say this one last time and I’m never going to say it again. You have three months to plan this wedding. Three. Months. Period. I do want nothing more than to make you happy, and by the way you scream my name every night, I’m pretty sure I’m doing a damn good job. That said, I’m not waiting any longer than ninety days. And trust me, I’m being more than generous.”

  “Jonathan—”

  “If it had been up to me, I would’ve married you the day after I proposed. But since you insist on having a wedding, you need to figure out a way to plan it within that timeframe. If you have a problem with twelve weeks and an unlimited budget, or if you even try to push this wedding back by one fucking second, we’re getting married in a courthouse and you’ll be planning an after party.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me and I pulled her into my arms. “Why didn’t you tell me about your high school reunion being in California? Don’t you think that’s why Ryan would be in town?”

  “I guess I wasn’t thinking about that...” She shook her head. “The reunion is always in California and he’s never bothered me before so...”

  “You don’t want to go?”

  “No. I never go.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want to see him or her...I can’t handle being in the same room with either of them—ever.” She gave me one last kiss and freed herself from my embrace. “I have to get back to work so I’ll see you at home. And before you ask—Yes, I’m redesigning the living room again this week. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  “At six?”

  “At six.” She smiled as she left my office, and I knew damn well she wasn’t going to be home by six. She never was.

  After she left my office, I went back to examining Ryan’s files. Even though he was in San Francisco two weeks before the reunion, he wasn’t one of the planning assistants and he still hadn’t responded to the actual invitation—which meant he definitely wasn’t here for that.

  He was here for something else...

  **

  “Okay. Jonathan, Denise, we’re in the closing minutes of this session.” Miss Tate looked over at my mother. “In all honesty, how do you think today went?”

  I think we’re really making progress,” she said as she tied a scarf around her neck. “I feel like we’re getting somewhere.”

  “We are.” I sighed. “If you keep behaving, I might invite you to the wedding.”

  “Excuse me? What wedding?”

  “My wedding.”

  “You’re engaged?” Her eyes widened. “To Claire?”

  “Is that a problem?”

  Miss Tate tapped her notebook. “We ca
n discuss that next time. No new conversation topics within the last ten minutes, remember?”

  “Let me get this straight.” My mother ignored her. “You’re about to get married and you didn’t think to tell me?”

  “I didn’t think you would care.”

  “It’s been over eight months, Jonathan.” She sighed. “I’ve apologized to you, I’ve sent Claire god-knows how-many letters in the mail, and I would really like to have a functioning relationship with at least one of my children. I shouldn’t have to beg for that...” She looked over at Miss Tate. “Should I?”

  There was silence. I didn’t feel like getting into a deep conversation with her today. I was fine with the molasses-speed progress we were making and I had no desire to fully integrate her back into my life.

  I stood up and shook Miss Tate’s hand. “As always, thank you for mediating these sessions, Miss Tate. Mother, Greg is downstairs waiting to take you home.”

  “Is twice a week too much to ask?” My mother looked hurt. “Can we at least try it?”

  “I’ll ask Claire about it and get back to you next week.”

  “Claire? You have to ask Claire?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “I know my opinion doesn’t matter much, but—”

  “It doesn’t matter at all.”

  “Let me finish, Jonathan. I can at least—”

  “No, you can’t. You don’t need to say anything about what I’m doing with my life or anything that relates to Claire because it’s none of your business. What you can do is be happy for me, stay on your best behavior, and show up to the wedding if I decide to invite you.” I kept my eyes locked on hers. “If you pull what you pulled last year—if you even attempt to say anything to her without my permission, I’ll never speak to you again.”

  “Jonathan, Denise...” Miss Tate stood up. “I think it’s best if we end the meeting without saying another word to each other. You’re both doing so well. You don’t want to lose all the ground we’ve made so far, do you?”

  “You’re still holding that bullshit from last year against me?” My mother scoffed. “Seriously? That’s what this is about? You’re over our past, but you just want to throw in the Claire drama to keep me out of your life?”

  “My keeping you at a distance doesn’t have shit to do with Claire. It never has.”

  “Then why are you still treating me like this?” She stood up, hissing. “Why are you acting like a goddamn child? I said I was sorry. And just in case you didn’t catch what I said earlier, I’ve apologized every damn day and I’ve even apologized to your girlfriend—excuse me, your fiancée, telling her how much I wish I could take it all back. What more do you want?”

  I felt like I was going to vomit. She was literally making me sick. “I treat you like this because it’s never been about me.” I stood up and narrowed my eyes at her. “I could’ve handled myself. I did handle myself. It’s always been about Hayley and how you left her in my care—a child’s care. Why can’t you see that?”

  “Hayley has nothing to do with what happened between me and you, Jonathan. It’s her fault if she doesn’t want to reconcile with me because you know damn well I’ve tried. You’re just coming up with another hoop I have to jump through, and you know what?”

  “Go to hell.”

  Her face paled as soon as I said those words, and for half a second I regretted saying them, but not enough to stay.

  “Mother, Miss Tate, I’ll see you two next week. I can’t deal with this right now.” I stormed out of my office and headed towards Angela’s desk.

  “Mr. Statham? Is everything alright?” She looked up.

  “No...Can you call my fiancée and tell her I’m on my way to pick her up for dinner please? Tell her it’s non-negotiable.”

  “Yes sir.”

  I hit the down button at the elevator and stepped inside as soon as the doors opened. I wasn’t sure why I still put up with my mother—why I even tried, because she honestly didn’t deserve anything from me after what she did last year.

  Maybe deep down it was pity—shame, but I promised myself I would never forgive her until she completely acknowledged and understood how she’d almost wrecked my little sister for life, how she’d singlehandedly damaged her, leaving me to repair what little I could.

  Chapter 2.5

  Jonathan

  Summer 1995

  I sighed as I twisted the door handle to our trailer, slowly stepping inside.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” My mom sat up and took a long drag of her cigar. “It’s three in the afternoon and you’ve been gone all day.”

  “I was at school.”

  “Oh, right. Well, could you go back there and shut your sister up? She’s been screaming all day and I can’t get any sleep. All she ever fucking does is cry.”

  I looked down the hallway and noticed that once again, the door to me and Hayley’s room was locked so she couldn’t get out.

  “Can you sign this?” I pulled a paper out of my backpack and handed it to her. “Pre-K starts next week. You have to bring that form next Monday so she can go.”

  “Ugh, god, Jonathan! One thing at a damn time! Can you do what I asked you to do first? Can you shut that girl up, please?” She threw the paper onto the floor and curled into a ball. “How can you expect me to sign paperwork when she’s back there screaming her lungs out? Get the hell out of my face.”

  I realized that I was going to have to pull out one of her old checkbooks again and forge her signature. I was also going to have to come up with one hell of an excuse because I knew she wouldn’t show up for Hayley’s first day of school.

  She never did anything for Hayley.

  Before I could make it down the hall, a beer can hit me square in the back. I turned around and saw my father taking a seat on the couch next to my mom.

  “There’s more of that in the fridge, boy,” he said. “If you can’t get her to shut up, just give her some of that and she’ll be out in twenty minutes. It worked like a charm yesterday.”

  I stared at the two of them for half a second, wishing that I would wake up from this nightmare any second, that they would go back to being who they used to be; but I knew it wouldn’t happen. They’d been this way for the past couple of years and there was no going back.

  Untwisting the doorknob to my bedroom, I slipped inside and saw Hayley hugging a pillow to her chest, rocking back and forth. She hadn’t noticed that I’d stepped in and she was still crying, screaming. “Let me out please, Mommy! Let me out, please!”

  At four years old, she was a lot smaller than most kids her age, and even though she was the spitting image of my mother, she was the only person in my family who had blond hair. She hadn’t always cried so much, but that was back when she actually got attention from my parents. As soon as she turned three, their interests went elsewhere and she cried for their attention all the time.

  “Stop crying, Hayley.” I walked over and scooped her into my arms. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

  “Johnnie?” She looked up at me in tears. “You left me...”

  “I’m sorry.” I patted her on the back. “I had to go to school, but I’m here now.”

  “But you go to school every day...Why?”

  I sighed and held her close, consoling her until she stopped sobbing. I looked behind me and noticed that she hadn’t wet the bed today—a good thing because I hadn’t stolen any quarters this week and I didn’t feel like walking to the Laundromat in the rain.

  When I was sure she was okay, I rummaged through my backpack and pulled out what I’d saved from my school lunch: Two apples, smashed macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, and a turkey sandwich—practically a gourmet meal for us.

  “I got you something special today.” I handed her the last Ziploc bag—something I’d stolen from my math teacher, and she squealed and emptied it onto the bed.

  “Strawberries!” She grabbed a handful and stuffed them into her mouth.

  “Slow down. One at a time before you choke.�
� I waited until she withdrew three of them from her jaw. “Did you watch anything good on TV today?”

  “Sesame Street...But I’seen it before. I knew all the songs! Cookie Monster played the drums!”

  “That sounds great. Which song was your fav—”

  “Thank fuck you got her to shut up!” My father barged into the room. “That girl isn’t going to have a voice by the time she’s ten if she keeps crying like that. Have you seen my car keys?”

  “They’re on the TV out there.”

  “Right. Well, me and your mom are going out to get some pizza.”

  “Pizza?” Hayley’s eyes lit up and she clapped. “Pizza!”

  He nodded and bent down to pinch her cheek. “What type of pizza do you want, Hales?”

  “Pepperoni! And cheese!”

  “Okay. That’s exactly what we’ll get. Jonathan, what type do you want?”

  I didn’t answer. I just shook my head.

  “Okay, well I hope you like pepperoni and cheese because that’s what Hayley wants and that’s what we’re getting.”

  “Ooohhh!” Hayley was still clapping. “I can’t wait! I can’t wait! Can I come with you and mommy, daddy? Can I help pick up the pizza? Please?”

  His thin smile faded and he patted her head. “Next time, babe. Okay?”

  “Okay...” She seemed saddened, but then she looked up at me and whispered, “We’re getting pizza!”

  My dad left the room and Hayley followed him into the living room. She stretched her arms up in the air—waiting for our mother to give her a hug, but she simply looked down at her and said, “We’ll be back, Hayley.”

  And with that, they left and slammed the door to our trailer on their way out.

  Sighing, I went returned to our room and picked up the Ziploc bags, placing them into the refrigerator. I knew they would come in handy later tonight.

  “I love pizza, Johnnie. Don’t you?” Hayley sat on the couch and looked out the window. “It’s my favorite!”

  I said nothing and pulled out my homework, looking up every fifteen minutes or so—watching Hayley stare out the window in anticipation of a pizza that was never coming.