“She’ll call.”
“No, she won’t.” I was the one who broke the silence after a month. Two weeks have gone by with no word. She’s over the worst. The rest of her life is open in front of her.
If I was her, I’d never look back. I’d never look back and see my sorry ass standing on a sidewalk with one of my only two friends in the entire world, thinking about how long I can go without having to leave my house.
I clap Cannon on the shoulder to assure him that I’m fine. I will be fine. Fine and happy are two different things. I’ve gotten through worse than a breakup in my life. It’s my only breakup, but still.
I get behind the wheel and drive. My instinct is to take a spin around Natural Glow, to check it out. But I don’t. What about West Hollywood?
No. I said I’d leave her alone. That’s what I’m going to do.
* * *
London
I should go into work. It’s a Saturday, but hanging out in my penthouse is depressing.
I can barely go into the kitchen because I stare at the counter, remembering how Jacobi took me against it when I asked him to. That was after our divorce. The divorce he wanted, thinking it’d keep me safe.
What a bastard. My sarcastic thoughts can’t summon an ounce of reproach. He didn’t want to divorce me. But he did because he thought it’d keep me safe. And then when he thought I was in danger, he came back. He’d managed to let himself in without being caught.
Tingles erupt over my body. How many times have I walked through the door hoping to see him sitting in my living room again?
Every time I’ve come home since I left him.
To be fair, I didn’t leave him. I told him I needed time to think. That was two weeks ago.
Work keeps me busy and that helps take my mind off him. I stay at the office until well after it closes and then I come home to fall into a fitful sleep night after night.
He wanted to kill my dad.
And I miss him with all my soul.
That’s fucked up.
Just like his file on me. Everything. Pictures. Dates. Times. My business stats.
He was obsessed with me.
Is he still?
That should be creepy enough to scare me off. Don’t they make shows about that type of behavior, both fiction and real crime?
Only, he divorced me to keep me safe.
And there go my thoughts on a loop. Back to the divorce. Back to how much I miss him and how much I shouldn’t. How creeped out I should be and how I’m absolutely not.
My phone buzzes. It’s the doorman. “Yes?”
“You have a Cecelia Gomez asking to see you.”
My birth mother? I open my mouth but don’t know what to say. I can’t imagine she’d be that cold-hearted to come here and tell me off again, to lament over how she hated my dad. I could ask her if she called a budding hitman to kill him.
I snort softly. A confrontation with Cecelia might be enough to help me sleep without thinking for hours about Jacobi.
“Let her up.”
I’m standing with my hands in my jean shorts pockets when the elevator doors open. They’re the same pair that I wore when I first met her.
The dark shadows under her eyes make me think of Under the Covers, our best line of eye cream. Cover the stress and release the glow. Its tagline. Her hair’s hanging loose. It’s longer than I thought. Stick straight and darker blond than mine.
“London.” Her gaze softens and she’s nothing like the hard lady who wouldn’t open the door. She stares at me until the elevator doors start to slide shut. She jumps out and laughs nervously. “Sorry, I’m not used to…”
I get right to the rift between us. “Dad was only really successful stealing from people after you left him.”
Her brows jerk up, and she blinks, likely from the lack of sarcasm in my tone. It’s a statement of fact. “He was, uh. He was, um…” Her mouth purses. “Selfish. Except when it came to you.”
I’m sure being reminded will get easier. Today’s not that day.
“I came to apologize.” She clutches her hands and looks around. “When you showed up, it brought up all those feelings, everything I thought I was over.” She laughs, a dry, humorless sound. “None of it’s your fault. Not what I did, not what Dennis did. I hope you know that.”
I only shrug. Like my conflicted feelings with Jacobi, it’s just another thing where I know how I should feel but I don’t.
“London. Can we sit?” Her hands tighten until her knuckles are white. She thinks I’ll throw her out.
I don’t have the energy. “Come in.”
I hope she doesn’t want a drink. I only have water and haven’t gotten groceries in weeks. I’d love to go get my watermelon-papaya juice but I can’t risk a run-in with Jonathon. I’m not wearing a ring anymore.
She takes the chair that Jacobi was sitting in that day. I collapse on the couch.
Her gaze sharpens. “Are you okay?”
I wave off her question.
She nods, her mouth in a line. “I’m sure me being here is upsetting.”
“Actually, it’s not you, Cecelia. I haven’t had time to process what happened between us. I went back to pretending that you don’t exist.” She winces and guilt floods me. “Oh, no. I mean—God, it’s a crazy story. All of it.”
“I’ll tell my story first. Then, if you’d like, I’ll go.” She takes a deep breath. “I broke so many rules when I married Dennis. Strong independent woman became girl who hangs on her man’s every word because he’s older and distinguished. I was the woman who ignores all the signs of an unhealthy relationship. The late nights with no call. The credit card bills I wasn’t allowed to see. The faint smell of perfume—on his skin.”
My stomach sinks. My dad was more than a flawed man. I don’t know how much I care to hear.
She continues. “He wanted a baby so bad, and even though I wasn’t far into my own career, I got pregnant. The way he doted on you.” She smiles and I can’t find any bitterness in it. “It gave me hope. But that didn’t last.” She rubs her forehead, her thousand-yard stare on the floor. “The friends he brought to the house made me want to hide. They’d have arguments and I made up excuses to go to the grocery store. One day, we up and moved across town.”
Was that when he screwed the Dixons?
The smile that disappeared when she mentioned Dad’s friends returns, only sad this time. “And still, I held on, hoping. But I wasn’t getting pregnant again and things weren’t feeling right and I went to the doctor.”
Can I stick my head in the ground now? I knew the ending to the story, but it’s like hearing it all over again. It’s her lived experience, not just some history that taints a man I love.
She lets out a heavy breath. “We fought. He said he’d fight me for you. Everything was in his name. He didn’t care about me. Just you. It took me a long time not to resent you and that is so not on you, but I’m just saying it to explain why I cut off all contact. Why I didn’t even try.”
“You had to move on,” I say woodenly.
“No. I had to do more than exist, and it was easier to pretend that period in my life never happened. Or to pretend that he really did love you and gave you everything.”
“He did.” Much to others’ dismay.
“Yeah. He did. I’m glad.”
“You are?”
She nods, squeezing her hands together. Her voice is ragged. “I’m grateful you were brave enough to find me. I don’t know that I would’ve ever had the courage. I was so afraid that you suffered and it’d be all my fault. I could live with you hating me, but not you being harmed because of me.”
“He was a good dad. Except for, you know, the illegal stuff.”
Her eyes crinkled. “I’m sure he made sure it was all technically legal.”
I bark out a laugh and then keep chuckling. Talking to someone who knew him, the real him, is refreshing. “He so did. Wanna hear my story?”
Her eyes warm and her smil
e is so maternal it eases the ball of tension in me. Not much, but enough to get a little relief. My birth mother gives a shit about me. She’s not quite a neutral third party, but she’s on the side of caring about me and not wanting me to be hurt. Diana is too, but I’m afraid to talk to her. Afraid she’ll think I’m as crazy as she’s probably labeled Jacobi.
The story pours out. The marriage contract, Cabo, returning from Cabo, the divorce. Everything up until me moping around my house today.
She slumps in the chair when I’m done. “That’s a hell of a story. I can’t even process it.”
“Right. Me either. The only bright side I can find is that Dad wasn’t actually involved in what the Blanchards were doing. So… there’s that. And it’s not Jacobi’s doing either. Roland and Danielson wanted an easy payout and thought me and Diana were the ones.”
Cecelia nods absentmindedly. What’s she thinking? “You love him? Regardless of what you found out, you love Jacobi?”
Tears gather in my eyes. “I do. But it’s Dad all over again. Only this time, I know how bad Jacobi can be.”
“Has he hurt anyone for you?”
I shake my head. I told her about the fight and what happened in the ocean. “It was self-defense. On both sides. But he stalked me.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“Freaked out,” I mumble.
Her gaze narrows. “Do you really?”
“No,” I snarl, disgusted with myself. “I love it. I love that he’s obsessed with me. A smart guy like him, who looks like him? I mean, you’ve seen him. He’s obsessed with me. He could have anyone. I know I’m being ridiculous.”
She mulls it over. “I’m not going to pretend to know what’s unstable behavior and what’s not. But Dennis cheated on me. Others are in open relationships. I didn’t want to be in one, never have. My husband and I track our teens and they know it. If they had major issues with it, maybe we’d choose not to.”
“Okay?” I don’t know what she’s getting at.
“I guess… I guess you have to know what your limits are. He left you alone when you were divorced, but he watched over you. Did you mind?”
“No.”
I was relieved on so many levels. He found something wrong and alerted me. And it meant I was still on his mind.
“He hasn’t contacted you since you said you needed time to think.”
I nod.
“Has he been spying on you?”
“I told him not to.”
She lifts a brow. “Do you think he listened?”
I have to think about that one. The resolution in his face that day on the beach was on a level he’s never shown me before. “Yeah. I really do. I’m not in danger, but yeah. I think he’s backed off.”
“Sounds like he respects your limits.”
I blow out a long breath and scrub my face. “So I’m not crazy?”
“What does your mom say?” Her voice is soft.
“I’m too afraid to talk to her. I’ve always been a good kid.” I don’t want her to be disappointed in me.
“I think it’s time. She knows you better, and she knows Jacobi Dixon better. But, um, I’ll always be around for you, too.”
I jerk my gaze up. “You want to see me again?”
“My family knows about you. I told them a long time ago that I was married before and lost a baby. They were a little upset that I didn’t clarify how I lost you, but when I explained it, they understood. They’re curious about you.”
I have siblings.
I don’t feel so empty. I need to call Diana. And I need to come to terms with how I feel about Jacobi. And then do something about it.
Chapter 27
Jacobi
“You’re the crabbiest bitch I’ve ever met.”
I glare at Cannon. I just got done with my morning swim, going farther out than I’ve ever been. Since London left, I’ve been pushing the constraints of the ocean. It’s going to roll over me one day when I go too far. I can’t bring myself to care. Yet I swim to shore each time. London might not depend on me anymore, but I don’t want a stupid accident to take me out any more than I did before.
“Shut it.” I drop into a lounge chair in the courtyard.
Cannon stands over me, making him impossible to ignore, but I make an attempt. “You want this information or not?”
“No.”
He cocks his head and stares at me.
“I’m serious. She told me no more spying.”
“To you. I’m free to do whatever I want and if that’s making sure my friend doesn’t drive himself insane over some chic—”
“She’s not just some chick,” I growl.
He grins. I reacted exactly how he wanted. “So?”
“No.”
He stares at me. “Shit. You’re serious.”
“If she wants nothing to do with me, I won’t bother her.”
“She doesn’t have to know. That’s the whole point.”
“That’s what’s wrong with it.”
He rolls his eyes and flops on the wicker chair, his legs splayed in front of him. “What if I told you that her friend might have a stalker? A real one, not some love-sick fool like you.”
I wish that was all I was, all I am. “Which friend?”
“Penelope.”
“Penni?” Cannon gives everyone nicknames so the fact that he doesn’t, puts me on alert.
“Yes. The tall, rich one.”
“As opposed to the short rich one?” That’d be Holland.
“The dark-haired one who’s a dancer.”
His tone is off. He’s usually irreverent, embodying the devil-may-care attitude. But he’s serious about Penni—Penelope.
“She’s hired a private detective.”
“Seriously?” I haven’t searched the friends since I first discovered London, and then it was in relation to London.
He kicks at a pebble on the ground and frowns. “He’s a shitty one. Probably taking her money and sleeping one off in his car.” He slides a look toward me. “Want me to check on it?”
“Do you want to check on it? I pay you in friendship. What’s Penni going to pay you with after she’s already hired someone?”
His frown deepens. “I’m doing it for you, fucker. If something happens to London’s friend…”
“Uh-huh.” Should I give him my go-ahead? No. It goes over the line. Penni’s an adult and she’s taken whatever problem she has and hired someone. “Whatever you do and don’t do is all on you, Cannon.”
His expression clouds over briefly before he wipes it off. “Whatever. I’ve got scorned spouses paying a shit-ton for me to take pictures of their husband/wife/fiancé cheating on them.” He lets out a weary breath. “And they’re always cheating.”
“You should find a new line of work.” Other than whatever he did with the military during his enlistment, I don’t know what Cannon’s trained in. In college, it was drinking and hooking up.
“Nothing beats the pay and the hours.”
“You mean whatever you want.”
“Yup.” He doesn’t look happy. Is it his mid-life crisis hitting in his thirties or the thing with Penni?
My phone buzzes. Someone’s at the gate. I check the screen, then double-check it. “It’s Diana.”
“Fuck, I’m out.” Cannon claps the sides of the chair and stands. “I can let her in when I go.”
“Thanks.” It’s disrespectful, but I don’t bother to answer Diana. If she’s still out there when Cannon leaves, then whatever she has to say is important enough to her.
I lounge, trying to pretend I’m not a ball of anxiety. Is she coming? Did she leave? What’d she want? Is London okay?
I hear the door and my chest constricts. Is she alone? Oh shit, what if London’s with her and I brushed her off?
I jack upright at the same time the lower-level doors to the courtyard open. Diana walks through, looking like she came straight here from the office, briefcase included. I train my gaze beyond h
er.
“I’m alone.” Her clipped tone is a cold splash of water.
I sink into the lounger. The shade of the house protects me from the sun, but I leave my sunglasses on. She doesn’t need to see how haggard I look. “How can I help you, Ms. Vanderbeek?”
“Are we on formal terms already?”
“Were we ever on informal terms?”
“There was a time I thought we might be.” She sits in the chair that Cannon vacated.
“How’s London?” My voice catches, dammit, but I can’t resist asking.
“Don’t you know?”
I shake my head. “She wanted me to quit watching her.”
She crosses one leg over the other and leans on the armrest closest to me. “Why’d you do it, Jacobi?”
I give her a droll look. “Don’t we all know the story?”
“No, I don’t think we do.”
My chest deflates, taking all the tension of Diana’s visit with it. It’s not loads of fun, but she doesn’t seem hell-bent on revenge. “I hated Dennis and wanted him to pay, and I didn’t care if he had a family. Then my friends told me he had a kid and… I didn’t think I could take a parent from another kid after what I went through. So I looked at the stuff the guys sent me. And that was that.”
“Why?”
How do I explain that my world came apart and reoriented around her when I saw her picture? “She’s beautiful, but it wasn’t just her looks. I didn’t see any of that bastard in her. And the more I researched on her, the less I hated him.” I give her a dry look. “But I still hated him.”
“Understandable.”
“But she was so… alive. And those idiots she dated were so inadequate.”
Her lips quirk. “I agree.”
“She loves that company. She’s an excellent leader.” The next words aren’t as hard to say as I thought. “So are you.”
She shifts under the praise. I’ve taken her off-guard. “Well, thank you.”
“But I couldn’t just let it go. It didn’t seem right. It didn’t seem like enough for my parents, so I came up with that contract.” I have a hard time regretting it. I’m trying. I really am.
Redeemed: Ruined and Redeemed Duet - Book 2 Page 23
