My heart hardens. I need to stop thinking like that. If I let him in again I’ll only be betrayed again.
I wander through my apartment over to the kitchen. I’m on autopilot when I put on some coffee and then walk over to my purse, still sitting on the floor next to the door where I dropped it last night.
My phone has one message. It’s from him.
I need to talk to you.
I don’t really give a shit what you need, I think to myself. How about what I need! I need to not feel like a fool. I need to feel like I’m not being led on by some guy who is amused by me for some reason. She was right when she called me his plaything.
The anger flashes through me and starts another avalanche of emotions. I’m about to succumb to it, to let myself crumple up into a ball again and cry myself dry when my phone buzzes again.
I almost hurl it across the room without looking at it. I can’t talk to him! Can’t stand the thought of him pestering me again! Just leave me alone!!
Emma’s name flashes on the screen and my anger subsides.
You ok?
Two simple words that break me down. No, I’m not ok. I’m pretty fucking far from ok. I’m on the floor again. I’m sick of crying, sick of feeling broken and empty.
I wish Clay was here. It makes me sick to admit it. I’m weak, but oh how I wish I could snuggle into his arms and hear his heartbeat. The thought of his body next to mine makes me cry even harder.
No.
She answers a millisecond later.
On my way.
I take a deep, rasping breath. It’s over.
Chapter 44 – Clay
Three months later…
Seattle is cold and rainy. I’ve been working nights for the past two weeks, which means Seattle has been dark, cold, and rainy. I make it home just as the sun is coming up and collapse into bed.
Working under Dr. Willis is thankless. He’s a brilliant cardiologist and I’ve been learning new things every day. It’s everything I’ve been working towards. The hospital is unlike any I’ve ever seen. Modern, cutting edge, buzzing with energy. It’s the perfect work environment in every way, and the best step for my career. I’ve made it.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
I stare up at the ceiling and my thoughts take me across the country to my bedroom in Soho. I think about the first lazy Sunday morning that Val and I had together. I woke up and looked over at her, with her hair spread on the pillow around her head. Her face was peaceful, serene, angelic. I remember seeing the way her chest rose and fell with every breath and vowing to protect her as fiercely as I could. I failed to protect her. Maybe I just needed to protect her from me.
And here I am, alone, on the other side of the country. I’ve caused her so much pain she wouldn’t even talk to me. I stopped trying to call after a couple weeks, she never once answered.
I turn over onto my side. Anger bubbles up inside me for the thousandth time. I run through the same script in my head. Fuck her. She wouldn’t even give me the chance to explain! She shut me out based on the words of some woman she’d never met. Forget about her. Move on.
Still, as usual when I try to convince myself that it was all wrong, I feel a pang in my heart. She was only trying to protect herself. First the morning with Emma, and then the evening running into Caroline was too much for her. I could see it in her face. It kills me that I caused her pain.
After Val shut me out it was almost a relief. I haven’t been able to look at another woman, let alone talk to one. Davey tried so many times to get me to come out with him, but the thought of anyone else was too painful to bear. I’m practically a recluse now. I see how some of the nurses at the hospital look at me, but I can’t even muster the energy to flirt.
I’ve been able to get back to what’s important. To get back to what I was working towards all along. To get back to my career, my work, my vocation. I’m here now, where I’ve always wanted to be, doing what I’ve always wanted to do.
And yet, and yet…
I’m here alone. My bed is cold. I don’t hear the musical ring of her laughter, I don’t get to see the sparkle in her eye when she makes a joke.
My arms feel empty, my skin is almost crawling for her touch.
It’s the same thing every day. Every day I get home from a long shift and the minute my mind switches off from work it switches on to her. I can’t take it anymore.
I only knew her for a couple weeks but the spark was so strong, my feelings for her were so pure. When she shut me out I felt the same thing as when Caroline hurt me all those years ago. Powerless, angry, hurt. Except this time I feel like I’ve lost something that I actually want to get back, but I know I never will.
Every day I get home when the sun comes up and I wonder why I’m doing this. Now that I’m here it feels like an empty goal. My dream is becoming a reality but all I want to do is share it with her. The taste of success has turned to ash in my mouth, and only the taste of Valerie Brooks can make it sweet again.
I toss and turn until finally exhaustion overcomes me and I fall into the sweet relief of a dead sleep. Maybe I’ll be lucky and she’ll stay out of my dreams tonight.
Chapter 45 – Valerie
“Hurry up, Val!”
“I’m coming!”
The impatience in Emma’s voice is just hovering beneath the surface of her words. Finally, I appear out of my bedroom and give her a twirl.
“How do I look!” I say with a smile.
“Fucking smoking hot!” Emma exclaims. I laugh.
She’s finally been able to drag me out on a Friday night. Ever since that last day with Clay I’ve kept to myself and buried myself in work. I’m so far ahead on the leaderboard every month that I’ve already been promoted to Regional Agent’s Manager. I’m the youngest Regional Manager in the firm’s history.
It’s bittersweet, though. The success at work comes nowhere near the high I was on for those few weeks three months ago. It feels somehow hollow and meaningless. Those weeks where everything was falling into place. I shake my head to dispel these thoughts. Emma is tapping her foot impatiently so I slip on my heels and head for the door.
“I’m so glad you’re coming out with me, Val. It’s not healthy to be working as much as you are and not getting out. Next thing you know you’ll have 17 cats and will be knitting them all sweaters for Christmas.”
“Ok, first of all, there’s nothing wrong with knitting. Second of all, have you ever SEEN a kitten?!” I protest. She rolls her eyes. “I’m just not into the bar scene, I actually like being at home.”
“It’s not about the bar scene and you know it. It’s that asshole doctor who messed you up.”
I feel a stabbing pain in my heart when she mentions him. I’ve spent the past three months convincing myself that he IS an asshole and I AM better off without him.
And yet, and yet….
There’s a piece of me missing. After that day I cried for three days straight. Emma was there, once again, to pick up the pieces. My thoughts flick back to that evening on the roof, under twinkling lights of the city, when he made me an amazing meal and made me feel special. I remember when we clinked our wine glasses together, he looked so strong and handsome. His eyes were dark but they were sparkling with soft emotion and kindness.
It’s the kindness that doesn’t make sense. I still don’t understand how someone so kind, so tender, could be so… fake. As hard as I’ve tried to convince myself that I’m better off without him, a small part of me still doesn’t believe it.
Even now, when I’ve spent the last three months convincing myself I made the right decision by cutting him off, I feel a warmth in my centre at the thought of him. At the thought of his strong, muscular body that looks like it was chiseled in stone.
I can almost, almost feel the sparks fly across my skin at his touch. Almost, but not quite.
I haven’t told Emma that I haven’t had an orgasm since th
e last day I saw him. Truthfully, I haven’t really tried. There’s no point. I know, deep down, that I can’t come without his touch.
Emma continues. “Listen, we’re not going to try to hook you up with anyone. We just need to get you out of this freaking apartment and around some other people! People you don’t work with.”
Tonight is the first time I’m going out since I stopped talking to him and I’m incredibly nervous. I don’t even know why! Nervous to talk to other guys, maybe. Nervous I’ll run into him. A part of me almost hopes I will, but I chide myself for admitting it. New York is a big city, the chances of running into him are minuscule. And plus, he should be in Seattle by now.
The thought of him gone away to the other side of the country is simultaneously a relief and the worst thing I could imagine.
Emma and I hop in a cab and head to the newest lounge down the street. It’s packed to the rafters with people and my heartbeat increases immediately. Emma grabs my elbow and gives it a squeeze, sensing my unease.
“It’ll be ok,” she whispers in my ear.
She struts into the bar and as usual all eyes are on her. She’s sex on legs, and I’m glad that the attention isn’t on me. I just need to find a corner to hide in now to calm my anxious mind.
My eyes scan the room instinctively. I’m looking for him, I know I am.
What am I doing? I’m the one who stopped talking to him. Even if he was here, who’s to say he would even give me the time of day. He would probably have some bombshell on his arm. Maybe even more than one.
The thought of Clay with another woman makes me lightheaded. I feel sick. Of course he’s been with other women since me, he’s a player. That’s what he does. I need to get over this, and going out tonight is the first step.
I follow Emma to the bar and we order some drinks. She turns around and is immediately accosted by a tall, good-looking blond guy. He’s got that wind-whipped hair look that reminds me of a surfer. I wonder how he achieved that look in New York City. I look at him and take a deep breath. I’m not sure I can do this.
Emma gives my elbow a squeeze again and turns to the guy.
“Guess what! I just bought her seventeenth cat today!” She tells him excitedly. “I’ve started knitting them Christmas sweaters already, want to see some photos?”
He opens his mouth and then closes it like a fish out of water, and then spins on his heels and walks away. I burst out laughing. I love this girl.
Chapter 46 – Clay
I’m standing outside Dr. Willis’ office with my arm raised, ready to knock. He’s asked me for a meeting this evening, before my shift starts for the night. I’m unexpectedly nervous. He’s either going to tell me I’m shit at my job and it’s not working out or else praise me. I have no idea which it is, and that in itself isn’t a great sign.
“Come in,” I hear his gruff voice call through the door after I knock.
I turn the knob and step through the door. My palms are sweaty and I wish they weren’t. I walk in hesitantly and he motions to a chair on the other side of his desk, barely taking his eyes off the files in front of him. I sit across from him and put my hands in my lap, and then on the armrest, and then on my lap again. I hate being nervous.
“You wanted to see me?” I hate how squeaky my voice is. It’s like I’m going through puberty all over again! I’m not usually like this.
“Doctor O’Neill,” he starts. He lifts his eyes off his papers and looks at me over his glasses. “Thank you for coming in.”
He takes his glasses off his face and folds them deliberately, placing them in front of him on his desk. He straightens his papers and then folds his hands and looks up at me. He has a full head of curly grey hair with thick, bushy eyebrows. He’s staring at me from under his eyebrows and I’m willing myself not to squirm under the gaze.
“I’ve asked you here for us to have a performance review. You’ve been here three months, and I thought it appropriate to give you some feedback.”
I nod. “That sounds good, I’d love to hear your feedback.”
“Good.” He leans back in his chair, still looking at me. “You’re a brilliant doctor.”
“I, uh.. thank you, Dr. Willis.” It feels good to hear those words from him.
“You’re a brilliant doctor but you’re lacking something,” he continues without acknowledging my words. My eyebrows shoot up. He pauses.
He certainly knows how to be dramatic.
“You’re lacking something and up until now I haven’t been able to put my finger on it. Your bedside manner is professional yet empathetic. Your paperwork is impeccable and your surgical skills are world class.” He pauses again, leaning forward towards me. “I’m just not sure you want to be here.”
“What! No! I do, Doctor. I’ve been working for the past ten years just to be here, working for you. I swear, this is exactly where I want to be.”
“Hmm.”
He pushes his chair back and stands up. He turns his back to me and stares out the window behind him at the evening sky. The streetlights are just starting to come on as the sunlight goes down. As usual, grey clouds dominate the sky. He stands at the window with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Sometimes, where you think you want to be and where you actually want to be are two different places.” He spins around and looks at me.
The intensity of his gaze makes my heart beat faster. What is he saying? Of course I want to be here.
“Have you heard of the sunk cost fallacy, Doctor O’Neill?”
“Yes, of course. It’s an economic concept where you become too emotionally attached to your investments and as time goes on the more difficult it becomes to drop the investment, even when you’re operating at a loss.”
“Precisely.” He’s still staring at me with those laser beams. “Except it’s not only an economic concept. It’s really more of a human psychology concept; it can be applied to all types of scenarios.”
He goes quiet and we both stay there, unmoving, staring at each other. The cogs in my brain are spinning, spinning, trying to figure out what he’s trying to tell me.
“Where do you want to be, Doctor O’Neill?” The weight of his question bears down on me.
“Here! Right here, working for you. This is where I want to be.” I answer a little too quickly, a little too loudly. It sounds like I’m trying to convince myself. Dr. Willis sits back down and opens the files back up. He answers me without looking up.
“Think about this conversation, Doctor. I believe your shift is about to start.”
I nod and stand up to leave. I open my mouth to say something, and then realise I have no idea what I want to tell him. I turn around and walk out of his office.
Once outside I let out a deep sigh. The ground feels like it’s lurching underneath me, I don’t know what is right or wrong anymore.
Does he always have to be so cryptic?!
Except I know that he wasn’t being cryptic. He’s incredibly perceptive, and he knows that my heart isn’t in cardiology.
It’s in New York, with Valerie Brooks.
Chapter 47 – Valerie
I say goodbye to my client, knowing I’ve made another sale. She shakes my hand and then hails a cab, jogging from the building’s awning to the cab door to avoid getting drenched in the rain. I look up at the sky. No signs of this storm clearing.
The rain is belting down, bouncing up off the sidewalk and flooding the gutters. I look down the street and chew the inside of my cheek. I’m only a block away from that cafe in Soho, from that loft. My heart beats a little bit faster when I glance in that direction.
A nice, warm latte would be really nice right now. I am in the neighbourhood, and if I happen to glance up at a certain set of windows, that won’t hurt, will it? It’s probably empty, or has new owners. He’s definitely in Seattle by now.
I pull out my umbrella and open it up, heading in the direction of the cafe. I duck in and fold up my um
brella, leaving it by the door and shaking my hair out. I glance out the coffee shop windows at the other side of the street, but I can barely make out the building through the rain. I shouldn’t be here, I think. It’s too close for comfort. My heart is beating hard in my chest and my breath is shallow and quick.
I walk up to the counter and order a latte, to stay. I pick a table and wait for my order to be ready. When it’s called out, I wrap my fingers around the warm mug and sit back down, wondering what I’m doing here.
I shouldn’t be here. I’ve avoided this area ever since that day, when I found the truth about Clay O’Neill’s personality. I don’t want to run into him. Didn’t want to run into him. My heartbeat quickens at the thought of seeing him. I take another sip of hot, milky coffee to calm my nerves. I shouldn’t even be nervous! He doesn’t live here anymore, I’m sure of it.
How can I be sure? I think to myself. I can’t. But I have to tell myself that he’s gone forever. Maybe if I glance up at the windows and see someone else in that gorgeous loft apartment then I’ll be able to move on knowing he’s gone.
I sip my coffee slowly, savouring every mouthful of hot liquid. It’s creamy and sweet, and it runs down my throat warming me up from the inside. I close my eyes with every sip, letting my body relax and my mind go blank.
I’ll finish my drink, and then walk across the road and look up at the windows, just once. Then I’ll walk away and I won’t come back.
I’ll move on.
This is the last step. After this, I can move on. Maybe I can even try to get myself off. I still have my Girl’s Best Friend, and I know it’s not the toy that’s broken. I know I can do it, I just have to prove to myself that I can do it without him.
Do I even want to do it without him?
Before my mind starts spiralling down that path I stand up and push my chair back. I gather my things and take a deep breath, ready walk across the street and then walk away. Forever.
My umbrella is still dripping wet but I shake it out just outside the door before opening it up. I step out into the rain and wait for the light to change, and then cross the street.
Each step takes me closer and closer to his building, his home. The building where I felt as much at home as I have anywhere else in this city. Each step makes my heart beat faster, my breath more ragged. I can hear my own heartbeat raging in my ears like a torrent, drowning out the rain and the incessant honking of New York City traffic.
Knocked Up by the Billionaire's Son: A Secret Baby Romance Page 31
