No White Knight

by Angel Payne

“What was the point of that?” I hissed.

  “Settle down, Godzilla.” She was unmoved by my acid attack. “I was teasing.”

  “Well, everyone else doesn’t understand your brand of teasing. They still think you’re the devil wearing Prada. So, thanks but no thanks.”

  “But don’t you remember, honey? I am the devil.” She folded her arms across her chest, eyeing me intensely. “What the hell crawled up your skinny ass?”

  Tears filled my eyes.

  Actual. Fucking. Tears.

  “Oh, no. Oh, shit. No. No. No. Honey. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. And…I’m stunned, I think. I’ve never ever seen actual tears in your eyes. This is bad. Fuck. This has to do with Mac, doesn’t it? What did that motherfucker do? I’ll cut his dick off and stuff it in his jacket like a pocket square. Did he cheat on you? Bastard. I knew he was a bastard.” She drifted off, likely thinking of other ways to use his dick as an accessory.

  “No. Stop. And I didn’t cry. They didn’t actually come out. So my record is still clean.” I took a deep, cleansing breath, pushing under my eyes with the heels of my hands.

  “Stop that!” She smacked my hands down from my face. “Do you know how sensitive and thin that skin is under your eyes? You’ll break those tiny capillaries without even knowing it, and there is no coming back from that shit. Don’t ever push like that on that area again. Promise you won’t!” She was like an epidermis-guarding maniac suddenly.

  “Okay. Okay! Shit.”

  “Seriously, Tay. That’s like a beauty felony. God. You almost gave me a heart attack, seeing you do that. Tell me what’s going on, though.” She pulled a chair out from under the conference room table, still shaking her head in disbelief, and then pulled a second one out and sat in it herself. When I just stood there, she pointed aggressively at the empty one for me to sit.

  “I really don’t want to get all into this,” I blurted.

  “Too bad,” Margaux retorted. “Spill, sister.”

  Ugh. I hated this but knew there was no escape from my friend. In this kind of a mood, Margaux Asher wasn’t a dog with a bone. She was a lioness with an entire carcass. “We had an ugly, ugly incident and broke up,” I muttered. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s not like we were really a thing anyway.” I shrugged, trying to make light of the mess—if that were even possible.

  “Oh yeah, I can see it’s not a big deal.” She rolled her eyes, all kohled-out in the season’s on-trend colors. “And why do you do that?”

  “What?” I slumped, feeling utterly exhausted. Last night’s restless sleep was taking its toll in bigger chunks by the minute.

  “Why do you minimize everything?” Margaux explained.

  “I—I don’t know what—”

  “Yes, you do, damn it. Why is it such a bad thing to admit you were into him? It’s not bad to say you were in love with him.” She covered her mouth dramatically, like she’d just said a bad word.

  I pressed my own mouth into a stubborn line. “I was not in love with him.”

  “Taylor.”

  “What?” I answered back just as dryly.

  She just shook her head. “It takes one to know one.”

  “What?” Now I was confused.

  “Remember when you were a kid and you’d get in a fight and you’d say ‘takes one to know one’?”

  “What does that have to do with anything? I think you’re officially the sleep-deprived and crazy-talking one now.”

  “Just play along,” she said. “I promise, there’s a point to this.” She sat up taller, excited to explain her point.

  “Oooohhh kaayyy. Yes, I remember doing that.”

  “So, do you remember thinking when I was going through all my issues with Michael, and Andrea, and hell, Caroline too, that I was so fucked up in the head, but of course I thought I had it all figured out and everyone else could see how far from the truth that was but me?”

  “Boy, do I ever. And it was really hard to watch it go on, because we wanted to help you, but you wouldn’t let us.”

  “Exactly. So, when I say it takes one to know one, why do you think that is, Taylor?”

  I thought about what she was saying, and all the pieces fell into place. I had my head so far up my ass and my friends recognized it and I just kept pushing them away instead of letting them help me.

  “Denial is the place I’m most comfortable, Mare. You know that.”

  “I know, honey.” She covered my hand with hers. “But nothing ever gets fixed there. Sometimes you have to do some hard work if you want true happiness. You deserve it, baby. We all do. And Mac does seem like a good man who really cares about you.”

  “You really would think that, wouldn’t you?” Before I could help it, a bitter laugh escaped. “But then he let his mother wipe her feet on me like the welcome mat outside the front door. And I don’t think I can let myself be treated that way by anyone anymore.”

  Margaux let loose with a heavy sigh. “All right. I can see that point. But let’s just back up and look at things from a different angle real quick.”

  My chuckle died out. My gaze narrowed. “Excuse me—but who are you and what did you do with my friend Margaux? You know, the one all but allergic to phrases like ‘back up’ and ‘different angle’?”

  She accepted the allegation with grace, and was about to answer to it, when a commotion in the hallway made linear thinking impossible. Scratch that. Thinking at all was suddenly impossible. From in here, it sounded like two mail carts had been overturned and twice that many women had had their skirts flipped up, making Margaux and me trade baffled glances. It was impossible to discern anything about what was really happening, though, due to the frosted glass of the conference room door as well as the windows with closed blinds for our meeting.

  Our confusion wasn’t drawn out long.

  I knew exactly what was going on from the moment I heard him speak.

  “Taylor! Taylor Mathews?”

  All right, speak might have been an understatement.

  He was yelling. Bellowing. All but nuclear bombing the place with his voice.

  “Is she here? Has anyone seen Taylor Mathews?”

  And still, even at the height of his urgent and demanding loudest, turning my nerves into complete applesauce.

  “Sir. Sir.” The interjection belonged to Britta, Killian Stone’s executive assistant. Though her desk was situated where it should be, in front of Killian’s office on the opposite side of the floor, I was certain the woman had come running as soon as she’d felt the Disturbance in the Force. Yes, she was that good. “You cannot just come barging—”

  “Hi, Britta. It’s just me.”

  “Good to see you again, Dr. Stone. But you still can’t just storm in here and—”

  “I’m not storming.”

  “Dr. Stone, I don’t care if you’re unicycling. We are conducting business here.”

  “And I’ll let you get on with it, as soon as you tell Taylor Mathews that I’m here and need to speak with her. Right now. It’s important.”

  “If it is, then I’m sure you can wait down near her office—”

  “But she’s not in her office. She’s up here, or so they told me, and now I’ll just find her and talk to her, if you don’t mind.”

  “Dr. Stone. I do mind.”

  “Oh, my God.” Margaux was on her feet right behind me, peeking out of the blinds on the conference room window. “Your man is taking on Killian’s Britta. Is he drunk?”

  “Holy shit,” I mumbled. “What the hell is he thinking? I-Is Killian even here? In the building, I mean?”

  Margaux rolled her shoulders in a grim shrug. “The BOD meeting is in two days, so I’m pretty sure he is.”

  “Oh, my God.” I dropped my head into my hands as Mac, looking luscious as hell in black fitted pants and a French-blue dress shirt, timpani-drummed his way on the doors up the opposite side of the hallway. “He’s going to get me fired.”

  Margaux pushed me toward the door. “Just g
et your ass out there and get him to be quiet before Britta enlists Kil with her crusade.”

  “Jesus Christ, this day just keeps getting worse.” I finger-combed through my hair for whatever reason and opened the door to the hallway.

  The second he saw me, Mac ceased the pounds and the yells. “Hey,” he blurted instead.

  “Hey,” I muttered back.

  “You look stunning.”

  He took a step toward me. I held my hand up, making him stop. “Shut the fuck up,” I gritted through my teeth. People were looking out into the hall to see what the commotion was about. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “We need to talk.” He looked like he hadn’t slept, or maybe showered, since I’d seen him last.

  “Well, I’m at work. You need to leave. I’ll call you later.”

  “No, you won’t. I know you won’t return my calls. Can we go somewhere and talk now?”

  “No, this is my office, Mac. Have you been drinking?” He came another step closer, hands stretched out in front of him. “No! Don’t touch me.”

  “Taylor.” His voice was so raspy he sounded like a lung patient. “Please.”

  I wanted to blast out a huge yell at him now too. Yearned to tell him how begging didn’t suit him and this was ridiculous and he needed to hop back into his snazzy car—well, any of them—and take his gorgeous ass home. But, damn it, if he didn’t melt me a few degrees more with every second that passed with him standing there, humble and open and willingly breaking himself for me…and asking me to do the same. Asking me to meet him on the middle ground where we could work on fixing this shit between us.

  In short, what nearly every asshole had ever done to my mom. Had said to her. Had promised her…

  “What’s going on here?” a distinct voice asked.

  “Oh, fuck. Perfect,” I mumbled.

  Killian’s voice came from behind me while security appeared in the hall on the other side of Mac, adding the finishing garnishes to this perfect sandwich of discomfort.

  “Nothing to see here, folks. Everyone can just go back to their jobs.” I turned around to Killian. “I’m really sorry for the disruption, Mr. Stone. Dr. Stone was just leaving.”

  “I’m not leaving until you agree to speak to me.” His defiance was going to get him arrested.

  “You are not helping right now,” I gritted through my teeth again. “Just leave before he has you arrested.”

  Killian stepped forward by another step. “You heard the lady, cousin.”

  “I’m not leaving,” Mac spat.

  “Stop it!” I retaliated.

  “Is he bothering you, Taylor?” my daunting boss asked.

  “I’m not bothering her,” his cousin answered for me.

  “Not necessarily. We’re just having a little mix-up here. Nothing I can’t handle. I’m really sorry to have troubled you,” I continued to try to defuse the situation.

  “Mac, why don’t you run along and see Miss Mathews on her personal time, then?” Killian egged Mac on.

  “Why don’t I let Miss Mathews tell me when she wants to see me and not see me?” Of course Mac rose to the bait.

  “Damn it, Mac!” I snarled.

  “Well, she’s told you several times to leave and you’re still standing here. So, either you have a hearing problem, or you’re looking for trouble. In which case, I’d be happy to show you to our front door personally.” Killian wasn’t one to be the first to walk away from a situation.

  “Please, can we just stop this?” Claire came waltzing in on her fantastic high heels at the perfect time. “Can I be of assistance to anyone? Hello, gorgeous husband.” She kissed Killian square on the lips, always making it clear who she aligned herself with.

  “Fairy.” He gripped her hips and held her for a second kiss. They were sickeningly adorable and exactly what I didn’t want or need to see at the moment.

  “Nope.” I issued it so breezily I could’ve been a dryer sheet commercial. Whipping my glare back around, I concluded, “Mac was just leaving.”

  He gave as good as he got, stabbing a determined stare right back into me—a corner of his mouth lifting, as if knowing exactly how his dominance shredded me from the inside out. “Actually, Taylor and I were just going to step out for lunch.”

  “Over my dead body.” At this rate, that might just be the case too.

  “And that says it all.” With the same edge of severe decision, Killian suddenly surged forward. His rush was so textbook Killian Stone, a mix of grace and power, that I hardly realized he’d hooked Mac by the elbow at the same time. Only when Mac wrenched against his cousin, baring his teeth in an expression tempting to go supernova with profanity, did anyone else realize it, either. “Time for the locker room, cuz,” Killian uttered.

  “Like hell it is!” Mac seethed back.

  “It is because I say it is. And because we’ve all had enough of your shit for the day.”

  I didn’t hear what Mac had for a comeback to that. Nobody did because Killian didn’t stop with his forward momentum until they were out of sight completely.

  In the strange aftermath of silence, I just stood there, dumbfounded, not sure what to do or say now myself.

  Claire came to stand beside me, and Margaux appeared from the conference room doorway too.

  “Shit,” I finally stammered.

  “It’s okay.” Margaux joined Claire in embracing me.

  “What my Mary said,” Claire said softly. “It’s going to be okay, Tay. We promise.”

  “Shit.” I couldn’t help but repeat it. “God. Do you think—I mean…I hope Killian won’t—”

  “Of course he won’t hurt him,” Claire assured. “He’ll probably just talk some sense into him. It was foolish for him to come storming in here like that.”

  “Although kind of adorable too. Adrian! Adrian!” Margaux did her best Rocky impression when he was searching the crowd for his wife. Claire and I burst out laughing.

  “All right, let’s get back to work. I’ll let you know what happened between my husband and his cousin later, okay?” She gave me a quick squeeze of the shoulder.

  “Yeah, thanks. You too, crazy.” I motioned with my chin toward Margaux. “I love you guys. So much.”

  We went our separate directions to finish our workdays. I could only speak for myself, but I got nothing productive done for the rest of the day. I couldn’t concentrate, and I kept wondering if Killian had had Mac arrested or if they’d ended up in a fist fight. As upset with him as I was, I didn’t wish him physical harm.

  When I went out to my car to leave for the day, I saw there was something on my windshield as I approached. It was a handwritten letter from Mac. Although I was tempted to tear it into a million pieces and throw it away in the trash bin in the parking garage, I slipped it into my purse and waited until I got home to read it.

  Claire texted me to let me know that Killian had told Mac that he understood what it was like to have to fight for the woman he loved, but he couldn’t disrupt my place of employment again or he would have him arrested. They’d spoken about their family issues a bit and agreed to let bygones be bygones. I was happy for Mac on that front because I knew that feud between Killian and him was a sore spot for him, because he felt like it had been contrived by his mother more than anything. It was good to hear they were putting it behind them.

  I didn’t mention the letter he’d left on my windshield. I wanted to read it first in case it was something I didn’t want to rehash with my girlfriends. The paper sat on my small coffee table, half-unfolded by the breeze of my air-conditioning vent, and his chicken-scratch writing took up most of the page.

  Might as well pull off the Band-Aid.

  Taylor,

  The past months we’ve spent together have been the best of my life. I’ve told you that, time and time again, but you minimize my feelings when I open up to you. I thought if I expressed myself in writing, you won’t have any other option but to take my words for their face value.


  I’m in love with you, Taylor Mathews. I think I knew it from the moment we went toe-to-toe in that waiting room in Chicago. No one has ever challenged me the way you do, and it lit a fire in me that I quickly became addicted to.

  But you need to find your happiness too, my sweet sassy. I want to be that happiness for you, not stand in the way of it. If I’m not it for you like you are for me, I don’t want to hold you back from finding it. If you can’t say that you love me too, then maybe you don’t. Love shouldn’t be difficult. Scary? Maybe. Probably. When I first realized how I felt about you, I was scared—but only because I had to confront the possibility of losing you.

  Funny thing is, I still don’t feel that I’ve lost you.

  Because I never had you in the first place.

  So…checkmate.

  Looks like you’ve taken me down. I have no more moves to make…no more pieces to sacrifice. This knight can’t fight any more battles to prove his fealty to you…his love for you.

  I know, when it came time to wage the largest fight, I let you down the most. I let my mother abuse you—and I will forever be sorry for that. It’s not easy for me to admit I’ve fucked up—it doesn’t happen often, you know—but when it does, I go a little crazy for the chance to make it right. It’s hard now, knowing things aren’t right for you, but accept this as a fraction of my agonized apology. I made a mistake. People are typically given a chance to atone for their mistakes—but nothing about this journey of ours has been anything close to “typical.”

  Maybe that’s why I have fallen so hard. And would still be willing to fall again—if you ever want to try again.

  Yes, that’s my way of holding the door open. Maybe by just a crack…maybe while my king still stands…

  Maybe because we both know the queen holds all the power on the board.

  You know where I live, where I work, and even where I play. You know the real me, Taylor. And when you figure out who the real you is, maybe you would like me to be a part of your life again. Until then, I wish you well and all the best.

  Truly yours, if you decide you deserve me,

  Mac

  I lowered the letter with shaking fingers—and a jaw plummeting in raw shock. Then, before I gave in to the craving to tear the thing to shreds, wadded the damn thing up and hurled it across the room.