by Tasha Fawkes
I stand up and glare at her, angry that she’s making me out to be the bad guy for wanting to keep my father’s dream alive. I'm on the verge of breaking down but I can't do that in front of her.
“Your father is controlling you, Angela. He’s twisted all this around. He's no different than my grandfather, trust me—”
“Trust you?” She laughs. “Trust the man who tried to seduce me into making sure I did what you wanted?” She shakes her head and points to the door. “Just go. Please. Before I say or do something I’ll regret.”
I shake my head and stalk out.
I stand outside the building, pacing back and forth. Every few seconds I look up at her window and wonder if she’s watching me. I need to figure out what my next move is. I can't leave things like this. I don’t want her thinking that way about me. She couldn’t be more further from the truth either.
I have to get through to her.
The problem is, I don't know how. We both need to calm down before we try to talk to each other again. The best thing I can do is go home, sleep this off and come back and talk to her like a rational human being in the morning.
I follow my own advice for once and go home. After a few scotches I managed to fall asleep.
The next morning after a shower and several coffees, I make my way back over to Angela’s apartment. I don’t let her know I’m coming, because I don’t want to give her the chance not to see me. As I stand outside her door, I'm feeling much calmer than I was the night before. I’m also willing and ready to sit down and listen to her. I hope she’s willing to do the same thing for me.
I'd been thinking about what she said, about how selfish I am, and she's right. That's the thing, I don't know what to do. I don't know how this is going play out. I wish I did. As much as I want to remain positive, I don't see how it can end in any other way than me losing everything. If it came down to choosing between my family and the foundation, of course I’ll choose my family. But I don’t have to like giving up the only thing I have left of my father.
If I’m going to lose everything, then I don’t want to lose her too.
I knock on her door and wait. I frown when there’s no answer. I’m just about to knock again when I hear a voice.
“If you’re looking for Angela, she's gone back to New York.”
“What you mean she's gone back?” I say with a laugh.
He shrugs. “I’m the landlord. She gave me her final month’s rent and she's sending the movers over in the morning to pack everything up.” He shrugs. “Sorry man, whatever you’re here to tell her, you’re too late.”
I watched him walk off down the hallway. My heart races. I can't believe this is happening. She’s gone? Just like that? No way. I’m not sure what’s worse; the text message to break up with me or this.
I grab my phone and try calling her, but of course she doesn't answer. So I call Shana instead.
“What do you mean she's gone?” Shana asks when I fill her in.
“Exactly what it sounds like. She's gone. Left. No longer here.”
“Just give me a minute, okay? I'll call her and see what's going on.”
I sigh but stay on the line like she asked me to. I stand out in front of her apartment, anxiously waiting for Shana to get back to me. Every worst-case scenario is running through my head, not that any of it matters. If she's gone back there, then I’ve lost her for good. She listened to her father and went running back to him the second things got hard.
I shake my head. I'm so angry at her. I might be selfish, but she is nothing more than a coward. My phone rings. I jump and glance down Shana's name. I press answer, which sends a wave of disappointment running through me.
“Hello,” I say.
“You're right, She's gone.”
“I told you that,” I snap.
“Hey, don't take your anger out on me,” Shana retorts. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I mutter. “I've got to go.”
I hang up shove my phone in my pocket and walk out
Chapter 18
Angela
My whole body aches.
Every muscle inside me feels like it's being run through a roller and then stamped on by some very angry elephants. I open my eyes, then let them adjust as I look around at the stark white walls. I’m in the hospital. My memory is patchy, but I know why I’m there.
Groaning, I roll over. It’s such a small thing to do, but it feels like it takes the last bit of energy I have out of me. I glance down at my finger, which is hovering over the button to call the nurse. I work up the energy to press down on it and a few minutes later, the nurse walks in. She smiles at me.
“You're awake,” she says. “You've been out of it for two days. Are you feeling any better?” she adds.
I manage a smile. “That depends how crappy I felt before.”
The nurse laughs. “I'll call your specialist in. He wanted to be alerted the moment you came back to us.”
I nod and close my eyes, knowing I need to rest. I don't need the specialist to tell me what's going on, because I already know. I knew before I left New York that I was relapsing.
The specialist walks in smiles at me.
“You had a relapse.” He announces.
I smile tightly, because even that hurts.
“Can you tell me something I don't know?” I joke.
“No. But I can tell you plenty that you do know, like how you need to keep your stress levels down, avoid overdoing things and look after yourself.” He shakes his head. “You know all of this, Angela. You’ve heard me say it often enough.”
I nod, not sure what else to say.
“When are you going to learn to avoid situations that put you under stress?” he asks.
“If I did that, then I’d be avoiding every situation out there,” I retort.
He sits down and sighs. “Look, I know it's hard, Angela, but you’re not five. You’re a grown woman with an autoimmune disorder. Yes, it sucks and it’s not fair, but deal with it and move on. You know how to minimize relapsing, so do it.”
“I will,” I mutter. I know he's right, but how do I avoid stress when everything in my life is so messed up? “How long am I going to be in for?” I ask.
“Give me a day or two. I just need to see some of your blood levels drop. I'm serious, Angela. You need to really consider what you want out of your life, or you’re going to end up cutting it short.”
His words hit home. If I don’t change something, then I’ll end up killing myself.
I’ve been with the same specialist since I turned eighteen, so he’s had more than twelve years to try and drill the message into me. I think he’s finally done it. I yawn and close my eyes. I've only been awake for five minutes, but I already feel like I need a nap.
I must've dozed off, because the next thing I know, it's dark outside. The nurse comes in to check on me. She brings me some dinner, but I'm not that hungry. I look up, just as my father walks in, so I quickly roll my head to the side and pretend to be asleep.
My heart races as he sits down. I'm not sure if he believes that I’m asleep, but he doesn’t say anything. He just sits there for what feels like forever. I breathe heavily and kept my eyes closed, until he stands up and walks out. I relax the moment he’s gone. I think I’ve found the trigger to those stress levels.
I reach for my phone to text Shana. She has tried to call me a few times, but I haven’t answered. They had coincided with Nate's attempts to contact me, so I was pretty sure she was calling me for him.
I lift the phone to my ear, resting against the pillow so that I don't have to hold it.
“About time you called me back.” She chides, her tone soft. “Too busy out partying, huh?”
I snort. Far from it.
“I'm sorry,” I say. “I've…I’m in the hospital.” I wasn’t going to tell her, but I can’t be bothered covering it up anymore.
“What? Are you okay?” she asks.
“I'm fine.” I assure her. “
I have an autoimmune disorder and I had a relapse.”
“What? How serious is it? Is there a cure?” she asks.
“There’s no cure, but it can be controlled. If I look after myself and avoid stressing myself out, I’m mostly fine.”
“So, you’re never fine, then?” she teases.
“Harsh,” I say, smiling.
“Is that why you left so suddenly?” she asks.
“Yes. I had to get back to get treatment.” I pause. “And I didn’t want Nate to see me like this.”
“He likes you a lot, you know.”
“You know he’s a big cause of my stress, don’t you?” I tease.
“Oh come on. Like you wouldn’t be stressed even without Nate. You live for that shit.” She grumbles. “I’m coming over.” She adds.
“Here?” I say with a laugh. “You don't have to do that.” I protest.
“Maybe not, but I want to. And I think you need someone to keep you in line and make sure you don’t overdo things.”
I sigh, but I stop arguing, because it’s either her or my father.
Shana arrives the next day, and after much persistence and badgering of my specialists on her part, he lets me go home—on the condition that she stay for the week to look after me.
Once I’m out, I try to tell her it’s not necessary, but she won’t listen. When she threatens to call my father, I shut up. I haven't even spoken to him since I got back to New York. He came in twice to visit me and both times I pretended to be asleep.
“So,” Shana says after she’s set me up on the couch. “How does it feel to be home?”
“Great,” I admit. “I never sleep well in the hospital.”
“No, I mean home in general.”
I shrug. She narrows her eyes and smirks at me.
“You like Boston better, don’t you?” she accuses. “Or maybe something in Boston…”
I scowl at her. “Is it too late to send you home in favor of my father?” I mutter.
“Oh, don’t be like that,” she says. “Nate really misses you. He calls me every day to check on you.” She frowns at me. “Why didn't tell him about your disorder?”
I shrug. “Same reason I didn’t tell anyone. I just wanted to not be that girl for once.”
I frown, not sure how I feel about Nate asking after me every day. His calls to me have stopped, so I assumed he’s gotten the message. Obviously, he hasn't. I shake my head, refusing to let myself go there. I can't get sucked into this relationship again, especially not after this relapse. Besides, he must be angry at me and the way I left. I broke up with him in a text message. I cringe, because who does that?
Shana stays until the end of the week, until she has to go back for work. I want to drive her to the airport, but she refuses to let me even leave the house. It’s been great having her here. The time flew past. I wish she could stay for a little longer.
“I'm fine.” I growl at her.
“No, you’re still recovering,” she says. “You can walk me to the door, if you want to do something.”
“Gee, thanks,” I retort.
I roll my eyes, and walk her to the front door, because I know I’m not going to get anywhere, arguing with her. I wrap my arms around and smile.
“Thank you,” I say, kissing her on the cheek.
“Anytime.” She hugs me, then pulls away, tears in her eyes. “I'm so happy that I met you, Angie. I wish you’d think about coming back. This place just doesn't seem to suit you.” She looks around my apartment and shakes her head.
“I know,” I mumble.
“So, what's really keeping you here, then?” she asks.
I think about that for a moment. I have friends here, but none of them had even bothered to come and visit me in the hospital, even though they knew I was back. Yet Shana probably would’ve been happy to fly halfway across the world, if she needed to. My father definitely isn’t keeping me here. And my job? Well, I’m not even sure that’s something I want to do anymore.
I shake my head. “I'll think about it. Is saying that enough to get you off my back?” I tease.
She smiles. “For now.” She walks down the steps and reaches the front gate, before she turns around. “Angie?”
“Yes?” I say.
“Give the guy a break. He's really cut up about you.”
Chapter 19
Nate
One Month Later
I’ve officially given up.
After trying to get through to Angela for weeks and hearing nothing from her, I’ve had enough. The only feedback I got was through Shana, who I could tell felt uneasy about being in the middle. When it gets to the point that you’re chasing someone for longer than you’re with them, you have to accept that it's pointless. So, I stopped calling. I stopped all contact with her and slowly I began to not think about her all the time. Now, I can get through a day and only think about her once.
Besides, I’ve got bigger things to think about.
The foundation is slowly falling out of my grasp and I'm not sure how to fix it. Time is slowly creeping away from me. I need to show a two hundred percent profit in the next eight months, or I’m going to lose everything. I can’t see that happening, but I can’t face it just yet either. So I push it to the back of my mind and pretend it’s not a problem.
I don't know what else to do.
I sit in my office and stare straight ahead, a feeling of emptiness filling me. Without this place, I really would have nothing. The money means nothing to me, but I know my family doesn’t feel the same way. Would I sacrifice them, for myself? My stomach twists into knots. Either way, I’m fucked.
My phone vibrates against the desk. I glance down at it, shocked to see Angela’s name. I think about ignoring her, to give her a taste of how it feels, but the part of me that wants to hear her voice wins.
“Hello?” I say.
“Hi, Nate. It's me.”
“I gathered that.”
There’s an awkward pause where I don’t want to talk, and she doesn’t know what to say. I rub my forehead. I know I'm really making things worse, but I can’t help it.
“Can I see you? I can come past your office.”
“You’re back?” I’m shocked to hear that.
“Yes,” she says. She hesitates. “I got back a couple of days ago.”
“Good for you,” I say in a cold voice.
I'm hurt that she's been here for a few days and she hasn’t said anything to me.
“I'm at the office now. You're welcome to come here.”
“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
I end the call and then sit back in my chair, my heart pounding. My palms begin to sweat at the thought of seeing her. I can't deny all the feelings are still there, because they never went away in the first place. I just forced myself to forget about her and not think about how much she hurt me. Does she think that she can march back into my life, like nothing happened?
Why is she even back here? Unless she’s finally ready to finish the job she started. That will be it. It wasn't enough that she broke my heart, now she's going to take the last thing I care about away from me.
I sit there and think the worst for twenty minutes, until she knocks on the door. I look up and nod for her to come in.
“Thank you for seeing me,” she says, closing the door behind her.
“What do you want?” I say to her.
“I don't expect you to forgive me, but I wanted to say that I’m sorry, anyway. I screwed up big time. I don't know how I can make it up to you, other than trying to help you save the foundation.”
I stare at her, shocked. I must've heard her wrong. I cough, clearing my throat.
“What happened?” I ask her. “What changed?”
“I guess I had a lot of time to think about things. I know Shana told you I was sick…”
Her voice trailed off.
“Why didn’t you tell me that this was your father's legacy?” she asks. Her eyes are full of hurt.
“
Would it have made a difference?” I ask.
“It would have made one to me,” she says.
She steps forward and takes hold of my hand. I sigh, the feeling of her soft skin pressed against mine nearly too much. I swallow and lift my gaze to hers. I stare into her eyes.
“What can we do?” I say. “I’m fucked, either way.”
“It’s going to be hard,” she says. “We’re going to need to go all out, because there’s only eight months left to turn a huge profit. It's nearly impossible, but it's not impossible.”
I nod, because that's all I need. Something to cling to, just a chance that we can still do this. Especially if it means doing it without hurting the credibility of the foundation.
“I hope you’ve got some ideas, because I’ve got nothing,” I say to her.
I sink back down in my chair and shake my head. “I can’t see how this can work and keep everyone happy.”
She walks over and sits on the edge of the desk, a smile on her face.
“That’s why you’re lucky you have me,” she says. “I've had a lot of time to think about you and the center, since I left my old job.”
I smile, because I'm glad to hear that too.
Did that mean she’s back permanently?
“How long are you here for?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I’m not sure. I thought I’d see how things go. There isn’t much keeping me back there.”
I know I should be focused on the foundation, but I need to see where we’re at first. She reaches out and takes my hand again. I pull her forward so she’s sitting in my lap. I reach up cradle her face, then press my lips against hers. I shiver, because that feels incredible, as good as the first time we kissed.
“I think we can actually make this happen, Nate.”
I frown at her for a moment, not sure if she’s talking about us or the foundation and I’m too afraid to ask.
“What are your ideas to save the center?” I ask.
