by Naima Simone
Pivoting, she focused on putting one foot in front of the other and not stumbling. Concentrated on just getting away. Even as part of her hoped, prayed he would call her name. Apologize. Take back the ugliness that had breathed in this office.
But he didn’t. And another part of her broke.
As she reached the door, she paused.
Without looking back over her shoulder, she grabbed the doorjamb and stared straight ahead into the dim outer office.
“I love you, Joshua. When I didn’t believe in it anymore, you showed me it could exist again for me. I don’t regret that. But I do regret that you would rather hold on to the past than my heart. And for that, I pity you.”
She pulled the door closed behind her.
Closing it on him...and who they could’ve been.
Eleven
“Well, if it isn’t Joshua Lowell. Slumming it.” Joshua glanced up from his whiskey to see a tall, lean but muscular man with dark brown hair and blue eyes sink down onto the stool next to his. “To what do we owe this honor?”
Ignoring the man and his irritating smirk, Joshua returned to his drink and stared blindly at the flat-screen television overhead, where a basketball game he couldn’t care less about played. But anything was better than his empty, lonely apartment. Everywhere he looked, memories of Sophie bombarded him. In his living room. On his rug. In his kitchen. In his bed. It’d been only four hours since she’d left his office, her words ringing in the air long after she’d left.
I love you, Joshua... I do regret that you would rather hold on to the past than my heart. And for that, I pity you.
She loved him. How could she? He’d warned her he didn’t do relationships. Didn’t do happily-ever-afters. She’d called him a coward, but he had his reasons. And they were good reasons. They were...
Damn. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, pinching it, before lifting the tumbler to his mouth for another sip.
Yeah, even boring games, the din of conversation and subpar alcohol was better than the memories as his only company. Still, he thought while he glanced at the guy next to him as he called the bartender by name and ordered a beer, that didn’t mean he wanted to be chatted up by a stranger with a chip on his shoulder. That smart-ass greeting had clued Joshua in that this man with his hard eyes and harder smile wasn’t a fan of his.
Fuck. He’d come to this bar in the neighboring town for some peace, not more judgment from a drunken asshole.
“I heard the rumor you were here drinking, but I didn’t believe it. Daryl, get another round for Mr. Lowell,” he called to the bartender. “He looks like he could use it.”
“No, thank you,” Joshua told Daryl. “I’m good with what I have here.”
“What? My money isn’t good enough for a Lowell?” he drawled, a steel edge to his question. No, not a question. A gauntlet thrown down on the bar top between them.
Too bad for him, Joshua didn’t feel like picking it up. That required too much effort, and he was just too tired.
“Do I know you?” Joshua turned, facing the other man, who seemed vaguely familiar, but his mind couldn’t place him. “Because if not, then can you just tell me what your problem is with me so I can go back to my drink?”
A faint snarl curled the corner of his mouth. “Why am I not surprised that you don’t recognize me? Why would you? From that lofty tower you rule from, it would be difficult to distinguish between the peasants. Even the ones you had a hand in destroying.” Before Joshua could reply, the guy stuck his hand out. “Zane Patterson. Maybe you know the last name, if not me.”
Patterson. The whiskey turned to swill in his stomach, roiling. God, yes, he knew that name. It’d been the name of one of the families that had been his father’s clients.
“Oh, so I see you do remember.” Zane nodded. “I guess that makes you somewhat better than your father, who screwed us over and never looked back.”
“Yes, I do, and yes, he did,” Joshua agreed, earning an eyebrow arch from Zane. Had the other man expected him to deny the accusation? To defend Vernon. He silently snorted. Not in this lifetime. Or the next, if his father was indeed there instead of lying around some beach surrounded by younger women and mai tais.
“What are you doing here, Lowell?” Zane asked, picking up the beer the bartender set in front of him. Sipping from the mug, he studied Joshua over the rim. “Drowning your woes, maybe?”
“Listen, I understand why you of all people can’t stand the sight of me. But I’m here, just trying to have a drink. You can hate me from across the room.”
“Still so high and mighty,” Zane murmured. “Even after finding out you’re no better than the rest of us. Worse, I’d say. You wouldn’t catch me abandoning a kid of mine. But like father, like son, I guess.”
Shock slammed into him, nearly toppling him from the stool. “What the hell did you just say to me?” he rasped.
A sardonic smile darkened Zane’s face. “You heard me. Don’t tell me the reporter didn’t give you the DNA test results? I specifically chose Sophie Armstrong to share that with.”
The shock continued to resonate through him like the drone of a thousand bees, but anger started to rush in like a tide, swallowing it. “You paid Sophie to make sure I received it?” he ground out.
“Paid her? Hell no. It was free of charge. And my pleasure.” He again smiled, but it nowhere near reached his icy blue eyes. No, that wasn’t correct. They weren’t icy. Something volatile and...bleak darkened those eyes. Pain. If Joshua wasn’t mired in it, he might not have been able to identify it. “Someone anonymously emailed the results to me,” Zane continued, his level voice not reflecting the turmoil he would probably deny existed in his gaze. “And I just passed them along. The test spoke for itself, so I really didn’t give a damn who sent them. But whoever it was must’ve known I wouldn’t mind paying it forward. Your father and family destroyed my world, my family.” Gravel roughened his tone, and Zane jerked his head away from Joshua. A muscle ticked along his jaw as he visibly battled some emotion he no doubt hated that Joshua glimpsed. After several seconds, the other man returned his regard to Joshua, his expression carefully composed. Too blank. “I was only too happy to return the favor. Everyone believes you’re this perfect guy when you have a child out there that you won’t even take care of. I can’t wait for people to find out just who you really are.”
Oh God.
He’d fucked up.
Numb, Joshua turned back to face the bar, Zane’s hurt scraping Joshua’s skin, his bitter words buzzing in his ears. He’d sent the DNA tests. Free of charge. Sophie had been telling the truth. No one had paid her to show him the results. She hadn’t lied to him.
But... He’d known that, hadn’t he?
Deep down, where that terrified, lonely and angry twenty-two-year-old still existed, he’d known she wouldn’t have been capable of betraying him. She’d been right about him; he was a coward. So scared she would leave him like everyone else he’d loved, he’d jumped on the first obstacle that had presented itself to push her out the door. Save himself the pain of her rejecting him and walking away from him.
Even though he’d known she could never do what he’d accused her of. Not sweet, honorable, honest, strong Sophie. She said that she knew him better than anyone else, but he also knew her. Fear had kept him from acknowledging it in his office, but the truth couldn’t be denied. He did know her.
And he loved her.
He loved her.
She’d seen beyond his tainted past and who his father was and had accepted him, believed in him, when he hadn’t even been able to do the same for himself. She’d seen him as blameless, as a hero for so many people, as an artist with a passion and a dream. Sophie had never given up on him.
Now it was time he didn’t. Time he believed in himself.
In them.
Setting the drink on the bar, Josh reached
into his jacket and removed his wallet. He threw down several bills that covered his drinks and a healthy tip before turning back to Zane.
“I’m sorry my father caused you and your family so much pain. He was greedy and selfish and had no thought whatsoever for who he would hurt. But I was every bit as much of a victim as you were. I lost my family, too. But I refuse to apologize or take on his guilt and shame anymore, though. I’ve tried to make amends for his sins. But I’m tired of it. I’m done.”
Without pausing or waiting to hear what Zane Patterson had to say to that, he pivoted and strode out of the bar.
For the first time in a decade and a half, feeling...free.
* * *
“Dammit,” Sophie muttered, jerking the strap of her laptop bag from the car door where it’d snagged. Huffing out a breath, she let it slip to the ground and reached in the back seat for the cardboard box that contained some of her personal items from her desk.
Tears stung her eyes as she scanned the framed photo of her and her mom on vacation at Myrtle Beach a couple of years ago, her favorite “only the strongest women become writers” coffee mug and several other knickknacks. She’d waited until almost everyone on her floor had left for the evening before she packed up most of the items and carried them to her car. Fewer questions that way. Especially since she hadn’t yet informed her boss that she was leaving her job with the Falling Brook Chronicle.
It’d been her decision, and not one she made lightly.
And not because she feared Joshua would follow through with his subtle threat about informing Althea of being paid to pass on the DNA test. And also not because she was afraid her editor in chief would fire her after finding out she and Joshua had slept together.
No, she was leaving the paper and Falling Brook for herself.
Start over fresh.
Free of memories of Joshua and her own foolishness.
Maybe she’d return to Chicago. Or even go somewhere totally new, like Seattle. She’d visited once in college and had loved the eclectic and vibrant energy of the city...
“Sophie.”
No. It couldn’t be. Her stubborn, starved brain had conjured up his voice. She squeezed her eyes close, trying to banish it. The last thing she needed was to start imagining him when she was trying to let him go.
“Sophie, please. Can I have just a minute?”
Okay, this was no dream. Even her mind couldn’t envision Joshua Lowell saying “please.”
She carefully set her box back onto the seat, then pivoted.
And she really should’ve taken several more minutes to prepare herself for coming face-to-face with him after yesterday. God, it was so unfair. He’d stomped all over her heart. That should wear on a man. He should at least have new wrinkles. Bags under his eyes. Gray hair.
Horns.
But no, he was as beautiful as ever.
Damn him.
“What are you doing here, Joshua?”
“What is that?” he asked instead of answering, his gaze focused on the cardboard box before jumping to her face. “Are you planning on going somewhere, Sophie?”
“That isn’t any of your business.” Not anymore. Sighing, she shut the rear door and picked up her laptop bag. She’d just come back for the rest of her stuff later. “Now, please answer my question. What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you,” he said.
She shrugged a shoulder, moving past him toward her apartment building. “Well, you’ve achieved that objective, so if you’ll excuse me...”
A firm but gentle grip encircled her elbow, and she briefly closed her eyes, thankful her back was to him. He couldn’t witness the pain and longing that streaked through her at his touch. She vacillated between ordering him to never put his hands on her again and throwing herself into his arms, begging him to hold her...to love her.
Why, yes. She was pathetic.
Deliberately, she stepped back, out of his hold. Then shifted back even farther so even his scent couldn’t tease her.
Pride notched her chin up high as she forced herself to meet his gaze. A gaze that wasn’t cold like the last time they’d been together. No, it was softer, even...tender.
She hardened her heart, made herself remember how he’d accused her of lying to him, betraying him. Made herself remember that he’d cracked her heart in so many fragments, she still hadn’t been able to find all the pieces.
“Sophie, one minute. That’s all I’m asking, and then if you want me to, I’ll walk away and never bother you again.”
“Thirty seconds,” she shot back. That was what he’d given her the first time she’d bulldozed her way into his office.
As if he, too, recalled the significance, a small smile curved his mouth. “I’ll take it.” He rubbed a hand across the nape of his neck and moved forward, but at the last second, halted. Respecting the distance she’d placed between them. “Sophie, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for not believing in you. For accusing you of selling me out. For jumping to conclusions and painting you as the villain. For looking at you through the lens of my past instead of seeing who you really are. You were right about me. I was so scared you would leave me so I used whatever excuse I could to push you away first. I would rather be alone than risk the chance of someone hurting me again, betraying me again. And I punished you for my fears, my shortcomings. I’ll never forgive myself for letting you walk out that door believing that I thought you capable of that. I know words are inadequate, but, sweetheart, I’m so fucking sorry.”
Her lungs hurt from her suspended breath. His apology reached beneath skin and bone to her bruised and wounded heart, cupped it. Soothed it.
But the words were a little too late. The damage had been done. And she couldn’t undo the hurt, the humiliation. The rejection of her love.
Her rejection of herself.
“Joshua, a few years ago, I met a man. Fell in love with him,” she whispered. “I didn’t know it at the time, but he was using me for his own ends. Not that you’ve ever done that,” she hurriedly added, because of all he’d done to her, Joshua was incapable of that kind of perfidy. It just wasn’t in him. “But I almost lost my career—I almost lost myself—because I loved the wrong man. A man who didn’t love me in return. I did lose my way, though. And I promised myself I would never give up my job, my independence, my integrity, my soul for another man. The cost was too high, and I wasn’t—I’m not—willing to pay it. But standing in your office last night, I found myself on the precipice of doing just that. I may not have betrayed you, but I almost betrayed myself. I won’t put myself in that position again. I refuse to.” She shook her head, a heavy grief of what could’ve been for them an albatross around her shoulders. “Thank you for coming here, but I don’t need your apology. I know who I am. I know what I deserve. A man who loves and trusts me. Who won’t ask me to be less so he can be secure. A life where I can have it all and not feel guilty because I compromised myself to get it.”
“You do deserve all of that, Sophie,” he rasped, the fierceness in his voice widening her eyes, leaving her shaken. “All of it and more. I—” He took that step toward her that he’d hesitated over moments ago. “I am that man who loves and trusts you. I’d never ask you to be less so I can be secure, because the greater you are, the happier you are, the more successful you are, the better I am as a man. The man who loves and supports you. Compromise? If you compromised who you are, I would never know the joy of having all of you, just as you are. Brilliant, strong, determined, driven, beautiful. Sweetheart—” he tunneled a hand through his hair, disheveling the short, dark blond strands “—you’ve shown me that I don’t have to bear my father’s burdens any longer. You’ve taught me that I’m not forgotten, that I am so much more than I ever believed possible. I thought what happened with my father fifteen years ago was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. But if it hadn’t occurred, you wouldn
’t have written an article on it. You wouldn’t have come crashing into my life. And, sweetheart, all the pain, all the fear, all the loss—I’d go through it all again in a heartbeat if it meant meeting you, touching you...loving you.” He closed the distance between them and cradled her cheek. “If that box means you’re leaving your job, please don’t do it. That’s a compromise you should never make.”
Tears stung her eyes, and she choked on the hope that insisted on rising in her chest. She’d called him a coward yesterday, but now it was her who was terrified. Of being crushed again. Because unlike Laurence, he could destroy her, and though she would find a way to cobble herself together again, she wouldn’t be whole.
No, she couldn’t.
Not again.
As much as she loved him, she just...couldn’t.
“Joshua, I’m sorry. I can’t. I love you—I probably always will—but I’m not that strong. I...can’t.”
She couldn’t contain her sob as she cupped his hand and turned her face into it. Kissed it.
Then fled into her apartment building.
Twelve
Joshua stood near the bank of elevators, the animated and excited hum of chatter from Black Crescent’s lobby reaching him. Beyond the wall he stood behind congregated reporters and cameramen from the tristate area. All hungry and anticipating the announcement that Joshua had promised to deliver. Anything concerning Black Crescent Hedge Fund would’ve stirred their interest, but on a Saturday morning, coming from Joshua himself, who never did press conferences, they would’ve jumped on this tidbit. Just as he’d hoped.
