by Claire Adams
I swallowed hard, stirring my parfait but unable to even take a bite of it. “He said, though, that-”
“Oh, fuck what he said,” Mina said, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, he's a guy. Probably he's massively commitment shy, and he's already thinking ahead to the fact that he's going to have to go back to New York. He doesn't know what that means for the two of you, so instead of trying to work through his feelings and talk things out and come up with a solution like a normal person would, he panicked and tried to get rid of the whole thing.”
I cracked a slight smile at that. “That is possible,” I admitted. I shook my head. “I thought you didn't believe in the idea of true love, though. You think we were probably just fucking, right?”
Mina paused, considering her words carefully. “Maybe if you believe in true love, then true love exists,” she said. “I'm still not saying that I believe in it, but I can tell that you care a lot about the guy, Gretchen. And like I said, I'm pretty sure he cares for you as well. I'd imagine he probably has woken up regretting all of that, but he doesn't know how to apologize to you.” She grinned crookedly. “The great Christian Wall doesn't normally have to apologize to anyone.”
“What should I do then?” I asked, biting my lower lip.
“I'd go over there,” Mina said confidently. “I'd confront him and ask him about last night. See if he meant everything that he said. And if he did, let that give you closure. You don't want to spend the rest of your life wondering about how if you'd maybe tried a little harder or given him one more chance, he might have stayed with you.”
“But even if we have that conversation and it turns out that we do have feelings for one another, what then?” I asked. “It's not like there's any future in it. We're from two different worlds. I'm not going to move to New York with him, and he's never going to move to Hawaii to be with me. Maybe it's best to leave things as they are.”
“Are you trying to tell me that if Christian was actually the love of your life, you wouldn't hop on a plane to New York in an instant?” Mina asked, raising an eyebrow at me. “I know the kind of stories you read and the movies that you watch.”
I sighed. “None of that stuff is real, though.”
“Maybe not,” Mina agreed. “But if you talked it out, maybe you'd be able to figure out a solution. Like California! He could do his real estate work from California just as easily as New York, and I'm sure you could find some bit of SoCal that was so much like Hawaii that you'd forget all about this stuff. Your parents are perfectly happy there, remember.”
“Yeah,” I said slowly, wondering why I hadn't even considered that before. I'd been stuck in such a black and white view of our relationship that I'd forgotten there could be options.
“So, go over there,” Mina urged. “Talk to him.”
I shook my head and then stood up abruptly. “I'm so sorry.” I shook my head. “And seriously, thanks for bringing the parfaits.”
“I'll put yours in the fridge for you; you can have it later,” Mina assured me.
I drove a little too fast getting over to Christian's hotel, but fortunately, no one stopped me. When I got there, I spent a moment composing myself outside Christian's door. I wasn't really sure what I wanted to say, but I was sure something would come to me. I took a deep breath, tossed my hair back over my shoulders, and knocked.
And waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally, I knocked again. There was still no reply, and I sighed. After all of this, of course, he would be out somewhere, probably having a leisurely brunch or something, trying to forget about the night before.
I went down to the hotel desk, figuring I could leave a message for him. “Hi, sorry, I was hoping I could leave a message for Christian Wall, for when he comes back to his room?”
The woman behind the counter giggled a little. “You can do that, but I'm not sure when he'll be back,” she said.
I shook my head. “Yeah, that's fine,” I said. “I don't know where he is right now; I don't know how long he'll be. But I'm sure you'll all recognize him when he comes in, right? And if you could just give him a message.”
She looked down at her watch. “Well, at this minute, I'd say he's probably flying over the Pacific Ocean,” she told me. “He checked out this morning; he's headed back to New York.”
I stared at her for a moment, not comprehending her words. “He checked out?” I asked slowly.
“Yeah,” the woman said, chipper as ever. “Said it was time for him to get back to work, that his vacation had been long enough.” She shrugged. “Anyway, if you were hoping to ask him out or whatever, you missed your chance. He didn't sleep with anyone the whole time he was here, anyway. Very strange behavior from him.”
I spun away from her, not needing to hear more of her opinions on Christian's behavior, or more speculations about what I could want to talk to him about. I walked slowly out to my car and sat there for a moment in the driver's seat, just staring off into space.
He had left, then. He was gone.
Maybe he had meant everything that he had said the night before. Maybe we had never really been doing anything more than fucking.
I bit my lower lip, trying my best not to cry. Because after all, I'd known this was coming, hadn't I? I'd known it since before we'd even started dating.
I let out a shaky breath and turned the key in the ignition. There was nothing else to do.
Chapter Thirty-One
Christian
I drummed my fingers against my armrest, staring out the window as the plane took off. I had never felt compelled to look back before, and God only knew how many business trips I'd been on over the years. But I had specifically chosen a window seat instead of my usual aisle seat, and as the plane rose to cruising altitude, I found my eyes scanning the land below, charting the beaches, the towns, the places I was leaving behind.
Remembering the people who I was leaving behind.
It wasn't supposed to feel like this, that was the thing. My mission had been to go out and get the partying out of my system. I was meant to sleep with a new girl every night, until fucking somehow, miraculously, managed to get boring.
But none of that had happened. And here I was, flying back to New York City but still dwelling on everything that I was leaving behind.
I could never come back, though, even if I wanted to. Not after the way that I had treated Gretchen. God, she would have to hate me after that, and especially once she found out that I had just left like this. Without even telling her. It felt like the biggest dick move of the century, but it wasn't like there was anything I could do now. Besides, it was for the best. I had to get my head back into work mode. Back into city mode. The vacation was over.
When I arrived in New York and grabbed my bags from the carousel, I found Paul there waiting for me. He pulled me into a hug, clapping me a few times on the back. “Man, it's good to see you!” he said. “And Jesus, you're looking tan. I'm envious.”
I laughed and shook my head, dragging a hand back through my hair. “I'm always tanner than you, man.”
“I know, I know,” Paul sighed. “The fates are cruel.” He grinned and led me out toward one of the company cars. “So, how was the trip? How were your holidays?”
“Everything was great,” I said. It wasn't entirely the truth, but he didn't need to know about the whole mess there at the end. I wasn't about to tell him about Gretchen; no matter how good a friend Paul was, that just didn't seem like any of his business. It wasn't like I was going to marry the girl or anything anyway. I forced a smile. “It’s beaches, beautiful women, good food. What more does a man need in life?”
Paul laughed. “You're making me want to go there for my next trip,” he said. “I've seen the few photos that you've bothered to post online, and it all looks beautiful.”
“I didn't want to post more than that because I didn't want some journalist to take notice and decide to come find me,” I admitted. “I was pleasantly anonymous while I was down there.”
I rolled my eyes, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Honestly, it was pretty nice,” I told him honestly. I frowned. “I'm used to the adoring public and all of that, but at the same time, it was nice not to have to worry about journalists following my every move or worry about which girl I was going to take home with me at the end of the night or any of it.”
“You haven't missed work at all, have you?” Paul sighed, shaking his head. He narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you sure that you're ready to come back? And answer me truthfully. I'm not sure we'll be able to save your position again if you start…”
“Acting up again?” I asked, grinning crookedly over at him.
Paul looked like he wanted to reassure me that those weren't the words that he would have used, but I knew what he was thinking.
I sighed. “Look, Hawaii wasn't the wild blowout that I was expecting to have,” I told him. “But it was nice to just relax for once. I can't remember the last time I just relaxed. So, yeah, maybe I haven't missed work in some ways, but I think I'm ready to come back.” It wasn't like I could go back to Hawaii, back to my time with Gretchen.
“Good,” Paul said. “Honestly, you seem a lot more mature. I'm glad to see that from you.”
We pulled up in front of the office, and I sighed. “I could have used a day off to get over the jetlag, though,” I said.
Paul grimaced. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “But Alex and George are waiting to brief you on everything so that you'll be ready for the press conference.”
I groaned and pulled myself out of the car, shivering a little in the frigid New York air. Even a jacket wasn't enough to let me disregard this cool breeze after the warmth of Hawaii. “I still don't know what the point is of having a press conference so early in the year,” I said.
Paul shrugged. “Me neither,” he admitted. “I tried to tell them that we could wait another week or so, but I think they're worried about our numbers slipping. They were rising so rapidly for a while there, most of December, so we closed out the year strong. But not as strongly as we might have predicted. They've stagnated for the past couple weeks.”
“That's because no one wants to buy a home over the holidays,” I pointed out, rolling my eyes a little. “We've always seen our numbers stagnate a little in the latter half of December when they weren't going down.”
“You don't have to tell me that,” Paul said, rolling his eyes as well. “Look, best to just humor them. Anyway, it gets this out of the way, and then you can ease your way back into the day-to-day work of running a business.”
“True.”
When we entered the office, I was surprised to see the number of smiles I received. I had thought everyone would still be a bit more unhappy with me. But even George came up and shook my hand, nodding at me. “Good work keeping out of the news for a few weeks,” he said gruffly.
I wanted to say something snarky in response to him, but I decided that just this once, I'd let the comment slide. After all, it was my first day back, and the last thing I wanted was for them to send me off again. I didn't know where I would go, next time.
“All right, so,” Alex began, flipping open the binder in front of him; he'd always been the most organized of all of us. “I'm sure you've seen, but our numbers have been up last month.”
“Thanks, in part to-” George began, but he quelled at a look from Paul. It seemed that some things would never change, but it was almost comforting to be back around them. It felt as if Hawaii and the whole debacle with Gretchen had never happened.
Almost.
“Are you paying attention, Christian?” Alex asked suddenly, and I realized that I'd tuned him out for a couple of minutes. I thought back through what he had just said, recalling as much of it as I could. “Yeah, the shareholders are really happy with our current numbers, and there are a record number of people buying houses at the moment. And there's a new show that you're hoping that I'll be on board with so that we can draw in some new blood.”
“Right,” Alex said, nodding at me, but I could tell he didn't believe that I'd been listening.
The rest of the meeting passed pretty similarly. I felt as though there was a kind of haze in my brain, as though I was still somehow detached from the proceedings, almost as though I hadn't come back from Hawaii at all. I couldn't seem to quit thinking of Gretchen, thinking of how hurt she must be feeling after my abrupt departure.
“Are you doing okay?” Paul asked me in an undertone as we drifted out of the meeting. The press conference would be held in just a little while, and I knew that I needed to pull my head together.
“Yeah, I'm fine,” I told him, even though I didn't feel like I was. “Just a little jetlagged.”
I hoped that was all it was, anyway. Just the need to clear my head a little and get back into the swing of things. I couldn't keep thinking of Gretchen; I was never going to see her again.
Maybe I should get together a group of friends and go out drinking that night, try to shake this off. It had been a while since I was with one of the sexy New York ladies.
At the same time, I didn't have the energy to do that. The idea just wasn't appealing in the way that it used to be.
I smiled at Paul, shaking my head at his concern and trying my best to act normal. “It was a long trip home,” I told him. “And even though I flew business class, I didn't sleep all that well. I just need to get my head back into things. Don't worry.”
“Okay,” Paul said, even though I could tell that he wasn't fully convinced. But he let me continue on my way back to my office, where I stood in the doorway for a long moment, staring at my desk. This place had always seemed like a second home before, but now it seemed almost forbidding. Despite my near-constant worry in Hawaii that the guys weren't going to want me to come back to the business, I found myself questioning again whether I wanted to be back here.
But that was silly; what else was I going to do? Like I had told Gretchen, it wasn't like I was good at not doing anything, at not working. I shook my head and seated myself behind my desk, opening up my email and beginning to weed through the thousands of messages that I had received during my absence.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Gretchen
For once, I was running a bit late getting to work on Monday, not that I was late to meet a client, because I always planned to get to the massage parlor half an hour early. But normally, I was closer to an hour early.
Mina was waiting for me when I got there, and she peered concernedly at me as I walked up the front steps. “Hey,” she said, her voice gentle. “Did you have a rough night?”
I grimaced, hating that she could probably see the dark circles under my eyes and the frizz in my hair, which I hadn't quite managed to tame that morning. “It was fine,” I lied, unlocking the front door.
“Sure,” Mina said, sounding like she didn't believe me. “You know that it's okay to admit that you're still upset about the whole thing with Christian, right?”
I rolled my eyes. “I appreciate that,” I said. “But I'm not still upset about him. We were just fucking anyway; we both knew that it wasn't going anywhere. The longer it's been since I’ve seen him, the less I care.”
“It's only been a week,” Mina said.
I didn't want to get mad at her, but I didn't understand how she couldn't see that even talking about Christian hurt. I just wanted to shove away all my thoughts of him and get on with my life.
For how much Mina and I were such great friends, it was in part because we were so very different. We handled things in different ways. Where Mina, when she was upset, wanted to talk about the issue and eat her weight in ice cream, I just wanted to pretend that nothing was wrong and go about my life as though everything was normal.
“Anyway,” Mina said slowly when I didn't respond. “I was doing some thinking.”
“Oh?” I said, raising an eyebrow at her.
Mina rolled her eyes. “Yeah,” she said. “Remember when I was helping you give that massage to that older couple? It was so much fun working together, right? And we both know that my pineapple shop wouldn't be half as successful as it has been without you sending massage customers over to me for a post-massage shake. So, what if we merged our businesses together?”
“What?” I asked, shocked by the proposal.
“Think about it,” Mina said. “You'd get a little extra help around the massage parlor, and there'd be someone there to help walk-ins or to answer the phone while you were busy with customers. Plus, if Sandy was working for both of us, he could man things out front here, and I could help you out with massage clients, letting you take on even more business. It's a win-win situation, right?”
I frowned over at her. “Aren't people going to think it's a little weird, having a massage-slash-pineapple shop?”
“Maybe,” Mina said, shrugging. “But only because they don't know all the health benefits that come with eating pineapple! I mean, just look at my skin.” She winked at me, and I had to laugh.
“That's not because of the pineapple,” I said. “That's because of the spa visits and-”
“Okay, okay,” Mina said, holding up a hand to stall my arguments. “But seriously, don't you think it could be perfect? There's no one else doing anything like it, and we'd get to be coworkers. For real. We'd get to see each other more, and we'd both be drumming up more business for one another, and…”
I sighed and ran a hand back through my hair, a gesture that I had subconsciously picked up from Christian. “Yeah, I don't know,” I said, shaking my head. “I'd have to think about it.” The thing was, as much as I loved Mina, I wasn't so sure. And wasn't there some saying about how you weren't supposed to do business with your friends? We'd have to figure out all the messy details like how we got paid, based on our personal clients, or based on the combined shop's income? And things like that. Neither of us were very business-minded to begin with, and it seemed like more of a headache than anything else.
