by Shandi Boyes
“Jamie, I really wish you’d rest. You look exhausted.” Brad curls his arm around my waist, playing the devoted-fiancé ruse he never perfected when we were engaged. “Come on, let’s get you into something more comfortable.”
“I can’t leave, Brad. It’s my mom’s wake.”
He acts as if I never spoke, moving me from the living room to the walk-in closet without a single concerned glance directed our way.
“Satin or cotton. The sheets are satin, so you’ll most likely want cotton, so you don’t slip around.” His laugh isn’t cute, but I’m too tired to care.
“Thank you.” He accepts a large mug of cocoa from our once housekeeper, Jeanie, before requesting for her to turn down the sheets on our bed. “I asked her to go easy on the marshmallows,” he advises when I screw up my nose about the measly two floating on the top. “I don’t want sugar keeping you awake.”
Brad sets down the cocoa before moving to stand in front of me. “Up.”
He has the hem of my long-sleeve shirt up and over my head before I realize what he is requesting. Once I’m standing in front of him in a bra and a tight-fitting skirt, he slides a cotton nightie over my head before lowering the zipper in my skirt.
“Figured it was best not to get any sneaky peeks until I’ve re-earned the right.”
With a groan, I shimmy my skirt down my thighs before pivoting on my heels and entering the bedroom. I could go back to Athena’s place to sleep, but I’m so exhausted, not even Brad’s dry humor will have me turning down his offer. I’m so tired, I can barely see the bed I once shared with Brad.
“Will you tell my dad where I am…” My words are gobbled up by a big, drowsy yawn.
“Of course. Leave everything to me. I’ll take care of you, Jamie.”
Not even the alarm bells sounding in my head are enough to keep me awake.
I had hoped to wake up with my grief less heavy. If the weight on my chest is anything to go by, it worsened.
Yesterday was so final.
My mom is gone.
Buried.
I’ll never see her again.
That hurts—a lot.
As if that doesn’t have me wanting to bury myself in a deep hole, I feel the beady eyes of Brad on me. He’s not in my bed—thank God. He’s standing at the foot of it, watching me like a creep.
When he notices I am awake, he heads my way. “Hey, how did you sleep?”
“I slept.” It wasn’t restful nor nice, but it was better than nothing.
I begin to wonder if I am still asleep when he brushes away a curl hanging in front of my eye. This is the first time disdain hasn’t crossed his features when confronted with my natural hair.
When his hand returns to his side, I notice the sheet of paper he’s clutching in the opposite one. “What’s that?” My nosiness can’t be helped. It’s a very official-looking document.
He sighs as if pained. “This is your mother’s will.”
“Then why do you have it?”
Brad gives me a look as if surprised by my anger. I don’t know why. My mother’s death didn’t change anything between us. He’s still an asshole I can’t wait to see the back end of. “I have it because I was appointed as her guardian along with you.”
“Only because I didn’t have time to change it before she…” I can’t finalize my sentence. It hurts too much to admit she’s gone.
“Jamie.” He looks like he wants to tsk me for being petty, but the tears in my eyes hold back his retaliation—barely. “That’s why I’m here. We need to talk about this.” He must have invested in acting classes this past week because he seems genuinely concerned. “Things aren’t good.”
I roll my eyes, acting as immature and hollow as I feel. “My mom died. I think it’s pretty obvious how dire things are.”
When he cups my cheeks to wipe away my tears, for some stupid reason, I let him comfort me. It isn’t that I’ve forgiven him. It simply hurts too much to pretend I’m stronger than I am. I’m not strong. I’m weak and pathetic.
Once my tears are cleared away, Brad stands from his crouched position. “We’ll save this for another day. It’s Christmas. I don’t want to worry you with this on Christmas.”
“No.” I stop him leaving by grabbing his wrist. “Let’s do it now.” Then I can commence the process of having him removed from my life just as permanently.
Excitement flares in his eyes when I tap the bed, offering for him to sit. “Are you sure?”
I jerk up my chin, my lips wobbling. I thought I had all my cards laid out correctly, but his tone is making me doubtful. It gave me the same dreaded feeling I felt the day my mom passed. It’s thick and impenetrable like death isn’t the worst thing that could happen to someone.
“Okay.”
After handing me two tissues from a box on the bedside table, he updates me on my parents’ financial situation. When he said things weren’t good, he wasn’t joking. Even with us contributing to my parents’ mortgage the past seven months, they’re at risk of foreclosure. My dad hasn’t worked since my mom’s diagnosis, and the therapy needed to improve her quality of life was in the high five figures long before she was admitted to an assisted-living facility.
“Your dad wants to sell, but I told him I wouldn’t hear of it. If he sells now, he’ll sell at a loss.” Brad gathers my hands in his. They’re disgustingly sweaty, but I’m too dazed to respond. “I know things are rough between us right now—”
“Right now? Things have been bad for a while, Brad.”
“But we can work through our indifferences, princess. It’s moments like this that show how strong we are. I never held your mother’s sickness against her. I never wished her ill harm to reduce the stress and financial strain on you. I’ve always supported both you and your parents throughout this horrendous disease.” He doesn’t say it, but I know he wants to say, unlike Colby McGregor. “And I want to continue supporting you. That’s why I suggested for your dad to stay with us.”
I peer at him as if he has two heads. “You did?”
When he nods, I balk. When Brad organized for my mother’s care to be transferred to Freedom Care, I suggested my dad move in with us to save an additional rental payment on our already-stretched finances. Brad wouldn’t hear of it. He convinced me it was more important for my father to be close to my mother than how much money we have in our bank accounts. He was right, but that strain was one of the reasons I stayed with him longer than I should have.
I stare at Brad, wondering who he is when he says, “Once your dad is back on his feet, I have some contacts in the architect field who’d love to meet him.”
“He hasn’t worked in years.” I sound shocked. Rightfully so. I’m beyond stunned.
“Skills are like love, Jamie. They never go away.” He drags his index finger down my scrunched-up nose. It doesn’t sicken me as it once did. “He can have a life here with us.”
“Us?” It sounds foreign even in my voice.
“Yes. Us.” He cups my cheek again, and once again, I let him. “I acted like a fool. I did stupid, foolish things because I was so afraid of losing you. I thought it would hurt less to push you away before you inevitably figured out you deserved better than me. I made a mistake.” Before I can say it was more than once, he quickly adds, “Many mistakes. But, if you’re willing to give me a second chance, I promise I won’t let you down again. You’re my world, princess. It’s been so bleak without you in it. I don’t think I can live another day without you.”
“Brad…” I sigh. “This isn’t an appropriate time to have this conversation. My mom just died.” That hurt saying it as much as I thought it would.
He squeezes my hands before lowering his moisture-filled eyes to mine. “I’ll do anything you ask. I’ll drop the lawsuit against The Drop Zone. I’ll pay for your mother’s funeral. I’ll even organize contractors to have your parents’ ranch repaired, so if your dad still wants to sell, he’ll get top dollar.”
“You’ll drop the lawsu
it?” That shouldn’t be the first thing I seek confirmation on, but for some stupid reason, it is.
“Yes.” He locks his eyes with mine. They’re full of shame. “I was hurt that he stole you away from me. I wanted him to feel half the pain that was eating at me.” He drags his thumb along a vein pulsating in my hand, tracing the throb there. “I won’t feel that way if you’re once again mine.”
“I thought you sued him because he had you beaten?”
Inky black hair falls into his eyes when he shakes his head. “No. That had nothing to do with it. I deserved that. I never meant to hurt you, princess. Sometimes I just forget how strong I am.”
That should be my first clue that nothing has changed between us, but with my head foggy and my heart beyond shattered, I’m not looking at the world in the same light I did days ago. It’s bleak and miserable and has me thinking foolishly.
“Okay.”
Brad’s dark eyes stare into mine as his brow cocks. “Yes? You’ll take me back?”
When I hesitantly nod, he does something I never anticipated for him to do. He falls onto one knee before producing a ring box out of his suit jacket.
Chapter 31
Colby
“Did you see this?”
I dump a newspaper article revealing that Jamie plans to marry Brad in a twilight service on the Chinese New Year instead of New Year’s Eve as originally planned onto the desk between Tyrone and me.
“She just buried her mother. Jamie is not in the right frame of mind to get married, let alone to a guy who’s manipulating her. Do you know he refused me entrance to the wake? He even gave the security personnel printouts of me, so there wouldn’t be any mix-up on who wasn’t invited. It was a fucking wake. No one is invited to a wake.”
Tyrone strays his eyes from the jump schedule board to me. “And here you were thinking you were saving her from an asshole, where in reality, you just shoved her straight into the arms of one.” His tone is the same flat monotone one he’s been using on me the past week. He wasn’t joking when he said he’s done dealing with my shit. Doesn’t mean I can’t use his fondness of Jamie against him, though.
“Do you want to see her married to Brad? You know he’s the one who bruised her, right?”
Tyrone dumps his pen onto the desk more forcefully than required. “You’re well aware I know what he did because it was my brother who paid him a visit.”
“Then why aren’t you annoyed about this?” I thrust the newspaper over to his side of the desk.
He scrunches it up before pegging it into my chest. “Because I’m not the person capable of changing her mind. You are, fuckface.”
“She won’t talk to me.”
He glares at me across the desk before returning to scheduling our jumps for New Year’s Eve. It’s our busiest day of the year. “Can you blame her? You told Jamie her mother was going to die, then she did, the fucking day after you told her.”
“That wasn’t my fault. I’m not psychic. I can’t predict the future.”
“Funny, you seem to have done that numerous times the past five months.”
Stealing my chance to reply, he grabs the schedule board off the desk and leaves our office. I’m not willing to back down this time around. If he wants to beat me, he needs to start using his fists again as I’m over the emotional shit he’s been hammering me with the past week.
“What do you want me to do, Ty? I’ve emailed. I’ve called her. I’ve sent her fucking flowers. What else can I do?”
My attitude takes a step back when he shouts, “The truth, Colby! How about that? Or are you rich fucks too dumb to realize that’s more important than anything you can buy?” Tyrone acts like we don’t have the eye of everyone in our crew on us when he takes a step closer to me. “If she understands why you said what you said, maybe she’ll forgive you, then maybe, just maybe, she’ll realize you aren’t the asshole everyone thinks you are.” He shoves the schedule into my chest with force. “Do something or do nothing, but whatever you do, if it isn’t the truth, keep me the fuck out of it.”
With that, he exits The Drop Zone but not before destroying the pamphlets stacked on the entryway table.
My eyes swing to the main desk when a deep voice says, “Is now a bad time?”
“No, not at all…” The fake businessman mask I’m wearing slips away when the man’s receding hairline, rounded stomach, and kind eyes register as familiar. “Mr. Burgess. Hello. Is everything okay? Is Jamie okay?”
I stop peering out at the full parking lot when he replies, “Considering the circumstances, Jamie is doing remarkably well. It’s been hard on all of us, but since we were prepared, it’s been a little easier to wade through the grief surrounding us.”
His strength is inspiring. “I’m sorry about your loss. From what Jamie told me, your wife sounded like a wonderful woman.”
“Thank you. She was… very much so. She is who Jamie gets all her good qualities from.” He smirks, revealing he isn’t being totally honest, but before I can point that out, he recalls the real reason for his visit. “I’m here to return this to its rightful owner.”
“Oh… ah… I can’t accept that. That’s your money. We didn’t provide the service you requested, so you’re entitled to a refund,” I mumble like a reject when he thrusts a check toward me. It’s the one I filled in almost two weeks ago when Tyrone let slip to the comment Jamie’s dad placed in the description box when he deposited the funds for her ticket.
Bring my daughter back to life.
Everyone, including me, believed Jamie’s inclusion in our tour was solely based on insurance matters. It was only when Tyrone looked further into Terry’s request to refund Jamie did we realize our error. Her boss may have handed her a ticket under the assumption it was part of her assessment of The Drop Zone, but he was acting on behalf of Jamie’s father and her best friend, Athena.
Supposedly, it wasn’t just Jamie’s mother’s sickness that had stolen the light from her eyes. It was a range of things, including the man who should have been placing her on a pedestal—her douchebag fiancé, Brad. Her ticket was her father’s last attempt to bring back the daughter he remembered before his wife was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.
I almost shake my head when Mr. Burgess says, “I wanted the light returned to my daughter’s eyes, and you did that,” but the image he holds out in front of me stops both my words and my heart. It’s the photograph Jamie took of us the night I destroyed her. It’s been digitalized as Jamie said it would be. Not a single star behind us can compete with our smiles, not to mention the happy gleam in Jamie’s eyes.
I’m shocked he has this picture. I emailed it to Jamie after I saw how broken she looked at her mother’s funeral. From her lack of response, I assumed it went unread.
“You don’t know what I said. How I hurt her.” My last four words are full of shame. “If you did, you wouldn’t be offering me that check.”
Mr. Burgess smirks at me as if I am an idiot. “Clearly, you don’t understand the bond a father has with his only daughter. As much as your words hurt her to hear, nothing you said was untrue.”
“Still, I should have expressed myself better.”
He twists his lips. “I agree, but young men have trouble expressing themselves as it is, let alone when they’ve faced the issues you have tackled and are still tackling.” When panic makes itself known on my face, he squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. “Your mother was a brilliant woman, Colby. She was a pioneer in the Alzheimer’s community, and her legacy has benefited many people since her passing. This disease is cruel and gutless, but it also brings people together in unexplainable ways if you’re brave enough to look past the stigma attached to it.”
“This isn’t about Jamie—” He stops me before I speak the words I haven’t said to anyone but Tyrone.
“I know.” He nods like he truly understands. “Still doesn’t change anything I said. She’s stronger than you realize, Colby. You just haven’t given her the chance to prove it.
”
“She’s marrying another man.” I thrust my hand around my office like he is able to see the newspaper I left dumped on my desk. “I can’t stop that.”
“Jamie is only marrying Brad because she thinks it will help me find happiness again.” He steps closer to me, his eyes nurturing. “She’s wrong. All I need is for her to be happy. After seeing the way you held her when you thought she hated you, I’m confident you can give her that.”
“I can’t. No matter what I do or say, she’ll end up hurt.” I’ve never sounded more weak and pathetic in my life, but he’s not the least bit deterred.
“Yes, you can. You just need to remember that possessions come and go, sometimes even memories do, but true love is the only thing that stays constant.”
After a final squeeze of my shoulder, he places the check and photograph of Jamie and me onto the table scattered with pamphlets before heading for the exit, his footing lighter than it was upon entering.
He’s almost in the clear when a question I can’t hold back leaves my mouth. “Have you ever regretted it?”
A set of eyes identical to Jamie’s in every way peer back at me before he shakes his head. “Not for a single second. Even if I knew back then what I know now, nothing would have stopped me from loving her. She was the love of my life. She still is.”
With that, he leaves me with a tattered heart but a clear head.
Chapter 32
Jamie
My quick pivot has my nose crashing into Athena’s shoulder. When I attempt to skirt by her, she shuffles into my way. “Nuh-uh. It’s been weeks. I know you’re still grieving, but I’ve sat by and watched you make mistake after mistake the past month. I can’t do it anymore, J. It’s time to face this issue head-on.”
