by Measha Stone
“Jamison. Please.” She fisted her hands at her sides. She needed to get a grip because soon she was going to throw herself at his feet, and she wasn’t that person. She didn’t beg people to stay where they didn’t want to.
His gaze was hard. Maybe she was as much of a game to him as he accused her of playing.
“No need to delay the inevitable. We’ll consider today the expiration date,” he announced, his voice as hard as his eyes.
The wall was there, fully erect and unclimbable. He’d made the call. He’d ended them.
She swallowed hard, bit back the tears threatening to fall and stood straighter.
If he wanted to go, fine. She wouldn’t beg or cry for him. No. If he wanted out. There was the door.
She stood in her kitchen while he quietly turned and walked out of her apartment. He didn’t even slam the door. The quiet click of it latching was worse. So much worse than an impassioned leaving.
He was gone.
She blinked, letting the tears fall and not stopping them.
He was gone.
Chapter 17
“I don’t understand you,” Garrick leaned over his cheeseburger.
Jamison popped a fry into his mouth and chewed slowly.
“What’s to understand? I told you, we had a deal. One month.” He shrugged, lifting both shoulders. The energy it took to act as though walking out of Carissa’s apartment three days ago hadn’t torn him in pieces was exhausting.
“Bullshit. I know you said that, I know you told her that, but I also know that you weren’t looking at that as a real end date.”
“Maybe you don’t know as much as you think.” Jamison popped another fry into his mouth. Grease and salt, but it didn’t matter. Everything had lost its taste as soon as he closed the door behind him at her apartment.
Garrick leaned back in the booth, glaring at him. “So, you’re not even interested in knowing how she’s doing?”
Of course he wanted to know. Not for one second had she left his mind. It was torment.
“I’m sure you’ll tell me either way.” He forced a casual tone.
“Jade has all but moved in with her. Oh, she’s playing like she’s fine. Much like the idiot you are being, but she’s not fine. For Christ’s sake, Jade had to remind her to shower before going to work this morning!”
Jamison wouldn’t let it get to him. She’d made the decision. She’d broken the rules, completely disregarded them. She’d taught him she’d been right. Relationships didn’t work. People lied. People had their own agendas, and they couldn’t get around that.
“She’ll be fine,” he reminded himself. He was not going to her apartment. He was not going to save her from her own misery or him from his.
“You’re an idiot. I swear. What happened with Baron? He called me yesterday to see if I was still considering the deal. I told him the same as before, not unless the location changed—but he didn’t even get frazzled. He laughed and said my loss and hung up.”
“My father and I aren’t speaking, and, if I have my way, probably won’t again.”
“Does this have something to do with what you talked with Grant about?”
Jamison broke a fry in half and squished it, watching the soft potato center ooze out of it. “Yes. I’ve hired him to find my mother. Apparently, she didn’t abandon me. My father paid her to leave and never come back.”
“What?” Garrick dropped his burger back onto his plate. “He paid her off?”
“Yeah. I was pissed at first, but it’s my father. I have no doubt she had little choice, or at least thought she had none. He also said she left him for another man, but I don’t believe that. Once I find her, I’ll know for sure.”
“When did you find this out?”
“Saturday.”
“Right before you went to get Carissa out of jail? Jamison. You broke up with her because you were pissed at your father?”
The contempt in Garrick’s voice turned Jamison’s stomach.
“No. I broke up with her because I got tired of playing the waiting game. What was the point of taking a step in the right direction when, in the end, she was going to walk away? Going to that protest was more important than obeying my instructions about it because in a week, she’d still be dealing with the shelter and not be dealing with me.” Jamison dropped the fry he’d been twisting in his fingers and grabbed his napkin, his appetite lost.
“You don’t know that. I don’t think that’s true at all.” Garrick shook his head. “You need to talk to her, sort all this out.”
“There’s nothing to sort out.” Jamison took a deep breath and stretched his arms out. Sleep had been an elusive bitch the past few days. “I have to head out for a meeting. I’ll be in the office this afternoon, though. I want to move forward with the Dark Lace expansion.”
“You’re being as stubborn as she is,” Garrick chided.
“Yeah, well, I’ve earned it.” Not much of a retort, he’d grant that, but his mind wasn’t working on all cylinders just yet. He tossed bills down on the table and left Garrick to finish his lunch.
Carissa stepped off the bus onto the pavement outside the shelter, still in a haze. She couldn’t shake the lost feeling that had taken over her since that click. That resounding click that signaled the finality of his goodbye.
She’d fucked it all up so beautifully. Her resistance, her reluctance had worn off on him. No wonder he didn’t think she’d taken him seriously. She’d put a damn expiration date on their relationship. You can’t be taken seriously if you already plan to end it.
Smart. She’d been so damn smart.
Ugh.
The February air whipped around her, crisp and cold, but she didn’t care. She’d left her scarf and her hat in her bag. Stuffing her ungloved hands into her coat pockets, she climbed the steps to the shelter.
Having spent the entire day at work watching new parents fawn over their babies, kissing each other and oozing love all over the place, had left her drained. Love like that didn’t happen for her. Wasn’t that what she’d told herself?
But she’d had it, or at least close to it. So close that she could almost taste it, and now it was gone.
“Carissa?” Margaret walked up to her as she turned down the hall leading to the clinic.
“Yeah.” She pushed her hair away from her face and tried to smile.
“Oh. Honey. You look.” Margaret grasped her by the shoulders and turned her. “You look exhausted.” Although she’d been turned, Carissa caught his figure walking down the same hall, in the opposite direction to the front doors.
“Is that, was that Jamison?” she asked, pulling free from Margaret. Had he come looking for her? Was he ready to forgive her?
“Yes.” Her voice didn’t sound like someone who was about to tell her her hot hunk of a boyfriend was looking for her. No, that upbeat tone she’d had previously was gone. “He—uh, he mentioned you two weren’t seeing each other any longer.”
And the bricks just kept falling. Her head pounded. “Oh. Yes, right.”
“He’s, well, he’s buying the building, Carissa.”
Carissa took a step back. “What? Why? For his father?” Had he really gone off to the dark side because she’d convinced him love wasn’t real?
“No! No. He’s buying the building, not the shelter. We’ll be renting the space from him. He’ll be able to better protect the shelter from his father sweeping in and ripping it from us.”
“Because he has friends in high places, too. And can’t have the richie-rich fighting amongst themselves.” Carissa tried to sound sour, but Jamison never acted that way.
“He completely outbid his father, and, with the money, we can remodel the place and add more programs. He even wants to expand the housing area, put a second floor onto the place.”
Carissa tried to look happy for Margaret. It sounded perfect. But Jamison hadn’t stuck around to tell her himself. He’d left. He’d just walked out. “That’s great, Margaret. Really.”
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“Hon, you need to go home. Sink into a hot tub, pour some wine, and cry it out. And when you’re done crying, you need to call him. He looked as close to death as you do right now.”
Cry? Wasn’t she already cried out?
“I have to get the program stuff ready for this weekend.”
“It can wait. Now, bundle up and go home.” Margaret hooked her arm through hers and all but dragged her to the doors. Not that she gave her much of a fight.
Carissa felt more dead than alive at the moment anyway.
Chapter 18
“I got some of your mail!” Mr. Buschmann called down the stairwell. “Got mixed up with mine.”
“Thanks, Mr. Buschmann.” Carissa jogged up the flight of stairs to meet him and get the envelopes from his hand.
“Looks like Mr. Croft might be back, eh?” He gave her the most sympathetic smile she’d ever seen from him.
“What?” She flipped through the envelopes and found one addressed to her from Jamison. Her heart picked up speed while her stomach fell into her shoes.
“Be gentle on him, now. Men do stupid things when they are in love.” He gave her a toothy grin.
“I never would have taken you for a romantic.”
“Ah, I’m not. But I liked that fella.” The man put his sour expression back on, but she could see through it much clearer now.
“Thanks, Mr. Buschmann. I liked him too.”
She ran down the stairs and into her apartment. Dropping the mail on her couch, she stripped off her running jacket. Spring was starting to warm up the chill outside. March had come and, with it, the sun.
She eyed the envelope sitting on top of the pile.
Jamison.
He’d been at the shelter a few times, working with Margaret on changes and remodeling stuff, but she’d stayed out of their way. Even when Margaret tried to pull her in for a conversation on the clinic, she’d bowed out. The staff nurse had it handled. She wasn’t needed.
Jade had invited her to dinner, but after Carissa wrangled the confession that Jamison would be in attendance as well, she cried off. There was no need to see what she couldn’t have.
He’d moved on already. Probably had a new girlfriend.
She needed a change, too. She hadn’t been to Dark Lace since he brought her there last. Just because he owned it didn’t mean she couldn’t still enjoy herself there.
It was Friday night. A perfect time for that change!
Chucking the running gear, she jumped in the shower and pulled out the shortest skirt she could find in her closet. She was going to get back in the saddle.
After spending an hour on her hair and makeup, and another half hour on finding the perfect shirt to go with her skirt she opened her underwear drawer to find some panties.
The white cotton panties were exactly where she’d had them over the past three weeks. Good Girl blared up at her from the top of the pile. She traced the words with her fingertips. She didn’t have the courage to throw them away yet, but she’d stopped wearing them.
Her thongs didn’t feel the same as they used to. They felt wrong, but she wouldn’t put on those panties. She needed to get rid of them.
She grabbed a pair of purple bikini underwear and finished dressing. On the way out the door, the mail caught her eye again.
“Fine,” she said to the furniture and grabbed his letter, ripping it open.
She pulled out the folded stationary and opened it up. Two tickets fell out into her hands.
The Pink concert.
She read the short letter.
Carissa,
Found these in my drawer. I know how much you enjoy Pink. Go to the concert. Have a good time but be safe.
Jamison
Be safe? That was that?
Hadn’t he said they could go as friends? Isn’t that what he told her when she reminded him their time would be up by March thirteenth?
The light from her apartment reflected in the window gave her a clear view of herself. All decked out and ready to go to the club to catch—what—another man? Another daddy?
No. She had a daddy, but more than that she’d had a friend and a lover. She wasn’t giving up yet.
She opened the drawer of her writing desk and scribbled a note, stuffed it in an envelope along with one of the tickets, and sealed it before she could talk herself out of it.
Carissa grabbed her coat and ran down the steps toward the nearest mailbox. It had to get in the next day’s mail, the sooner the better.
She found the box, pulled the blue door down and threw the letter inside then let go of the door. She stood there, on the corner, staring at the mailbox.
Would he go?
Could he forgive her?
She had an entire week to stew about it before she found out.
Jamison sat in his car, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.
He’d received Carissa’s letter two days before. The concert was in two hours. He had a decision to make. Could he go? Could he see her again, so soon?
She mentioned two friends going out, but he didn’t want friendship.
The last few weeks without her had been fucking hell. One of his own creation, but it burned just as hot. He wasn’t sure he could see her and not want to touch her, devour her.
But it was an olive branch. He’d sent her those tickets because he wasn’t going to use them, knowing she’d love to go. He didn’t expect her to send one back to him and ask him to meet her.
But he never expected to have walked out on his baby girl, either. Could she ever forgive him for that? For taking his anger out on her and walking out on her when she had needed him?
So many things had happened in the last few weeks that he wanted to share with her. Every time Grant called him with news on his search for his mother, he wanted to call Carissa to talk to her about it. Grant was getting closer. Her friends in Chicago finally started divulging information. His leads took him outside of Chicago, and he was headed to Indiana to track down her relatives.
His father had lied straight through his fucking teeth. He didn’t offer her money when she said she was leaving him. He had sent her away. He’d controlled every minute of her day, her time, and when she tried to fight back, tried to get some breathing room, he’d kicked her out. As far as her friends knew, there was no money, no offer, only threats that if she tried to come back, he’d make sure she regretted it—and Jamison would suffer, too.
Baron Croft stopped even trying to contact him, and he preferred it that way. Jamison’s attorney was working on selling off his shares in the company. He supposed he should feel grief over losing his father, not only the current relationship but the memories of him. He’d never really been a father, Jamison could see that clearly now, more so than he had already. It was one thing to admit something but entirely worse when you felt the truth in your bones. And he felt the truth now.
His phone beeped, and he swiped the messenger.
Sure. Why would I turn down a ride?
Guess his decision was made. He’d texted Carissa that morning before his mind was clear enough to stop him, offering to pick her up for the concert.
On my way
He turned on the ignition. They could get a quick bite first. It would be fine.
Not awkward. Just friends. They could do that.
He could do that.
The door to her apartment was ajar when he got there. He knocked, the door opening wider when he did.
“Carissa?” he called, but when she didn’t answer he shoved the door open and ran inside “Carissa!”
“Yeah! Yeah! I’m here, what’s wrong?” She bounded into the living room, her hair half flat and half curled, her white lace bra on and white cotton panties.
He took a deep breath and shook his head.
“Your door was open, not unlocked, open.”
He shut it and turned the bolt.
“Oh. I must have forgotten to close it after the Peapod guy came.”
“I didn’t see an or
der put through,” he said, trying to keep his eyes from wandering over her exposed body.
“I opened my own account.”
It didn’t feel right, having her on her own like that. But he was her friend. He couldn’t say anything, and he sure couldn’t make her let him have a say in her grocery shopping.
“All Twinkies and ice-cream?” he asked, hoping to sound playful.
She shook her head. “I sprinkled a few veggies here and there.”
“I—uh—I interrupted you getting ready.” He motioned at her standing in front of him in her underwear.
“Yeah. I was doing my hair.”
He looked at his watch. “I’ll wait out here.” He motioned toward the couch and took a seat.
“Okay. I’ll just be a few more minutes.” She took a few steps backward and turned as she came to her door. But he’d seen it.
Her panties.
Bad Girl
Was it a sign? Did she want him to see that?
Being unsure of himself wasn’t his thing. He didn’t need signs or flashing symbols to tell him what to do. She was wearing the panties he gave her.
He decided he wasn’t going to wait in the living room. He marched down the hall to the bathroom where she was now wearing a pleated black skirt and was working on her hair again.
“Got bored,” he said when she looked at him in the mirror. “So, how’s work been?”
“Same as usual. Jade’s leaving. She and Garrick are starting to look for houses out in the burbs.”
“Yeah, I heard.” He kicked the doorframe lightly. “Dark Lace is going to open up out there. Garrick is going to manage it.”
“Jade did mention something about that. It’s good. Opening a club out there.”
“Yep.”
“You buying the shelter.” She put down the hot iron after unplugging it. “That was good, too.” She turned to him, leaning back against the sink. “Your father has moved on, I understand.”
“My attorney was able to get him off the idea of going up against me with his eminent domain garbage. Yes.”
