I looked back to Jared, following him with my eyes and wishing he’d stay away from the corner like I’d told him. What if a car sped around there?
I closed my eyes and let out a breath. My nerves were shot.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” I asked, finally giving in. I couldn’t tackle my son today. If he was happier here, let him stay here.
James just smiled, another instance of his easy demeanor. “We’ll see you in the morning.”
He walked away, and I dropped my head for a moment, feeling defeated. Why couldn’t I fall for a nice guy like him? One who was single, an excellent dad who stopped everything for his daughter, and seemed to understand so much without my saying anything.
I was pretty sure he knew my story, and we’d barely talked. It was the look in his eyes sometimes.
He was the type who wouldn’t interfere and tell me I was neglecting my kid. He wouldn’t tell me that if I hadn’t gone out with my friends last night, I wouldn’t be tired and hungover today. He wouldn’t tell me how to raise my child.
He was simply there, picking up all the slack I left hanging.
Even if I were interested in him, though, I didn’t believe he was any more available than Jason. James’s wife had passed away last spring, and I got the impression he’d continue wearing his wedding ring for quite some time yet.
I made it into the city around four, and I’d dressed semi-causal, wearing a short black sleeveless dress, layered on the bottom half. I’d also left my hair down, kinky with the natural curl Jase liked, and all pushed to one side, over my left shoulder. The makeup was minimal, but I made sure to wear red lipstick and the perfume he liked. We were supposed to be going to Movie in the Park tonight, and he was taking care of the picnic and blanket.
Over time, we’d gotten into a routine. He knew what time Jared was supposed to be in bed, and he’d call me before he arrived to make sure the coast was clear. Sometimes I met him at his suite at the Waldorf in Chicago, but now he had an apartment there, so we used the suite less. He even let me decorate the apartment. To make it ours.
I could call him at work or at certain times when I knew he’d be alone, and sometimes I saw him a few times a week, and other times I wouldn’t see him for a month. It sounded terrible when I put in into words or tried to explain it to Deena, but the strange thing was . . . it had become normal. Somewhere along the way my expectations had shifted. They’d lowered, and my hopes had settled at a more realistic level.
Since his father’s death several years ago, his career had taken off, and he was at the top of his game. I took solace in the knowledge that “he needed me.” He loved me, right? So we stole our moments where we could, and when it was just us, everything was perfect.
And someday, hopefully soon, Madoc would be old enough to understand the divorce and accept seeing his dad with someone new.
I’d gotten my accounting degree years ago, I held down a decent job, and I had a lot to be grateful for. He’d given me a lot, and I knew I shouldn’t feel bad about demanding more from him over the years, but I did. Why did feel like I owed him?
Deena would ask why I stayed. Why I kept running back to him and putting up with it instead of finding a man who wanted only me. Why did I let myself be used in a way that made me so miserable?
And I always had to correct her. I wasn’t miserable.
I was deliriously happy.
Because I was irrevocably in love with him. I’d rather be unhappy ninety percent of the time just so I could feel what I felt with him the other ten percent of the time.
I’d rather leave my son with sitters to be available for Jase on a moment’s notice, only to drink myself into an oblivion to chase away the guilt after he’d left.
I’d rather be lonely and feel like a piece of shit every day only to have it all wash away as soon as he kissed me.
That was the sickness. My entire life revolved around him, because I was a woman in love in a horrible situation. He was like a drug that I couldn’t give up—everything depended on getting my next hit. Unfortunately, though, I needed the hits to come faster, and when they didn’t, I soothed myself with alcohol.
My God, how I’d changed. Where was the girl who taunted him in the repair shop that night? The one who spit his intentions back in his face?
Walking into his office building, I took the elevator up to the twenty-sixth floor and texted James, telling him to tell Jared I’d see him in the morning and that I loved him.
Jared.
I closed my eyes, letting out a heavy breath, because I wanted to cry thinking about him. He was so smart. He was starting to catch onto me. How much longer before I’d pushed him to the side so often I wouldn’t be able to pick him back up?
Thomas would’ve been a horrible father, but if I’d stayed in that dump, surviving and fighting, because I had no choice, maybe Jared would’ve had a better mother than the one he has now.
I stepped off the elevator and walked down the marble corridor to Jase’s office. I wasn’t sure what he told his assistant when I came by, but she didn’t give me curious or judgmental glances, so I guessed he was rather good at lying, in and out of the courtroom. Rounding the corner, I quickly stopped and stepped back, shielding myself behind the wall.
Shit. What was she doing here?
I edged back toward the corner again, trying to figure out what I should do. Jase and Madeline, his wife, stood outside his office, in front of the receptionist’s desk, chatting and smiling. A boy was with them, and I knew it was Madoc, even though I’d never met him. He looked exactly like his father.
Jase was blocking his door, not inviting them in, so they were either on their way out or he was trying to get them to leave. He knew I was coming, after all.
“Mom’s dragging me into chick shops,” Madoc complained. “Help.”
But his mom just laughed, lightly knocking him on the arm. “Don’t act like you don’t like shopping, kid. Besides, you need school clothes. No more uniforms next year.”
Jase smiled at both of them, his hands in his pocket and looking a little nervous. Yeah, I’ll bet you are.
I’d seen his wife several times over the years, in a restaurant or in the paper for some city project she was helping with. Sometimes on the street or in her car.
She wore a tight, gray sleeveless dress that fell to her knees and hugged every curve. Her heels were a dark pink, and her tan was flawless. Her hair was cut shoulder-length and styled with big curls, and as every time I saw her, she was perfect, right down to the Gucci handbag.
Kind of what I thought I would be like if I ever grew up. I straightened, looking down at my dress that seemed so simple and my childish flats.
I wondered what Jase saw in me. I looked okay, but I didn’t carry myself like that.
I guessed they were in town to shop, especially since Jase said Madoc had talked his way out of attending any more Catholic school and would be allowed to attend public next year. He needed regular clothes, probably.
“Can you meet us for dinner?” his wife asked.
But Jase just let out a sigh, looking immediately uncomfortable. “I wish I could, honey, but I’ll be buried until morning. You may as well head home without me after you’re done shopping. I’ll probably just stay here tonight.”
I couldn’t see her face, but she was silent and I saw her head dip a little. My stomach churned.
“Okay,” she replied quietly. “We’ll see you when we see you then.”
And then she put her hand on Madoc’s back, both of them turning and walking my way.
I immediately put my head down, digging in my purse for my phone. She passed by me as I pretended to dial a number, but I know she turned to look at me.
Placing the phone to my ear, I acted like I was on a call, while she and her son waited for the elevator. But inevitably, the pull got to me. I flashed m
y eyes over to her and found her staring at me. My heart began beating faster, and I watched as her eyes fell quickly down my body and back up to my face, before turning away.
She knew.
And she just stared ahead, her chin trembling as I watched her and Madoc walk into the elevator.
I’d been wondering what Jase saw in me over her, and she’d probably just wondered the same thing. We were both wondering why we weren’t good enough.
I stayed in the hallway long after the number on the elevator had descended to one, and I knew she was gone.
This wasn’t working. It never worked, and it would never end. She was miserable, and her son wasn’t an idiot. He knew something was wrong.
I was miserable, and my son wasn’t an idiot, either. He knew something was wrong.
The only person happy here was Jase, because he got the best of both worlds. And I was only happy when I saw him.
Which was next to never.
And for so long, I’d accepted it. Because I didn’t think I deserved something more.
Thomas and my parents wouldn’t or couldn’t be there for me, my friends had their own problems, and I was trying to raise a kid on my own. I never thought I’d have all the things I have now. I was supposed to be grateful and not selfish, right?
So I let him steer us, and I rarely made demands, believing that his stated concern about wanting to make sure Madoc was old enough to understand a divorce was legitimate.
It wasn’t. Deep down I knew it was just a way to hold me off.
Tucking my phone back in my bag, I walked into his office, his assistant waving me through. She must’ve known I was coming.
With a steady hand, I slowly swung his office door open and stepped in, closing it behind me.
Jase stood across the room, staring out the windows, but turned when he heard me enter. Immediately, his shoulders relaxed and a relieved smile crossed his face, looking like a small weight had lifted. He loosened his tie, drawing attention to his neck, and desire flared up inside me. It was my favorite part of his body. Soft but toned, and kissing him there drove him wild.
“Hi,” he greeted softly, walking toward me.
His eyes never left mine, and this was the part where I always lost my resolve—when Jase looked at me, after all this time, like I was still that teenage girl in the garage. Fascination with a hint of lust like I was the only thing that existed in his world.
It was a pretty lie. I pushed the feelings down.
“I thought she didn’t come to your office,” I said, remaining by the door.
He slowed to a pause and watched me, realization crossing his face. He knew I’d probably passed her in the hall.
Giving me a closed-mouthed, contrite smile, he walked toward me, opening his arms. “You look beautiful.”
He leaned in for a kiss, but I quickly turned my head away so that his lips brushed my cheek instead.
He pulled back and stared down at me. “What’s wrong?”
I adjusted the bag hanging on my arm, unable to look at him. If I looked at him, I’d start tearing up and then he’d soothe me and we’d be back where we started.
“I came to tell you I’m not going to be at the apartment tonight,” I replied. “I’m going home where I belong.”
He remained still, his hands frozen on my arms as he gazed at me, probably having no doubt what was happening.
We’d been through this before. So many times.
Sometimes it was him. “I love you, but the guilt is too much.” “I can’t do this to you anymore.” “My kid will hate me like I hate my father.” “How do we build a relationship from where we’ve started?”
But within days we were in each other’s arms again.
Other times it was me. “Why are you such a coward?” “I need a life of my own.” “I hate who I am with you.”
And within a month and no matter whom I tried to date, I couldn’t shake Jase. I never could.
“So you came all the way to Chicago to tell me that?” he charged, his tone turning clipped. “That you’re going home? To the home I bought you, you mean?”
I glued my teeth together and froze, thinking that if I didn’t say anything I would be safe. For at least a moment.
He leaned his head down further, invading my space and trying to catch my eyes. “Hmmm?”
A knot lodged in my throat, because I was afraid. I could walk out of here, go home, and wake up tomorrow, probably feeling worlds lighter having rid myself of him. But then days would pass, I’d get lonely, he’d start calling or coming by after trying to give me my space, and the emotions, the longing, and the fucking memories of how good we were together in the good times would make me give in and agree to be his again. We always came back to each other.
He breathed out a nasty laugh. “Give me a break,” he said, calling my bluff as he walked away. “Get over here. Now.”
I fisted my hands and stayed planted to the floor. If he’d been sweeter, maybe I would’ve gone to him. But now it was a matter of pride, and believe it or not, I still had a little of that left.
His jaw flexed, and his eyes burned when I didn’t move.
“I don’t fuck my wife anymore,” he growled from across his office. “And you know nothing about my responsibilities and obligations. You have no idea what goes on in my head, Kat. Now get over here.”
I shook my head, still not leaving but still not budging.
“Now!”
“No!” I lashed out, glaring at him. “It’s over! I’m sick of your shit!”
“Oh, Kat’s mad again,” he mocked, tossing out a lazy smile. “Okay, how much will this cost?” He pulled out his billfold and started throwing money into the air. “Twenty-forty-sixty,” he counted and then stopped. “Oh, I’m sorry. You like hundreds, don’t you?” And he began tossing more bills out, reminding me of the day at the repair shop when I’d taken an extra hundred out of his wallet.
“You son of a bitch!” I shouted, running for him and throwing out my hands, hitting him in the face a few times.
He caught my arms, holding the wrists so hard they burned.
“It’s not over,” he ordered, seething in my face as he backed me up. “It doesn’t end until I say it does.”
And then I fell back on the couch; his body came down on top of me. I let out a cry, but it was muffled by the weight of him on my chest.
“You don’t need me here,” he said, touching my head and forcing himself between my legs. “And you don’t feel me here.” He touched my chest over my heart, his breath falling on my lips. “This is where you want me.” His hand slipped between us down between my legs, rubbing me where I was already wet. “I’m going to have it tomorrow, and the next day, in my car, here in my office, at the Waldorf in our room where the men in my family fuck their pretty mistresses, and you’re not going to keep me off you, Kat, because you’re mine.”
I shook and cried as he kissed me, slowly trailing his mouth across my cheek and biting my lips.
“That smart mouth,” he whispered, “and that soft skin that doesn’t taste like anything but you.” He gripped my panties in his hand, and I gasped as he tore them off my body.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Stop. No.
But the words never left my I lips. They never did, because I loved him. I always wanted him.
He unfastened his belt and pants and pushed inside me, finding me just as wet as I always was. I let out a cry, feeling him fill me.
“You can say whatever you want”—he thrust harder, stretching me and filling me and making my knees bend up to get him deeper—“but you can’t give me up any more than I can give you up. It will never be over.”
He layered our lips, my bottom one between both of his like he always did, both of us breathing and panting, doing the only thing we knew how to do. The only thing he wanted from me.
This is what we were. It was all we’d ever be. There would never be anything more.
He lay on top of me, his chest rising and falling on mine, and I couldn’t hear anything. All around me was like white noise, and as much as I tuned my ears, I couldn’t hear or see what was next. I couldn’t see tomorrow. I couldn’t see Jared or me. There was nothing.
I squeezed my eyes shut, the sobs in my stomach building and tightening until I felt like I was going to scream.
I’d dropped the ball. I’d given him too much power over me.
I barely existed anymore.
My head hung to the side, and I pushed out from underneath him. I sunk to the floor, my torn panties lying beside me.
“I love you,” I whispered, staring at nothing ahead of me. “But please stay away from me. Please.”
His voice was quiet and strained. “I can’t.”
I dropped my head, my chest shaking and tears spilling over. Grabbing my purse from where it had fallen, I ran to the door. But before I could open it, he was up and off the couch, and his body was behind mine, caging me in and keeping me from leaving.
I cried, turning around and feeling nothing but despair. “Look at me,” I pleaded. “Look what you’ve done to me.”
His eyes were turning red, and I saw tears pooling. He swallowed, finally looking like he had no idea what to say me. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
I stared at him, holding his eyes. Could he see how I looked? Did he care that I was suffering?
“Then let me go,” I told him. “Please let me go. If you love me at all . . .”
I turned to leave, but he slammed his hand against the door, his breath shaking his chest with each inhalation.
“Kat, please,” he begged in a whisper. “Please don’t do this.”
I pulled the door open anyway, refusing to turn around and look at him. But I turned my head just enough for him to hear me.
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