by HELEN HARDT
We all laugh.
“Louisa,” Eugenie says, “you put these together, but do you have any favorites that we haven’t put into the pile?”
Louisa chooses one more, a soft, pale pink. “This one is lighter than the others, but it’s such a beautiful hue.”
I nod. It is beautiful, but it’s way too light to be called The Power of Pink. Again, though, I don’t feel it’s my place to say this.
“All right. Nice job, everyone,” Eugenie says. “I’ll give these six to the art department, and they’ll put some samples together for us. Skye, I’ll be in touch when they’re ready. We want you here when we choose the final color.”
“I’m honored,” I say, my skin warming. “Thank you.”
A sense of triumph settles through me. I did this. And I did it without being Braden Black’s girlfriend.
Eugenie walks me back out and we say some quick goodbyes. I still expect Addie to crawl out of the woodwork, but so far so good.
I step into the elevator, descend, step out, walk to the revolving doors where my driver waits.
Still no Addie.
I smile, feeling the sense of triumph once more.
For a woman who managed to lose the love of her life, I feel like I just won a battle.
Not a war, but a battle.
Addison isn’t here at Susanne today, but she’s not gone.
She lurks around some corner.
I can feel it.
Chapter Seven
I’m flying coach, of course.
No more private jets for me, and you know what? It feels kind of good. So good that I do a selfie on the plane from my window seat. I don’t mention coach, but I do mention that I’m heading to my hometown. #simplyskye
And yes, I know Braden will see it, but that doesn’t matter. If he’s interested, he has the resources to find me wherever I am.
Besides, he’s not interested.
I miss him, though. I truly do love him, and I know he loves me, too. Somehow, we’ll figure this out. But before that, I’ll figure myself out.
I have a three-hour plane ride ahead of me, so as soon as the flight attendants announce that we can use our large devices, I whip out my laptop to write to Eugenie.
Dear Eugenie,
Thank you again for your hospitality yesterday. I enjoyed working with your team again, and I love the marketing you’ve come up with for The Power of Pink. I won’t let you down!
I’ll be in Liberty, Kansas with my family for the next week, as you know, but I have my computer and phone and will be doing all my posts as scheduled.
Have a great day!
Skye
I hit send with more force than I mean to.
I was honest with Eugenie, and it paid off. I did the right thing. Influencing was never my dream job, but I stumbled into it and it’s paying the bills.
And damn, it feels good to be honest.
But the influencing game is full of dishonesty. Look at Addie, for example. She hates coffee, but Bean There Done That pays her a fortune to hawk their drinks.
I’m heading home to get real with myself, so why not start now?
Influencing can be lucrative, and it allows me the chance to take photographs. So far, though, I haven’t really flexed my creative photography muscles.
Tomorrow, I’ll start getting more creative. I was creative three days ago with the nail polish and my copy. Nice start, but I’m a photographer, not a writer. That’s where I can shine.
I glance down at my computer screen.
The flight attendants come around with drinks and pretzels. I take a bottle of water but forgo the carbs. I’ll be carbing it up big-time at home. My mom’s an award-winning baker. Her pies are legendary at the county fair each year.
I put away my laptop and check my Instagram posts from the past couple days.
Oh… I have a private message from @realaddisonames.
My gut churns. I knew she was lurking somewhere.
I can delete it without looking at it. Would probably be for the best. Who needs her negativity?
But I’m a glutton for self-flagellation, it seems. I click to open the message.
Sorry about your bad day, but I tried to warn you.
That’s it.
She knows.
She knows Braden and I are over.
My only consolation is the message came three days after the post in question, which means she’s not checking my feed daily. Is that good? Not necessarily. In her eyes, it means she doesn’t consider me a huge threat to her audience.
And in truth, I’m not. At least not yet.
I sigh. Will she make Braden’s and my breakup public? Probably not. First, she doesn’t have any concrete proof. Second, it wouldn’t look good to her followers for her to be gossiping about another influencer. Besides, her relationship—for lack of a better word—with Braden has never been public. For all she knows, he might have told me everything. Which brings me to the third reason why she won’t share our breakup. To do so would bring attention to her past with Braden—something neither of them has been willing to talk about.
In reality, Braden hasn’t told me anything.
All I know I learned from Betsy.
But Betsy said he broke up with Addie when she wouldn’t go dark with him again.
Seems he broke up with me for the opposite reason.
Oh? What are your hard limits?
I only have one.
What is it?
I don’t talk about it.
Don’t you think I should know? So I don’t bring it up?
Trust me, Skye. You will never bring it up.
Except I did.
Why is it his hard limit?
Unless…
Breath control. Neck bondage. It must have something to do with Braden and Addison.
My fingers are poised over my keyboard to respond to Addie’s message. Something like, “You’ve got me all choked up.” Surely, she’ll recognize the double entendre.
But I stop.
I’m not Addison. I don’t hurt people simply to make myself feel better.
I take a screen shot of the message and then delete it. Never hurts to keep records.
My plane lands, and I catch a cab home. I didn’t tell my parents I was coming. They’re always asking me to visit, so I figured why not surprise them?
During the sixty-minute cab ride, my phone rings. A Boston number that I don’t recognize. It could be new work, so I answer it.
“This is Skye.”
“Hello, Skye. It’s Ben Black.”
I drop my jaw. “Braden’s brother?”
“The one and only.”
Why is Ben calling me? Not even a week has passed since Braden broke up with me. Maybe he doesn’t know.
“Okay. Hi.”
“I suppose you’re wondering why I’m calling.”
“Yeah, it crossed my mind.”
“You need to throw my brother a bone.”
My heart thumps. “I need to…what?”
“He’s miserable. What the hell happened?”
He’s miserable? A wide grin splits my face. I shouldn’t be happy that Braden’s miserable, but it means he’s miserable without me. So yeah, I’m a little giddy.
Make that a lot giddy.
“I… I think that’s between him and me,” I say.
“God, you sound just like him. He’s in full asshole mode, Skye. He’s out of control.”
Out of control.
So unlike Braden.
“And that’s abnormal for him?” I can’t help asking.
Ben chuckles. “Man, you two are made for each other. Let’s just say he’s being nastier than usual. When I asked about you, all I got was a growl.”
“A growl?”
>
“Yeah. And I’m not exaggerating. I’m being literal. He fucking growled like a wolf, and then he said you were over.”
“Then you know as much as I know,” I say.
“No offense, Skye, but that’s crap, and we both know it.”
I can’t fault his observation, but no way in hell am I telling Ben that his brother dumped me because I wanted him to tie a rope around my neck. That’s a little too personal.
Actually, all of this is a little too personal.
But…I have forty-five minutes until I get to my rural home. Maybe I can learn something.
“Ben, what happened between Braden and Addison Ames?”
He pauses a moment. Did the call drop?
Finally, he says, “Addie? That’s ancient history.”
“It’s not that ancient.”
“I can’t tell you anything that Braden hasn’t already.”
“He hasn’t told me anything.”
“Nothing at all?” His inflection makes him sound genuinely surprised.
“Only that they were both young and didn’t know what they were getting into.”
“That’s a big part of it.”
“But I’ve heard other stuff…”
“From whom?”
I swallow. I won’t violate Betsy’s trust. “I can’t say.”
“Fair enough, but if I don’t know the source, I won’t be able to tell you if it’s true or fabricated. So you have to tell me.”
“I don’t have to do anything. I won’t tell you.”
“Then why would you bring it up?”
He has me there. I pause for several seconds.
“You still there?” Ben asks.
“Yeah.”
“The connection seems weird. Where are you?”
“In a cab.”
“Oh.”
“Driving into rural Kansas.”
“What?”
“I’m on my way to visit my parents.”
“When will you be back?”
“My return ticket is for Saturday. I’ll be here a week.”
“Hmm. Okay. But another week of Asshole Braden is going to wear on all of us.”
“I can’t help you, okay? Braden is the one who ended it. It wasn’t me.”
His turn to be silent. Then, “Seriously?”
I keep my jaw from dropping again. “Yeah, seriously. Do you think I’d lie about that? Didn’t he tell you the same thing?”
“He just said it was over, so I assumed—”
“You assumed I did the dumping?” I shake my head to the phone. “Unbelievable.”
“He seriously broke up with you.” His words aren’t a question. They’re more of a flabbergasted statement.
“Yes. He seriously broke up with me. Why would you assume it was the other way around?”
“Because of the way he’s acting. He’s miserable, and anyone that miserable wouldn’t have caused the misery himself.”
“Apparently he did.”
“But Braden doesn’t…”
Doesn’t what? Make himself miserable? No, he doesn’t. I can’t help chuckling to myself. That time he flew back from New York early because he wanted to see me, and I came clean about stealing the piece of mail from his place, he made his stance clear.
I could end things with you, but I didn’t fly two hundred miles today to punish myself.
No, Braden doesn’t make himself miserable.
“Braden doesn’t what?” I ask.
Again, more silence for a few seconds. Then, “He left early this morning.”
“What? Why?” I ask
“Said he was going back to New York for an extended period of time. Possibly indefinitely.”
New York. Black Rose Underground. Does Ben know about Braden’s club?
Boston is Braden’s home. He made that clear many times. So clear, that he keeps part of himself only in New York.
And now he’s thinking about going there indefinitely.
Which means the club.
Which means scenes.
And if I’m not there to do scenes with him, someone else will be. Women will be lining up to make Braden Black’s fetishes come true.
Women who won’t ask him to do something that’s unthinkable for him.
Women who…
Women who aren’t me.
Chapter Eight
“You still there, Skye?” Ben says.
I swallow down the vomit that threatens to crawl up from my stomach. “Yeah. I’m here.”
“You’ve got to talk to him.”
I clear my throat. “Why? If he’s gone to New York, you won’t have to put up with his asshole behavior.”
“Ha! Of course I will, and so will everyone else. A virtual asshole is still an asshole.”
He has me there. “I wish I could help you, but—”
“Then call him. Tell him you’re sorry.”
“I’m not sorry, Ben. I’m not the one who ended things.”
“So you’d be with him if he hadn’t ended it, right?”
“Well…yeah.”
“Tell him that.”
I shake my head, well aware that only the cabbie can see me from his rearview mirror, if he’s even looking. “No way. I still have my self-respect. I’m not going to go crawling back to a guy who dumped me.”
“This has nothing to do with self-respect, Skye. The man is miserable.”
“That’s his own fault, then, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Of course it is. But Braden isn’t used to things not going his way. He finds solutions, and whatever went on between the two of you has got him confused.”
I let out an exasperated huff. “Confused? He knows exactly why he ended it.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Oh? What do you mean, then?”
“Braden finds solutions. That’s how he made it so big. His original idea was a solution to a problem in construction. And every success he’s had since then, from innovations to investments, has been the result of finding a solution. This has him flummoxed, Skye.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Sorry, Ben, but I’m not following. Relationships are not problems to be solved. They’re relationships.”
“That’s not how Braden sees it.”
“I can’t help that. That’s how it is.”
“Maybe,” he says.
“You’re probably just like him, aren’t you? You don’t want a relationship, either.”
“What? Where did that come from?”
“Just a hunch.”
He sighs. “I’m not looking, it’s true. But I’m not averse to a relationship if I find the right person.”
“Braden told me, at the beginning, that he and I couldn’t have a relationship. Apparently he was right.”
“Not surprising. Neither one of us is wired for long-term love.”
“Why do you say that?”
Silence.
Seriously, silence so thick over a cell phone line that I swear I can hear its density.
“You still there?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Are you going to answer the question you know I’m about to ask?”
More silence. Then, “I can’t.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“There are things Braden and I don’t talk about. Not to anyone.”
My breath hitches. “And one of those things is why you’re not wired for relationships?”
No response.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes,” I say.
“It’s not what you think,” he says.
“I’m not thinking anything.”
“Sure you are. You’re thinking it has something to
do with Braden and Addison.”
“Why would I think that? Is she a reason why you’re not wired for relationships?”
More dead air.
“This is getting tedious, Ben,” I finally say.
“I can’t speak for Braden,” he says, “but Addie certainly has no bearing on my situation.”
“I see.”
Yet more silence. Then, “I think you can make Braden happy, Skye.”
Despite myself, my heart leaps a little. “Obviously not.”
“You can. He was different with you. Different than with any other woman he’s ever brought home.”
“What if he can’t make me happy?”
“I just…”
“You just assumed anyone would be thrilled to be with your brother. Or with you. I get it.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” His tone is huffy and resolute.
“That’s exactly what you meant. It just so happens that my happiness is important here, too.”
“I never said it wasn’t. But, Skye, you just told me if he hadn’t broken up with you—”
“Cool it with your euphemisms, Ben. He dumped me. Call it what it is.”
“Fine. If he hadn’t dumped you, you’d still be with him. So clearly he made you happy.”
Ben isn’t wrong. Braden made me ecstatic. He showed me a world I never knew existed—a world of pleasure and love and loss of control. A world I could only face in the dark.
Maybe I took it too far. Maybe this is all my fault. Maybe I need to face it all in the daylight to understand.
But how can I be at fault simply for asking for what I want?
“What do you want me to do?” I finally ask.
“Reach out to him.”
“What makes you think he’ll even talk to me?”
“I don’t know if he will.” Ben sighs. “But he’s hurting, and you’re the only one who can help him.”
“Fine,” I finally relent. “I’ll…email him. Or text him. I won’t call him.”
“That’s a start. Thanks, Skye.”
“If this turns into something worse, I’m coming after you,” I say.
“Got it. You can punch me in the nose or something.”
I can’t help a short laugh. What the heck can I ever do to Ben Black? A big fat lot of nothing. “Don’t think I won’t.”
“I absolutely think you will. I knew from the first time we met that Braden had met his match. I think that might be part of the problem here.”
