Page 16 of Hold You Close
Tossing her head back, she laughs. “I didn’t even know you knew the meaning of that word. Good for you.” She turns, grabs her purse from beneath the conference table, and heads for the door. I can’t help but look at her ass, and I hate that it’s fantastic. I don’t want to want her like that. How many more fucking years will I have to fight it?
When she reaches the door, she looks over her shoulder at me. “In case you’re wondering, I’ll find another ride home. Oh, and make sure the kids buckle their seatbelts. I’d forgotten what a reckless driver you are.”
She’s gone before I can bite back.
Damn it.
I rub my face with both hands, feeling the days-old scruff against my palms. I need a shave. I need a haircut. I need a grip on my life.
I stare out the window without seeing anything as reality sinks in. Ten days ago I was on top of the world and loving every second of it. Rich. Single. Fearless. Old enough to know better, but young enough to do it anyway.
Now I’m a divorced “father” of three. Clueless. Sad. Scared.
Defeated, I sink into the chair at the head of the conference table and pinch the bridge of my nose. What am I going to do now? In the past when I needed advice, I went to my sister. I can’t do that anymore.
My throat closes up, and I swallow hard, squeezing my eyes shut. “What were you thinking, Sab?” I whisper. “I wish you were here to tell me. I need you.”
But the room stays silent except for the quiet whoosh of the central air conditioning and the tick of a clock on the wall.
Sabrina would argue with me, wouldn’t she? She was always on my side unless London was involved. She’d tell me my ego was too big, my attitude was shitty, and my pride was getting in the way of moving forward. She’d be furious that I was being a dick to London, but goddammit, she deserved it. Calling me selfish, accusing me of being a bully, bringing up Jolene. London’s hatred of me has nothing to do with Jolene and she knows it. She’s just bitter about the past, as if there’s anything I can do about it now. She doesn’t even know why I did what I did, and she has no idea I did it for her. She should thank me. But no—to do that would mean listening to my side, and she’s made it perfectly clear she’s not the least bit interested in that.
I wish I hadn’t kissed her just now. All it did was stir up feelings in me that were better left buried in the past.
“Ian?”
Startled, I jump up from the chair to see my mother coming through the door of the conference room. Her eyes are red and puffy, her complexion ashen, and she looks older than her sixty-six years.
“Yeah?” My voice is scratchy.
“Daddy and I are leaving. We’re going to take the kids back to their house so they can pack up some things. Chris says they’re moving in with you?” She studies me carefully, and I feel as if all the cracks in my armor are showing.
I clear my throat and speak firmly. “Yes. My house is bigger, they love the pool, and . . . London will be close by.”
My mother tilts her head. “I hear you told her you didn’t need her help.”
Fucking London! “Maybe I don’t need her help,” I say defensively, running a hand through my hair. “Maybe I can handle them on my own. Sabrina seemed to think so.”
She crosses her arms. “Ian. Being a parent is hard enough when there are two of them in the house. Being a single parent is even tougher, and you have your hands full. Chris is trying to keep it together for the girls, but he’s struggling. Morgan is a mess—she hasn’t stopped crying, barely comes out of her room, and hardly eats. And did you notice that Ruby has stopped talking?”
“What?”
“She won’t talk. Not at all to me or Daddy, scarcely a word to Chris and Morgan.” She glances over her shoulder out the door. “But I just heard her telling London she didn’t want her to go.”
A vise closes around my heart.
“You’re going to need her help,” my mother says, slowly and firmly. “You should apologize.”
No fucking way. “Apologize! For what?”
“For whatever it is you said to her. She tried to hide it, but she was in tears when she walked out of here, and it was clearly because of you.” My mother sniffled, and touched at her eyes with a white handkerchief. “I don’t understand why you two can’t get along. She was Sabrina’s best friend. Practically family. Why can’t you be civil to each other?”
“I don’t know,” I lied.
“Well, you’d better figure it out. Those kids are going to need both of you.” Her voice softens and her eyes fill again. “Your sister trusted you, Ian. Don’t let her down.”
“Jesus, Mom. Enough.” Overwhelmed by guilt and grief and fear and the feeling that the ground is giving way under my feet, I walk to the door and shoulder past her before she can make me feel worse.
On my way home,I call Drea. “Hey,” I say when she picks up her cell. “I can’t come in tonight.”
