Page 6 of Bestie's Bossy Billionaire Brother
I take a deep breath, my heart strangely aching for her. “Then you’re in the perfect position to figure it out. Now that you’re single, you can focus on yourself.”
I glance in her direction. She gives me a small smile, and I can see a flicker of tenacity in her eyes. “How assuring.”
We drive in silence for the rest of the trip, and eventually, we make it back to the city. It’s already nighttime when I pull up to her apartment building in downtown Seattle, the streets filled with stars.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask her as she steps out of my car.
“I’ll be fine,” she says, meeting my gaze with a brave one of her own. “Thank you, Oliver. For everything.”
I nod, the adrenaline from our escape still fresh within me. “Sure, Catherine,” I tell her.
As we part ways, I watch her until she’s safely inside her apartment building. As I drive back to my house, I can’t help but feel a strange sense of admiration for Catherine’s strength and resilience despite the hurt she’s experienced.
But more than that, I wonder why someone who should have been so loyal would cheat on his partner, who loved and respected him as Catherine did. Although Catherine and I have never quite seen eye to eye, anger courses through me.
I pull into my driveway and let out a sigh. Another reason not to try again: getting hurt. I step out of the car and head over to my front door.
As I reach for the door handle, my mind replays the day’s events, Catherine’s face at the forefront. Despite the circumstances, her vulnerability had revealed a raw, unexpected beauty I never noticed about her before. I pause, my hand still on the door, realizing that the image of her doesn’t fade. It lingers, her eyes, her resolve, the softness in her voice when she says my name…
I’ve known Catherine for what feels like forever, but in the chaos of the day, I saw a different side of her, one that I’m unexpectedly drawn to.
Shaking my head, I try to dismiss the thought as ridiculous. But as I finally turn the key in the door, I’m left with an undeniable stirring in my chest, a whisper of something that refuses to be ignored. And I can’t help but wonder… what if?
Chapter 3
Catherine
WhenFridayrollsaround,I wake up in the late morning a few hours before I have to head into work. As I lay in bed, I consider the events of the past weekend and how much my life is going to change. At least I have work to fall back on and keep me occupied, so I don’t have to think too much about Jason and his insistence on talking things out.
After getting dressed and washed up, I head to my home office to collect all of my photography equipment. I pack it into a bag and make sure the camera, lens, and other accessories are secure before I check the directions to the event I’ll be working. It looks like it’s over an hour away in Tacoma, so I brew myself a cup of coffee for the drive and start on breakfast.
As I break a couple of eggs over the frying pan on the stove, fragments of the past days cascade through my thoughts. The endless ring of my phone has become the soundtrack of my reality, a cacophony of concerned voices.
Each call I’ve taken, each message I’ve replied to, felt like tearing off a bandage stuck to a fresh wound.
Especially Jason. His number has flashed more times than I can count, each text more desperate and pleading than the one before. His instance, his pleas–they claw at the edges of my resolve. But every time I silence the call or leave the messages unread, a lump forms in my throat, tears pricking at my eyes. It’s a strange kind of mourning, a grief for lost trust, for the shattered image of a man I thought I knew, for a future that crumbled in front of my very eyes.
And then there are my parents, friends, relatives. Their worry is obvious in every tone, every text, every voicemail. I reassure them in the best way I can, but how do you really convince someone you’re all right when your world has tilted off its axis?
The vibration of my phone snaps me back to reality. When I peer down, my mom’s contact flashes on the screen. I steel myself, inhaling deeply as I reach for the phone. My heart feels heavy, anticipating yet another round of emotional labor.
“Hey, Mom,” I answer, doing my best to sound cheerful.
“Hi, sweetie. How are you?” Her voice is bright, per usual.
“Good,” I reply, whisking my eggs in the pan before rotating the burner to medium heat.
My mother pauses for a moment, and then she speaks again. “Catherine, I’m sure you know the reason I’m calling. Your father and I have been worried about you ever since you ran out on your own wedding.”
“I know,” I reply, my voice weak.
“It’s difficult to watch your daughter make such an impulsive decision, but we understand why you did what you did,” she assures me. “We just want you to be happy. Are you sure there isn’t anything you need?”
“Mom, I’m fine,” I say. “I really appreciate the concern, but I promise I have everything figured out.”
“That’s great to hear,” she says, sounding relieved.
Thankfully, she doesn’t press me on how I have things figured out, because I definitely don’t. But she doesn’t need to know that.
