Page 28 of Sin City

My face is wet from the tears leaking from my eyes. She is right though…I need to hear what he has to say and not the story that Greg spilled at that gala. I need to hear from Jameson on exactly what happened.

I wipe my tears with my sleeves and blow out a breath. “I know…I’m just scared. Scared of how hard it’s going to hear coming from him. I miss him.”

She smiles at me. “It’s okay to be scared. But hearing it from him and only him is how it should be.”

I nod. “I know. I think it is time to hear him out. But right now, I just want to spend time with my girl and drink this wine.”

She picks up her wine and clinks my glass. “Deal, that I can do.”

Twenty-Three

aria

Ikeepgoingoverthe conversation with Hayley in my head all day, and I have not been able to focus at all on work. She is absolutely right that I should have let him explain what happened to him and how his actions changed his life, rather than letting Greg blurt it out. Looking back now, I think Greg wanted to hurt me as much as he could. Took me seven years of a crappy marriage and his tiny dick fucking his plastic assistant to see it. Since I met Jameson, he has proven to me that he is a good man who cares and loves me. At least I hope that’s still the case…

“Earth to Aria.” Jordan stands in front of my desk, snapping his perfect manicured fingers at me.

I blink and shake my head to turn to him. I was lost in thought about Jameson and how to word what I want to say to him. I glance at my computer screen with the curser blinking back at me in an open email, and the other screen has opened another potential listing.

“I’m sorry. What were you saying?” I rake my fingers through my blonde bob.

“While you were daydreaming about your sex-on-a-stick husband, I was telling you that you have a special message, and I was told to come and give it to you right away.” I blink at him confused on what message he could be talking about, then he hands me the card that is wrapped around a single perfect pink peony. I unfold the note and started reading. He is beaming at me.

Angel,

Please meet me at the Space Needle this evening at eight o’clock. I promise I will tell you everything and then you can make your decision.

Love Your Husband,

Jameson

I stare at the card in disbelief. This man has been trying to get me to listen to him for the past few weeks and it’s over…the three months he asked for is done.

“Are you going to share with the class, or will I have to read it later after you shove it in your desk?” He crosses his arms with a smirk.

I snap my head up. “You will not be able to read it as I am bringing it with me…in my purse. And that reminds me to stop leaving things at the office for your snooping habits.”

He blows me a kiss. “Never, boss lady.” He twirls and struts out of my office.

I laugh a little at his crazy antics, and I pack up my office to work from home or at least try to. He wants me to meet him at eight o’clock tonight…I need to figure out what to wear to see Jameson and what the hell am I going to say…

The cab pulls outside the Space Needle with two minutes to spare before eight o’clock, and I am a ball of nerves on seeing Jameson…again. I have not seen him since he showed up at my apartment, telling me he is not giving up, and he has stood by that. He has not given up, and it makes me feel loved and appreciated that he wants to have this marriage work with me, and that he sees a future.

I step into the elevator and ride to the top. I wipe my hands down the front of my black, knee-length, one shoulder dress to make them not so clammy. I am shaking as I am so nervous that my heels are clattering on the floor. I take a deep breath and look at my reflection

and mentally tell myself to just be honest with him and to hear him out.

The elevator dings and the doors open to the restaurant at the top of the Space Needle. Stepping out, I realized that the whole place is empty. There are no customers sitting at tables or staff busting around. Stopping in my tracks, I see there is one person here. Jameson. He is standing in front of the window, overlooking the city lights with his hands inside his pockets. He must sense that I am standing off to the side, because he turns around, and I let out a gasp because how is this man so beautiful. I take in the man that I have fallen in love with. He has his long blond hair tied up into a bun with a strand hitting right above his right eye. My gaze is locked with his sapphire eyes. I trail down from his face, and my feel myself damped at the sight of this man in suit. It fits like a damn glove. I am so nervous. I will fall and break a neck in my heels.

He smiles at me as I walk toward him cautiously. “Angel, thank you for meeting with me tonight. It means a lot that you came.” His deep voice washes over me.

Stopping in front of me, I find my footing. I stare into his blue eyes before saying, “You’re welcome. But if I am being honest, I am nervous.”

He closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath. “Me too.” He reaches for my hand. I let him hold it and he lace his fingers with mine. He traces his thumb over my knuckles slowly every few seconds to calm his breathing. We stand like this for what feels like an eternity until he breaks the silence.

“This is not an easy story to tell and not many know my past…I like to keep it that way since people are very judgmental and not understanding.” I know he is referring to Greg. “I understand that I should have been open with you when you shared about your past and how you lost your parents. I am greatly sorry, baby, for what you had to go through.” I nod and he grabs my other hand, laces his fingers with mine. “When I was twenty, I lost my parents and fourteen-year-old brother to a drunk driver. It affected me more than most know because I was supposed to be there with them that day, but being a shit, punk college kid, I threw a fit saying I wanted to stay with my friends. I let the guilt eat me up, and I turned into the one thing that killed my family…an alcoholic. I turned into a monster and pushed everyone away that meant something to me during that time. I turned to liquor to help numb my pain. Until one night when I had a few too many, I drove home.” His grip tightens on my hands, and he turns his head toward the window, letting out a deep breath. He continues and returns to looking at me. “I blacked out, and I hit someone. Next thing I know, I am waking up in hospital without a clue to why. The officer told me what I did. I could not believe it. Driving drunk and hitting someone is something I never thought would happen, but it did. I was lucky the girl did not die, now she is bound to a wheelchair for the rest of her life. Because of my actions, I went to jail for seven years.” He pulls me closer. “I promised myself then that I would make something of my life and never touch a drop of alcohol again. And I have not.”

I did not realize that I was crying until he reached up and wiped the tears falling down my face with his thumb. Him driving drunk was not for the sake of having a good. No, he was grieving. He thought numbing the pain was the best.

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