An Irresistible Bachelor (37 page)

Abruptly he felt as though he couldn't breathe. With an uncoordinated hand, he undid his bow tie, loosened his collar. Opening his mouth, he dragged some air into his lungs.

So this is how it ends, he thought.

How appropriate that it was with him being locked out of her room.

Jack laid his palm against the door.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that, but eventually he resurfaced and knew he needed to face up to reality.

No matter what she said, Callie didn't love him enough. She'd made her choice. She didn't want him in her life.

So be it.

Jack let his hand fall from the door and walked away.

He wasn't sure where he was going or why. The only thing he was certain of was that standing in front of her locked bedroom wasn't where he wanted to be when the sun came up.

When he found himself downstairs, there were waiters still milling around. The men and women were carrying trays of dirty glasses into the kitchen and stripping the dining room of the remnants of the food. It dawned on him that he'd missed saying good night to the guests.

Probably just as well, he thought, heading for his study. He wouldn't have been able to stomach all of the good wishes for his candidacy.

Gray was in the room by himself, packing up papers.

“Hell of a night, huh,” his friend murmured.

You have no idea, he thought.

He stared at Gray for a minute and then spoke sharply. “Tomorrow morning, I want the committee members downtown in my office early.”

“Fine, but it shouldn't take more than a couple of hours to hear the reports—”

“Tell them it's going to go all day long. We've got a campaign to launch.”

Gray looked up from the folder he was holding. “What the hell are you talking about? I thought you were still on the fence. We
told
everyone you were on the fence.”

“Not anymore.”

“Jesus Christ, Jack.” Gray slammed down the folder. “We missed a prime opportunity tonight!”

Jack marched over to the desk. “I don't need this from you right now, okay? Do your job, call those god-damn people, and let's get this candidacy started.”

He sat down and watched Gray compose himself.

“You mind telling me why the change?” His friend's voice was even now.

But Jack had no intention of exposing his pain to anyone.

Because how he felt was no one else's fucking business, he thought.

“I don't have anything to lose. Not anymore.”

 

Jack was still sitting at his desk when the sun came up. As the first rays of dawn fell across the lawn, he shifted in the chair and moved his cast to another position. He felt a sturdy ache in his shoulder, but it was the pain in his chest that held his attention. He figured it was either angina or a broken heart, and it was hard to decide which would be worse.

Although that was probably because he was all alone, watching a beautiful sunrise, and feeling pathetically melodramatic.

“Hey, Governor.”

Jack looked over and saw Nate standing in the doorway. He smiled even though he felt half-dead. “Don't jump the gun with that title. It's a long way to the finish line.”

“Yeah, and when have you ever failed at something?”

Jack couldn't bear to entertain the joke. “I'm surprised you're up this early considering what you and Thomas pulled off last night. The food was fantastic.” Eyeing the duffel bag hanging off Nate's shoulder, he asked, “You headed out?”

“Yeah, I want to be up in Canada before nightfall. Spike, Louie, and I have an appointment to see a restaurant that's for sale.”

“You know, I was serious when I offered you the money. Even if you insist on just borrowing it.”

“Thanks.”

Jack stood up, loosening the stiffness in his back. “When are we going to see you next?”

“Christmas.”

“Good.” They walked out, heading for the kitchen, and Jack made a quick detour to pick the
Globe
off the front step. As he uncurled it, he saw a picture of himself below the fold on the front page. The article quoted him as still being undecided, but the reporter speculated it was only a matter of time before an official announcement of his candidacy was made.

That guy's editor was going to be pleased, Jack thought. Because the Walker campaign was probably going to release something by the end of the week.

“So you really are going to do it,” Nate said over his shoulder.

“Yes, I am.”

As they went into the kitchen, he scanned the article. Butch Callahan's response was as he expected. Barely polite.

Jack threw the paper down on the table.

And so the fight begins, he thought.

“Breakfast?” he asked Nate.

“Naw. I'll grab something on the road.”

Jack walked his brother out to the old Saab Nate had driven since graduating from Harvard.

“I hope that thing keeps going.”

“Me, too.” Nate tossed his bag in the trunk and got in. With a sputter and a roar, the car's engine came alive and he leaned out the window. “Take care and remember, my cell phone's got voice mail, so you can always find me. Let me know if you need to talk.”

“Will do, brother.”

Jack waved as Nate shot down the driveway.

Before he went back in the house, he looked at the garage and wondered if he'd ever be able to see the damn thing and not think of Callie.

Briefly, he entertained a scenario of what-ifs, like what if his mother hadn't sprung the announcement. Or what if Callie had given him a chance to explain. Or what if she'd trusted him enough in the first place.

But then he reeled in his thoughts, and as he went back to his study, he knew he had some work to do.

Sitting down behind the desk, he called a real estate agent he knew. The message he left authorized a fullprice, cash offer to purchase a condo at the Four Seasons Hotel. He knew one was available because he'd seen one advertised in the paper the week before. His next call was to a moving company. Assuming his lawyers worked quickly, he figured the closing could be in as little as two weeks, and he wanted to make sure he got the movers lined up.

He was hanging up the phone when his mother materialized in the doorway. Dressed in a pale silk robe that fell to the floor, and with her hair loosely coiled on her head, she looked fresh even at her age.

“Speak of the devil,” he said.

His mother's smile was conciliatory but her eyes held a certain satisfaction. She knew, he thought, exactly what she'd done. But then, why should he be surprised? His mother was a very smart woman.

“Jack, darling, I missed the opportunity to say good night to you after the party.” She came into the room. “I wanted to thank you for everything you did to make last night a success.”

“Tell me, Mother,” he said, idly fingering some papers on his desk, “when are you thinking of going to Palm Beach for the season?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“You might want to delay for a week.”

“Not so eager to get rid of me? That's a pleasant change,” she chided, her smile becoming more genuine.

“I just think you'll want the extra time to adjust.”

She shot him an inquisitive glance. “To what?”

“You're moving out of this house.”

Mercedes seemed to stop breathing. “Whatever are you talking about?”

“I am purchasing a condominium for you at the Four Seasons. So I imagine you'll want to be there to direct the movers when they put your things in your new home. Unless you want a decorator to do it.”

His mother turned ashen. “My God, Jack, what have you done?”

“I'm cutting the proverbial cord.”

He watched as Mercedes backed over to the couch and sat down. She seemed to collapse, looking very small surrounded by all that luxurious silk.

“You can't do this. You can't send me away. I live here. I couldn't possibly leave Buona Fortuna to live in a
hotel.
”

“I'm not sending you to a Motel 6, for Christ's sake. It's the Four Seasons.”

“But this is our home.”

He stood up. “Let's be very clear. This is
my
home. And you are leaving. End of story.”

His mother's lower lip trembled. “Jack, don't do this.”

“Frankly, I'm sorry that I waited this long. Now,” he said briskly, “I'm heading into the office and I doubt I'll be home for dinner.”

As he went by her, she gripped his hand. He noted dispassionately the tears in her eyes.

“But why?” she asked.

He stared at her long and hard. “You know
precisely
why. Do you have any idea what you did to me last night?”

“I only wanted to help,” she whispered fiercely. “And, Jack, you need me.”

“Maybe if you behaved less like an enemy of mine. But as you are now, no, I don't.”

 

Callie walked into the kitchen and immediately wished she'd stayed upstairs a little longer.

Jack's mother was in tears and Thomas was looking at the woman as if he was going to have to catch her if she fainted.

“He can't do this!” Mrs. Walker wailed. “I need you to talk to him. Make him understand that I can't possibly go. He'll listen to you.”

“I don't know if—” Thomas stopped talking when he realized they were not alone.

Mrs. Walker wheeled around. The moment she saw Callie, she tried to pull herself together by lifting her chin up and bringing a tissue to her nose. Moving with noble forbearance, she wiped her eyes briefly, and when she spoke, her voice trembled only a little.

“I should like my breakfast in bed this morning, Thomas. Please tell Elsie to bring it up when she arrives.”

And then Mrs. Walker glided by as if she hadn't just been hysterical.

Callie glanced over at Thomas. He was leaning back against the stove and shaking his head.

“I should have seen this coming,” he muttered.

“What happened?”

The man looked up. “Jack kicked his mother out of this house.”

“Excuse me?”

“Kicked his own mother out. Though I could see how he feels like she deserved it.”

“But why—” Callie felt the blood drain out of her face.

Last night's announcement.

“Thomas, I need to know. Why?” She asked the question, even though she suspected she knew the answer and was horrified by its implications.

“That little speech she gave last night. Evidently, Jack wasn't prepared to announce anything.”

“Oh, no,” she whispered.

“Mrs. Walker said she'd tried to apologize, but he wouldn't hear of it. Frankly, I don't know what the big deal is. So she jumped the gun a little? Unless he wasn't going to run, after all.”

A nauseating wave came over Callie as she realized the mistake she'd made. The terrible mistake. God, she had to find him and explain—but maybe it was already too late? His candidacy had been formally announced. He couldn't possibly go back, right? Or maybe he could—

“Will you excuse me?” Callie didn't wait for a reply before she tore out of the room.

She raced to Jack's study, and when it was empty, she went upstairs and pounded on his door. She threw it open, but he wasn't there, either.

She told herself that the exploratory committee wasn't meeting until the afternoon. There had to be time to catch him before he left for the office. But where was he?

She was briefly stalled in the hallway when Grace and Ross came out of their room with their bags packed.

“Grace! I need to talk with you.”

Her half sister's eyes widened. “Certainly, where would you—”

Callie pulled the woman into her room and shut the door.

“I don't have much time but I need to—I'm in love with Jack and I've made a terrible mistake. An awful, hideous . . .”

“You're in love with Jack!”

“Oh, God, assuming I haven't completely blown it with him, I need you to understand something. I've told him a little of my past, but he doesn't know the whole story because I couldn't be completely honest without exposing you. He feels as though I must not love him because I can't trust him.”

Grace's eyes widened even farther.

Callie took a breath before she lost her voice. “You've got to understand. I have to explain everything to him, even if you don't want me to. If I don't, he and I have absolutely no future together. And I can't let that happen.”

She waited for a response, but there wasn't one. Grace seemed totally frozen.

“I'm sorry,” Callie said, reaching out. “I know I made a promise to you. But I can't hide anymore. Not when I have so much to lose by staying silent.”

She heard a clicking noise and looked down. Grace started to fiddle with her watch, clipping and unclipping the latch. When she broke away and walked across the room, Callie held her breath. She wasn't prepared to keep quiet, but that didn't mean she wanted to cause Grace any pain.

“I—I'm sorry, Grace. Truly. I never expected—”

Grace whirled around and pegged her with hard eyes. “Don't you be sorry. Don't you ever be sorry. This is our father's fault.
All
of it. Not yours.”

There was a long silence as Callie watched Grace's face grow increasingly dark. The depth of anger was a surprise.

And then Grace marched over, grabbed Callie's hands, and said, “Tell Jack. Tell him
everything.
”