Mid Life Love: At Last (11 page)

I asked her a few questions about her life—how her kids were doing, if any of the colleagues I’d referred had stopped by, and then I shook her hand and promised to personally deliver her an invitation.

As soon as I stepped outside, the valet brought my car around and I handed him whatever bills were left in my wallet. I was too out of it to count or care.

I sat behind the wheel and stared straight ahead.

Why didn’t Claire make the ring appointment? What the hell is going on with her? Did she even book our meeting with the wedding planner?!

I scrolled through my phone and called the number she’d given me for the wedding planning firm.

“Dream Wedding Associates,” a woman answered. “This is Charlotte speaking. How may I help you today?”

“I need to speak to the director
right now
.”

“Um...” She paused. “Well, she’s currently busy at the moment, but if you give me your name I can have her get back to you.”

“Jonathan Statham.”

She gasped. “I’m sorry, Mr. Statham. I’ll connect you right away.”

The phone rang two times before a woman with a high pitched voice answered. “This is Miss Corwin. Who am I speaking to this afternoon?”

“Jonathan Statham.”

“Oh! Mr. Statham!” Her pitch rose even higher. “I am
so
excited and honored that you chose me to coordinate your wedding! I promise that it will be the
wedding of the year
! It’s going to be the best one I’ve ever done!”

“So my fiancée
has
booked an appointment with you?”

“Of course she has.” She sounded confused. “I’m scheduled to meet with the both of you...” There were papers rattling the background. “Next Thursday at six. She told me how you feel about the tiny details, so she and I are going to meet Friday to go over those alone. But all the bones—colors, location, date, et cetera—will be discussed Thursday. I am so excited! I can’t wait!”

“Me either.” I narrowed my eyes at the picture Ryan had sent to Claire earlier—the picture I’d left on my dashboard. “As a matter of fact, I need to ask you a few more questions...”

C
laire

Across and forward...Backwards and across...Across and forward...

I weaved my needle through the lampshade, trying to make the stitches as neat as possible. I’d been locked inside my office all day, sewing order after order.

Since one of my handmade lampshades had been featured in a national magazine last week, I’d had to hire three more people to fill all the incoming requests. I’d even considered shutting down the store for a couple days to finish, but all my staff members offered to stay late and help. 

“Miss Gracen?” Rita’s voice came over the intercom. “Lisa and Sam are heading home for the day and your fiancée is on line one.”

“Thank you.” I picked up the phone. “Yes, Jonathan?”

“Come home.”

“I will, right after this last piece. I only have twelve more patches to sew.”

“It’s
eight o’ clock
, Claire. Come home
now
.”

I sighed. “You can’t give me fifteen more minutes?”

“
No
. Now.” He hung up.

I rolled my eyes and picked up my needle again, sticking it through the bottom. I’d accidentally used the wrong fabric earlier and I needed to finish it for a customer pick-up tomorrow.

I’ll explain it to him later...

When I was halfway done, there was a light knock at my door.

“Come in,” I said, still focused on my project.

“Miss Gracen.” Greg’s deep voice made me look up. “Mr. Statham is
adamant
about me bringing you home right now.”

“Is something wrong?”

“He just wants you home.” He held the door open and gestured for me to stand up. “Non-negotiable.”

Sighing, I called Rita to thank her for staying so late. Then I grabbed my blazer and walked out front—tossing the store’s keys to her on my way out.

Greg opened the backdoor of the town car and waited until I was comfortable before pulling off.

“Greg?” I cleared my throat.

“Yes, Miss Gracen?” He looked at me through the rearview mirror.

“How long have you been working for Jonathan?”

“Since he first started his company.”

“Did he treat all his girlfriends like this? Make them drop whatever they were doing just because he wanted to see them?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“But you chauffeured them around too, right? Those few serious girlfriends that he had?”

“
Miss Gracen
...”

“I’m just trying to make conversation to get my mind off the fact that he just
demanded
that I come home. That’s all.”

“Of course.” He pulled the car onto the highway ramp and turned the music up a notch.

“Are you going to answer my question, Greg?”

He sighed. “Mr. Statham has never asked me to chauffeur any of his other girlfriends.”

What?
“How did they get around when they went on dates?”

“He drove his own car to pick them up.”

“Did he take them on his yachts?”

“Miss Gracen...” He kept his voice firm. “I can remember a few random dates on his yacht from years past, but to the best of my knowledge you are the only woman who has been on
all
of his yachts. With the exception of his sister and your daughters, you are the only woman who has flown on his private plane and you are, without a doubt, the only woman who I have personally chauffeured around. You are also the only woman he’s ever shown his real home. Now, if you don’t mind, I would prefer
not
to talk about my employer.”

I nodded and sat back in the seat, completely speechless.

All this time that we’d been together I’d always thought he’d shown his softer side to someone else. Knowing that he hadn’t made me feel even more special.

As the town car rolled past the right exit to take me home, I tapped Greg on the shoulder. “I thought you were taking me home?”

“Mr. Statham called me a few minutes ago. He wants me to bring you to the airstrip instead.”

“He’s
flying
me somewhere? On short notice?”

“He didn’t say anything further, Miss Gracen.”

Half an hour later, the town car cruised into the private jetport and stopped a few hundred feet in front of Jonathan and his plane.

There were twenty people standing around him—his crew, a few of his top accountants, and a couple of people I’d never seen before. He was pacing in front of them, shaking his head in anger, giving orders of some type.

Greg opened my door and reached for my hand, whispering a warning. “Something’s been bothering him all day...”

I nodded and watched as Jonathan continued to yell at his employees, something about “This is unacceptable,” and “Why am I just now finding out about this
today
?!”

I tried to step backwards and slip back inside the town car, but he looked over his shoulder and his blue eyes met mine.

He immediately stopped talking and stared at me, looking me up and down. He strolled over to where I was standing and pulled me into his arms.

Before I could say ‘Hello,’ he pressed his lips against mine and slipped his tongue into my mouth—kissing me until I couldn’t breathe.

“Why do you have such a hard time coming home at
six
?” he whispered harshly. “We’ve discussed this too many times...”

“I guess I keep forgetting that I have a curfew.”

“It’s an
agreement
.”

“You should’ve gotten it in writing.”

A faint smile played on his lips and he leaned forward and kissed me again—more passionately this time. He caressed my back with his hands and slipped his tongue deeper and deeper into my mouth.

I opened my eyes and realized that the twenty or so people that were behind us were now
staring
in our direction, whispering to one another.

I pulled away from him, blushing. “You can’t kiss me like that in front of your staff...”

“I can kiss you however I want.” He clasped my hand and walked me over to his team. “I need three advisors, one executive, and one intern. Takeoff in five minutes.”

He mumbled something under his breath as he led me over to the plane. As usual, he looked into my eyes for what felt like forever before helping me onboard. He motioned for me to take a seat first and then he sat down next to me.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

He didn’t answer. “Could you tell my team to hurry up and decide who’s coming with us?” He shook his head at the flight attendant.

Within minutes, a few of his staff members filed into the cabin. 

“Are you going to answer my question, Jonathan?”

“No. Put on your seatbelt.”

I blinked and he rolled his eyes, reaching over my lap to do it himself.

I tried to read his expression so I could see what he was thinking, but he was perfectly stoic.

“Mr. Statham,” the flight attendant said as she looked at me—not him. “The pilot is asking if you would like for us to wait a few minutes for takeoff or...”

He cupped my face in his hands. “Are you feeling okay?”

I nodded.

“We can take off.” He clasped my hand.

I shut my eyes as the flight attendant reminded his staff to fasten their seatbelts, as the plane roared to life and slowly moved down the tarmac. As we ascended into the air, I felt Jonathan squeezing my hand and kissing my cheek.

I kept my eyes closed until I heard the familiar ping that signified that we were free to move about the cabin, until I heard the pilot’s voice over the intercom: “We’re all clear now, Miss Gracen.”

I looked behind our seats and noticed that all of his associates were busy typing away on their screens—completely preoccupied by whatever they were doing.

“Jonathan...” I was honestly worried. “What’s going on? Tell me.”

He unbuckled my seat belt and pulled me up. “We need to talk.
Now
.” He tugged me down the aisle and into the plane’s luxury bathroom.

Locking the door, he pulled me flush against his chest and removed something from his pocket.

“What is
this
?” He held a picture of me, Ryan, and Amanda in between us.

“Where did you get this?”

“One of my security guards found it outside your office this morning. It was with a letter—in a box from Ryan.”

“Your security guards check my mail?”

“As of today,
yes
. Where is this picture from?”

“Can we discuss the mail tampering issue first?”

“
Claire
...”

“It’s from our first high school reunion.”

“I thought you said you never went to one.”

“I went to the first one, the one that was in Pittsburgh.” I trailed my fingers around the loosely fitted black dress I was wearing in the photograph, around the pretty gold bracelet that matched the one Amanda was wearing. I cringed as I read Ryan’s “Remember this?” note.

“It doesn’t mean anything to you?” He tilted my chin up.

“No.” I shook my head. “It’s actually quite ironic that he would send this picture because I
do
remember this. I remember it very well...” I paused. “They passed out these crystallized awards for the people who won superlatives in the senior yearbook...Ryan and I got Cutest Couple and Couple Most Likely to Get Married, and me and Amanda got Most Likely to Be Best Friends Forever...”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s in the past.” I shrugged. “Where’s the letter?”

“You think I saved that shit for you to read?”

“Of course not...” I rolled my eyes. “Now, about you tampering with my mail.”

“What about it?”

“Well one, its
illegal
. Two, Ryan’s not a threat.”

“He is when he wants something that’s
mine
.”

“I don’t think that’s the case. I just think he has something to say but I honestly don’t care what it is.”

“You shouldn’t.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “You shouldn’t care about him at all.”

“I don’t...”

Silence.

He slid his thumb underneath the anchor charm of my necklace and spoke slowly. “You’re not his anymore, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep him far away from you because—” He pressed a warm kiss against my chest. “You belong to
me
.”

I was silent.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“No...”

“If he happens to slip past my security...” He looked into my eyes and slipped his hands around my waist. “Or if he comes into your store again—or anywhere around you when I’m not there...You need to call me. ASAP.”

I nodded and he drew my bottom lip into his mouth, harshly trapping it between his teeth for several seconds before letting it go.

“Tell me you’ll call me.”

“Yes, I’ll...Call you...”

“I don’t share...” He traced my lips with his fingertips. “And I never will.
Never
.”

I wasn’t sure what to say or how to respond when he looked at me like this. I simply stared into his deep blue eyes and felt my heart beating an entirely new rhythm.

“Was that...Was that all we had to talk about?” I stepped to my left and reached over to press the door handle, but he grabbed my hand and pushed me against the wall.

“
No
. That’s
not
it.” He reached down and pulled the silver clip I was wearing out of my hair. He brushed his thumb across my cheek and murmured something I didn’t understand.

Just as I was about to ask him to repeat himself, the jet began to shake back and forth, and I instinctively clung to him and shut my eyes, bracing for the worst.

“It’s just
turbulence
, Claire,” he whispered. But the plane was shaking more violently so I clung to him even more—digging my nails into his neck.

The rough rattling continued and I heard the shuddering of the small cabinets next to me, heard the series of loud pings that meant we were supposed to be in our seats with our seatbelts buckled.

I won’t feel anything if we crash...I won’t feel a thing...