Toxic (32 page)

He raked a hand through his hair as if exasperated. “Yes, before we got back together, I bought that car as a giant fuck you to your father. Is that what you wanted to hear so badly? Does it make you feel better now to know that?”

I stared at him in disbelief. “How could you?”

He took a step back as if I’d stung him. “Be honest, Phoebe, that’s not what this is about. That’s not all you’re thinking, is it?”

His words sliced through me like a knife and I was momentarily torn.

Was I overreacting?

I wasn’t sure. I needed some space. Somewhere to breathe where he wasn’t all I saw, heard, felt, wanted to touch. Yes, touch. I couldn’t stand this. I wanted to say okay and throw my arms around him but right now I didn’t know left from right or up from down.

My breath caught on a small squeak. “I need some time to think.”

He stared at me in disbelief. As if I’d wounded him. I stood here helpless to think anything else. Feeling fractured, like a part of me was missing, I watched his throat work, as he swallowed hard, and his mouth slipped open, wordless once again.

A complete, emotional wreck, I did what I had to do and put distance between us. Somehow I managed to turn and walk away. I had no idea how. I was trembling from the cool air and nerves twitching in my belly. I couldn’t believe I was doing this but I was a mess and I couldn’t make a rational decision. I felt the burn of his stare on me the entire walk out of the garage and again as I hit the cool of the night, and although I knew it was best if I didn’t, I turned around as I got into a cab and saw him there.

My throat was sore from holding back the tears and as I told the cab driver my address, I never took my eyes off him.

He stood there sullen, with his hands in his pockets and his head slightly down. It was as if I’d put a huge gaping hole in his heart, and not the other way around.

Staring at him, I couldn’t shake the feeling he was waiting for me to change my mind.

And I wanted to.

I just couldn’t.

•   •   •

He loves me.

He loves me not.

He loves me.

He loves me not.

I kept the chant up as I willed myself back to sleep. I tossed and turned and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find peace.

Finally, at six in the morning, I dragged my tired self out of bed and stared at my phone. He hadn’t tried to contact me. I swayed back and forth about what had happened. Part of me understood what he had done, that he had done that before we got back together and it had absolutely nothing to do with me. But the other part warned me to be wary. He told me he had matured past that and made me believe that maturity had come way before he moved back to New York City. Obviously, that wasn’t true.

Which part I should believe was where the divide lay, and I wasn’t certain which line to cross.

I ached to call him. To see him. To be with him. But I had to get past all of this stuff messing with my head first. He was right. There was so much more to my accusations than just asking why he had bought the car. He wasn’t wrong in knowing an admission would only lead to persecution.

So I busied myself getting ready for a slow day at work. I glanced at my phone and resisted the urge to call Jeremy the entire time.

I left early and took my time walking to work. I avoided any thoughts of where I should be right now. Tiffany’s wasn’t a name I wanted to think about, or walk past.

The office was unusually quiet. Tomorrow, I was scheduled to hear back from the investors but today Hunter was gone and my plate was surprisingly empty. I had all kinds of time to think.

Great.

I spent the day pondering the situation with Jeremy and trying to figure out his motives. Going over and over our conversation in my head my thoughts always paused on his wrecked expression as I rode away in the cab.

The text I received from Lily didn’t help matters any.

She’d been MIA all week. She had left to go back to France last Sunday and the text I received from her yesterday said she and Preston were seeking alternative help in Paris. I’d texted her back asking for details and asking about her job. Her reply was short, telling me she had to give them one last chance and if it didn’t work, she was ending it for the final time.

Von Furstenberg Fashions was headquartered in France, whereas the House of Monroe was headquartered in New York. The fact that she was staying in Paris as long as she was made me wonder what she was doing about her job.

Lily’s text today asked me if I had plans to go to the Hope Gala at Capitale tonight. No, I didn’t and as far as I knew, neither did Jeremy, but I was certain I knew who did and her name wasn’t one I wanted to speak of ever again. I couldn’t talk about what had happened yet between Jeremy and me, so I ignored Jamie’s calls and kept my texts with Lily brief. I’d tell her the whole story but not today.

By the time five o’clock came, I was ready to run out of the office. When I got home to my quiet apartment, I wanted to scream. Instead I paced back and forth, wishing Mrs. Bardot was home or Lily was around. I settled on Jamie, but got his voice mail.

By nine that night, I didn’t know what I was going to say but I knew I couldn’t leave things the way I had with Jeremy. My mind had settled and the shock had faded. With the fog clear, the truth was, I didn’t really believe he was using me.

His feelings were real.

I knew they were.

I mean, come on, I had felt them to my core.

No one could fake emotions like that.

Yes, he had done something that would hurt my father, but in no way was he trying to hurt me. Now that I had worked through how I felt, I was ready to sit down with him and discuss what had happened calmly.

I sucked in a deep breath of the cool night air and hailed a cab. I thought about texting Jeremy that I was on my way but I was certain his naturally brooding nature would engage and I’d have to break that wall down to even get in the door.

My prince had a brooding side.

Not that I blamed him.

I should have trusted him enough to have calmly listened to his explanation before I jumped to such despicable conclusions.

If I was honest with myself, I felt a little sick about my own behavior and wished I could take it back. After all, I loved Jeremy and yet I had assumed the worst.

What kind of woman does that?

With a trembling hand, I knocked on his door. No answer. I thought I’d come early enough that he wouldn’t have left for his nightly club check. Perhaps, he like me couldn’t stand sitting around. Or maybe he had a function after all. I thought about pulling out my phone and checking Page Six but thought better of it.

I didn’t want to go in uninvited after how I’d left things yesterday, so I went back down and sat on the stoop. The night air was cold and I was thankful I had pulled out my warmer coat before I left.

People passed, walking their dogs, jogging, and even carrying groceries home in the later hours of the night. But it wasn’t them I was watching. I spent my time going over and over my cruel accusations and I felt more and more sorry for the way I had reacted. For the way I had treated Jeremy.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when something caused me to look at the stopped cab in front of me. Jeremy stepped out, wearing a tuxedo, and through the open door I spotted Jamie inside.

What the hell?

I stood up and I knew the moment he caught sight of me.

His eyes narrowed a fraction and his mouth tightened slightly, yet I still noticed his hesitation, and I had to close my eyes to will back the burn of tears prickling there.

I knew he was standing in front of me before I felt the warm breath of my name from his lips. “Phoebe,” he sighed, and I heard the harshness in his tone.

But when I opened my eyes, there was nothing hard about him. All I saw was his sweet face. And everything about him seduced me—from his closeness, to the smell of his skin, even the familiarity of his soft breathing. It had been only a day and I longed for those things to be back in my life.

I didn’t want another to pass without him.

He was dressed warmly. As if he’d been outside for a while. Up close, I could see his hair sticking wildly out of his knit hat. His wool coat was open, as was his tux jacket, and as my eyes slid down, I noticed small red splotches on his white shirt. My eyes darted to his face. I wanted to say I saw lipstick on his lips but I couldn’t be certain. I did however know without a doubt that there was a slight bruising below his eye near his cheekbone, and I rubbed my fingers across it. “Where have you been?” I asked softly.

He gently took my hand and lowered it. “Nowhere worth mentioning.”

I could smell the alcohol on his breath and knew he’d been drinking. I was standing on a step. He was on the ground. We were face-to-face. Eye to eye. That’s when I noticed it. The blank canvas he wore and it wasn’t from the alcohol. My heart thudded in my chest as I tried to ignore it. I’d seen it before. “Why was Jamie with you?” I pushed on.

He heaved a heavy sigh. “I had to take care of something and he came along with me.”

“Lars?” I questioned. Somehow as soon as I saw Jamie, I knew that’s where they’d gone.

He nodded but said nothing.

I, in turn, had nothing to say to that either. Concern started to mount. He wasn’t being his normal self. Okay, we’d had a fight but he was completely disconnected from me right now. I couldn’t stand it. “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Can we talk?”

His eyes seemed so dark as he took me in. I bit nervously on my lip, not certain if he was ready to talk to me. When he offered his hand, I exhaled softly and took it. His warm skin practically sizzled as it wrapped around my hand but he didn’t hold it with the possessiveness he always had. My pulse was zooming as he led me up the stairs to his loft with such uncertainty. His mood was completely unreadable.

Guilt hailed down on me. I shouldn’t have left him there last night. I should have stayed and talked this out. I had done what I asked him to never do to me—walked away.

From the moment he opened the door his movements seemed so mechanical. He pulled his hat off and let it fall to the ground. And then he took his coat and tux jacket off and threw them on the stairs before his white shirt followed. I had already taken my coat off by the time he turned to help me and I handed him my coat instead. He promptly tossed it on top of his.

My chest rose and fell with the anxiety I was feeling. Silence swelled between us as he walked into the living room and I hesitantly followed.

Was this it?

Had I ruined everything by overreacting?

Once there, he motioned for me to sit on the couch and stood a good distance away from me in his slacks and plain white tee.

I drew my arms around myself as I sat, ignoring the pit in my stomach and telling myself this was going to be okay. That the distance between us would dissipate as soon as we talked.

“Are you cold?” Jeremy asked. “I can turn the heat up or make you a cup of tea.” His tone was despondent and he wouldn’t look at me. I feared that he’d already shut me out.

I shook my head and tried really hard to keep it together but my exterior shell was crumbling with the detachment he was exhibiting. “I’m sorry I left like I did yesterday. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have stayed, so we could talk things out.”

He didn’t raise his head to look at me but I heard him sigh heavily.

My heart lurched and my breathing stuttered. “Talk to me, Jeremy. Don’t do this. Don’t shut down,” I begged. I was desperate to snap him out of wherever he’d gone. I’d take the brooding, sardonic man any day over the empty shell that was standing before me.

At my pleading words, he lifted his eyes to mine. I saw a glimpse of the fire in them I knew so well, the intensity I’d come to need, but there was also a dulled edge to him that scared the living shit out of me. “I’m not sure there’s anything left to say.”

I drew in a breath. “Please Jeremy, just tell me why you bought my father’s car. Explain to me why you would have done something like that when you told me you had let that animosity go?”

He sat down on the chair and rubbed his hands on his pants. He stared at me, his eyes pleading in a way they never had.

I was shaking and frankly, I was terrified. It was what they were pleading for that made me panicky.

His voice was hard. “I told you why last night.”

I wanted to shake him. Was this it? Was it my choice to accept what he’d done and if I couldn’t then what? Then we were through? Well, I didn’t accept that. He needed to fight for me more than that. With a shaky voice I said, “I love you, Jeremy. I want to be able to move past this. But you have to explain to me what was going on in your head.”

He scrubbed at his jaw, which was covered in stubble.

I was losing him.

“Look at me,” I demanded. “Are we over?”

His voice hardened even more. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“No, goddamn it, it’s not. I’m here because I want you to fight for me. Tell me what was going through your head when you bought that goddamned car. Make me understand you,” I yelled.

Something must have snapped inside him because he seemed to inflate right in front of me. He squared his shoulders and looked straight at me when he said, “I need to start from the beginning.”

A glimmer of hope bloomed inside me. “That’s okay.”

He gave me an impassive look. “Some of this you know, some I never fully explained. I was eighteen when my mother first told me who my father was, and what he’d done. Why the fuck she bothered, I still don’t know. I’d grown up thinking I’d had no father, so why tell me when it no longer mattered?”

He stopped as if waiting for me to answer but the question wasn’t meant for me. I knew that.

“It hit me hard. I was at an age when I wasn’t really an adult but I felt like I was. I demanded she tell me everything, but she wouldn’t and it fucking pissed me off.”

I gave him a reassuring nod.

He practically spat the words. “She said she couldn’t bear to. Yet, she told me just enough to make me dangerous. She told me the names of the four men who were involved with his get-rich scheme and that he’d done it to make our lives better. Well, fuck that. He didn’t even come close. So yeah, I knew the guys’ names that had been a part of his plan and then I had to see them every summer while they tooled around in their wealth. Your father was one of those guys and every time I saw him, he made my skin crawl.”