Toxic (36 page)

I grabbed his hand. “I’m so happy for you.”

He squeezed it back. “But don’t worry. Christmas in the Hamptons is still on.”

I started to cry again at the thought of the holidays without Jeremy.

Jamie winced. “Where’s my fucking head. I’m such an asshole.”

“It’s okay,” I said and leaned my head against the window.

We drove the rest of the way to my apartment in silence.

The traffic was light and when we got to my place, I got out and turned back to him. “I think I need to go in alone.”

“Are you sure? At least let me walk you up.”

“No, I need to be alone.”

“Lindsay and I can bring dinner over.”

I shook my head no. “Honestly, I just need some time alone.”

“I’ll call you then.”

“You don’t have to check on me.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Okay,” I conceded.

I was in a state of shock as I walked through the lobby.

Had that all really just happened?

“Miss St. Claire, Miss St. Claire,” Jack called.

I turned around.

Jack was holding up an envelope. “A messenger brought this by last week but you haven’t been home since. I was given strict instructions this was only to go into your hands by me or I would have slipped it under your door.”

The note.

With trembling fingers, I took it. “Thank you, Jack.”

“Are you all right?” he asked.

I nodded.

As soon as I walked into my apartment, I shoved off my mother’s suit jacket and sat down to open the note. It read:

Phoebe,

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone but unlike the last time, I’ll be back for you.

I have some things to take care of and there are some things you should know. First and foremost, Dawson was behind the sex club leak to Page Six. He’s been following me and I’m not certain, but he might have someone monitoring my calls. I met with him this morning and my suspicions peaked when he knew about the sex tape, and a number of other things only you and I would know about, like your father’s car.

More important, I fear he’s trying to take over TSC and make it look like me.

That’s why I am going to seek the advice of my father concerning my next steps. Listen, Dawson has made some threats to expose TSC’s vulnerability if I don’t stay away from you. So I think it’s best if we don’t talk until I get back. I don’t want him to know what I’m doing and I’m not sure to what extent he’s done.

Right now Dawson needs to think he’s won so that he’ll back off from whatever he’s up to. Let him believe that. I have to figure out what to do to help you. It’s my fault you weren’t able to secure the investors for Sinners.

I’ll make this right and be back as soon as possible. We have a lot to work out when I return. I’m sorry for the way I treated you last night and this morning. I just need you to believe in me.

Jeremy

Heartbroken, I fell back onto the sofa and clutched the note to my aching chest. Everything I needed to know was written on this one page. Why hadn’t I found the strength to come home like Jeremy assumed I would have? He saw me as a strong, confident woman who wouldn’t let a man bring her down, when in reality I was a weak girl who didn’t know who she was because she’d spent so much time trying to be who she wasn’t.

I blanched at the ugly truth—it wasn’t jealousy that tore us apart; it was lack of faith when the heart mattered most.

Mistrust was just so toxic.

Stupid, stupid girl.

Not Again

The Rainbow Room.

That’s where I ended up.

Feeling like I might suffocate if I stayed in my apartment one more minute, I needed air and headed to Central Park. But when I couldn’t bear the bitter wind on my face any longer, somehow I ended up in Rockefeller Center.

There’s a big glass Nintendo store there that’s been around for years but I had never set foot inside. Today I did. I just wanted to see what it was like.

Afterward, I thought I’d stop in Dean & Deluca, but to my surprise it was no longer located on the corner where I remembered it. Instead I stood near the rink and watched as people twirled around on the ice.

Even immersed in a crowd of people, I had never felt so alone. Tourists milled around drinking their drinks and talking about their day, all the while oblivious to my efforts at trying to figure them out. What made them tick? Love, lust, greed, passion, or need?

Actually the truth was that I no longer cared.

Twice, I’d lost the love of my life and that was enough for a lifetime. With a cleansing inhale, I sipped my fourth gin martini and stood and stared at the view of Manhattan laid out beneath me. Millions of shimmering lights blanketed the city that never slept. And behind one of those itty-bitty lights was the love of my life.

I shut my eyes and imagined everything that had happened over the past weeks playing out differently. And that Jeremy and I were out on one of our subway roulette excursions having fun.

I know he’d never been to the SixtyFive Bar at the Rainbow Room. I’d told him I wanted us to go. He needed to see this spectacular panoramic view that wrapped around the terrace. At night, there was nothing like it.

And tonight as I took it in, I let myself pretend for a few short minutes that he was here. It felt good to imagine him behind me, his hands on my hips, his breath on my neck, pulling me close as we took in the impressive view.

“Jesus Christ! What are you doing out here?” a familiar voice grumbled from behind me as an arm hooked me and set me on my feet.

My eyes snapped open. I hadn’t noticed I’d acted recklessly and hoisted myself up. “Logan,” I answered, surprised to see him.

He took my elbow and dragged me inside. “It’s fucking freezing out there and you’re wearing practically nothing. What were you thinking?”

I glanced down at my mother’s sheer blouse and my lack of camisole beneath it. It was cream and the black bra I’d worn under it was lit up like a neon sign. “I left my jacket somewhere, but have no idea where,” I giggled.

Logan grabbed my hand. “Come on. I’m taking you home.”

I pointed my finger at him. “Oh no, no, no, no. I’m not going back there tonight.”

“Are you drunk?”

I swayed in my mother’s shoes as I pinched my fingers together. “I might have had a little too much.”

He shook his head. “Jamie told me what happened. I’m sorry. You should have called one of us instead of going out alone.”

I thrust my empty glass at him. “Now that you’re here, how about you join me.”

Logan grabbed my hand. “I’d love to have a drink with you. Come back to my place and I’ll break out my finest whiskey.”

Sly. He was a sly devil. Really good-looking guy. With hair the color of wet sand that always spiked forward and hazel eyes that sometimes looked brown, sometimes green, he reminded me of that guy from
Gossip Girl
, the one whose father went to jail for embezzlement. Tonight though, he looked especially attractive in his gray tailored suit and unusually smooth face.

I glanced around the room. “What will your date think?”

He huffed in annoyance. “My grandfather just left. I met him here for dinner to discuss some issues he’s having with me.”

I raised a curious brow. “Care to discuss? I know all about trust-fund issues.” I winked.

I wasn’t interested in him romantically and he wasn’t interested in me. We’d been playing this cat and mouse game since that summer in the Hamptons when we shared a house. It was after that summer I began to notice he never attached himself to anyone and being my once naturally curious self about human emotions, I wondered why he never had a woman at his side.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “No. But I won’t drill you or tear you to pieces for going out if you promise to never do this again.”

While I wanted to argue, he was right. It was time to face it. I’d done something stupid and I knew I wouldn’t be doing it again. I pouted nonetheless. “I promise.”

He smirked. “Good. Now walk with me or I’m carrying you out of here, Phoebe. Your choice.”

Indignation had me walking. “When did you get such a long stick up your ass?”

The elevator was only a few steps away and he pressed the button. “You shouldn’t be out drinking alone at night.”

Sobering, I shook myself out of my stupidity and gave a little huff. “Yes, you’re right. We already agreed on that. It’s just been a really rough day.”

“I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

Feeling the need to hug someone, I wrapped my arms around him and as soon as I did, the ache in my chest intensified and I couldn’t stop myself from crying into his shoulder. “Why? Why didn’t I believe in him?”

Logan stiffly wrapped his arms around me in return. He wasn’t a hugger or someone you sought out when you needed comfort. He was tough, and strong, and protective, but the gushy stuff wasn’t for him. I knew this was killing him. “How about I take you over to Jamie’s?” he asked.

I glanced at my watch and snorted in the most unladylike way. “It’s early still and he and his mother just mended fences. It’s probably family game night and I’d hate to intrude.”

He smirked. “Right. I think that ended years ago. But in case it hasn’t, I don’t think he’ll mind.”

“But I do.”

“Then my place it is.”

I shrugged. Logan’s was fine but I just couldn’t face Jamie and his lectures right now.

The last of the fallen leaves scattered across the pavement in the wind. Logan’s place was a ritzy, white-glove building directly across the street from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. His grandfather owned the building and had insisted that Logan live there. Logan, of course, hadn’t been the one to tell me that. He never told anyone anything. His grandfather’s housekeeper’s sister was Lily’s manicurist and around here, that’s how news traveled fast. Sad as it sounded, it was true.

Surprisingly, Logan wasn’t that bad at taking care of a drunk. He made me drink two glasses of water, down a couple of Advil, and then tucked me into a bed in his spare bedroom. In the dark, I struggled with what had happened today.

But I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew the sun was coming up and I awoke with a stark realization.

It was my wedding day.

Or it was supposed to have been anyway.

It felt like a common theme in my life.

But this time, the sadness I felt was almost debilitating. The hole in my heart seemed to have grown bigger and deeper overnight. My stomach knotted as I let myself be engulfed by my grief.

Emotionally, I was a wreck. How was I going to recover from this?

Squinting, I looked outside at that great big ball of yellow fire and out of nowhere, a well of hope billowed up through me. Maybe, just maybe Jeremy would remember what today was too and when he did, he’d want to contact me. The thought had me jumping up and cursing this damn pencil skirt, which was hindering my movement.

I’d left my cell phone home and needed to get to it. Sliding on the red-toed devils, which were officially never gracing my feet again, I clumsily made my way into Logan’s kitchen. There was a note on the counter telling me he’d gone for a run and would grab coffees. I wrote on the bottom of it—
Thank you for last night but I had to get home.

My phone had no messages.

There were no notes.

The doorman said no one had stopped by.

Alone, I walked into my bathroom, my hope slowly melting away with each step. My face was swollen and puffy as I looked in the mirror. Not really caring, I stripped out of the clothes I planned to burn as soon as I lit my next fire and took a deep breath. I could do this—move forward. With a little bit of hope that what we had was real, I could.

With the water steaming hot, I stepped in and cleaned myself up as best I could with the mood I was in. Still, I wanted to look presentable in case Jeremy came by. I went with black leggings and a long cream sweater that had a deep V. I usually wore a turtleneck under it but today I slid on one of Jeremy’s white undershirts he’d left in the drawer I’d given him.

I breathed in his scent and I knew I’d never wash it. Dressed, my hair back in a ponytail, I sat on my sofa next to my cell phone and waited, and waited, and waited.

By three, sadness started to wreck me and I called him. No answer. By seven a deep sadness consumed me and I called him again. No answer. By nine, sadness crippled me and I called him yet again. Still, no answer.

I stared down at my damn phone. Today was the day I was supposed to marry Jeremy. I was to be his and him mine. That would have happened if my own lack of trust hadn’t ruined everything. And with that hard, cold truth, what should have been the happiest day of my life was very likely one of the worst.

Tears clogged my throat as I tried to muster up the strength to go out but I couldn’t even do that. So I fell asleep crying because he never called, never texted, or never reached out in any way.

The familiar sharp stinging in my throat woke me up the next day. Those damn red lips wouldn’t leave me alone while I slept. I knew he didn’t leave me for Avery—or for anyone else—but the possibility that he might turn to her now was haunting me.

With a deep hole in my heart that I was certain would never heal, I heaved myself out of bed and slithered to the sofa, where my cell phone was beeping with unanswered calls.

Hope glimmered in my heart as I pushed the white button and my notifications scrolled through the screen. Too many to go through between Facebook notifications, work e-mails, personal e-mails, and texts, so I went directly to my phone icon and hit the missed calls button. Lily had called three times, Jamie twice, my mother once, and even Logan, but no Jeremy.

A beep alerted me to an incoming text but before I read it I hit the messages button to check for any that might be from him. None. The text was from Lily.

Lily: I’ll be back as soon as I can. And please call me before you look at Page Six.

Dread roiled in my belly as I ignored her request and grabbed for my laptop. I clicked in the address bar and typed PageSix.com. Immediately, the air seemed to expel from my lungs.

There were two photos side by side. One of Jeremy and Avery standing beside an older-looking man with glasses and a hat whom I’d never met but seen many times and the other of just the man himself. The caption read:
Elvis Costello plays Whitney Museum’s good-bye gala
.

I read the short accompanying article: “Elvis Costello played hit after hit at the Whitney Museum’s final gala at its Breuer building before it moves downtown. Museum director said the new Whitney would open in the spring of 2015. Accompanying board of directors member, Avery Lake, admitted she wept earlier from nostalgia, but then found Weinberg’s excitement infectious. Lake dazzled in a gown by designer and Whitney vice president Pamella Roland. When asked whose arm she’s been seen on lately, her lips were sealed.”

Looking closer at the photo, I noticed he wasn’t touching her in any way. Not that that meant anything but it made me feel better. Still, seeing that photo of the two of them hurt.

I felt like I was spinning, falling, going down that rabbit hole I refused to land in again. I’d been there, done that, and thank you very much but I didn’t want a redo.

Whether Jeremy ended up in Avery’s bed or not, I had to see him, to at least let him know that I never really gave up on him.

Stalkerlike qualities or not, I was going to find him and profess my love to him.

With shaking hands I found myself outside his door less than an hour later. I rang the bell. Waited. No answer. I knocked. Waited. No answer. I considered using my key but I knew it was wrong and besides, if he’d changed his locks already, finding that out would really kill me. So instead, I waited outside his door for three hours.

When hopelessness set in, I knew it was time to leave. But before I did, I pulled out the dried flower I’d saved all those years ago and left it with the note I’d written just before I left earlier and leaned it against his door. The note read:

Jeremy,

You gave this to me the first time we met on the beach so long ago. I’ve kept it with me as a reminder of the way our relationship began. I’m leaving it with you in hopes it reminds you of what we once shared.

I will always love you,

Phoebe X

Outside, on the streets of Tribeca, the air was frigid. No snow had fallen but it was coming. I could feel it in the air.

Ducking into a coffee shop to warm up, I sat down with my latte and called Jamie. He’d called me over and over and it was time I returned his calls. Besides, I was certain Logan would have ratted on me about the other night and I welcomed the ass-whipping he’d be giving me.

“Phoebs?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” I said.

“What the fuck? Do you think you could call me back?” he muttered.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed.

“No, I am. I know you’re having a rough time.”

My cup warmed my hands as I leaned against my phone cradled to my ear. “Hey, I need to know, have you talked to Jeremy?”

“No Phoebs, I haven’t. He won’t pick up.”

“I’m worried about him. He doesn’t really have anyone here to turn to.”

And I didn’t think he was turning to Avery.

I didn’t.

Jamie cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been trying but no luck.”

I sipped my drink. “Okay.”

“Hey, you know I’m here if you need me. Right?”

That made me smile. “I know. Just make sure you keep Jeremy close if he needs you. I won’t be upset.”

“Yeah, sure. No problem.”

Laughter from the table beside me bubbled up. “Where are you?” Jamie asked.