My apartment is beautiful, but it feels empty. I feel empty. Around an hour into the flight, the tears stopped and I fell asleep. I was one of those weird girls who smelled her shirt because it made me feel closer to him. When I got off the plane, Tristan had scheduled a car service to pick me up. I couldn’t help but think if it were Taylor, she would’ve been there. Tomorrow morning, we have a face-to-face meeting scheduled, so it’s not a huge deal.
I walk around and put some things away. Giving myself a moment to absorb my new home, I sit on the couch and take it all in. The furniture is modern and comfortable. Everything screams upscale, from the cherry floors to granite counters. It has exposed wood beams in the vaulted ceilings and the light paint colors make it feel airy. I open up the windows and inhale the salty sea air. The breeze blows and I let the curtains flap as I walk around into the next room.
Entering the master bedroom, my jaw drops. It has two French doors that open onto a deck. I go out there and hold on to the wrought iron railing. The metal is cool even in the warmer temperature. Going back into the room I look at the huge king size bed that sits against the wall. There’s a beautiful fireplace tucked in the corner of the room with light-colored stones that stand out against the deep grains of the wood flooring. As much as I want to love it, it could be a cardboard box for all I care.
I try to make myself feel happy. My choices have consequences and moving here means I had to sacrifice my relationship with Jackson. I knew this, now I need to dust myself off and live. Tomorrow I meet Tristan and we begin getting some staff hired. I need to focus on the task at hand and worry about my lack of a love life later—if that’s even possible.
The sun is just now starting to set since I’m three hours behind New York. So while it feels like eleven p.m., it’s really only eight here. I see a very early night in my future.
I hop in the shower to wash off the plane and airport smells. When I get out, I throw my hair up in a bun and put on one of Jackson’s t-shirts I stole. I feel like I ran a marathon. Even with sleeping on the plane, my entire body is worn out.
Closing my eyes, I sink into the plush sofa, wishing I had someone to hold me close. If I try hard enough I can feel his arms wrap around me, blanketing me with his love and protection. Pulling my shirt up I inhale again, wanting to smell his cologne, but already the smell is fading.
My phone lights up and I smile seeing a text from Jackson on my screen.
Jackson: Did you know a female ferret would die if it goes into heat and doesn’t find a man to satisfy her?
Me: Good thing I’m not a ferret.
Jackson: If you need some satisfaction, I’m right here, baby. I’d be on my plane before you finish talking.
Me: I’m not surprised.
Jackson: You know I’m happy to be of service. I’ve been known to be equated to God by someone a few times.
Me: She must’ve been confusing you with someone else.
Jackson: Take it back.
I laugh at the easy banter we have via text message.
Me: Did I bruise your ego?
Jackson: I’m going to bruise your ass if you don’t take that shit back.
Me: I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Reception is really bad here.
Jackson: Funny, I’ll be sure to hold off your orgasm the next time. Or maybe I won’t let you come at all.
I begin to respond but I can’t type the words. There won’t be a next time. Unless I pack up my things and leave right now. And there’s a huge part of me that wants to, but that would mean losing what I love to do. Back to square one.
In time, I know everything will fade. The memories, the pain, and eventually our love will cease to exist. It’s reality and no matter how hard I fight, our separation in distance will cause a fault in our relationship. I relax into the sofa and hold on to the last touch we shared, hoping we’ll find our way back together again. As the exhaustion overtakes me, I close my eyes and see him there in my dreams, waiting with open arms.
“Catherine?” I hear someone calling. “Catherine, are you okay?” I hear a deep baritone voice and open my eyes to a man standing in my living room.
Why is it so damn bright?
Who the hell is in my house?
I leap off of the sofa and shuffle backwards.
His hands fly up and he backs away. “Sorry to scare you, but the door was unlocked. I’m Tristan.”
“Oh my God,” I grab my throat and focus on breathing. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“I called five times and got a little worried that you didn’t get here. So I came to check on you this morning. I knocked and then when the door opened, I got nervous,” he says slowly lowering his arms.
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“You should really lock the door at night,” he chides as I rub my chest trying to get my heart rate back to normal.
“I don’t know if I should thank you or punch you.”
“I’d rather the first option if I get a choice.”
Tristan smiles and I give myself a second to look at him. He’s tall, lean, and has dark brown hair. His eyes are a lighter brown than mine and his smile is mesmerizing. It’s obvious that he takes care of himself by the way his clothes fit. The muscles on his arms are impressive. Tristan moves with grace as he looks around the apartment.
“Wow, this place is way better than where I live,” he muses.
What time is it?
“Am I late to our meeting?”
“No, I was just worried.”
I grab for my phone. Sure enough, I have nine missed calls—five from Tristan, one from Ashton, and three from Jackson. The men in my life apparently don’t think I can take care of myself, and one of them doesn’t even know me.
“Sorry, I was beat. I must’ve passed out. Thank you for checking on me though.”
He smiles warmly, “Taylor called me and gave me very strict instructions and informed me if I screwed up she’d make sure I paid for it.”
A smile paints across my face as I imagine my cute, little, Midwestern friend threatening Tristan.
“She’s all talk, but I appreciate it. I’m gonna get changed real quick. We can grab some food and then get to work.”
“I’ll meet you in the courtyard,” he says as he heads out of the apartment.
Looking myself over in the mirror, I’m deeply embarrassed. This definitely wasn’t the impression I was hoping to give. I have the lines from the throw pillow across my cheek, my hair is knotted and sticking up in random directions. Quickly, I brush my teeth and hair. Throwing on my capris and a cute top, I hope for ‘gym cute’ or maybe ‘hobo chic,’ because right now all I see is ‘hot mess.’
Tristan takes me to the restaurant down the street. We grab some coffee and a few things we can eat in the office. The drive from my apartment into the L.A. office is around forty minutes, but I was adamant that I wanted to be close to the ocean and not living in the city.
Once we reach the office, we settle in and start to make a plan. Some of the clients we already secured will be meeting with us this week. There’s a lot to do to ensure the space is ready. Tristan already ordered some of the furniture and it’ll deliver in the next few days.
“So, how did someone as young as you get so high up?” Tristan asks as we start to put some files away.
“Well, I busted my ass. I started as an intern while I was still in college, then I got hired full time. From there I made sure I was always on top of my game. I worked extra hours, helped without being asked, and became invaluable. At least that was my plan.”
“I’d like to be a publicist after I prove myself.”
“I’m sure you will.” I smile at how he was able to let me know his goals without being uncomfortable about it. “I had a fantastic assistant in New York and she’s now running accounts on her own. I don’t believe in holding anyone back.” As the words slide out, I’m brought back to Jackson. One day I’ll be able to talk without somehow circling back to him.
“Must suck though, not really having time for anything other than work.”
“I made time for friends and life outside of work. But yes, being a workaholic comes at a price.”
A very great price for me.
“So there is a guy?” Tristan’s voice rises in surprise.
“There was. What about you? Anyone special?”
“Are you asking me out?” he asks smirking, and then laughs.
I blink repeatedly and shake my head. “No, no, I was—”
“Catherine, relax. I’m kidding. You’re missing a key part to my engine, if you know what I mean.”
“Huh?”
Tristan pauses waiting for me to catch up.
“Oh!” I say as it clicks. “Sorry, the coffee and time difference are slowing me a bit. Well, he’s a very lucky guy. Have you been together long?”
“Two years, and I’m sure this is going to floor you, but he’s an aspiring actor.”
I sit here enjoying how I can feel comfortable around him and not have to worry about a sexual harassment suit. It was one of the things Taylor warned me about, since there were plenty of times I had to have her come over late at night, or we were traveling alone.
“Is this something I’m going to hear a lot?”
“This is L.A., honey. You’re going to be shocked when you don’t hear it. Now tell me about this guy you gave up.”
The next week passes without incident. Tristan and I work extremely well together. He’s funny, smart, witty, and it’s as if we’re lifelong friends. Ashton and he spoke on the phone last night and she’s in love with him. I’m pretty sure he feels the same.
Today the rest of the office starts work, and I’m both excited and nervous. There’s a lot we need to do and I heard from Sean letting me know they’d be coming out later this week to see the set up.
“Cat, there’s a delivery for you,” Tristan says strolling through the door.
“He’s never going to stop,” I say more to myself than anyone.
Sure enough, Tristan is carrying in a large photo wrapped in brown paper.
“Is this from my favorite sailor?” he asks, trying to peel the paper back.
I slap his hand and start to open the gift. “Probably. He’s been texting me and calling, but with the time difference it’s really hard.”
I rip the paper off and start laughing so hard I have to hold my stomach.
“What is that?”
Jackson sent a huge photo of my time from the obstacle course. However, in true Jackson fashion he added one question across the top: REMATCH?
“It’s a long story, but let’s just say Super SEAL lost and apparently isn’t over it.”
I pick up the phone and dial his number.
“Hello, baby.” Jackson’s deep voice vibrates through the line and I fight the urge to sigh.
“Hello, Muffin.”
Jackson chuckles, “Oh, we’re going to play that way?”
“Whatever do you mean, my dear?” I say playing coy.
“So what do I owe the honor of your phone call, Kitty?”
I purse my lips at his jab toward the nickname I hate so much.
“I got your present,” I say looking at it while Tristan tilts his head as if he’ll find some hidden meaning in the photo.
“Did you now?”
“I did.”
Jackson clears his throat and muffles the phone, “I only have a minute, babe. I’m about to head into a meeting.”
My lips turn down. This is the exact problem we’ll face if we tried for anything other than friendship. “It’s fine. I have a really busy day too. My client is due here in a few minutes.”
“I miss you,” Jackson says and my chest tightens.
Tristan comes back in and taps his finger on his wrist letting me know we have to go. I pull the phone from my ear, “Okay.”
“Okay?” He sounds instantly pissed.
“Not you. I was telling Tristan okay,” I explain.
“Who the fuck is Tristan?” Jackson’s voice no longer holds any tenderness.
“Jealous much?” I taunt him playfully. After a second of his silence I realize he’s upset. “Relax, Muff. He’s my assistant.”
“You hired a guy?” Jackson doesn’t sound any less pissed than before.
I huff and organize the file on my desk. “I did. And if I remember correctly you have women who work for you.”
“Yeah, but they’re old or ugly.”
“Danielle isn’t either of those,” I gently remind him.
“Is Tristan,” Jackson sneers his name, “old or ugly?”
“Well, he’s definitely not old,” I joke and he growls.
Jackson smothers the phone but I can still hear him. “Hold the fuck on, dude. I’m dealing with a pain in the ass on the other side of the country.”
“Jackson,” I call but he doesn’t answer.
“Jackson!” I yell and I hear the phone clear.
“You can hold on too.”
“Jackson we’re not together and I don’t have time to ex—”
“Don’t. It’s been a week and a half, Catherine. I’m fucking miserable and you’re hanging out with some tool.”
I roll my eyes as Tristan taps his foot letting me know I really need to go. “As much as I’d love to argue with you, I have to go. Apparently I’m late. Thank you for my present and you can forget about any kind of rematch. I’ll never run that shit again. I love you, always,” I say and I hear him grumble as I disconnect the call.
Tristan smirks playfully when I approach. “That was like watching a one-sided tennis match. I can only imagine what you just did to him.”
I jab him with my elbow and we start walking to the conference room where our first Hollywood client is waiting. “He can handle it.”
Tristan elbows me back. “Muff?”
I laugh at how someone who doesn’t know Jackson or Mark would hear that word and insinuate what it means. “Not that kind of muff. Come on, we’ve got clients to sign.”
After the meeting, I feel terrible about the way I handled the call. The entire time I wondered how I’d feel if the shoe was on the other foot. If he walked away from me and then taunted me about another woman, I’d be hurt.
I grab my phone and call, but it goes to voicemail.
“Hey, it’s me. I’m sorry about before. Thank you for the gift. Give me a call when you get a chance if you want to talk. Miss you.”
I set the phone down and feel even worse.