Chapter 31 - Max
When the grey light of dawn starts peeking through my blinds, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stretch my neck from side to side.
I haven’t slept at all. I tossed and turned all night, thinking of Naomi’s face before she left. It was red, blotchy, and just as beautiful as always. Her eyes, though, they killed me. She looked as betrayed as I felt.
I did that to her. I made her feel that way. I’m the reason that she was in pain.
And for what?
Nothing makes sense. She’s right—why would she lie about her mother? I’ve seen Jackie. I know she’s sick. Was that just a coincidence that worked out well for their little plan?
I stand up, stalking to the living room and taking the private investigator’s file out of my briefcase. I stare at the yellow folder, gritting my teeth and taking a deep breath.
I flick through it, reading everything carefully.
It’s all there. Her mother’s illness, the foreclosure on the house, her student loans. Why would she have financial troubles if her father owns a multi-million dollar corporation? Even if he was going through financial problems, which would explain the acquisition, he would still have had enough money to pay for her college fees ten years ago.
It just doesn’t make sense.
Unless his company is in worse shape than he let on? Maybe that’s why he wanted this sale. He just wants to get rid of his company before it goes under.
Another voice gets louder at the back of my mind. I ignore it, but it keeps saying the same thing over and over.
What if Naomi was telling the truth?
There are so many things that don’t make sense. My parents pushing for the marriage, her initial refusal. Her mother’s illness, her own financial troubles.
None of those things would be here if this was some master plan on the part of her father!
I shut the file, chucking it onto the couch and running my fingers through my hair. The sting of betrayal is raw in my chest. It feels exactly like it did when Farrah left me after my injury.
The ground has fallen away from under me, exactly how it did when I lost my football career, my girlfriend, and my entire future.
Once again, I’m a ship without rudder, being tossed around in the storm. I’m just hanging on for dear life.
And the only thing I can think of is Naomi. Her laugh, her eyes, her touch. The taste of her, the smell of her. The way she made me laugh, and the way my apartment felt like home whenever she was here.
She made me better.
She made me happy.
And now she’s gone. I want to believe that she betrayed me. The black hole in my heart wants to believe that she’s just like the rest of them.
But is she?
I pull on a tee-shirt and jeans and throw on a jacket. I grab the file, shuffling through it for Jerry Irving’s address. I need to talk to him. I need to hear it from his mouth, and look him in the eye when he denies it.
Man to man.
I ignore the voice that tells me Naomi’s innocent in all this, and I focus on the burning anger in my chest. That’s the only way I’ll get to the bottom of this. I need to ignore my weaknesses, and focus on the truth, no matter how painful it might be.
Right now, seething, hot anger is giving me more strength than the thought that I’ve just lost the only woman I’ve ever truly loved.
I jump in my black Mercedes and punch in Jerry’s office into my GPS. I glance at the clock—it’s not even 7am yet. I sigh.
I need to go. I need to get out of my apartment and I need to get to the bottom of this. I put the car in gear and follow the GPS’s metallic voice as she guides me through the streets. When I find the office building, I do a lap around the block and find somewhere to park.
The streets are still quiet. I take a deep breath and step out of my car. I spot a cafe near the entrance to the office building and check my watch.
Just after 7am.
I get myself a coffee, finding a seat near the window. My knee bounces up and down as I wait. I sip my coffee slowly, never taking my eyes off the entrance to Jerry’s building.
It’s nearly quarter to eight before I see Jerry walk in. He checks his watch as he steps into the revolving door. I watch him disappear and my heart rate jumps.
My coffee is cold, but I still sit there for a few minutes and take another sip. It tastes bitter and burnt, but I hadn’t noticed until now. The coffee shop is busier than it was when I walked in, with men and women in suits bustling in and out constantly.
I feel out of place in my old tee-shirt and unshaven face. I’m sure my face shows how little I slept last night, but none of that matters.
I take a deep breath. I’m not going to get any answers sitting here.
I chuck the rest of my cold coffee into the trash and walk towards the office building. The revolving doors suck me in, and I scan the wall for Jerry’s company’s name.
Irving, Co. Ltd. is on the seventeenth floor. I press the elevator button and glance over at the suit standing next to me. He’s holding a coffee mug in one hand, and glances at an expensive watch on the other. The elevator dings open, and we step in together.
He looks me up and down before staring at his phone. I watch him scroll through dozens of emails as he tries his best to ignore me. He gets off on the twelfth floor, and I take a deep breath as I lean against the wall. It’s unbearable to be so close to someone who looks that put together when I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams. When the doors open on the seventeenth floor, I’m greeted by a sleek glass partition and an all-white reception desk. I walk towards the pretty blonde receptionist and clear my throat.
“I’m here to see Jerry Irving.”
“Is he expecting you?” She asks, looking me up and down.
“Just tell him Max Westbrook is here to see him.” Her eyes widen slightly at my name, and she nods. She presses a few buttons on the phone and mutters into it, hanging it up and nodding to me.
“Follow me, please.”
My heart thumps as we make our way down the hallway. It’s lined with more glass offices and conference rooms. Nowhere to hide in Jerry’s company. That’s ironic, considering what he’s just put Naomi up to.
Finally, at the far end of the building, the receptionist gestures to a door. The blinds are drawn and I can’t see inside.
“Thanks,” I say.
“He said to go on in.”
I nod. She hovers for a moment, and then walks away. With a deep breath, I push open the door and step through.
Jerry’s eyebrows shoot up when he sees me. I wish I’d worn a suit, or at least shaved this morning. I must look like hell.
“Max,” he says, extending his hand. “To what do I owe the honor?”
I shake his hand and drop it as soon as I can. I resist the urge to wipe my hand on my pants. He gestures for me to sit. I lower myself stiffly as he does, his wide oak desk separating us.
“I’m here to talk about your daughter,” I say.
His eyebrows shoot up and then draw together. He opens his mouth and shakes his head slightly.
“I’m sorry?”
“Your daughter, Naomi.”
He clears his throat, staring at me. He glances down at my clothing once more, and his eyes fill with concern. “You must be mistaken, Max. I don’t have a daughter.”
Alarm bells start ringing in my head. What does he mean, he doesn’t have a daughter? The voice at the back of my mind is screaming at me—she was telling the truth.
But I’m not ready to believe it. He’s bluffing.
“Cut the shit, Jerry. I know you set me up with her.”
Jerry leans forward, splaying his hands on his desk.
“Max,” he says. “I’m sorry, you’ve been misinformed. I don’t have any kids.”