Chapter Fourteen

 

JAMES

“Cleo isn’t for sale,” the blonde woman says while darting a guilty look in Abby’s direction. “There are plenty of other cats up for adoption at the humane society. I’m sure your daughter, er…” Her head volleys back and forth between me and Garrett, who’s made himself comfortable on the recliner with Abby perched in his lap. The cat’s owners are sitting stiffly on the couch while Alex is busy playing maid and pouring cups of coffee all around.

“Cream? Sugar?” He gives my unexpected guests an imploring look. How can he act so calm when my life is crumbling around me?

First, Myra announces she’s leaving me, then she moves in with me and we end up striking up an affair. Now I’m pretty sure I’m at least half in love with her and, in a weird way, glad she resigned, except I have no idea how to tell her so. To top it off, she’s gone and hired this overzealous kid to take her place at the company. Who manages to dig up Simon’s owners, and damned if I want to give up the cat either.

How do I convince Myra to stay but not with Frost Inc.? Usually, I’m pretty astute when it comes to work relationships, yet I was blindsided when she tendered her resignation, although that might have been due to whatever happened before I tripped over the goat at Paynt’s wedding. And I already know I’m lousy at personal relationships, so this thing between us is probably doomed before it even gets started.

If I’m not careful, I’m going to be left with nothing but Alex, God help me.

“Cream, thank you,” the neighbor, who apparently lives three blocks east and another south, says.

“Everyone has a price,” I say, glancing at Myra. “What’s yours?” Now that we’ve slept together and my heart’s on the line, I’ve got to figure it out.

Myra drops her gaze to the cat. Or maybe she’s looking at my lap. Is she trying to tell me sex is her price? Hell, I can certainly arrange that. It’s no hardship. Well, actually, it’s most definitely a hardship. And it’s getting harder even as we play avoid-my-gaze while all these people sit around us.

“I told you, I’m not selling my cat.”

“Fine, take her,” I say, glancing down at the feline who’s glaring at me like I’ve insulted her. “What? They’re your owners.” She swishes her tail and extends her claws. I yelp as they dig into my thighs through my pajama pants.

The blonde woman stands and plucks the cat from my lap. I quickly—and hopefully casually—cover my bulge with my hands.

“Thank you,” she says, burying her face in Simon’s fur. I swear the cat is still giving me the stink eye.

“Uncle James,” Abby says, stomping her foot and crossing her arms. “How can you just give her up?”

I flap my good hand at the neighbor. “She isn’t mine,” I protest.

“She could be,” Abby states, and Myra arches her brow like she’s waiting for me to say something, only I have no earthly idea what she expects.

“Thank you for taking care of her for the last few days. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” Thrusting her nose in the air, Simon’s owner marches toward the front door, her husband rushing after her, throwing a longing look at the coffee cup Alex is holding out as if he expects the man to come back and take it.

After the door slams shut, Garrett says, “You’re an idiot.”

Who? What?

He shakes his head and addresses Abby. “You ready to go home?”

Her bottom lip quivers and she wraps her arms around herself. “Simon should stay with Uncle James. He needs her.”

“That’s not who he needs,” Garrett says. He stands and tosses her over his shoulder, tickling the back of her knee until she giggles. “Come on, let’s go over to Uncle Paynt’s to visit Spot. Something tells me that’s the perfect distraction.”

“Can we walk through that house again, too?”

Garrett shoots me a glance and I’m instantly suspicious. “What house?” I ask.

“Next to Uncle Paynt,” Abby quips.

“Chloe’s house?” Is Garrett thinking about moving into our brother’s neighborhood?

He grimaces and nods. “It’s a pain in the ass keeping a duck in an apartment in a high- rise building. And the house is on a lake, which is perfect for the duck. And weirdly, the duck and goat are BFFs. And why does it sound like we’re making this decision based on a duck?”

“Because we are,” Abby says, clapping her hands and grinning.

Garrett shakes his head. “So yeah, we’re thinking about taking the house off their hands.”

There is no reason I should feel anything but happiness for my brother as he takes the next step in the process of settling down and leaving bachelorhood behind. No reason at all. Why should I be annoyed that he and our other brother are going to be neighbors? Why does it matter that they’re probably going to have kids who will grow up as tightly knit as we all were? Still are. Well, they are, anyway. I’m the odd man out, even though my sister lives the farthest from all of us. If I’m honest, though, I know they’d all choose her over me, if they had to.

“Plus, as soon as Daddy and Erin get married, we’re gonna have a baby,” Abby adds.

“Well, it doesn’t happen quite that fast,” Garrett quickly says. “But yeah, we’ll probably start trying as soon as we’re married.” 

Myra presses her fingers to her lips, but it doesn’t hide her wistful smile. Wait a minute. Didn’t she tell Abby she wasn’t ready for kids? Was she lying? Does she want babies? I narrow my eyes and my vision blurs for a moment. I blink rapidly and when it clears, Myra’s there and she’s cradling a tiny human in her arms. It’s a little girl wrapped in what is clearly a homemade blanket—probably from my mother, no doubt—a thatch of dark hair on her head and Myra’s big blue eyes staring back at me. My God, the woman will make gorgeous children, no matter who the daddy is.

No matter who.

I blink rapidly until the vision disappears, and I see Garrett shaking his head again.

“All right, we’re out. See you all later.” He grabs the purple rolling suitcase Myra retrieved from upstairs, and with his daughter still hanging over his shoulder waving at us, he heads for the door.

“What a relief,” Alex says after he’s gone. “All those people were so loud.”

I stare at the kid as he sips surprisingly dark coffee. For some reason, I pegged him as a cream and sugar guy. A lot of cream and sugar.

“Are you ever going to get around to pouring me a cup?” My voice is gruff, but I can’t muster the desire to care.

“Oh, right. Sorry, boss.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He pours coffee into a ceramic teacup. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Cream. Just a li—” I sigh as he dumps probably a quarter cup of the white stuff into my coffee. He doesn’t even realize the snafu, handing me the pale concoction with a pleased smile on his face. Truthfully, at this point, I just need the caffeine. Speaking of needs, where the hell is Myra?

“You are my boss,” Alex says. “And I haven’t yet figured out a good nickname for you. I give everyone nicknames.”

“I’m pretty sold on James, actually. Mr. Frost, if you really want to change it up.”

He laughs like I’m joking.

“Where did Myra go?” I look around at what is suddenly an empty space. No cat, no Myra, no Abby, who’s far cuter and more amusing than I ever thought three-year-olds could be. She is three, isn’t she?

Alex nods at the staircase. “She just ran upstairs. I assume she’s getting ready for work.”

“Getting ready for work? Like she’s going into the office?”

“Well, sure. What would you expect her to do?”

“Stay here with me.” That’s what she’s supposed to do this week, until my doctor gives the all clear. Even if I keep insisting I’m fine, I don’t want her to leave me. Not even for the day. Besides, my memory of the night I was injured hasn’t returned, so clearly I’m not fully recovered. You know, besides the sprained wrist and broken ankle that are the reasons I can’t get into the office myself.

Alex waggles his eyebrows. “I bet you would. Unfortunately, your empire won’t run itself. We need to go in. There’s a staff meeting today where Myra’s going to formally introduce me to everyone, and then she has to show me how to order supplies. Plus, there’s the contract for that warehouse on the riverfront. She and I have to go through it together, to make sure I didn’t miss anything yesterday when I reviewed it.”

“You’re reviewing my contracts? Already?”

He nods, an eager puppy trying to please his owner. Good God, I cannot possibly work with this kid as my admin. I scrub my hand over my face and slam the scalding, too-creamy coffee.

“Why don’t you go on ahead? Myra will meet you at the office when she’s finished getting dressed.” And that will afford me a few moments to speak with her. I don’t yet know what I’ll say, but at the very least, I need to let her know I agree with her decision to leave the company. It’s definitely the right choice, if we’re going to allow our personal relationship to progress.

Even if she is leaving me with the unfailingly annoying Alex.

He shoots a glance at the stairs.

“I’m your boss,” I remind him. “You don’t need her permission. Go. Get out of here.”

He begins gathering coffee cups and placing them on the tray he’d brought out earlier. “Okay, let me just clean this up and—”

“Go.”

He jumps like I’ve electrocuted him. Yes, I’m being unfair to the poor guy, but I’m too frustrated at the moment to check myself. I’ll make up for it by giving him a frigging Starbuck’s gift card when I’m back in the office. But right now, I just need him out of my hair.

“Good-bye, Alex.”

“Right.” His head bobs as he backs toward the door. “Sure. Okay. Yes. I’ll just…” He bumps into the wall and does that whole electrocution jerking movement again. He should probably cut back on the caffeine. He might not be quite so irritating if he did.

“All right, let Myra know I’ve left. But I won’t start anything until she gets there. Not even the coffee. I won’t sort the mail, if it’s there yet. I won’t—”

“Get. Out.”

He grabs the door, tugs it open, and rushes through like his pants are on fire. Myra comes downstairs just as the door slams shut again.

“Were you growling, James?” she asks without looking up from her phone. I imagine she’s scanning her daily schedule. Or, more likely, mine. And she is, indeed, dressed for the office in a short, pleated skirt and a white, button-down shirt with purple pinstripes to match the skirt. She’s wearing my favorite purple, peep-toe heels with the ankle strap, not that I’ve ever told her as much.

Well, if I have my way, soon I’ll bestow compliment after compliment on her wardrobe choices. Ironic that she won’t be working with me anymore at that point, but I’ll still need a date to the many dinner and other after-work functions I attend. I like the idea of Myra on my arm as my date rather than colleague. I really like the idea of watching her dress for those occasions, and then undressing her later in the evening.

“Where’s Alex?” Myra asks, breaking through my thoughts. She resumes picking up the mess I wouldn’t let Alex finish. When she bends to lift the tray, her skirt rides high on the back of her thighs for a moment, and suddenly I can’t recall what I wanted to talk to her about. Other than talking her out of those clothes. What time is that staff meeting?

Oh, right. Work. The office.

“Alex.”

“What about him?” she asks as she breezes past, heading toward the kitchen. “If you’re about to say he’s too young again, save it. I was with him all day yesterday, James. He’s really quite brilliant. He’ll settle down once he’s less intimated by you. You’ll see.”

I chase after her, as much as I can in a wheelchair at any rate. “I want you to leave.”

She freezes in the process of piling cups and saucers into the dishwasher. “Excuse me?”

She’s staring at me like she’s waiting for me to say more. But what do I say? Do I tell her I want to keep sleeping with her? Hell, I want her to move in with me, permanently. Maybe we’ll buy a house in Paynter’s neighborhood too. The look on her face when Abby was talking about babies…I never thought I’d say this, but I’d love to give her a few of her own.

Do I tell her that’s the reason I’m glad she’s decided to leave my employment? That I want to pursue the type of relationship with her that’s inappropriate if she were to remain on as my assistant? Sweat breaks out on my forehead. This is so much harder than standing before the board of directors and reviewing the annual budget. I feel like I’m back in high school, holding that letter from Northwestern, and I’m afraid to open it because all of a sudden, I’m not confident I got in.

“You…you’re my Supergirl.”

“If I’m so super, why do you want me to leave? That is what you just said, isn’t it?”

Furrowing my brow, I say, “Yes. It is. It’s true.”

“Why?”

I flap my hand. “Because. I mean, you said…I…” I’ve never been so speechless, but I don’t know how to articulate what I want to say. Because I’m not really sure what I’m asking for. Her? Forever? Is that really what I want? Do I just say that?

“I’ll keep sleeping with you,” I blurt. There, I said it. Sort of.

She stares at me, seemingly frozen, for long seconds, until she huffs out a breath and shoves a ceramic cup into the dishwasher with such force I’m surprised it doesn’t break. And then she slams the door shut and stalks from the room. I wheel my chair after her.

“Myra, where are you going?”

But she’s already stomping up the stairs, her heels clicking on the wooden steps. A few moments later, she’s coming back down, dragging her suitcase behind her.

“What are you doing?” I ask in alarm.

“Doing what you asked me to do. Leaving.”

“But…you’ll be back, won’t you?” It doesn’t look like she will. She’s flitting about the room, scooping up her robe and a pair of earrings she placed on the side table.

She finally stops moving to stand in front of me, her shoulders pulled back, her arms at her sides. “No, James. I can’t do this anymore.”

“What? Your job? I mean, I suppose I can pick up training Alex.” I shudder. But if working with him day in and day out is the price I must pay to have Myra by my side, I suppose it’s worth it. No, really, it’s worth it.

She throws her hands into the air and rolls her eyes to the ceiling. “Why did I wait? Why did I bother? Why did I keep hoping? I am such an idiot. No, was. Was an idiot. Not anymore. I’m through playing this game with you, James. Do you hear me? I’m done. It’s over. I will ensure Alex is fully trained, but I am not staying here a single day longer. I can’t. Training him is the very last thing I will ever do for you, James Frost.” Her eyes are spitting fire, but her bottom lip is quivering, like she’s holding in a sob.

“I don’t understand,” I say honestly.

“We are terrible at communicating, James. Both of us. And I’ve finally realized we’ll never get it right. Which means this”—she wags a finger between us—“will never be right, either.”

“What are you talking about? We communicate every single day.”

She shakes her head. “No, we don’t. Not the way we should.” Turning away from me, she walks toward the door, dragging her luggage behind her. “Good-bye, James.”

“Where are you going?” I call out.

She pauses with her hand on the doorknob but doesn’t turn around. “I’ve been offered another job.”

That’s wonderful news. That makes this entire process so much smoother. That’s—

“In London.”

***

It’s not easy to chase after the woman you love when you’re relegated to a wheelchair. I needed someone to drive me to her apartment, since I can’t at the moment. Lucky me, the winner was my mother. Luckier still, she insisted on taking me to the doctor before she would do any other damn thing.

Except bitch at me about my status as a single man with no prospects on the horizon.

“Mother,” I say after we’ve left the doctor’s office with a brand-new scooter contraption that you rest one leg on and push around with the other and an approval to resume living life as normally as possible. “I have a prospect. I just have to get to her.”

I have no idea if she’ll be there when we arrive at her apartment. I’ve called and texted and even emailed, but she hasn’t responded to my pleas.

“And tell her how I feel, without screwing it up this time.”

“Myra?”

I whip around in my seat and stare at her as she fastens her seat belt and cranks the engine. Considering I asked her to take me to Myra’s apartment, and I may be acting a tad bit like a chicken with its head cut off, I suppose it shouldn’t be shocking that Mom pieced it together. Still, am I the only person who didn’t realize this thing was simmering between us?

“What?” she asks, giving me a bland look. “The woman’s been in love with you for years. I can’t believe she hasn’t told you until now.”

“She didn’t.” I watch the scenery as it zooms past the passenger side window.

“Well then, what happened?”

I cannot possibly attempt to explain this to my mother.

“You clearly need the practice in communicating,” she points out. “So practice on me. Maybe I can give you some advice. You are trying to win her back, I assume?”

“I don’t think I ever had her in the first place.”

“Yes, you did. You just didn’t realize it.”

We arrive at Myra’s apartment building to discover the elevator is down for maintenance. Since Myra isn’t answering her phone, I send my mother up to her third-floor apartment to try to convince her to come down to talk to me. If anyone can, it’s the Frost matriarch.

My heart plummets to my toes when my mother returns alone, huffing from the exertion of climbing those stairs.

“She’s not there,” she says, pressing her hand against the wall while she catches her breath. “I knocked on doors until one of the neighbors responded. She said Myra left with several bags. She had the impression she was going on a long trip.”

Dear God, she really has gone to London.

“You have to take me to the airport,” I blurt.

My mother continues huffing while staring at me like she’s trying to decide whether she can simply drive off without me.

“I have to go to London,” I add.

“You need a plan,” she says.

“I have a plan. Go to London and find Myra.”

“London is comprised of over 600 square miles with a population of six million people. You are bat shit crazy if you think you can simply get on a plane and find her without doing a little research first. And I did not raise a bat shit crazy son, so I’m taking you home.”

“Mo-ther!” Dear God I haven’t whined like this since I was six. And it does about as much good now as it did back then.

I sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed, a scowl distorting my features, while my mother drives me home and speculates about whether Chloe will end up pregnant on hers and Paynter’s honeymoon because she’d love to have another grandchild by spring.

“Make sure you have a plan before you make any decisions,” she says once I’m ensconced on my couch with my laptop perched on the coffee table.

“Bye, Mom. Thanks for the lift.”

After kissing the top of my head even though I tried to duck away from her, she leaves me to my plan.

Which involves ordering an Uber to take me to the airport.

***

It’s possible I am as batshit crazy as my mother claimed. Because yeah, I fly to London without a plan. With nothing more than a carry-on containing a change of clothes, my toiletry bag, and my laptop.

And no clue where the hell to find the love of my life.

Myra isn’t close to her family, so it isn’t surprising when I look up her parents and siblings and none of them know where she is or if she is even in the country. She told me she’d accepted a new job but didn’t tell me what it was, so I can’t search for her that way either.

On a hunch, I seek out local bakeries and cookie companies. The first one I call laughs at the idea that they could afford to recruit someone from the States, no matter how delicious her chocolate chip cookie recipe. But the man I speak with on the phone suggests I try the Royal Cookie Co., which is the largest and most well known of its kind in London.

They must be as massive as that person suggested, considering the number of times I’m transferred around, as each employee I speak with attempts to connect me to someone in human resources who will be able to help me.

Finally, I give up and summon a cab, taking it out to the factory so I can pay a personal visit to the HR department. In less than fifteen minutes, I’m shaking hands with a charming young woman who informs me that they don’t have a Myra Edwards working there, and when I press for more information, she informs me she can’t legally tell me anything else.

Ten days after Myra walked out of my condo and my life, I return to my office, exhausted and jet-lagged and no closer to my goal.

“James!” Alex’s enthusiastic voice greets me when I exit the elevator and roll down the hall toward my office. He’s all smiles as he darts around the desk and hurries over to open the door. “Can I get you anything? Coffee?”

“Good God, yes.” Myra had never asked. The coffee had been waiting on my desk, steaming hot, with precisely the right amount of cream. There was so much about the woman I took for granted. I don’t deserve her, but if she gives me a second chance, I will dedicate every single day to appreciating everything about her.

But I can’t be annoyed with Alex. Not right now. I’ve had too many emails and phone calls raving about my new assistant over the course of the last week. Apparently, he really is as good as Myra insisted. Possibly better.

And if that’s the case, maybe he can help with my plan to find Myra.

Alex rushes away and I shift into my leather office chair with a sigh. I’m bone-tired. No, truthfully, I’m lonely. I’ve never experienced such a feeling before; I’ve always preferred ample alone time, limiting my interaction with other people to business dealings and obligatory family functions. Now I hate it.

I even miss the cat. I’ve actually considered heading to the local Humane Society, just to take a look at the felines. I’m not sure why; no animal would live up to Simon. I don’t really want to bring a furry friend into my household anyway. Well, unless it’s Simon. There have been moments when I’ve wondered who I miss more: the cat or the woman.

Okay, that’s not true. As much as I do admittedly wish the cat had stayed, missing Myra is like waking up and realizing someone has taken my right arm. And my heart.

“How’s this?” Alex’s voice startles me out of the reverie I’ve fallen into yet again. I’ve been doing that a lot the last few days. Just sitting and staring into space, thinking about Myra.

I glance down at a mug full of coffee, colored the perfect shade of medium brown. I should probably apologize to the kid for how mean I’ve been to him since he started. I frown; I’m not good at that. Apologizing, I mean. I don’t do it often. When I was young, that was what I most often got into trouble for—refusing to say I’m sorry to my siblings when I wronged them in some way. Mom wasn’t nearly as concerned over whatever it was we were fighting about as she was about the making up part.

“Damn it,” Alex mutters, reaching for the mug. “It’s still not good enough. I’ll keep trying. One of these days, I’ll—”

“No, it’s per—” Leaning forward, I try to grab the coffee before he can take it away. We get to it at the same time, his fingers grazing mine before he jerks them away, upending the cup. Dark liquid floods the mahogany wood surface and races toward my lap.

I scramble away, forgetting for a moment that I have a bum foot. When I stand, the pain shooting through my leg is an all-too vivid reminder. My leg buckles and the desk races up to greet my forehead, the sensation of the impact overriding the urge to get off my foot.

A moment later—I think—I open my eyes to Alex’s face swimming above me. I’m on my back, on the ground, apparently.

His eyes widen. “Do you remember?”

“That I just cracked my head on the desk?” I lift my hand and gingerly touch the goose egg forming above my brow.

“No. The night you fell off the deck at your brother’s house.”

“Oh. Right.” How the hell does he know about that? “No.”

“Too bad. Should I call 9-1-1?” He whips his phone out of a pocket. I grab it from his hand.

“No. I’m fine. I overreacted. Acted like an idiot. I’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

He shakes his head. “No, it was my fault. Myra tried to teach me how you like your coffee, and I must have a mental block or something, because—”

“Stop second-guessing yourself. The coffee was fine. It looked perfect. And I drank that other swill you made me, didn’t I? Help me up.”

He’s strong for a skinny guy, and with seemingly little effort, he has me sitting in my chair, pushed away from the desk, where a puddle of liquid is spreading on the plastic mat protecting the carpet underneath.

“Ice,” he says, practically vibrating as his gaze darts around the office like he expects to find an ice machine. “And something to clean up the mess. Supplies. Got it. I’ll be back.”

“And more coffee.”

He rushes away while I lean back in my chair and close my eyes as I try to will away the hammers now beating against my brain.

He’s back a few moments later, handing me a plastic bag filled with crushed ice. I hold it to my head while he cleans up the mess on the floor and my desk. Apparently he couldn’t manage to bring me a cup of coffee as well.

“Sorry about that,” I say. The words don’t even feel foreign in my mouth. Maybe this apology business isn’t so bad after all.

“It was my fault,” he insists again.

“Will you just let me have this apology? I’m trying to practice.”

Tossing a wad of wet paper towels in the trash, he glances up at me, furrowing his brow.

“I need to apologize to Myra. And…I need your help.”

He takes one more swipe at the plastic covering the floor and then plops himself on my desk. I clench the fist that isn’t holding an ice pack, an attempt to keep from snapping at him to get his ass off my workspace. I’ve just asked the guy for help; I probably shouldn’t ruin it five seconds later.

“Tell me all about it, Boss.”

I shake my head. I’m not good at this, at opening up to others. But it’s time I l try.

“I think it all started at my brother’s wedding. Although I’m not sure, because I can’t remember what exactly happened before I fell off the deck at his reception.”

Alex nods sagely. “I’ve done that before.”

Rolling my eyes, I snap, “I wasn’t drunk.”

“Got it,” Alex replies in a tone that says he’s humoring me.

Gritting my teeth, I continue. “Because of the injuries, I asked Myra to move in, to take care of me, until my doctor signed off saying I could return to work. And our relationship…”

“Got a little physical.”

Grimacing, I nod.

“So far, you’ve told me nothing I don’t already know.”

“You just told me to tell you all about it,” I retort.

He shrugs while his legs swing off the side of the desk. I keep waiting for his heels to bang into the wooden drawers. “How about you tell me what’s going on now? Myra isn’t here, you’re a blubbering mess—”

“I’m not blubbering.”

“Your version of blubbering.”

Pursing my lips, I glare at him.

“It’s obvious you two had a falling out, although she’s been mum about what happ—”

“You’ve talked to her?” I lean forward, dropping the bag of ice and grasping the desk, staring at him. She won’t take my calls, but she’s been talking to Alex?

“Of course. She committed to training me, and Myra is clearly not one to back out on her promises. Even if you ran her off.”

“I didn’t. I tried to tell her I wanted her to stay. With me. I had no idea she was planning to move to London.”

Alex flaps his hand like he’s shooing a fly. “Oh, that plan fell through. She decided she’d rather be her own boss, and she hates London anyway.”

“What? If she isn’t in London, where the hell is she?”

“In New York. With your sister.”