CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Diego and Nicolás had me sign and fax over a contract when I agreed to take the position, and though it’s non-binding, it feels like it is. I refuse to entertain the idea of staying behind. I’ve agreed to work for them, and I won’t give up the opportunity. The pay is insane, Barcelona is beautiful, and most importantly, I will never have to don this Twin Oaks uniform ever again. Every day brings me closer to freedom, and every day the polo shirt feels slightly more constricting than the day before, almost like it knows I’m trying to leave. I tug at the collar and try to adjust my skirt so it covers up a few more inches of my thighs.
Brian is training my replacement in the cabana, some overeager UT student. In the five minutes I was around her, she kept going on and on about how Matthew McConaughey is a member here. Then she looked me dead in the eye and asked if I’d ever seen him. Once with Andy Roddick and Brooklyn Decker, I tell her, and yes, they’re all beautiful in real life.
I think Brian could tell she was annoying me because he sent me back into the main clubhouse to roll silverware. They have the assembly line set up in the employee break room, where a small flat-screen plays daytime soaps. I tune it out and focus on the forks and knives in front of me. Maybe if I roll them fast enough, Brian will let me go early.
“Knock knock,” Ellie says, tapping her knuckles on the doorframe.
I glance up but don’t stop rolling. “What’s up? I thought you were on hostess duty.”
“I am,” she says before nodding her head behind her and flashing me one of her trademark don’t hate me smiles. They’re usually reserved for when she admits she lost a piece of borrowed clothing. I mentally prepare myself to hear her tell me she ruined my favorite pair of Madewell jeans, and then James steps into the doorway behind her. My heart soars and my stomach tightens into a ball of anxiety. I don’t know what he’s doing here; we haven’t talked since I left his house the other night. I’ve actually appreciated the fact that we haven’t run into each other at the club, and it takes me a second to remember that he shouldn’t be back here. This area is employees only.
Ellie turns and pats James’ shoulder.
“Pay up, moneybags.”
He casts an amused glance down at her as he pulls his wallet out and produces a crisp hundred-dollar bill. She pops it out of his hand with her thumb and forefinger and walks away, snapping it a few times for emphasis.
“‘’Preciate ya!”
I can’t help but smile. “Did you just bribe my sister?”
He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his broad chest. The employee break room is small to begin with, but with him looming there, surveying the space, it becomes stifling. “I offered a twenty, but she’s a good negotiator. I might hire her.”
I shake my head, turning back to my silverware. “Good to know the value of a conversation with me. My normal rate is $600 an hour, so you have 10 minutes.” I snort.
“Are you busy?” he asks, no hint of amusement in his tone. “Can you talk?”
Talk.
The most terrible word in the English language.
I wave my hand across the mess of silverware spread out on the table before me. “As you can see, I have my hands full.”
“Brooke,” he says with calm emphasis.
His heavy tone is enough to convince me to take him seriously. If he wants to talk here, fine—it’s not like they’re going to fire me—but if he wants to come to the workers’ quarters, I’m going to put him to work.
I push my current set of silverware toward him. “Get to rollin’.”
He steps into the small room and closes the door behind him. The soap opera on the TV plays out in the background. A woman is shouting at a man about sleeping with her business partner. It’s all very dramatic compared to the atmosphere in here.
I peer up at James from beneath my lashes, trying to get a sense of how he feels. Is he upset about what happened the other night? Terrified of losing me?
He remains a few feet from me, studying my face in thoughtful silence. Apparently, we’re both at a loss for words, but I manage to speak first.
“I want to clear the air once and for all,” I say, playing with a stray thread on the linen napkin in my hand. “I didn’t mean to shout at you the way I did the other night. That was…that’s not how I want to conduct myself in the future.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” he replies with quiet solemnity.
If he’s not here to demand an apology and he’s not here to fight, then there’s only one other option.
I shoot to my feet. “James, I really need to—”
He steps forward and cuts me off. “Should I ask you to stay?”
His resolved tone hints that he already knows the answer.
“Please don’t,” I beg with a pleading glance, desperate to end this conversation before it even starts. “I’ve already committed to this. It’s what I want.”
“How long will you be gone?”
I choose complete honesty in my response. “Indefinitely.”
The word is a nail in our coffin. Indefinitely means there’s no point in waiting for me to come back.
He drags his hand through his hair in a stressful tug then turns and paces back and forth in the small space. As the owner of a company, he’s probably used to solving problems and putting out fires. I know his brain is working overtime to come up with a solution for this, but there really isn’t one.
“Foundations like ours don’t really lend themselves to a long-distance thing,” I joke sadly.
“And that’s not what either of us wants,” he says.
No, it’s not. It would be an ill-fated compromise that would only make things worse. How long would James put up with me being in Spain when what he really wants—really needs—is a partner here, now.
“Maybe if…” My voice trails off.
What, Brooke? What could you two be? Pen pals?
“What?” he asks hopefully.
His tone is enough to tear down my calm resolve, because while I can handle us fighting up until the day I leave, I can’t handle his kindness, his ability to bring softness to a situation that really sucks.
He rushes toward me to wipe my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “Please don’t cry.”
How can I not?
“Why does this feel like our 100th breakup?” I ask with a pitiful little hiccup.
“Because it is.”
Sadness ripples through me and the tears start coming a little faster.
His admission breaks the floodgates. I’m a blubbering mess thinking about him alone in his house, working long hours, wishing he had someone to come home to at the end of the day.
“Do me a favor, okay? Just forget about me. Move on.”
It’s not that I thought he would ever wait for me, but it bears saying just in case. The thought of him spending another day alone makes my stomach ache and tears burn the backs of my eyes. I want him to find happiness. I want to think of him with a wife and children, completely fulfilled.
He turns his profile to me, narrowing his eyes at some point on the wall beside us. Maybe he’s collecting his thoughts or trying to keep his emotions at bay, but when he finally turns back to me, I can see he wasn’t successful. Big, sorrowful brown eyes implore me to change my mind, to stay for him, and for a moment, I cave.
“This doesn’t feel right,” I whisper.
“I agree.” He pulls me closer so my hips touch his and then he tips my chin up. From this angle, I can see every strand of his dark, sooty lashes, every shade of brown in his eyes. “You should stay.”
“You said you weren’t going to ask me!” I cry.
“Stay.”
Tears cloud my eyes and I wipe at them, angry with myself for not keeping it together. “James.”
His name is a plea. If he keeps asking me to stay, I just might, and I firmly believe it would be the wrong decision. I’d be staying on a sinking ship.
A knock sounds on the break room door, and then Ellie’s voice cuts through our private moment. “Hey, Brooke. Sorry to interrupt, but Brian is looking for you. I think he wants to know where you want him to mail your final paycheck.”
I wipe at my eyes, trying to quickly put myself together before Ellie whips the door open and sees me having an emotional breakdown. “Yup. Got it!” I call back. “I’ll be right there.”
The conversation doesn’t feel over between us, but what’s left to say? We could go around in circles all day, crying and slowly tearing each other down until one of us caves, and it would have to be me. I’d have to give up the opportunity in Spain, and I can’t do it. It’s better that he came to see me at work, in this cold, sterile room where there’s no chance of us forgetting ourselves. I’ve been given an opportunity to leave this hellhole, to do what I love most, and he knows that.
I step back out of James’ arms and try a timid smile on for size. It feels tight and fake, but I hope he doesn’t notice. One of us has to be strong, and if he thinks I’m doing the right thing, he won’t try to stop me. My mask of resolve doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be enough.
His pointer finger hooks beneath my chin and he lifts gently until our gazes clash in an unspoken goodbye. The tears I’d momentarily capped start to spill down my cheeks again. James doesn’t wipe them away. Instead, he bends down and presses a soft kiss to my lips. It’s the only farewell he gives before he turns and opens the door. Ellie nearly topples into the space, most likely having been listening with one ear pressed to the door. James steps around her and turns down the corridor.
It’s the last time I’ll see him before I leave.
Had I known it at the time, maybe I would have done things differently. Maybe I wouldn’t have stood immobile in that shitty employee lounge, looking to Ellie to wipe my tears and solve my problems. She wraps me in her arms and I bury my face against her shoulder. I cry at the unfairness of it all, the choice that was forced out of me and the lesson that’s getting hammered home in the most unforgiving way: you can’t have it all.
James once asked me where I want to be in five years. Wherever I am, I hope I’m not looking back on this day, wishing I’d done something different, because if I had run after James and caught up with him before he left, if I’d jumped into his arms and told him I’d stay, maybe I wouldn’t have regretted it.
I’ll never know, and that’s what makes life worth living.