Chapter 19
Veronica
We drove all the way to Carter’s mansion in total silence. It wasn’t the happy start to the evening I’d expected. He’d arrived, knocked, handed me a bouquet of flowers, then escorted me down to his Audi.
A greeting and that was it. What the hell had happened? I clutched my overnight bag in my lap and stared out of the window. Buildings flashed past and the silence grew. I cleared my throat but Carter didn’t look at me.
Finally, we parked outside the steps of his mansion. He let himself out of the car without a word, then walked round to my side and let me out. I rose and opened my mouth to thank him, but he’d already turned away from me.
“Hey,” I said.
Carter kept walking.
“Hey!”
He stopped and turned back to me, the buttery light from the porch highlighting the contours of his face. “Yeah?”
“You want to explain what the hell is going on?” I’d never been the type of person to shut up when I picked up negative vibes and this was no exception. No way would I endure a date with this atmosphere.
“What?”
“You know what I’m talking about. You haven’t spoken to me since you picked me up. What the hell is going on?”
Carter folded his arms, tilted his head to one side, and stared at me. “I think you know.”
“I have no idea.” Was he pissed because I’d been indecisive about the date earlier? He’d never acted in this manner before, and I’d been plenty indecisive then. That couldn’t be it.
Carter fumed visibly. He walked back and forth. “I won’t be toyed with, Veronica.”
“Me either. So how’s about you get to the point.”
He stopped and raised a finger, then dropped it again. “I can’t believe you. I didn’t think you were that type of person.”
“Okay?”
“You played me.”
“Right,” I said and gripped the straps of my small, overnight bag. I’d brought one just in case, on Georgia’s advice, because I’d figured I’d probably stay over, even if we didn’t sleep together. Did I want to be with him again? Sure, but not if he was about to pitch a fit like some class A douche for unknown reasons.
Carter glared at me through the semi-gloom. “Care to explain why your sister just bought an art gallery in New York?”
“No,” I said. “Because I can’t. I have no idea and no interest in what my sister does with your money.” Emotions I’d held back bubbled to the surface. He’d been with her first. He was still married to her. How could I trust he ever planned on getting that divorce?
I didn’t want to yo-yo back and forth about this guy but he made it difficult for me.
“She bought an art gallery two days ago. In New York. You expect me to believe that you had nothing to do with that?”
“Yes.” I’d had nothing to do with that.
“And she just happened to know we slept together. She knew that about us before anyone else did. How? How, right after the night we –?”
“How would I know?” I asked, my anger building. Block upon block of white hot rage. How dare he accuse me of this? I’d spent so much time doubting him and Jayne and everything else that I’d never seen this coming. “I can’t believe it.”
“Yeah, me neither. I don’t believe you.”
“Fuck you,” I said with a tight smile. “Fuck you for not believing me.” I scraped my heel through the loose gravel in his driveway. “Man, I’m an idiot. I thought you were made for me. Ha, but you’re just an asshole. You’re an asshole like every other guy. Like Jackson.”
“Don’t you dare compare me to that piece of shit.”
“Wow,” I said. “Rich words coming from you.”
“Rich, huh? That’s all you care about, isn’t it? You and your sister.”
“I don’t know how we got here,” I said, “but I’m officially backing out. We were a mistake. Everything was a mistake.” The words came out heated but tears pricked my eyes. Sorrow consumed me. I’d poured my soul into this. I’d wanted this to work, even though I’d been afraid of what might happen if it failed.
Apparently, I was about to find out.
“Yeah, you got what you wanted from me,” he said.
I turned on my heel and marched toward the exit. The gates were still open, thank God. Why had he even driven me all the way here if he just planned on breaking my heart? This was a total fuck up and I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve realized that what I’d felt for him was too good to be true.
He thought I was Jayne, that I was low enough to wheedle money out of him, and that meant he didn’t know me at all. No small wonder since we’d spent hardly any time together. Whatever fateful attraction had drawn us together was a total crock of shit.
“You can’t walk home,” he yelled after me.
I ignored him and kept walking, kitten heels crunching on the stones.
“Veronica, wait. You can’t walk home,” he said and his footsteps thundered up behind me. His hand landed on my arm.
I shook him off and stumbled back. “Leave me alone.”
“You can’t walk home at this time. I won’t let you.”
“You won’t let me?” I laughed, a bitter chuckle that stung the back of my throat. “It’s funny that you think I need you. Here’s news for you, Mr. Billionaire, I never needed you. I don’t need your money or your fucking car ride. Leave me alone.”
Carter’s jaw dropped. A flash of indecision. “I –”
“Back off,” I snapped and stormed out of those massive gates and down the long driveway that wound between trees. I didn’t look back. If I saw him back there, watching me, I’d lose it all over again.
The road curved away from the front gates and I stopped out of sight, unzipped my bag, and drew out my cell. I dialed Georgia’s number and bit back tears. Swallow, gulp. Fuck this, I was an idiot.
“Shouldn’t you be in the middle of a romantic rendezvous right about now?” Georgia answered.
“Come pick me up, please.” I gave her the address in a monotone. “Now.”
“Coming,” she said and hung up.
Thank heavens for Georgia. She understood when shit had gotten serious. She was all about the jokes if the time was right.
I strode to the end of that long ass driveway, the sun setting between the trees and drawing long sobs from deep within my chest. I shouldn’t have expected this to end well. “Idiot,” I whispered. He was one, and I was one.
Georgia’s beat-up car pulled up in front of the entrance to the long drive. I got in without a word, and we drove back into the city in quiet. She turned on the AC, heated the car’s interior, put on cheerful music. Any time a slow song came on, she switched the radio station.
I appreciated it. I clutched my bag to my chest, lower lip trembling. Stop being so weak. My mother’s words rang in my mind. Why can’t you be more like Jayne? She’s never worried about what people think of her.
Yeah, well, know what, Mom? She also used people until it broke them.
“Say when,” Georgia said. I didn’t have to ask what she meant.
It was her prompt for talking about what happened. We parked in front of my apartment, and I didn’t get out of the car. I inhaled the scent of old McDonald’s fries. Georgia had a binge-eating problem.
“You want to sleep over at my place?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“You want me to stay the night here with you?”
I nodded. “Yeah, that would be great.” I swallowed more tears. “It’s over, G. I’m never going to see him again.”
“Oh, honey, what –?” Georgia cut off, gaze glued to my apartment. Her eyes were round as donuts.
“What’s wrong?” I squished around and squinted.
My front door was ajar. All the lights were off inside.
“What the fuck?” Perfect. To add insult to injury, my apartment had been broken into again. I’d bet my last buck it was my ex. I clunked the car door open. “Call the cops,” I said, over my shoulder.
“Whoa, whoa, wait,” Georgia said and took hold of my bag to stall me. “You’re not seriously going in there, are you? That’s creepy. And dangerous.”
“Uh huh.” I’d had enough. Enough of Jackson and Carter and the entire shit show of the last month. I zipped open my bag and brought out a tube of pepper spray.
“You’ve got to be shitting me. You keep that in there?”
“I take it with me everywhere. It’s New York. You can never be too careful,” I said, in true tourist style. I got out of the car and Georgia dragged on my bag.
“Don’t!” she hissed.
“Call the cops,” I repeated and slipped the bag’s strap off my arm.
“Veronica. Veronica, don’t you leave me out here.”
I ignored her and slunk toward the stairs. The coffee shop below my apartment was already in darkness. The sun had set on the drive back home, and I used the adrenaline to kill my swirling sense of despair.
That asshole had entered my apartment again, and he thought he’d get away with it. “Fuck this.” I was done with that passive attitude. I jogged up the stairs, took them two at a time, pepper spray cylinder cool against my palm.
I crashed through the front door, huffing breaths, and flicked on the entrance hall light.
Jackson stood in the center of the living room, clutching an armful of my art supplies. He was a deer caught in head lights. He twitched left, then right. “Don’t you move, asshole!” I raised the pepper spray.
“Baby, wait. I can explain. I – uh, I’m bringing these things back. I wanted to make sure you have what you needed for your projects.”
“Right,” I said. “Bringing them back.” I paced toward him, spray outstretched. “Drop the shit, Jackson.”
He let his arms fall and the supplies hit the floor, the coffee table. “You’re making a huge mistake.”
“Am I? A huge mistake? You’re the one who’s just broken into my home for the second time in the course of a month. You’re the one who can’t let go of our relationship.”
He scoffed. “That’s what you think this is?”
I tapped my heel.
“Bitch, I don’t give a fuck about you.”
And that was it. I’d reached breaking point. I slipped my finger under the spray’s protective guard and hit the button. A thin stream of fluid spurted from the end and hit Jackson in the face.
It wasn’t what I’d expected – I’d never fired one of these before – and I cried out.
My shocked yelp was nothing in comparison to Jackson’s shriek. It rivaled a small girl’s, one who’d been set on by a swarm of locusts or spiders. “Oh, my God!” He yelled. “Water!”
I didn’t apologize. Sirens whooped outside. Thank heavens, Georgia had followed through and called the police.
Jackson dropped to his knees, lifted his ascot and swiped at his face. “I can’t –” He scrubbed the skin around his eyes. “Agh!”
I showed him my back and staggered to the front door. Officer Brady burst in. “Ma’am, are you all right?”
“Back there,” I said. “I pepper sprayed the intruder.” And I’d been vindictive, too. What had I become? Jackson had probably had that coming to him, but I’d never hurt anyone before. Not physically or intentionally. God, it made my stomach roil.
Officer Brady rushed past me and onto the scene. I clung to the doorjamb and traced my best friend’s movements by the car. Nothing was right. Not the fear in her eyes or the smell on the air.
Maybe, nothing would be right again.