Chapter Thirty-Three
Christian
Two weeks later, I was still struggling to get my head back on things at work. I was doing everything that I needed to do. But it seemed to be three times as much work as it ever had been before. Usually, I got home in the evenings, downed a few glasses of scotch, and passed out on the couch with my suit still on. It was starting to show in the bags beneath my eyes.
“So, obviously, Christian's appearance on the second edition of International Dream Homes is going to help boost our stocks, but beyond that, we've got to think big,” Alex said, droning on.
“I like the idea of doing something that we've never done before,” George said. “It seems like every year, we open up with a big advertising campaign, and although that always seems to work a little bit, it still seems like we could be doing more. What if we…”
I tuned him out, doodling aimlessly on the edge of my meeting brief until Paul reached over and caught my wrist, stilling it firmly.
I frowned, feeling like a schoolchild who has been scolded, but I knew that he was right. I needed to give at least the appearance of paying attention. George and Alex had been growing warmer toward me since I'd managed to still keep out of the news over the past couple weeks, but that didn't mean that I was out of hot water just yet. Especially when we were talking about something as sensitive as stocks, I should be showing them how invested I was in this company's future, rather than doodling pictures of Gretchen dancing the hula.
I blushed a little, realizing just what I'd been doing, and scribbled over the image.
Fortunately, the meeting didn't last that much longer. George finally clapped his hands, seemingly satisfied with whatever it was that they'd decided regarding marketing, I didn't remember, and he and Alex got to their feet. Paul reached over to catch my wrist again, signaling that he wanted to have a little talk with me.
I sighed once the door shut behind the other two business owners. “Sorry,” I said to Paul. “I know I should have been paying attention. Consider me chastised. Can I go now?”
“Hey,” Paul said, frowning at me. “You probably should have been paying a little better attention, or at least, not making it so obvious that you were nowhere near paying attention. But I'm more…” He paused. “I'm concerned about you, Christian. Are you feeling okay? Did something happen while you were on your trip? You haven't seemed like yourself since you've been back.”
“Thought I wasn't supposed to be acting like myself,” I said sullenly, even though I knew that wasn't what he meant. “After all, the whole reason you all sent me away was because you didn't want to deal with me acting like myself.”
“Christian,” Paul said chidingly, and I sighed.
“I know,” I said quietly. I ran my finger over the edge of the scribble, still faintly able to make out the image of Gretchen that I'd been doodling. “There was this girl, in Hawaii.”
“Just one?” Paul asked, arching an eyebrow at him. He grimaced, looking chagrined, when I gave him a flat look. “Sorry, I shouldn't have said that,” he said. “Tell me about this girl.”
“Her name's Gretchen,” I told him. “She's a masseuse. And she's beautiful. And interesting.” I laughed a little, hoping the sound didn't come off as sad to Paul as it did to my own ears. “I don't know the last time I dated someone interesting.”
“I don't know the last time you dated someone,” Paul said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
I shook my head. “Yeah, I know. But it's just that she was something special.”
“But what, you didn't make plans to kidnap her back to New York with you? You weren't able to woo her away from the island?”
“I didn't even try,” I admitted. “Her whole life is there. And she is so not the kind of woman who you find here in New York. She's warm, and she's sensual. God, you should see the way she dances. And she laughs. And-”
“Christian,” Paul interrupted, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully at me. “Are you sure that you still want to be here in New York?”
His words hit me like a slug to the gut. I ducked my head a little, wanting to hate how easily he had seen through me, but also secretly grateful that I hadn't had to voice the question myself. “I'm not sure,” I admitted. “I love this job, I do. And my life is here, just the same way that her life is there. I'm not the kind of guy who can just do nothing with his life. I wouldn't last a year in Hawaii. I probably wouldn't even last six months. And then what would I do, once I'd left the business and…you know?”
“You'd find a hobby, maybe?” Paul suggested. “I know that's a novel concept for you since all your time has always been taken up with work and women, but most people have things that they like doing.” He grinned at me.
I sighed and shook my head. “I honestly wouldn't even know where to start with finding a hobby,” I admitted. “I know that that sounds stupid, but-”
“You'd probably enjoy sports,” Paul said. “And I'm sure there are all sorts of swimming and volleyball and soccer leagues in Hawaii since the weather is always so nice. Or cycling, maybe? And with all of your knowledge in interior design and homes and everything, maybe you'd like-”
“Okay, okay,” I interrupted, holding up a hand to cut him off before he could list off every possible hobby that I might be interested in. “I know, there are options out there. But all the same.” I ran a hand back through my hair. “I'd have to do work, right? And something tells me that real estate ventures in Hawaii are somewhat limited. I don't want to work in the vacation rentals business, and anyway, it would be too much of a commute for me to get from Hawaii to anywhere else if I worked for a big company like Sunrise. So-”
“You could just retire,” Paul suggested.
I snorted. “I'm not old enough for that yet.”
“Think about it,” Paul said, shaking his head though. “You have enough money saved up that you could retire now and live comfortably for the rest of your life on your savings, even if you ended up having kids or whatever else. Hell, you could comfortably retire here in New York for the rest of your life, and I'm sure a house in Hawaii costs the same, if not less than that ridiculous penthouse suite that you've got at the moment.”
I frowned and then shook my head. I didn't even want to start considering it. I shook my head again. “It doesn't matter, anyway,” I told him, thumbing the design once more. “I fucked things up when I was leaving. I didn't tell her I was going, I just…”
“Pulled a Christian Wall,” Paul said, shaking his head. “Look, why don't you go home for the rest of the afternoon and see if maybe you can get a little sleep?” he suggested. “Don't think I haven't realized how exhausted you are lately. Guessing that this Gretchen girl is the reason you haven't been sleeping well lately?” I frowned, and he held up a hand. “You don't have to answer that. But seriously. Go home. Think about it.”
I frowned when I entered my front hall and found another pair of shoes in the middle of the hall, shoes that weren't mine. I took a couple of careful steps into the apartment and nearly had a heart attack when Jeff materialized at the end of the hallway.
“Sorry, bro,” he said, grimacing as he saw my expression. “Wasn't trying to scare you. The doorman let me in when I showed him my ID and said I was your brother.”
“I'm going to have to have a talk with him,” I said, shaking my head.
“What, you aren't happy to see me?” Jeff asked. There was a guarded look to his eyes and something dark in his tone.
“It's not that,” I said. “You just scared me, that's all.”
“I didn't expect you to be home this soon,” Jeff said, peering at me. “Are you sick or something?”
I shrugged awkwardly and headed into the kitchen to make something for lunch and grab a beer or something. “Paul sent me home for the day,” I admitted.
“Really?” Jeff asked, sounding surprised. “I thought they would be happy to have you back. Haven't even seen you in the papers lately or anything.”
“Yeah, no, they're glad to have me back,” I said absently, pulling out things to make a sandwich. “You hungry?”
“Nah, I'm good,” Jeff said. I could practically hear him puzzling out the things that I wasn't saying. “Are you happy to be back?”
I paused for a long moment and then shrugged carefully. “This job is my life,” I told him.
“That doesn't mean you're happy,” Jeff pointed out sagely.
“I'm happy,” I said. “I've missed this place, and…” I frowned.
“You miss Hawaii more than you've missed this place?” Jeff prodded.
“I miss Gretchen,” I admitted. “It's stupid because she was just some girl, but...”
“Oh, don't try and tell me that,” Jeff said, shaking his head. “She wasn't 'just some girl' to you. I could tell that from the first time I ran into the two of you on the beach there. And I don't even know you all that well anymore.”
I sighed and scrubbed a hand over my face. “It doesn't matter anyway,” I told him, the same thing that I'd told Paul. “I fucked up. We got into a big fight on New Year's Eve, a little while before midnight, and the next morning, I just left. I didn't even tell her goodbye. I didn't even tell her that I was going to be leaving. She knew that I was going to be leaving at some point, but I didn't tell her when.”
“Yikes, man,” Jeff said, hopping up to sit on one of the barstools. “Sounds like you've made things difficult for yourself.”
“They're not just difficult,” I snapped. “I've totally ruined things.”
Jeff was silent for a long moment, and then he shook his head. “You probably thought the same with me, didn't you?” he finally said, his voice quiet and reflective. “But look at us now.”
I stared blankly at him. “You're saying you think I should, what, fly back to Hawaii and just tell Gretchen I'm sorry? Even if I did that, we wouldn't be able to stay together. Her life is there, and mine here.”
“Yours doesn't seem to be giving you a lot of satisfaction here in New York,” Jeff said, shrugging a little. “Obviously, I'm no shrink, but I can't help but wonder if that lack of fulfillment is exactly what's been causing you to go totally off the rails for the past few years.”
I scowled at him. “Yeah, yeah. Come on. I don't want you sitting in my kitchen giving me a lecture about it.”
“I'm not trying to give you a lecture,” Jeff said soothingly. “I'm just trying to tell you that you'll never know if you've totally ruined things unless you ask.”
I frowned and then took a big bite out of my sandwich, hoping he would realize that I was done with this conversation. “So, what's up with you anyway?” I asked once I had chewed and swallowed. Fortunately, Jeff let me change the subject, telling me all about the conference he was going to be taking part in that weekend.
I half-listened. I couldn't help thinking about what he'd said before, about how I wouldn't know unless I asked.
He was right.