CHAPTER TWENTY
Chapter Seventeen
Vanessa
The restaurant was busy enough to make the table where I was sitting private; no one would be interested in looking over or trying to listen to the conversation that could become heated. No one knew I was here, apart from Simone, no one knew I had agreed to meet him, because no one would've supported my decision to do this. But I needed to. I needed closure. I'd spent most nights with Jackson, my clothes and toiletries making their way over to his house and it was time, it seemed, to close the door on the past and move solidly forward. This was the only way to do it.
Simone brought a mini tasting menu over, smiling gently. She was aware I was meeting Richard and hadn't tried to talk me out of it. I now knew something of her past: a husband who was serving time in prison for attempted murder and a second failed marriage that ended on bad terms initially, but he'd since become a sleeping partner, showing support after the fact and conducting business through his lawyer. I didn't have such hopes for Richard, in fact, my hope was that after this I wouldn't hear from him again.
The food tasted delicious, when I thought about what I was eating. Simone outdid herself continually, although I was biased. The reviews she'd had from the critics had been phenomenal, good enough for her to be pleased with them, and good enough for the restaurant to be fully booked through until October. If I didn't concentrate on the small mouthfuls I took, it tasted like cardboard. I was preoccupied with my past and I need to bang the door shut and bolt it.
We'd agreed on a price for Cole Henderson. Seph had told me that Richard's father had been instrumental in ensuring Richard sold to me and didn't play games by suggesting that he buy me out instead. I was pretty sure that Richard didn't have the available cash to buy me out, as his father had always controlled his trust fund, although, in the past, he'd been free and easy with it, not thinking much about affording a new car or expensive golfing holiday with his old school chums. I'd occasionally benefited from some of Richard's wealth: jewelry, a couple of holidays abroad, meals out. But I'd generally paid my own way and when I'd left, all the jewellery he'd bought me remained in the apartment. I didn't want it to be used as golden mud to fling at me.
I was on my second large glass of wine and was nibbling at a tiny morsel of cake when Richard arrived, predictably late, although only by a few minutes. He'd always liked to make a grand entrance and have all eyes on him. A bit like a prom queen.
Instead of standing, I gestured to the chair opposite. The manners of well-to-do-society that I had learned quickly from mixing with Richard's parents and peers were used when it was advantageous for me to do so, but right now he could speak to me on my level, a level he detested stooping to. "Hi," I said, knowing if I told him that it was good to see him, I'd be lying.
"Vanessa," he said, sitting down. "I don't have long. I'm meeting my father at the club at nine."
I nodded. That was good. He looked tired, slightly overweight and his complexion was becoming ruddy, probably with the alcohol he drank. I was appalled for having a relationship with this man, but I tried to be kind to myself. There was a multitude of reasons I slept with him and became his partner and I had learned a lot with the benefit of being able to run the business with the safety net of his father's deep pockets, not that I'd needed it. "That's fine. I wanted to meet one last time just to clear the air between us."
He nodded. "You were never one to part on bad terms. I remember that horrific New Year's Eve ball at Montgomery's where his cousin or someone was so spiteful to you and were so pleasant to her later when she was spewing up in the bathroom. Anyone else would've let her choke on her own vomit."
Surprise that he remembered hit me, but he hadn't always been Richard the dick: not at first. "How are you?" I asked. "Really?"
He laughed, a note of bitterness hanging in the air. "Honestly? You care?"
"We spent six years living together. I'd be a complete bitch if I didn't."
He looked away, not meeting my eyes. "I'm sorry I was such a cunt the other night here," he said. "I had no right to sabotage what you've done with the business. I was jealous because you were so good at all the marketing crap and I was pretty much a sleeping partner."
I sat back, unable to believe his words. "I'm not arguing with you, Richard. It did feel as if it was all me."
"You know I didn't pass the masters course we were on?"
"What?" I said, dumbstruck. "You said you had; your father had that family dinner for you..."
He shrugged. "He knows now. He found out that you'd been running the business and then, shit, I fucked up. You probably don't want to know."
He was right, I probably didn't, but I'd also probably find out anyway. "Tell me. Because if you don't, someone else will and it won't be anything like the truth," I said, wishing I hadn't started the second glass of wine because it was highly likely to see air again.
"Before I tell you, it's going to make you feel even crappier than you did when you found out I was seeing someone else," he said. He looked like shit, a guilty piece of shit and I braced myself, half knowing what he was going to say.
"We're over, Richard. We've formally agreed on terms on the apartment and business. What you've done is in the past. I'm not going to go postal on you now for something else that you did. Just let me have that painting I really liked that's in the spare bedroom." I didn't actually want it, but Sophie did. She had a thing for collecting an object from each of her exes and had spied that picture when she stayed over once.
"I was seeing someone before we broke up. She told me she was pregnant but I didn't believe her, I thought she was just after money. A few months after you left, she came back with the baby and asked for a DNA test. I refused, so she went to my father. You can imagine the rest," he said, pulling at the skin around his nails.
"Was it yours?" I found I truly didn't care. I'd never contemplated kids with Richard, it had been all about the business. Now, with more responsibility than ever before, I'd found myself wanting more than just my job: I loved being with Jackson and his family, I was spending quality time with Sophie, usually based around champagne, shopping, and manicures and I was socialising with my future business partners and team, making us feel like a unit. And I kept thinking about Jackson picking up Tommy's children and how good he'd looked and how loudly my ovaries had started singing. I hadn't been with the right man; I hadn't loved him; he'd just been a way forward. I hadn't loved Richard. Did that mean I loved Jackson? The thought caught my breath like a butterfly in a net.
Richard shook his head. "No. It could've been and my father knew that. Life went to shit a bit after that."
"Do you want a glass of wine?" I asked, not sure quite what else to say. I wasn't sorry, because he'd brought it on himself.
"No. I'm officially sober." He pushed his chair backward, away from me. "You're happy with how the agreement's turned out?"
"Yes," I said. "You know Alice, Sally, and Josh are buying in?" He'd find out sooner or later, so again, it was best he heard it from the horse's mouth.
"No, but it makes sense. You've built a good team. Really, I'm proud of you. You deserve it and I would've been a bigger bastard than I've been already if I'd fought you for it. Is there anything besides the picture you want from the apartment? You furnished it, I seem to remember."
I sipped the wine, now needing it to stop myself from fainting in shock. Richard was proud of me? "Why don't you see what you don't want to keep. I'm sure you need to refurnish it yourself for a new start. You don't want to be reminded of me when you look round and I'm sure your new girlfriend would rather have it her way."
His eyes said it all, shifting away from me, unable to meet mine. "I'll text you the photos of the things I don't want. Yes, she would like to get an interior decorator in soon. She's glad I'm buying you out of the apartment. Have a think. Anything you want, let me know. I've been enough of an idiot. I want to blame it on the drink as it's become a bit of a problem, but there might be more to it than that." He stood up, clearly intending to leave. This had been as painful for him as it had been for me. "Is there anything else you want, Vanessa."
I shook my head, standing too. "I wish you all the best, Richard and I hope you find what you really want."
The smile he conjured was weak and regretful. "You know what was the saddest? I wish the baby had been mine. At least something they would have belonged to me."
His words knifed me. I felt a wrench of sadness for him and an avalanche of guilt as I had never been able to give him what he needed: an identity as something other than his father's son. Logic told me that there was no guilt needed; we weren't right together and both of us took something that we needed from it during the course of those years, then found the rest in other things. "Maybe you'll get that from your current relationship," I offered, knowing it wasn't what he wanted to hear, knowing that some part of him probably still wanted me to offer myself to him on a platter.
"Maybe. I hope you'll be happy with the business and whatever apartment you get yourself, Nessa. I'll keep watching for how you're doing and I'll take some pride in knowing that at least I got you started and up the first few rungs of the ladder. Remember – it's who you know that keeps doors open." He leaned across and patted my cheek with his fingertips, a gesture I had once found affectionate but now found it patronizing, just like his comments.
I nodded and watched him leave, sipping on the rest of my wine.
"Here, have another," Simone snuck up behind me, holding two glasses. She took Richard's seat. "That went better than I expected..." Then she stopped talking as my tears started. "What the fuck, Van? What did he say? Do I need to call the police? Jackson?"
I shook my head, covering my face with my hands. "No. I'm just. Just..." I didn't know, there were no words.
"Relieved you can finish grieving? Feeling guilty because on some level you failed? Analysing what he did do for you and wondering if you used him? Been there with all of that and have it tattooed on me somewhere, never mind the fucking t-shirt," she said, then took a long mouthful of wine.
I rubbed at my eyes, seeing mascara streaking my hands. I knew I looked a wet mess of tears and make-up. "All of that. He was nice, I felt sorry for him..."
"Don't." Her eyes blazed. "Don't feel sorry for him. He can more than do that for himself. It's over. He's out of your life and you've just said a final goodbye. That's why you're sad and you'll be a bit scared because you've got nothing holding you back now, which can feel like diving off a cliff with a parachute you haven't checked."
"I'll be checking it. At least twice. Then Alice will give it the once over too." The beautifully pressed cotton napkin was now being used to wipe my face. All the airs and polite manners that spending years in Richard's circle were now wiped out. "He said he helped get me up the first few rungs of the ladder – that he opened doors for me." This was what hurt the most, the notion that maybe I did owe him that. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be about to become the majority shareholder in my own firm.
She shook her head. "You got there yourself. Yes, you had a bit of luck because an opportunity was presented to you, but you took it and made it work and that wasn't luck – it was talent and hard fucking work. I couldn't have opened my first restaurant without the sleeping partner, but he would've had nothing to invest in if it wasn't for my vision and skill. Fuck him, Van. Celebrate what you've achieved for once."
I grabbed her hand across the table and squeezed. "Thank you, Simone. You've been a rock. Even though it was you hiring me."
Simone tapped my fingers. "It's all been a pleasure, and like I've said, there's always a table for you and that rather delicious man you're keeping company with. Where is he tonight?"
"Poker night with his brothers. I'm staying at Sophie's tonight. We're being beautified at one of her spas on Thursday evening. If you can grab an hour or two away, you should join us."
"Pending no one calling in sick or my chef throwing a strop, I'll take you up on that. Text me the details and I'll let you know tomorrow lunchtime." She picked up her glass and held it out to toast me. "Kitchen calls, but here's to the next phase in your life, ma Cherie Vanessa. Now, why don't you surprise your man? I'm sure he won't mind you lying naked in his bed while he tries to concentrate on poker."
"I might just do that." And all of a sudden, like being hit by a sudden virus, I wanted Jackson, craved the feeling of him being near me, next to me. I wanted the comfort he could give me and the way he made me fly.
Simone headed off into chef-land and I took my phone from my bag.
Me: How's poker?
I didn't expect him to reply quickly, especially if he was in the middle of a game, but the dots appeared on my screen, indicating a response was being written.
Jackson: I'm out. Seph and Killian are battling it out and it's getting sweary. I think Seph will be in late tomorrow given how much whiskey he's put away.
Me: Is he okay though?
I knew Jackson was worried still about Seph, although he'd been better since Payton had been back. He'd struggled at the funeral for Amelie's father last Friday and had gone home alone, locking himself away for more than a day. I hadn't attended the funeral; I sent Amelie flowers after, pretty peonies and hydrangeas, but it hadn't seemed appropriate given the length of time I'd know her.
Jackson: He's in good spirits, probably because of the good spirit in him. My most expensive Scotch. How are you? I miss your perfume.
Me: I'm okay. It's been a weird evening. Just my perfume?
Jackson: I'm used to it wafting through the house. Why's it been weird?
Vanessa: I met Richard. It was okay, he wasn't a dick, which was weird in itself. It'll be the last time I see him.
I saw the dots for a good couple of minutes, then they stopped. Shit, I should've told him I was meeting Richard and why, but it hadn't felt necessary, we hadn't been seeing each other that long and I was so used to making every damn decision by myself.
Vanessa: Simone was here. We met in her restaurant. I'm sorry I didn't mention it.
My phone rang as I pressed send, Jackson's name flashing up on the screen with a photo of his flexed bicep that he had taken himself and set as his picture. I answered straight away, my stomach in my mouth and tasking of wine again. "Hi."
"What the fuck, Van? Why didn't you tell me? You should've let me be there, hide in Simone's cleaning cupboard or something in case he was a fuckwit like last time? Why didn't you say anything? I would have canceled tonight, or left them to it. I don't get it. Why not tell me? I wouldn't have told you not to do it, if that was what you wanted, but don't lock me out." He was angry. I'd heard him like this before plenty of times, at work when he was frustrated with someone's work or a client or the coffee machine and right now, I got why he was angry with me. I'd hurt him.
Tears flooded my cheeks for the second time that night and I was thankful no one the other diners could see me. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice shaking. "I'm used to doing things on my own and I didn't want anyone to tell me it was a bad idea. I just needed closure."
Jackson was quiet. I heard a cheer in the background that sounded like Seph. "I get that, Van. I just – fuck. I've made you cry. Now I feel like the biggest fucking shit there is."
I choked a laugh. "You're not the biggest fucking shit, trust me."
"Are you okay? Was he alright with you? Do I need to kill him?" I heard something in his words that I couldn't explain, a need for something maybe.
"He was pleasant. Apologetic. I could've felt sorry for him but I chose not to. Aside from sending me a few bits from the apartment, I doubt I'll hear from him again." I used the napkin to wipe my eyes again. My eye make-up was well and truly inspiring for a teen's Halloween get up.
"Come over," he said. There was no question, just a command. "I need to see that you're okay."
"I look a mess."
"I don't care. I'll still find you beautiful. This lot will be gone in less than two minutes."
"Jackson, you can't just throw them out because I'm coming over."
He sighed. "You're far nicer than me. I'll keep Seph here as he can't find his ass at the moment, let alone his way home. Max and Killian won't stay long, they've other shit to do. Get a cab. Text Sophie you're staying with me."
"I'll be there in twenty. Thank you."
"What the fuck are you thanking me for?" he said, sounding angry again.
I laughed, less tearful this time. "I don't know. Just let me say it."
He grumbled something unintelligible. "Take a picture of the plate on the cab and text it me before you get in."
We hung up, although something felt distinctively left unsaid at the end of the conversation.
***
I could hear Seph singing when Jackson let me in. Jackson was scowling, his hair mussed from his hand having pulled through it too many times.
"Welcome to the land of drunken Seph," Jackson said, glowering. "What's even more irritating is that tomorrow he'll be up with the birds, in a really good mood and no sign of the hangover he should be suffering."
"Hi, Vanessa!" Seph said, peering down the stairs at me. "Didn't know you were staying tonight? Try and keep it down, won't you? Some of us need our beauty sleep."
"Why don't you go and start that beauty sleep now?" Jackson said. "I'm more than happy to help you by hitting you over the head with something hard."
Seph smiled beguilingly. "Would either of you lovely people like a coffee?"
"No. We'd like you to fuck off to the bedroom that's made up for you so we don't have to listen to your drunken drivel," Jackson said, his words and expression irate. I gave him a pointed look, feeling he was being harsh on Seph because he'd been upset by me.
"Jesus, brother, way to show your true colors," Seph said. "I hope you can improve his mood, Van."
"I'll try. 'Night Seph," I said as he trundled up the stairs, humming the same song. "There was no need to be that mean to him." I turned to Jackson who was now looking somewhat sheepish.
He shrugged. "There's always a reason to be mean to Seph, but yeah, he probably didn't deserve all of that." His hands went on my shoulders, his eyes blowing a storm. "I'm sorry I got cross with you. I can't believe I made you cry – that's not what I ever wanted to do. There's only one part of you I should be making wet."
My arms went around his waist, feeling his warmth and nearness, both of which I had been craving and I half laughed at his comment. "Yes, you upset me. But I'd already been upset after Richard left. No, not because he did anything." His expression had changed, looking like he wanted to kill someone. "Jackson, that's the last time I will probably see someone I lived with for six years. He has been a huge part of my life which is now over, and yes, that's a good thing, but it's also a big thing to get over."
He stepped back, moving his body away from me. "Let's go and sit down. I could do with a coffee."
I followed him upstairs, suddenly feeling that although I had lived in his home as if it was my own for most of the past fortnight, I was now very much the visitor. He moved about the kitchen, expression preoccupied. I went over my words, never having been in this situation before and assessed how he had interpreted what I'd said. It was obvious.
"Decaff," he said, bringing over a pot of coffee and a jug of warmed milk. "No reason to keep ourselves awake."
"Would you rather I didn't stay?"
Jackson's eyes widened and he pushed a hand through the well-abused hair. "No, I didn't mean... fuck."
"I'm over my relationship with Richard, Jackson. That was what I meant. I didn't mean that I was upset that it was over with him, just the realization that the chapter with him has ended. I feel like a weight has been lifted, and I feel sad too, because something has ended. Does that make sense?" I poured the coffee into both our mugs as he watched me.
It was a few minutes before he said anything. Night had fallen over London, the ever-illuminated skyline underlining the fact that we were never alone. "I thought you meant that you were upset that it was over. I was assuming that I was rebound or you had realized that I was rebound. I don't want to be that, Van."
"So, I'm staying over?"
"You can fucking move in tomorrow if you want."
I didn't think he was joking but didn't ask him to elaborate. "Do you want me to tell you what we talked about?"
Jackson nodded. "Yes, but only if you want to. I don't want to be the type of - boyfriend, partner, whatever – that needs to know everything. My reaction before was unnecessary," he said contritely, drinking the coffee even though it was way too hot for me.
"I should have told you. After seeing what an idiot Richard could be and knowing what has happened legally with the business and apartment, I knew you'd want to talk about it or be there. But I needed to see him one last time to put it to bed, for it to be over. But, yes, with hindsight, we should've had that conversation." I clutched my mug, wanting to put my head on his shoulder and curl in, but feeling that now wasn't the right time. We needed that space between us.
"What did he have to say?"
I smiled, as much as Jackson was trying to act cool about it, he wanted to know and I had a feeling it was to do with a worry that I might still have feelings for Richard. I had, but not the sort that a relationship or even a friendship was built from. "He apologized. For his behavior the other week at Simone's opening and in general. He's stopped drinking. He told me about an affair he'd had and the girl told him she was pregnant." I explained the rest of the story. Jackson listened but said nothing. "I could've felt sorry for him."
"But you didn't?"
I shook my head. "No. For a few minutes afterward I felt as if I owed him, that I would never have got to this position where I own a marketing company without him, his father and his contacts, but I spoke to Simone about it afterward and she helped straighten out my head."
"I wish I'd been there for you afterward. I would've understood you needing to speak to him, Van. I'm not that much of a possessive fuckwit that I wouldn't have got it," he said, putting down his mug and standing up. He went over to the window, shoulders tense, looking out over the Thames. I watched him, still giving him space and time to think. I knew he was annoyed with himself that I had seen this side of him, a side that I knew was there anyway.
"You were all I wanted afterward," I said after a few minutes. "That's why I texted you even though I knew you had your brothers and Killian over. I'm not used to needing people, Jackson, and I wouldn't say that I needed you; I could've managed, but you were what I wanted. You are what I want now."
He didn't move, still standing there, made of stone. I went over to him, pressing myself against his back and wrapping my arms around his waist, feeling his abs through the t-shirt he wore. He relaxed, muscles easing, and I kissed his back, his hands landing on mine, and his warmth pulsating through me.
"I'm worried that you're going to wake up one morning and realize that this was just a way to move on from your past, Van, and I'm not sure how I can handle that. I know most relationships don't have fairy tale endings – for fuck's sake, Claire's been giving me lessons in ways relationships can be fucked up since she was sixteen – but I'm not sure how I would handle this," he said, avoiding eye contact through the glass.
"You're assuming a lot," I said, keeping my hands on him, chest pressed firmly into him. "You're assuming that I've not been over my break up with Richard – I was over Richard before I'd moved out. We'd stopped sleeping together nine months before we split; you're assuming that I'm in some way using you and you're assuming it's going to go wrong. Yes, when you take into account all relationships ever, most do end. But how do you know this will and is just the theoretical possibility of it ending a good reason to dismiss even trying?"
He pulled my hands apart and turned around, grinning stupidly. "Do you think you're the first ever person to ever use the phrase 'theoretical possibility' in a discussion about the relationship?"
I matched his grin. "It's quite probable."
Tender fingers brushed my cheek and he ran his thumb across my lips, still looking amused. "So, we're trying this theory, are we?" he said, his voice low and husky.
"I think it's worth a shot," I said, my fingers creeping under his t-shirt, feeling taut stomach muscles and the ladder of hair that led the way to one of my favorite things. "After all, you've got to give a website a go - to actually add to its engagement rate."
Jackson frowned. "Are you bringing work into this again?"
"It's a bad habit."
"Then it's a good thing I find it sexy and endearing."
He lowered his head to kiss me, the oxygen in the room thinning, all thoughts of past relationships melting into nothingness. I fell into the kiss and it felt new and whole, the last few months of battling with solely work, now just part of my life rather than all of it.
Something was clicking, feeling like finally, I had all the pieces right there, only I didn't quite have the skill to fit them all together.