Fletcher
The party was perfect. There was good music playing, my speech had gone great, the millionaires in attendance were opening their wallets to support our charity, and I had lost count of how many compliments I had gotten for scoring a date as lovely as Charlotte. Everything was just as it should be, and still, without Grace, everything felt wrong and empty.
I had no desire to dance or mingle. I cringed every time Charlotte touched me and loathed every single friend who came to talk to me. In my mind, they were all the reason why I had lost the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I hated them all.
“Don’t you look glum?” Charlotte asked as she sat beside me at the large round table.
With a sigh, I looked up from the whiskey I had been swirling around in my glass and turned my face to her. As always, she looked gorgeous. Her beautiful face was impeccably made up in colors that complimented her green eyes and royal blue dress and her long blond hair was styled in soft curls that cascaded down her back. I really was as lucky to have her as people kept telling me, but the truth was that I didn’t want to have her. All I wanted was Grace.
I forced a smile and lightly touched Charlotte’s hand. “Just tired, angel. I haven’t been sleeping too well.”
“I’m sorry, dear.” Her dermatologically enhanced lips smiled at me in a way that almost convinced me that my sulkiness wasn’t boring her to death. “How’s Grace?”
My brow raised in curiosity. In all the years, we had known each other she had never once asked me about Grace. I honestly had no idea Charlotte even knew her name.
Considering Hawthorne’s warning, I took her question carefully. I had given up too much to maintain the structure and security Charlotte provided to my social standing, and I wasn’t willing to risk it because of her curiosity.
With a disinterested look on my face, I shrugged. “Don’t know. She quit on Monday.”
“Oh,” she said, shocked. “And you haven’t tried to talk to her since?”
There was a quality to her tone that confused me. It was as if me not calling a former employee was the craziest thing on Earth.
“Why would I try to speak to her?” I asked in a very matter of fact tone. “She was my assistant, and now she isn’t. I don’t call every employee who quits.”
Beside me, Charlotte let out an audible sigh. When the sound failed to extract a reaction from me, she slapped me in the arm.
“What the fuck, Charlotte?”
“My question exactly,” she deadpanned. At my confused expression, she continued, “We’ve been coming together to parties like this for years, Fletch. And, in all those years, there hasn’t been a single party where you haven’t tried to fuck me in the bathroom or at least grope me under the table. Today was the first.”
My brows were pulled so close together my forehead hurt. “I’ve told you, I’m tired. Also, what the hell does that has to do with Grace?”
“Don’t be dense, Fletcher. And don’t insult me,” Charlotte said with a roll of her large green eyes. “I may be blond, but I’m not dumb. For the last year, Grace has been calling me late at night to say you want to see me. She always sounds like a puppy who’s been kicked, and you always call me ten minutes later, drunk out of your ass and sounding like death, to say you’re still very busy and won’t be able to see me. It’s clear that something happens in the office when it’s just the two of you around, and based on the shitty way you’re acting, I can see why she left you.”
Worry and outrage filled me in equal amounts. Although her explanation made sense, I still sensed Hawthorne’s hand in this. He was one of the nastiest, most competitive men I had ever had the displeasure to meet, and despite his little speech about how good Charlotte and I were together, he was recently divorced, and she was the most eligible bachelorette in our circle. There was no question he would try to get her for himself.
“Did Hawthorne say anything to you?” I asked, my gaze firm.
Charlotte sighed. “Yes, he said you two were flirting like teenagers in front of a locker, and I told him I didn’t care. That I was glad, actually.” My brows pulled together, so she explained. “I really like you, Fletch. You’re a great lover, but more than that, you’re a good friend.
“With that said, I know you have no romantic feelings for me, and I’m okay with that. You needed an anchor into this world, and I needed someone to take my mind away from my dead husband. We helped each other, and it was great while it lasted, but we both deserve more than that. I think Grace could be that more for you.”
My heart pounded violently, and my hands were sweating profusely. I had hurt and humiliated Grace to maintain my relationship with Charlotte, and now she was breaking up with me because of Grace. I was the punch line of life’s worst joke, and it felt like crap.
I shook my head and held her hand with a little bit more urgency. “I’m not going to lie. I do have feelings for Grace, and there was something between us, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings for you, Char. I do. When it came to it, I chose you.”
Charlotte’s smile broadened, and she cupped my cheek with one of her hands. “You didn’t pick me. You chose the security you think you need, but you don’t. You’re the richest man here. You’re way richer than me, to be honest, and because of that, no one cares how you got your money or how new it is. No one cares that you didn’t come from a great American family or that you didn’t go to their fancy prep schools because they all know you’re still their better. That fear of being rejected or labeled as unworthy is in your head, and honestly, letting go of a woman you love because of social standing is a shitty thing to do.”
“But Hawthorne . . .” I started, but Charlotte quickly cut me off.
“Is an insecure asshole with, from what I hear, a very small dick who wants to see you miserable, because that way, he might feel a little less like a loser.”
Taken aback by her words, I blinked a couple of times and then started laughing. Charlotte’s blunt honesty was one of the things I liked about her, and seeing that trait focused on Hawthorne made my day.
She laughed as well and winked. Then, once our chuckles died down, she exhaled a deep breath. “She’s smart, polite and gorgeous, Fletch. If you truly like her, stop drinking, get your shit together and go after her.”
Deep down, I knew that getting Grace to forgive me and take me back after all the crap I had put her through would be hard, but Charlotte’s words gave me the strength to at least try.
With my mission for the night complete, I kissed Charlotte’s cheek and wished my friend all the luck and happiness in the world. She wished me the same as I left her alone at the party and went home.
Once I arrived at my apartment, I put my self-improvement plan into action. I cleared my liquor cabinet, trashed every item that belonged or reminded me of other women, and even emptied a whole session of my closet for Grace. I knew that most people would think me crazy, but I was determined to get her back in a big, permanent way.
* * *
The next day, when I arrived at the office, I ordered Tina—my new assistant—to go to HR and get me Grace’s information. It was mindboggling to me that after four years working so closely together and the beautiful days we had spent together, I still didn’t know where Grace lived. It was yet another thing I had to apologize for once I saw her again.
When Tina walked back into my office, it was almost lunch time. Her hands shook as she handed a strip of paper with Grace’s address and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Don’t worry, Tina,” I assured her in an honest but respectful tone. “You’re doing very well. I’m not replacing you.”
The woman’s shoulders visibly relaxed at my words, which made me chuckle. Shaking my head, I requested that she called my driver and then cleared the booze out of my office’s cabinet. Regardless of how good or bad my meeting with Grace was, I was determined to be the kind of man she deserved, and that man was clearly a sober one.
It took me about fifteen minutes to arrive at Grace’s apartment. Although the building was close to the office, it was in an older and more run-down area. To be honest, the place didn’t seem dangerous, but to me, it was still beneath what Grace deserved. I was determined to change that as soon as possible.
I told my driver to wait in the car and walked toward the building entrance. Since there wasn’t a buzzer or anything, I walked straight up the stairs and knocked on the door. When there wasn’t an answer, I knocked again. And again. And then one more time. At that last vigorous knock, the door right behind me opened.
“Can I help you?”
The voice made me turn around. Framed by the door frame was a tall, curvy woman with a spatula in her hand. I cleared my throat.
“Yes,” I started. “I’m a friend of Grace Taylor. Do you know when she’ll be back?”
“Never,” she replied, and for a moment I thought she was making fun of me. Then, she added some words that chilled my soul. “She moved out yesterday. Went to Boston with that hunky boyfriend of hers.”
With a breath caught in my throat and a sharp pain in my chest, I forced my voice to ask. “What?”
“I know, right?” the woman said in a strong southern drawl. “It was all so sudden. She never talked about moving, then one weekend she went away, and when she returned, she knocked on my door and asked me to forward her mail. It was all very strange because she didn’t even seem to like the boy that much.”
I did my best my keep my face straight and breathe as I said, “I thought she didn’t either. Guess we were wrong.”
“Maybe, but maybe not,” the woman said, and I frowned. “She cried a lot, you know? It wasn’t always, but sometimes she would come back from work and bawl for hours. It was none of my business, so I never asked why she cried so much, but maybe that’s the real reason she left. Sometimes we just need a fresh start, ya know?”
“Yeah, I do,” I said with a sigh. Feeling like I had been hit by a truck, I forced a smile. “Well, thank you for your help.”
The woman nodded, and I turned around. I was about to reach the stairs when her voice filled the hallway once more. “Wait.”
I did and turned to look at her. My brows frowned as she walked into her apartment for just a second, then came right back out again. She stopped right in front of me and held my gaze. There was a stern light in her dark brown irises that was made a bit softer by the smirk in her lips.
“My momma used to say that if a man looks genuinely regretful after making a woman cry her eyes out, he should be given a chance to make her smile.” She extended her pudgy fingers out at me and handed me a folded piece of paper. “Don’t make me regret this. Grace is a good girl.”
I unfolded the scrap of paper and saw an address written inside—a Boston address. My mind told me that I should just leave Grace alone and allow her a chance to be happy with someone who didn’t hurt her, but every other cell in my body told me that she would never be truly happy unless she was with me.
As per usual, my head and heart were conflicted over Grace, but this time I knew I would make the right choice. Whatever that was.