Angel Falling (28 page)

“Hank, you do what you have to do to get your girl. And when you do, you never let her go. You hear what I’m sayin’? Never!”

Marriage. I’d known the second I looked into those clear blue eyes that day she’d hovered over me, a pipe ripping through my shoulder, that she was the one. The universe—the heavens, whatever—had seen to giving me an Angel in white. Oh, how I loved to see her in white. I’d damn near do anything and everything to see her walk toward me in a perfect white dress, to bind her to me for all eternity. Fate was on my side. I had to believe that above all else.

Chapter 17

“Up and at ‘em, Princess!” Oliver’s voice ripped through my sleep, shattering the perfect dream I was having. Hank and I were in a meadow, having a picnic. It was lovely. The comforter was shrewdly yanked from my form curled around the halo of warmth and solace.

“Enough of this!” Oliver sat down and patted my bare hip. “You’re killing yourself. Why don’t you just talk to him?” It was the same damn question, every damned day.

“You know why, Ollie. Stop asking. I mean it this time.” As much as my broken heart didn’t want to admit, Hank and I were over. Finito! The last few weeks had been pure, utter hell, but the end had to be in sight, somewhere.

“Pen, I can’t see you do this to yourself anymore. You went from comatose to an evil bitch. Do you realize you’ve fired three people since the shit hit the fan with Ha—?”

“Don’t! Don’t even fucking mention his name.” I breathed deep, in through my nose, out through my mouth counting to ten.

“I’m worried about you. I’ve never seen you like this. The front room looks like a fucking memorial with all the flowers Hank has sent. You spent a week in bed, then the last two weeks you’ve been a tyrant. I don’t like who you’ve become.”

“Then why don’t you just leave!” My tone scared me. I’d never had so much as a fight with Oliver in our eight-year friendship.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Maybe I do.” Tears welled in my eyes.

“Well it’s a good thing for you that I don’t give a shit what you say right now. You’re not in your right mind. You’re sick. And the only thing that will make you better is tall, tanned, and can ride a horse and you,” he pointed an arrogant finger and dropped it on my nose in a playful stab, “into next week!”

A full-bellied laugh bubbled to the surface, pushing through all the sorrow and heartache. God, I loved Oliver. He knew me sometimes better than I knew myself. If only love were so easy; I’d be rich in more ways than one.

“He cheated and he’s meant to be with his first love.” The tears ran down my face. “We’re just too different. Our lifestyles can’t work. Don’t you see that?” I tried to make him see what was so clear to me.

He didn’t buy it.

“The only thing I see is a heartbroken woman who I love more than anything. And that woman loves a cowboy from Texas, who loves her in return. Please, just give him a chance. He hasn’t given up on you. He’s sent flowers and notes every day. He’s back at the jobsite and well … I’ve uh … ” Oh no, this was not good. If quick-talking Ollie was stuttering, he’d done something. Something I wouldn’t like.

“Spit it out. What the hell did you do?”

He actually had the self-respect to look openly guilty. “I’ve talked to him. I, uh, I’ve talked to him pretty much every day for the last two weeks. But—”

“You traitor! You’re Judas!” I screamed and threw myself out of the bed. It was Saturday, but I was going to get ready and get the heck out of here. Maybe I’d go to work. There was always something that needed to be done there.

“Princess, I didn’t, that’s not fair!” Ollie stamped his foot like a five-year-old in trouble. “I admit it. I talked to him, but I gave him a ration of shit so deep his eyes turned espresso, I promise! I just think you need to hear him out. You’re miserable and need to—”

“Don’t tell me what I need, Ollie! I’m tired of everyone telling me what they think I need. I know exactly what you did. You talked about me behind my back. You let him in. I’m so pissed at you!”

“You’re being unreasonable. It’s been three weeks. I’m tired of seeing you curled up in bed completely broken, or running a marathon in the gym here until you drop. Or the other fun alternative of working yourself to the bone. It’s not healthy, and I won’t stand for it anymore!”

“Well, you can just go fuck yourself! Why don’t you go spend your weekend with Dean and leave me and my life alone for one goddamned minute?” My voice was shrill. He ricocheted back as if I’d struck him, pain and hurt clearly visible on his pointed wrinkle-free face.

“Fine. I’ll go. Enjoy your pity party for one … bitch!” He ran out of my bedroom and I threw the pillows off the bed onto the floor, ripping at the bed sheets to try and straighten them. It was no use. I couldn’t make a bed for shit.

Even my own lack of domesticity proved how wrong I was for Hank. Just like the little Country Cunt said. He needed someone who could take care of him and the house. Cook his meals. I had Gustav. I continued to throw things around the room, muttering to myself.

Why did everyone think they knew what was best for me? Besides the droves of flowers Hank sent every day, I’d also gotten cards and letters. I didn’t open any of them. They sat in a neat little pile on my nightstand. He was trying hard to breach the wall I’d put up, but going to Ollie and securing his vote was beyond reproach. I couldn’t believe my best friend had taken his side.

Needing a man, any man—including Ollie—was going the way of the wind. It was time to take charge of my life. Oh who the hell was I kidding? Without Ollie, without Hank I was a shriveled up old hag. There was no joy without them. But was it possible that everything that happened with Hank could be mended? Did I even whisper a hope? No, no way. He’d break my barely glued together heart all over again. I had to be strong. Men though beautiful and necessary sexually, were not necessary to live my life. It would be okay.

I dialed my sister. London answered on the first ring. “Pen, what’s up?”

“Are you with a client?”

“No, no. I was just hanging out with Tripp, actually. Are you okay?”

I considered lying, telling her everything was rainbows and unicorns, but my fight with Ollie broke the seal on my emotions and I needed her. “No,” I whispered holding back the storm of tears wanting to break free.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be over in thirty minutes. The traffic is brutal.”

“No, no. I need to get out of the house. Let’s meet at ’The Place‘ downtown. Is that okay? I’ll call ahead and get my usual table.”

“Sure. We’ll see you there.”

I took a hot shower and pulled my hair into a ponytail. It’s about the only thing I could muster without Ollie, and I just didn’t have the energy to put forth any real effort. I threw on a pair of dark skinny jeans, a tank top with a loose overshirt that hung off the shoulder. The outfit was completed with a pair of silver ballet flats. Jewelry was too much to think about. Bare, low-key Aspen would have to do. Grabbing the biggest pair of Jackie O. sunglasses I could find to cover my puffy eyes, I was out the door in twenty minutes.

London and Tripp were already seated when I got there.

“Hey.” London jumped up and hugged me tight.

Tripp pulled me into a full-body embrace as well. I loved these people. They were two people I could be myself with. I didn’t have to hide the fact that I was hurting with them. They knew just by looking at me.

London’s gray-blue eyes scanned my body. “I ordered some comfort food. By the looks of the weight you’ve lost, you could use it.”

My body was on point with my mind. Only when I was about to pass out from hunger did I actually shove down a small bowl of cereal or a handful of almonds. Wine, however, was in great supply and helped to dull the ache I felt when I spent any time thinking about Hank.
Stupid cowboy!

“How are you?”

“Fighting with Ollie,” I said.

“I see. So you’ve taken out your anger and hurt on the one man that loves you the most in the universe.”

Tripp shook his head. My eyes narrowed at him.

“Oh, don’t think London’s so innocent. We’ve had some whoppers in our time. Haven’t we, Bridge?”

“True. But in the end, we always come back to one another.” Tripp smiled and nodded. “You and Ollie will make up. I guarantee he won’t even go a day without making amends with you.”

God, I hoped they were right. Fighting with Ollie on top of my breakup was unbearable. I hated that they were consoling me. Technically, I’d instigated the fight and said the harsh words. He was guilty, though. He’d talked to Hank behind my back. That offense deserved a major payback and the silent treatment.

“So what’d he do?” London asked. I explained the entire fight. They both listened and nodded where appropriate, letting me finish my entire side of the story until the food and drinks arrived.

“Are you ready to talk to Hank?” London asked.

Just the mention of his name hit my heart like a sledgehammer. Saying I missed him was like saying a person misses a limb when it’s been amputated. Hank was ever there. His presence permeated all the space around me. The wretched tears pooled and I did my best to hold them back.

“I don’t know. Honestly, I figured he’d have moved on by now.” I shrugged.

“I spoke with him,” London said softly, and my head whipped back to hers so fiercely I worried I’d given myself a crick. Her eyes were downcast. Jesus! Was everyone talking to my ex besides me? “He told me everything that happened. Of course, it was his version. I really think you ought to give him a listen. Might change the way you feel,” she hedged.

Tripp’s hand came out and held mine. “Bridge wasn’t trying to hurt you, Pen. He came to the loft unannounced. Begged to talk to London, and I broke down and let him in. She was pretty pissed at me. London nodded frantically and sucked on her straw, biting the thing to oblivion. It was such a disgusting habit of hers, gnawing on straws until they were unable to function properly.

“Do you want to know what he said?”

I shrugged, trying to pretend nonchalance, though I was burning to hear anything about my beloved cowboy.

“He said he loved you. Said what you saw was a mistake.” My eyes darted back to hers. “He also said that the chick was in the past and she needed to stay there. Said he told her as much.”

“Yeah, well that’s not the way I saw it. Who are you gonna believe?” I gritted through my teeth.

“Pen, I’m on your side. What the hell!” Her blue eyes were shining so bright it was as if you could see through them. “I’m always on your side. I don’t care who’s right or wrong. I only know what he told me and how miserable you are.” Her tone softened and I knew she meant well. Everyone did.

“So, you think I should talk to him?” Both she and Tripp nodded. “I wouldn’t even know what to say,” I whispered as I lost the battle with my emotions. Tears scuttled down my cheeks.

London rushed around the table, plopped herself in my lap, and pulled off my glasses. She held my cheeks in her cool hands and wiped the tears away. I held her by the waist as she searched my brokenhearted gaze. Tears ran down her face. She was never able to see someone she loved in tears. She claimed it was her empathic ability. I believed it was her pure heart.

“I love you. Tripp loves you. Ollie loves you. Dean loves you. Mom, Dad, Rio all love you. And more than all of those people put together,
Hank
loves you.”

The sobs wracked my body and my sister held me as I cried into her chest. I didn’t care that the tables surrounding us were probably watching the train wreck in front of them. Crying, releasing all the ache I had pent up while my sister held me, was cathartic to my bruised soul. After what felt like eternity, I was all cried out. My tears dried, but London still kept me close, humming into my hairline, rocking me lightly.

***

“How the hell am I going to get my girl to listen if she won’t talk to me?” I snarled at Mac over a pint.

He’d finally gotten me out of the apartment and to a sports bar. The Cowboys were playing, but I couldn’t focus on the game. My thoughts were always on a stubborn, beautiful Angel who refused to see or speak to me. I’d sent flowers and cards every day. I’d waited a few different times in the lobby of her building, but she’d somehow escaped me. She was a smart cookie, my girl. At the office she always had throngs of people willing to thwart my attempts to see her.

“Hmm, I reckon’ you’re going to have to trick her into seein’ ya,” Mac offered, and took a long pull from his beer.

“What do you have in mind? I’m takin’ any suggestions, because I’m damned near out of ideas.”

We spent the next couple hours throwing ideas back and forth. Nothin’ stuck, though, until around our fourth beers. We were both feelin’ pretty darn good and the Cowboys were winning the game.

“Well, the job is almost done, right? You’ve been havin’ some conference calls with the architect.”

“Yeah, so? If I don’t talk to her, I’m gonna be stuck with no crew and no girl!” the thought of all the changes I’d managed over the past three weeks nearly had me bangin’ my head on the bar top.

I’d had meetin’ after meetin’ with some pretty rich fellas, all to discuss the expansion of Jensen Construction. It had taken Mac and me a full week to prepare all the materials. We even enlisted the help of Jess back home, who was wicked smart with the technology end of things. She built Power Points and charts that made Jensen Construction look real good. We ordered glossy print materials and gave presentations in the most lux offices I’d seen in all my years bidding on jobs. After five different meetings, we had three separate offers to invest in the expansion of Jensen Construction. And I owed it all to one man: Aspen’s father.

After the trouble back home with Aspen I contacted Mr. Reynolds himself. I didn’t go into details about what happened, but what I did do was humble myself and put all my cards on the table.

Aspen’s father was a shrewd business man with a lot of contacts. He said he was surprised I didn’t ask him for money. I’d explained that I didn’t want his handouts, that what I’d wanted was a chance to present my business plan to some folks who were interested in my line of work. He agreed because he felt he owed me for saving his daughter’s life. I assured him the pleasure was all mine, but I still took his handout of prospective investors.