The Apartment: The Complete Affair (18 page)

Ethan didn’t do jealous.

Rachel had learned that the hard way. She’d wasted so many years throwing herself at other men, hoping to make him angry enough to fight for her. He never did.

He had told her as soon as he’d noticed her little games that he had no interest in playing along. She wasn’t happy about it—Rachel craved the drama—but by then she had already discovered how much money he was worth and what untapped talent he possessed. So she did away with the theatrics for a while and approached him like a business partner.

The business of being a couple.

“Listen Ethan, we are different than these nobodies. We have the potential for something amazing here. With my experience and your family connections, the opportunities for us are endless. You have the ability to become truly great, and with my head for business I can make that happen.”

He looked at her in disbelief. “Rachel, we’ve been together less than a year. It’s been unbelievably hot, don’t get me wrong, but I never really got the impression that you were in love with me. I just assumed you would dump me when I graduate.”

“How can you say that?” she asked with a well-practiced pout. “Of course I love you! I thought I had shown you just how much.” He was surprised that her nose wasn’t growing longer as she spoke, but it was nice to hear, regardless. “But darling, I’m not talking about love right now—no matter how much I love you,” she added quickly. “I’m talking partnership.”

“How can you talk about a relationship like this, as if it were a business transaction?”

“Because I’m smart enough to know that the best relationships are.”

Something in her attitude had struck a chord with him. He had never experienced the mopey, clingy neediness that was synonymous with love. His parents were deeply in love, and his siblings had both quickly found the ones for them, but he had never met anyone he simply couldn’t be without. Even Rachel, with her open sexuality that kept him coming back for more, was not someone he would say he was attached to. He simply enjoyed fucking her, and she enjoyed having a rich, talented young artist to promote.

He was attached to his art.

How he felt about painting was the closest thing to love he had ever experienced. The way he could lose himself in creating something, give himself over completely to an emotion, only to have a tangible piece of it when he was done never failed to amaze him.

So for Rachel to offer him fame and fortune for doing something that he loved so much, and offer to come along for the ride as a pleasant physical release without demanding that he show her the same emotion he did his art, well… it’s no surprise how quickly he accepted. He was young and full of himself, and having her around to feed his ego only made him more of a pompous ass.

The arrangement had actually been rather successful for a while. She really did have a good head for business, and once she took over the management side and put his family contacts to good use, they were the hit of Europe within months of arriving. Ethan had access to anything he needed, including Rachel and her myriad of amusements, and she had her new, famous phenom’s coattails to ride to stardom.

He hadn’t realized until it was too late just how dependent he had become on her. She controlled everything, down to the tiniest detail, and whenever he would show the slightest sign of being unhappy she would find a new distraction for him. He had thought she was the best friend he’d ever had, that it must have grown into some form of love, even if not the kind you read about. He thought she had been taking such good care of him, but she turned out to simply be protecting her investments.

He’d known it needed to end when he finally hit bottom. He had been face down on the floor of some random Parisian hotel bathroom, a pool of vomit drying next to him and blood caked around his nose when he woke up after a four-day cocaine bender. The first thought that entered his mind when he finally regained consciousness wasn’t “where am I?” or “how did I get here?” It was “what kind of ‘partnership’ is this?”

He found her in the bedroom, passed out between another young couple in the nude, cocaine residue smeared over every flat surface he could see. Without thinking twice he threw a few things into an overnight bag and walked out, not even leaving her a note.

After checking himself into the nearest rehab center he could find, he spent weeks getting himself cleaned up. He somehow found the strength to quit cold turkey, but the detox and craving that his body went through would still give him nightmares if he thought about it too long.

He missed his home and his family. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken to any of them. In rehab, he started to believe that everything would get better if he could just jump on a plane and go back, make a fresh start. Surely his family would welcome him home with open arms. It all seemed so clear.

Until Rachel found him there.

He still had no idea how she’d found him; the woman’s resources were terrifying. The second she saw him she had started crying and playing up the role of the wounded victim, demanding to know how he could just walk out on her without even a word. When that failed to get the response she wanted, she got angry.

Rachel when she was angry was almost an art form in itself. She never yelled, she never ranted, but you could physically see the exact moment when she was done being deceitful and ready to be truly cutthroat. Her entire body would go still and her features would freeze, as if she were finally letting the ice in her heart flow through her veins.

She had turned on him then, like a viper, and proceeded to strike at the heart of his insecurities. As if she had been reading his mind, she told him he was a fool if he thought that his family would want anything to do with him now. They would never accept a filthy addict into their home—it would be too humiliating. They had their image to protect. She told him that if he went home now he would become nothing more than a broken down has-been and his family would probably need to move away out of shame.

Looking back at the conversation now, Ethan didn’t know who he was angrier with: Rachel for saying such hurtful things, or himself for actually believing them.

After she had worked him over until he was ready to curl up into a ball and cry, she reminded him that he still had her. She would always be there for him, unlike his family. She would never run away from him. If he would only come back with her, they could start over. Another town, another show, and before long he would forget that any of this had ever happened.

He went back with her that day.

He made her swear that there would be no more drugs involved, and she promised. She actually managed to keep that promise, but Ethan had no idea how low she was willing to sink. The worst was yet to come.

Hating the memories that were flooding back, Ethan focused on the problem at hand. Why was he suddenly jealous now? He had been through a nasty rollercoaster of a relationship and the strongest feeling he’d ever felt for her was anger. Why did this small-town nothing of a girl hold any attraction for him at all?

The only thing they knew about each other was that they were compatible sexually. More than compatible. But something about this girl made him want more than sex. He wanted to hold her when she slept and kiss her when she woke. He wanted to ask her more about herself than her sexual history. He actually… cared. And that freaked the shit out of him.

He wasn’t ready for this. He didn’t want to care; he didn’t want it to be real. He didn’t want to need her so badly.

He kept telling himself that if he only wanted her body, things wouldn’t get serious. He could enjoy her company and feel perfectly fine with letting her go whenever he decided it was time to leave town again. He should be thrilled that she was engaged.

But he wasn’t.

Seeing that ring had made her more than a fantasy to him. It reminded him that she had an entire life outside of this shitty room that he had no knowledge of—and that made him angry. The thought of anyone else putting their hands on her delicate skin made his stomach turn. The idea of her gasping and crying out someone else’s name in the dark made him feel sick.

Ethan knew deep down that if he was already feeling this attached, he should probably end it now before it only got worse—but that thought made him feel even sicker. He was becoming addicted to her. She was the only thing that could soothe him anymore.

Deciding that it was pointless to spend any more time obsessing over it that night, he buried his face in the pillow again and inhaled deeply. As soon as he breathed her in, he was infused with a warmth that his body was beginning to welcome.

Once again, he was asleep within minutes.

By that Saturday afternoon, Lily was already feeling claustrophobic and cranky. Her bedroom walls felt like they were closing in on her and even her cats couldn’t cheer her up.

She missed him. The thought of going another whole weekend without him made her want to scream.

That’s why, when Scott called her to ask if she wanted to do dinner at his house that night, she actually jumped at the chance. Even a night with Sam Walker’s drunken ramblings would be better than sitting around and pouting. When Scott picked her up in his beat-up Honda twenty minutes later, she was waiting impatiently by the door.

“Hey babe,” he said with a smile as she jumped in the car. He kissed her on the cheek and backed out of the drive, heading to the store for groceries.

“I thought I’d make spaghetti for dinner. Do you think Sam will like that?”

“Shit, he’d be thrilled to get anything that I didn’t make. And you can only eat so many microwave dinners.” He winked at her before turning his gaze back to the road. “I gotta be honest, I’m a bit surprised that you agreed to come over so easily. I just thought it was time that you got to know Dad a little better. You know, get more comfortable at my place.”

“I know, you’re right.” She was only half listening to him, looking around at the storefronts as they drove through town.

“I’ve got some news,” he said a few minutes later, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I just found out about it last night, though, so I hope you aren’t mad about it.”

“Okay, spill it.”

“I’m gonna be gone for a few days, maybe a week. Ryan wants me to ride with him to St. Louis to pick up a car that he’s buying for his girlfriend. We thought we’d take our time and make a trip out of it, stay over a couple nights here and there. Maybe stop and do stupid touristy shit while we’re out, I don’t know.”

“Wow, that’s quite a road trip!” Lily said, her enthusiasm unmistakable.

“So you’re not mad?” He looked over at her suspiciously. “I probably won’t be back in time for Valentine’s Day. I’m sorry.”

“Of course I’m not mad, don’t be silly. I didn’t even remember that Valentine’s was coming up so soon. That was nice of Ryan to ask you instead of Mark or Josh.”

“Well, he needs Mark to hang back and run the garage, for one, but he did say that he’d rather have me along in case the car needs a tune-up. He thinks I’m the better mechanic.”

“That’s really great, Scott. I’m proud of you.” Lily smiled at him as he pulled into the parking lot. She had forgotten how nice it could be when they were able to just talk, as friends. It happened so rarely nowadays.

They walked inside, Scott insisting on pushing the cart around because “women are terrible drivers”—an ongoing bad joke that he told to make Lily roll her eyes whenever they shopped together. They moved throughout the store, gradually filling the cart for dinner as they talked about their weeks at work. He told her about some lady’s flooded carburetor and Lily laughed with him about Jason and Dr. Wilde’s not-so-secret affair.

It felt like old times again, which made her sad if she thought about it too hard. She wondered how much was really different between them now and how much was her projecting her own unhappiness on him. Was he really so distant from her now, or did she just imagine the distance to soothe her guilt?

As they loaded up the groceries into the back of his cluttered car, he leaned down and quickly stole a peck on the lips before smiling again and getting into the driver’s seat. Lily stood there for a moment, frowning. Still dry and cold. Nothing. She wasn’t imagining it—there just wasn’t any spark left, if it had ever been there at all.

She suddenly got the strangest feeling that someone was watching her, like a tingle up the back of her neck, but when she looked around the lot for a familiar face she didn’t see anyone other than the regular customers going about their business.

“You coming?” Scott’s voice carried back to her from the front of the car.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, turning around and getting in.

As they drove back through town toward Scott’s place, Lily stared out the window, lost in her thoughts. She was startled back to reality at one point when Scott slammed on the brakes, cursing under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, trying to get her breathing under control.

“Sorry, babe. It’s just that this fucking Audi won’t stop riding my ass.” He turned off the road toward the fairgrounds, flipping the bird out the window as the black car sped by. “Yeah, fuck you too, buddy,” he muttered.

They parked in front of the little house and went in with the groceries, not noticing as the Audi made another lap in the opposite direction.

“Fucking muscle-bound white trash dickhead.”

Ethan was sitting on the floor of the main room of the apartment, propped up against the wall. He was staring at a blank canvas that he’d just propped on the easel, trying to visualize his next painting.

But all he could see was her… being kissed by him. It should have made him feel better that she hadn’t responded at all, but it only made him feel worse. He couldn’t understand why the hell she was even with that guy if that was her reaction to his kisses. Ethan knew for a fact that whenever he kissed her she exploded into flames.

He hadn’t meant to follow them.