The Other F-Word (32 page)

“Jessie, I shouldn’t be able to put my hands on either side of you and touch my fingers together. That’s not normal, Hunger Strike Girl.”

I swallowed. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just that the four-letter F word isn’t very appealing right now. And yes, I’m talking about food. Don’t worry about me, Damien. I’ll be fine. I always am.”

“I am worried. You telling me not to is just making it worse.”

“You don’t seem very affected by things.” In fact, he looked like a billion bucks. How ironic.

“I’ve never carried my scars on the outside, but it doesn’t mean they don’t exist. I’m as miserable as you are.”

“We should stop.”

“Stop dancing?”

“Yes, the song’s over anyway and we’re just rubbing salt into an open wound.”

He sighed, releasing me. I started walking away with no destination in mind. I needed to put distance between us…his mesmerising eyes, his intoxicating scent, masculine hands, hard pressed body were all images of torment. He clasped my arm, coming behind me.

“I meant it when I told you I will always be there for you. Tell me what to do. Let me help.”

“I’ll be fine. I always am.” I struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to burst forth. He let go of me.

I used the bathroom in the lobby, knowing I’d have more privacy than the one in the ballroom. By the time I got there, the tears had broken through, resulting in streaked makeup and puffy eyes.

Our break up had been necessary. We had no future together, but it made things worse. If he’d done something unforgivable like cheating, I could at least be angry with him. Instead, I was madly in love with him, and the bitter pain was like a massive rock lodged in my chest.

Kelly Harris strutted in a few minutes later. I did a double-take at her costume, not having noticed it when I’d danced with Damien because her face had been mingled in the crowd. Staring at her now, I felt the urge to grab a towel and cover her up. She wore a long blonde wig with some type of see-through body stocking with leaves covering all her naughty bits, but exposing everything else. Oh my God…she was Eve.

“Hello, Emmie,” she said, standing next to me and taking out her make-up bag.

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping this was an apparition and she’d be gone by the time I opened them. No such luck. She applied gooey pink lipstick to her chemically enlarged lips. I had a few choices. I could sulk or leave, but that would only satisfy her expectations. Instead, I straightened my shoulders and finished fixing my hair.

“Hi, Kelly, did you forget you no longer work for Damien?”

She smiled with such fake sweetness, I felt my blood sugar spike. “He laid me off, but he can’t stop me from attending this event, especially since I planned it.”

Bullshit if I ever heard it. Every idea belonged to me, but I kept quiet. I only had so much strength and I needed to save it in case of a vicious surprise attack.

“I saw you two dancing, but I heard he broke up with you.”

There was the first grenade. Where had she heard that? Surely, Damien wouldn’t confide in her.

“It was a mutual decision.”

She nodded as her mouth morphed into a devious smile. Damn…she hadn’t been dropping grenades, she’d employed all-out biological warfare. Kelly Harris didn’t know we’d broken up. I’d just confirmed it for her.

“Don’t feel bad. You couldn’t expect it to last with a man like him.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m not looking for your reassurances.”

“I thought you might want to know that my sister overheard him talking to his brother at the hotel bar the other night.”

She was baiting me. Sadly, it worked. “What did she overhear?” I hated myself for asking the question, but there is no greater curiosity for a woman than an intelligence report on a lost love, even if it was in the form of hearsay and gossip.

Kelly did a little shoulder shrug, obviously enjoying the power she held over me. “I know you considered me a threat and that’s why you got me fired.”

A cynical laugh escaped my mouth, echoing through the luxurious restroom. “You did that all on your own.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t hold a grudge. We’re both in the same boat after all. Neither of us should feel bad that we couldn’t get him to commit.” Was she serious? Was she comparing her obsessive crush to the meaningful relationship I’d had with Damien?

“Thanks for your sympathy, but it’s neither warranted nor requested. Damien and I had a relationship. You had a misguided fantasy. There is a difference.”

“I’ll admit you got further than me, and you were able to sink your claws in pretty deep. It didn’t matter because neither of us had a real chance.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He told his brother that a girl named Jessie had ruined him for other women. That she broke his heart.”

The tears surged freely again and I didn’t even try to control them. Perhaps because I’d stopped crying for myself. My tears flowed for him. Kelly patted me on the shoulder as if she was trying to soothe me. I wouldn’t stoop to her level and explain I was Jessie—it would serve no purpose.

“Don’t feel bad, Emmie. Apparently, this Jessie did a real number on him.” She sighed, putting away her makeup. “I pity the next girl that comes along.”

I didn’t answer. I walked into a stall and leaned against the door, trying my best to remain silent while sobs rocked through my body. He loved me. I knew that. I loved him. I knew that. It wasn’t enough. He wanted those other F-words I couldn’t give him—a future, a family, a forever.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The days went on, and I lived through them. I missed him terribly, but having my family around me helped. My girls, each in their own way, asked me to talk about it. Stevie was brash and blunt, telling me I was better off even though I had never told any of them the reason we broke up. Marley was coaxing and consoling, urging me to take time for myself. Billie was poetic and passionate, advising me that I needed to release the pain like a poison that needed purging. Dillon was honest and humorous, plying me with vegan sweets while explaining the stages of a break up, as if I’d never been around that track. Even Prince tried to help by perching himself on my lap in my hours of need. I petted him to a degree of spoilage that he would surely never recover from.

In the end, it was Kate that cajoled my first genuine smile in weeks.

“Would you rather it never happened?” she asked.

That was enough. I’d always treasure the time I spent with him…every sweet, delicious moment. I stitched up the pain, trying to heal myself the only way I could—by moving forward.

Although I smiled again, the wounds kept re-opening. The day he came to present the check to the library and we held a special luncheon for him undid a few of my stitches. Did he really need to wear suspenders?

When I saw the social section of the newspapers where he was attending a black tie dinner with a gorgeous brunette with long legs and the kind of cleavage that demanded attention, I felt another stitch come undone.

Listening to music didn’t even help. Every song mocked me, reminding me of him. When I listened to
Mambo No. 5
by Lou Bega and teared up as a result, I knew there was something seriously wrong with me.

My lovesickness was paused, replaced with cold dread, when I received the frantic call from Billie. Regardless of the miles that separated us, I heard the pain in my daughter’s voice and felt her fear.

“Mom,” Billie said in an anguished voice I almost didn’t recognise.

“What is it? What happened?”

“I’m at the hospital.”

I gripped the phone so tightly I felt my knuckles crack.

“I think I broke my wrist.”

“How?”

“I was at self-defence training. It was my fault. I was trying to do something way too advanced for me.”

“Has the doctor seen you?”

“Yes, they’re going to do a cast.”

“Are you in a lot of pain, sweetheart?”

“No, I’m fine.”

She wasn’t fine. She was scared and alone. She wanted her mommy, but she would never say it because she was trying to act brave.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, baby.”

“Mom, it’s not a big deal. I can handle it.”

“I’m booking a flight right now.”

Only there weren’t any flights. It was killing me. I needed to be there for her.

I called the family network. They all looked for flights too. Adam and Rick felt lousy since they had purchased the self-defence lessons in the first place. I reassured them the best I could, while maintaining my own calm. It wasn’t easy.

Kate came over for moral support.

“Kate, what am I going to do? I’m so worried about her.”

“Relax, Emmie. It’s routine.”

“She’s never even been to the hospital. I can’t let her go through this alone, but there aren’t any flights.”

Kate rested her hand on my shoulder. “What would you give to be there?”

“Anything.”

“Would you swallow your pride?”

I stared at her quizzically.

She arched her eyebrows waiting for me to comprehend her meaning.

“You think I should call Damien?”

“The man owns a plane. If anyone can get you there it’s him.”

I hit the button on my cell to call the number I had tried to delete so many times to no avail. It took three transfers to get to him, but he took my call.

“Damien…”

“What’s wrong?” he asked as soon as he heard my voice. “Tell me.”

“Billie’s at the hospital. She broke her wrist. It’s a simple procedure, but I want to be there and there aren’t any flights and—”

“I’m on my way.”

It didn’t surprise me that he’d help me. That was the kind of man he was. It did stun me when he insisted on coming with me.

“Damien, you’ve been more than generous. You don’t have to come with me,” I said when he took the seat beside me.

“I need to go to New York too.”

“Do you have business there?”

“Yes, I have a good friend, whose daughter is in the hospital. She wants to be there for her daughter, and I want to be there…for her.”

I nodded, hoping my face expressed thanks. I didn’t trust myself to speak. Gratitude was spewing out of me like a leaking valve. He turned on his laptop and worked beside me, keeping his hand inches from mine. I didn’t need an invitation. I clasped it, squeezing tight.

I called Billie again and talked to her on the phone until we landed. Unfortunately, they’d had to reset the fracture.

We rushed to the hospital in record time despite the rain-sleet mixture covering the streets with a slick sheet of ice. I was a complete mess, incapable of speech, but his presence calmed me. He talked to the receptionist and found out where she was. He led the way, and found the staff nurse. He took my hand and walked me over to the surgeon who was attending to my daughter. Billie was still getting her cast when we got there. I leaned my head against his shoulder in the waiting room.

“This hospital is one of the best in the county for this kind of injury,” he said.

“How do you know that?”

“I looked it up on the plane. Want to see my research?”

He flipped the laptop so I could view the screen. It was the sweetest, most perfect gesture he could have made.

“You can go see her now,” the nurse said.

He squeezed my hand, kissing my cheek. “Go.”

She sat on the hospital bed, messy golden hair, puffy eyes and a weak smile. She looked like an angel with a broken wing.

“Does it hurt, baby?”

“I’ve been better, but it’s not so bad.”

I sat on the edge of her bed, pouring a cup of water for her. “Drink this,” I said, holding it up to her lips.

“I’m glad you’re here, Mom.” Her voice cracked as she said the words. My brave girl was vulnerable.

It took a few hours of additional x-rays, doctor visits and general hovering before they started her release papers. I kept checking on Damien, urging him to go back to Chicago, but he insisted on staying, reassuring me he could work in the waiting room.

“I’m going to stay with you a few days,” I told Billie.

“Mom, I promise you I’m fine now. I was scared at first. I feel better though. Besides, Jenny’s going to watch over me.”

“Jenny’s your roommate. I’m your mom.”

“Mom, I got this,” she said with confidence.

I studied her closely, trying to spot a lie. “Okay, sweetheart, but I’m just a phone call away.”

“You think I can’t handle this? I’ve been in the mosh pit at a Marilyn Mason concert!”

I laughed with the realisation she’d stolen my Grateful Dead analogy.

Damien knocked on the door and popped his head in, drawing our attention. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just wanted to see if I should bring the car around now.”

“It’s no problem, we’re just waiting for her discharge papers,” I said. “Damien, this is my daughter, Billie. Billie, this is Damien Wolfe, my good friend.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, now that she’s here,” she said, resting her head on my shoulder. “Thanks for making that happen.”

He nodded, shutting the door behind him.

She turned to me, with a bright smile. “Dish.”

“Dish what?”

“Why did your plumber come with you?”

I laughed. “He’s just being a good friend.”

“Mom, this is not a friend favour. It’s more than that.”

“It is, but it doesn’t matter. Our relationship isn’t meant to be.”

“It’s a shame. He’s really superhot.” She shut her eyes tight, cupping her hand to her mouth. “Gross.”

“What?”

“That’s so Freudian of me. I just said my mother’s boyfriend is hot.”

“He’s my ex-boyfriend and it’s true, he is very hot. I am not discussing it with you. Right now, we have to get you back to the dorm.”

Luckily, the nurse came in then with Billie’s discharge papers. Damien again took care of me and in turn, Billie. The town car he’d ordered dropped us at her dorm. He helped Billie manage the short walk to her room and I stayed with her for a few hours, making sure Jenny had all the instructions while Damien retrieved her prescriptions. Only when both girls threatened to kick me out did I leave.