Forget Me Not (20 page)

“Just hear me out, sweets.” He’s pulled a chair over to sit directly in front of me and he’s leaning with his elbows on his knees, his eyes fixed on mine. “I can’t bear to be apart from you anymore, and I can’t move here, not immediately and not permanently. My business is tied too much to New York.”

“And my life is tied here,” I affirm, and yet I don’t entirely believe my words. Neither does he it seems, as he shakes his head in response.

“No, baby, it used to be. You know as well as I do that your career is taking you to New York.”

I open my mouth to argue but no words come out. How can I dispute the truth? I’ve been in denial for too long, fighting the inevitable. I know it’s not plausible for me to remain in Starling. I can’t progress here, but it’s where my hearts resides, along with my family.

“I know it’s a huge step for you, but I’d be so happy to have you both living with me. We can finally be together, fulltime.” His smile is heartbreaking.

I place both of our drinks on the floor beside us and take his hands in mine. He squeezes them tight before briefly bringing them to his lips.

“Jesse, nothing would make me happier than being with you, living with you. But, I can’t. I know it’s illogical, but I can’t leave Starling, especially not for New York. I’ve done New York. Starling is me, my home. My family.”

“And what am I?” he asks, quietly.

“My love. I love you, so much.” Taking his hands I mirror his usual gesture, kissing his knuckles. “But, please don’t ask me to go to New York. Because if you ask me, I will.” A tear that I didn’t even realize I’d made falls onto my cheek. Jesse sees it, and if his face wasn’t pained enough before it now looks twisted with regret.

“Jesse?”

“I’m sorry. I know it was a really long shot. I was just looking forward to us being together properly.”

“We’ll figure it out,” I soothe, stroking his fingers between my own.

“Yeah, we will,” he replies, suddenly rather convinced. He stands, pulling lightly on my hands so that I stand also. Kissing me sweetly on the lips, he whispers that he loves me and then leads me back downstairs.

Jesse won’t let me see the check as we pay for our meal. Instead he tells me how much I need to pay for the food. It sounds about right, but I don’t trust him. Why won’t he let me look for myself? I grab the paper from his hand and almost fall back when I see the cost of the wine. He’s so sly! No wonder he was happy to pay for the drinks.

We could easily fall out about this little stunt, but he’s finally smiling again after our heated discussion and it’s infectious. He actually seems excited about where we’re going next, but he keeps the location secret. Considering how late it is all I can deduce is that it must be local.

“Are we going to The Cellars?” I ask as we head towards the side of town home to the few bars that Starling has to offer.

“As if I would take you to The Cellars on a date.” He laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Hey, don’t knock it. I actually love it there so you could do a lot worse.” I prod him with my finger harder than I intend and consequently realize how tipsy I am. I open the window a little in the hope that the night air refreshes my head.

“We’ll go there next time then.”

“Deal.”

“Are you feeling okay,” he asks, noticing the window.

“Yeah, just trying to sober up a little bit. Somebody ordered a whole bottle of wine for the table when they weren’t even drinking, and
then
ordered champagne.” I scorn, playfully.

“They only sell that wine by the bottle. You didn’t have to drink so much of it.” His voice is light, but I worry what he is implying. Note to self, don’t drink on the next date. Whenever that may be.

“I don’t like waste,” I mumble as an excuse.

He chuckles melodically as we pull into the car park of Mo’s Diner.

“Erm, I don’t think Mo’s is open.”

“We’re not going to Mo’s. Do you think you can walk a little in them ridiculous shoes?”

“You don’t like them?” I ask, insulted on behalf of my footwear.

“I love them, I just don’t want you to break your ankle,” he explains, displaying his delicious dimples in a wide grin. I leave the car in an air of exaggerated confidence, attempting to prove my skills at walking in sexy shoes. Secretly, I’m just as concerned as he is.

As we walk towards The Cellars I still suspect he’s planned something there. He has his arm round me supportively, tightening his grip on the one occasion where I stumble slightly, from the shoes rather than the drink, I hope.

When we get to the bar that he has so adamantly denied he’s taking me, we stop.

“But you said…?”

Jesse shakes his head, smiling smugly. I want so much to be in on his little secret. Standing behind me, he holds my shoulders and turns me gently so that I’m facing away from The Cellars.

Across from us is the corner that finishes the short length of bars. In its place is a large empty property with a glass front that spans the entire corner. I vaguely remember that it used to be a sports bar, but it’s been vacant for some time. No doubt due to how much renovation is needed. I imagine it’s expensive due to the sheer size of the building, but my subconscious indicates it’s not too expensive for somebody in particular. I refuse to believe it until I hear it for myself.

“Why am I staring at an empty building?” I ask.

“It’s not going to be empty for long.” His happiness is radiating from his Hollywood smile, but I can’t reciprocate when I don’t fully understand.

“Do you want to see inside?” He produces a set of keys from his pocket and bites his lip, disguising the unsaid secret that flickers behind his grin.

“You never fail to shock me, Mr. Jenner,” I sigh, forcing a smile.

Excitement runs through him and threatens to take me too, but I’m far too consumed with doubt. If he has bought the building then he is laying down foundations here, completely contradicting his earlier proposal. 

Jesse pulls me across the road like a child on a sugar rush sprinting towards a sweet shop. I can’t help but find pleasure in his enthusiasm, if not for the reason behind it. This is the most animated I’ve seen him outside of the bedroom. Coming to a halt at the large door he bites his lower lip again, suppressing a self-satisfied smile.

“It’s a bit of a mess, so you will have to open your mind to the possibilities.” Turning the key, he nudges the door open with his shoulder and steps inside, guiding me in with his hand encased around mine.

The room is dark apart from the dim light that manages to penetrate through the dusty windows and I’m hit with a wall of stale air. Dust and the smell of aged beer cloud my nostrils. If my mind wasn’t too busy focusing on Jesse and his news I could very well feel sick. I can only make out Jesse’s outline as he let’s go of my hand and moves away. 

“Don’t move,” he instructs. “There’s a light around here somewhere.”

After a fluttering of electricity the room welcomes some light from the few remaining working spotlights behind the counter. When my eyes readjust I find Jesse stood behind the solid work top of the ancient bar, his hand resting on a beer pump.

“Oh yeah, I can totally see you working behind a bar,” I tease.

“Hey, I worked behind a bar for years, sweets. I loved it.”

“Oh...yeah.” My sarcasm is rendered redundant at my inebriated forgetfulness. “So, assuming you have the keys because you’re buying this place, are you going to work behind this one?” I walk over and lean across the bar.

“Maybe. Are you? The punters would love a busty redhead serving them their beer.” His grin is mischievous and I pander to his playful side. I walk behind the bar and act out the process of pouring a pint.

“I think I missed my calling in life.”

Edging in behind me his warm hands find my hips. “No, you’ve done just fine.” He holds me steady, facing away from him, looking out onto what would be the street if it wasn’t for the powdered windows. “Shall I show you upstairs?” he whispers deliciously against my ear.

“If upstairs is as filthy as down here then I hope that’s not a proposition.”

The sound of his sweet laugh vibrates against my neck and I immediately contemplate negating on my dismissal.

The stairs are surprisingly sturdy and the landing is wide and brighter on account of a dust free window. The foundations of this run-down building seem good and the problems primarily cosmetic.

Jesse leads me down the short corridor, ignoring the first two doors. He tugs me gently towards the third room and lingers hesitantly before swinging the door open.

We enter into a large space with high ceilings and, thankfully, a more bearable odor. The floor is hardwood and the clicking of my heels echoes richly as I walk over to the vast window. It overlooks The Cellars and its neighboring bars.

“This would be your office,” he announces, his voice quiet.

My eyes dart to him in complete surprise as my wine-fuelled brain attempts to make sense of his words. “What do you mean? You really
do
want me to work here?”

“No, well if you want to you can, but I didn’t mean it like that.”

Closing the distance between us, he meets me at the window.

“What
did
you mean?”

“Well, the office you have now is tiny and you mentioned that you wanted to find somewhere else…” He gestures to the space around us. “Somewhere else.”

“Above a bar?”

“It would be quiet during the day and if it’s not then we can get it sound-proofed, whatever you need.” Seemingly pleased, he pushes his hard sell. “And you wouldn’t have to pay rent.”

I frown at his charity and at his offer in general. “I don’t understand. You’ve just asked me to move with you to New York and now you’re telling me to stay here?”

“You moving with me was plan A. This,” he gestures to the room again. “Is plan B.”

“I’m still not following.”

“There’s a living area upstairs. Three bedrooms. It’s bigger than what you have, and there’s office space. I thought you and Benji could live here and when I’m not in New York I’ll be here with you.”

My brain bubbles in shock at the snippets of information, mixing the details together to form a thick potion of emotions. So, he wanted me to move in with him but since I said no he thinks that the next best thing would be to have me wait for him here, as and when he decides to grace us with his presence?

He was closer with New York.

This latest offering completely negates his first. I’m so confused and offended. I feel cheap. He wants to house us and in return he can play at being a happy family for what, a few days at a time? 

Stepping away from him, I continue backing up until I can feel the wall behind me. I am devastated and the need to cry is overwhelming, but I won’t give in to the tears. Not this time.

“Mickey, what’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”

I shake my head, unable to find my words amongst the angst.

“We can decorate it however you want, upstairs too. Do you want to see it?”

He holds out his hand for me but I push it away so that I can march towards the door. I need to get away from him. I can’t show him my tears, not again. I continue onto the landing, down the stairs, and back through the bar to the entrance. All the while Jesse is following me and calling my name.

In a badly lit room, wearing ridiculous shoes, with far too much wine flowing through my veins, a moment of certain probability strikes as the heel of my stiletto catches on some unknown article and sends me crashing to the floor. My hands flail out in front of me, scraping my palms against the rough wood and then my knee follows, slamming into the hard surface and forcing a cry to escape my mouth.

“Shit, Mickey!” Jesse calls, and he is at my side at once. His arms drape over me in a desperate act of comfort. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not frickin’ okay!” I shout, slowly maneuvering myself from my knees onto my feet with Jesse’s support. My leg is throbbing and I can’t put weight on it just yet. He removes his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders before reaching for a dusty barstool and prompting me to sit. The tears that I’ve desperately been trying to keep at bay begin to fall defiantly from my stinging eyes.

“Don’t look at me!” I cry, turning away from Jesse and shielding my evident upset with my sore hand.

“Mickey, baby, please,” Jesse croons as he gently tries to manipulate my hand from my face. “Let me see you.”

“NO! I’m sick of you seeing my cry. I don’t cry anymore and yet all I’ve done since you’ve been back in my life is cry.” Jesse winces at my words and I immediately feel regret, even if I’m too angered to do anything about it. He forces my hand away and casts his blazing eyes onto mine.

“Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it.”

“Everything’s wrong!” I complain, unable to halt the rant as it spills from my mouth.   “Aside from tripping on God knows what and busting up my damn knee, the love of my life tells me that he wants me to live in some pathetic love shack above his bar so that he has some company when
he
decides
to visit!”