Living With Regret (18 page)

“Of course. This is something I’ve thought about doing for years, and recently I was reminded of why I need to. You don’t walk over the people you love, you walk with them, remember that, Chase.”

“Let’s do another shot!” Loud clubs, dancing, and drinking is how Lacey likes to unwind, but I would love to be home with a glass of wine and a little peace and quiet.

“Oh, look at that man over there. He’s so freaking hot. You should go get his number!” I narrow my eyes at her. I thought since I’ve been out on a few dates with Caleb she wouldn’t be pushing me off on every guy she spots, but that hasn’t been the case.

“I’m kind of seeing Caleb. I shouldn’t be out scoring other guys’ phone numbers.”

A strange look passes over her face when she adds, “You’re not exclusive yet, right?” My eyes thin even more after her question.

“Well, no, but I think it’s wrong to be going out with more than one guy at a time, don’t you?” Lacey and I don’t share the same views on men. She’s never been in love before and isn’t sure she’ll ever find love. In the meantime, she’s happy with Mr. Right Now. Me, on the other hand, while I enjoy sex, I’ve been looking for something—anything—close to the type of relationship I had with Chase.

“What’s going on? Do you know something I don’t?” Lacey gives me a sour look before spilling information I can’t believe she hadn’t already told me.

“Caleb went out on a date last night with some girl he met a while back. I thought he told you, but after talking to you, I could tell he hadn’t.”

I hinted around about going out last night but all Caleb said was he had plans that he made a while back and couldn’t get out of them, which meant I wouldn’t get to see him at all this weekend. Yet he had time for someone else.

“Oh,” I say, looking out at the dance floor. I hate feeling vulnerable and exposed. With Caleb, I was already missing that spark I wanted to find again but was willing to keep trying. All the while, he’s still playing the field. How stupid am I?

“Jordan, I don’t think it was anything serious, so I wouldn’t worry about it.” Lacey reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.

“I’m not worried, believe me. However, this is exactly why I said I shouldn’t date a friend of yours. Maybe next time you’ll listen to me.” My voice was slightly harsher than I intended.

“Wait, just because he went out with someone else doesn’t mean the two of you can’t date.”

Yes, it does and it’s all Chase’s fault. I want to meet a man who after one look at me knows ...I’m all he wants. I already knew I wasn’t feeling that way about Caleb and I’m going to take this as a sign to move on.

“Let’s do another shot and then I’m going over there to get that guy’s number!” I say with more confidence than I feel.

“Whoo hoo! Let’s do this!” Lacey screeches over the music seconds before I throw back probably one shot too many.

I’m hungover or, hell, maybe I’m still drunk. My doorman has rung my apartment three times already. If he rings it one more time, I might find my ice pick and go stab his eyes out.

As I climb back into my bed after using the bathroom, I hear an incoming text on my cell, which I grab off my nightstand. I groan when I see it’s from Caleb. I also have four more missed texts from him. Shit. When I open up my message app, I see why. Holy crap, I sent him a text last night ...I don’t remember doing that.

Me: I hope your date last night rocked your world because I won’t be rocking it from now on.

Caleb: Please let me explain.

Caleb: I made plans with her before I went out with you and I didn’t want to be rude and cancel.

Caleb: Lace told me you’re drunk. Please call me so I know you’re okay.

Caleb: I’m downstairs. I want to talk to you. Please let me up.

Caleb: Who’s the other guy waiting to see you?

Other guy? I slowly get up, walk over to the monitor, and hit the call button.

“Hello, Ms. Taylor. I’m sorry to have rung you so many times today but it seems you’re popular this morning.” Don nervously laughs.

Lacey and my parents are my only approved visitors so I know I can rule out any of them being down there.

“I have a Mr. Caleb Ramsey and a Mr. Chase Adams here to see you.”

An overwhelming need to be sick comes over me when I hear Chase’s name. What in the hell is he doing here? “Don, I’m not feeling well. Could you please inform both men that I’m not in the mood for visitors?”

“Very well, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Don.”

Seconds later, my phone goes off with another text from Caleb.

Caleb: Seriously WTH? Let me up and I’ll take care of you.

I don’t need him to
take care of me
. Maybe I’m being unfair seeing as we weren’t exclusive, but casual or not, I don’t want the man I’m seeing out with other women while he’s dating me.

Caleb: Who the hell is this guy? Are you seeing him and giving me hell for a date that meant nothing?

My head is pounding and I just want both of them to go away. Ten minutes later, I get half of my wish.

Caleb: I can’t sit here all day like this jackass can. I’m expected back at the office soon. Text or call me later
.
Please.

Thank God. One of them is gone and I’m sure Chase will give up soon.

I’m compelled to go down there with my ice pick, but instead of stabbing Don, it would be Chase. I’m not sure what he’s doing here, but I have no intention of finding out.

When I finally pulled my head out of my ass and went to my appointment with Dr. Stein, he agreed it was time to put my past behind me and focus on my future, whatever that might be. Medically speaking, if I want to keep football a part of my life, I can. My scans show that my brain is healing, and it’s definitely possible that I can play again next year, but at what risk? The last time I suffered a concussion, I woke up distorted and living in a made up world. Next time might be worse. Before I saw Jordan again, that was a risk I was willing to take, but not anymore.

My talk with my mother inspired me to want more for myself, but after spending the week before in a drunken haze, I needed a little help to get my life under control, especially if I was going to call Jordan.

I made an appointment every day for almost two weeks with Dr. Stein, and every time I was there, I talked his ear off. At first, I felt extremely awkward admitting to everything I’ve ever done, but the most enlightening moment came when I finally admitted out loud that Dr. Stein was right, that my anger towards Jordan always stemmed from learning that she didn’t actually belong to me anymore, which was completely my doing.

After I took responsibility for my actions and owned up to shit I’ve avoided for years, I was ready to call Jordan and beg her, if necessary, to talk to me, only I ran in to a roadblock. Jordan’s phone had been disconnected and she doesn’t take personal calls on her work number—for any reason. I even told the lady that answered the phone that it was a matter of life and death. That got me nowhere. She said I should call her personal cell if it was that important. And, of course, if I knew Jordan Taylor personally, I would have her private number.

Another thing I discovered about Jordan is she doesn’t just work for a cosmetic company. She’s the CEO of a company that’s known worldwide. During the week we spent together, she never hinted around that she has a job as powerful as the one she holds, which again only spotlights how little I know about her these days.

I’m guessing it’s due to her title that she stays off social media sites, or at least if she has any, she’s not using her real name, which is something I understand all too well. I hired a man in New York to look around to find out any information he could about her, and within a day he had her home address, but nothing more.

When my concern, or rather my fear, started rearing its ugly head again, my mother assumed I would drag my feet long enough to ruin any shot I might have. As a birthday present, she purchased me a one-way ticket to New York.

Between the time change and a delay at the Phoenix airport, I arrived in New York too late to show up at Jordan’s apartment. I checked into a hotel not far from where she lives and decided to wait until morning to pay her a long overdue visit. Only once I arrived, her doorman said she wasn’t answering and my fear of where she might be this early in the morning ate away at me. My panic increased when another man stopped in and asked the doorman to ring Jordan’s apartment. The only peace I received came when she finally answered the call and she wasn’t any more eager to see this other guy then she was me.

As of now, I’ve awkwardly sat in her lobby for almost five hours while the doorman has pretended I don’t exist. On the inside, I’m going out of my mind waiting, but on the outside, I’ve tried to ensure I don’t look like a crazy person. Only someone seriously desperate or insane would wait over five hours for a woman to leave her apartment. Maybe I am a little bit of both. I wouldn’t be surprised if the police are called before much longer.

My eyes start to shut as my body slowly gives up the battle to stay awake. That’s when I hear the elevator doors open. Not expecting it to be her, I crack one eye open and I’m treated to the best gift my mother could have given me for my birthday, even if it came a day late.

At first, she appears to be on a mission to get the hell out of her building, but she slows once she spots me.

“You’re still here?”

Her tone and demeanor are clear signs that she’s not thrilled to see me, and after sitting here for five hours, I shouldn’t find this surprising.

“I wanted to talk to you,” I say, jumping to my feet. “I’m sorry for how things went that day at my house, I should have . . .” Fuck, I should have done a million things differently, and I’m not sure where I should start.

“That’s okay. I’m over it. I’ve moved on,” she casually says as she bites her lip and sighs. “Happy birthday, by the way,” she softly adds.

Her words send a twist of emotions through me. For starters, it’s not okay, and there’s no way I’m okay with her moving on, at least not without hearing me out. But she remembered yesterday was my birthday. After ten years, she not only remembers the day but she knew it was yesterday, which means she’s been thinking about me.

“Thank you. Could we please talk? Maybe go get a coffee or something?”

She seems suspicious and the idea that she’s hesitant to even have a cup of coffee with me absolutely kills me. Barely two months ago, we were making love multiple times a day and now she’s completely distrusting where I’m concerned, but I have no one to blame but myself.

“Actually, I was heading out to get a cup of coffee. You can tag along if you want.” Before she even finishes her sentence, I’m nodding my head.

As we’re walking out the door, the doorman looks at the two of us with a confused expression. He apparently didn’t think after Jordan left me down here for hours that I would get a shot at talking to her. I give him a shit-eating grin as I follow her out the door like a dog on a leash.

After we walk a few blocks, we arrive at a hole in the wall coffee shop where every worker seems to know Jordan on a first name basis. “This is arguably the best coffee you’ll ever have and the owners are wonderful people.”