Sugarbaby (17 page)

More than just a passing thing. More than just a bad day.

I wasn't sure how long I stared at the ceiling, reality staring right back at me. Noah was a Heathcliff, wasn't he? He was exciting but a little scary, tempting me to step off emotional edges but always there pulling me back before I could.

Now that I suspected what was really happening, was he worse for me than I was for myself?

No. That was my chicken side talking, my wariness. I wasn't the type to leave someone in need behind, even if I'd just started to find a new life post-Rex scandal, post-Uncle Joseph.

I laid my hand over my chest, bunching my cashmere sweater over my heart. It was as if the organ was being needled out of me while sharp affection for Noah spread all over my body. How could I let him sit in his room, knowing what he might be up against?

If I'd been brought here to pull him out of despair, payroll or not, then I would. So I gathered my guts and told myself that I had to be strong. Then I went out of my bedroom and toward his.

Before the cautious Jadyn could catch up with me, I knocked on Noah's door.

Inside, I could hear a TV playing, and I wasn't sure my knock could be heard above the sounds. I didn't want to barge in, but I had an idea.

I went to my purse and grabbed my phone, wandering back to Noah's door.

Jadyn:

At the risk of competing with whatever is on TV, can I come in?

The sound went off.

555-8465:

I'm still not in a talking mood.

Jadyn:

Tonight's my last night in the city, Noah. Please.

Seconds trudged by. Maybe even a full minute.

555-8465:

It's open.

I turned the knob, slowly entering the blue-tinged room. Light from the mounted LED TV flashed over Noah as he lay in bed on top of the duvet, surrounded by a sea of white, his head propped up by pillows. He looked like that fallen angel I'd first seen when he'd shown up in the café last week, but now he was the picture of an angel of vengeance, nothing heavenly about him.

He had the remote in his hand, and I was willing to bet that he hadn't moved since he'd come in here.

“What can I do for you, Jadyn?” he asked.

“For one thing, you can go back to calling me ‘Jade.' Or are you just distancing yourself from me, like I was doing at first when I was calling you ‘Reeves'?”

“Okay, Jade,” he said without inflection.

He wasn't being mean, but I had the feeling he just wanted me out. That made what I had to say a little easier, because I had nothing to lose . . . except my pride and my heart. Not much at all.

“Today,” I said, “at your mom's place, something occurred to me. You're frightened to death that what happened to her and your dad is going to happen to you. You talked about the past manifesting itself, and this was what you were really trying to tell me—that what they have or had is inside you, too.”

His expression didn't change. He seemed exhausted, done. “Is that your official diagnosis?”

“It's common sense. Tell me if I'm wrong.”

“You're wrong.”

Was he being macho in front of me? Or was he really in denial?

My gaze wandered to his neck, where the TV light pulsed over his scar.

“Oh, good,” he said. “Now you're wondering if I tried to kill myself at some point, aren't you?”

“I didn't think until now that you might've hurt yourself.”

“You can stop wondering.” Short, sharp words, no explanations. “Are we done here?”

The urge to run—to get away from any hurt coming my way—crept up on me again, but I pushed back at it. It was hard, though, because here I was, standing in his bedroom, the most intimate place possible. Not long ago, it seemed as if we would eventually end up here, kissing, working off our clothes, touching one another in ways that dizzied me, but now?

Now he wanted me gone.

“Noah,” I said, not giving up, “have you gotten help?”

“I'm fine, Dr. Dandritch, and if you're going to recommend that I should be on meds to regulate my bad days, then don't bother. I don't do any drugs, even if I was surrounded by them at those nightclubs and jet-set places I used to go. Pills dull the brain, and I can't afford not to be as sharp as possible.”

“You could use something other than drugs to correct any issues. There're holistic remedies, like herbs, you can use. And you already exercise, so that's a start.”

“Jadyn,” he said, “what happened to my mom won't happen to me. And my dad? He was a drunk whose weakness overtook him. It kills me to say that since I loved him, but it's the truth.” He switched the channel with the remote, even though no sound was on. Maybe he was hoping he could switch the channels on me just as easily.

“I can help you,” I said, ignoring his refusal to admit to reality. “If you'd only—”

“I'm trying,” he said softly, his tone suddenly torn.

The change was so unexpected, from steel to this, that I started walking toward the bed, once again wishing I could bring that smile back, wishing I could bring
him
back.

As he watched me approach, I saw the longing in his gaze.

The same craving for a touch, even just one of comfort, wound through me, bringing out my bravery.

I rested my knee on the mattress, his free hand inches from my skirt. I was dying for him, and not in a physical way. My heart was crying, constricting.

“What can I do, Noah?” I asked.

A whole lifetime seemed to pass over his gaze within a second. Was he imagining dark nights when he would shut himself away in a room so he didn't have to talk to anyone? Or was he picturing me, cradled against him, keeping him warm when he needed it the most?

My hopes responded, rising, but my realistic side balanced that. I wasn't fool enough to think that being friends—or more—with someone who suffered from depression would be easy. But I couldn't leave this alone.

Here's a solution
, the realistic Jadyn said.
Just get him some help and then you can go
.

When his gaze got dark, I ignored Realistic Jadyn and reached for his hand in a last ditch effort to bring him back to me. But he was untouchable, even as I rested my fingertips on his.

His voice was flat again. “Your plane is leaving at noon tomorrow.”

My
plane. As I took in the fact that he wouldn't be on it with me, that he was staying here to battle on without me, I withdrew my hand from his. He turned the volume back up on the TV, as if he'd switched me off.

My heart felt as if it was ripping itself up as I walked toward the door. He was saving me from what could've been a huge mistake, I told myself. And hadn't that been my goal this entire time? To have fun and be grateful for a good time while it lasted?

I glanced over my shoulder to find him watching me, and as my pulse jumped at that yearning on his face, his expression went blank, and he turned the channel again.

I walked out, my head held high . . . even if I was feeling rock-bottom low.

When I returned to Aidan Falls, the town hadn't changed at all.

Odd that I'd expected it to, because
I
felt changed, schooled by yet another failed relationship, if that was what you could even call the adventure I'd had with Noah.

Part of me wanted to be angry with him for the way he'd dismissed me, but I'd set myself up for it. I'd lied to myself, creating a fantasy in which I'd meant more to him than a lackey who'd been there to pep up his spirits. But another part of me told me to move on.

Yet that heart of mine . . . it hurt. I'd opened it up, just as Noah had wanted me to. Why had he even given me hope if there hadn't ever been any?

I spent days obsessing about that question as I caught up on my classwork and got back into the groove of waitressing. Everyone wondered how my “time with Delroy” had gone, and I didn't say much. I told them “fine,” smiled, and went about my business.

Meanwhile, Halloween was lighting up Aidan Falls with jack-o'-lanterns in shop windows and on porches. If the holiday and its parties couldn't cheer me up, then what would?

Shelby, that was who, and thank goodness she came home that weekend.

When she showed up at the Angel's Seat before dinner service, I was wiping down the tables in the front of the house, working around the lingering coffee drinkers and listening to “Monster Mash” on the sound system. I felt someone sneak up behind me, covering my eyes with their hands.

“Guess who?”

I knew it was Shelby right away by the sound of her voice, and I dropped my rag and turned around, embracing her. A second later, we were standing away from each other, our eyes adjusting to real life. This was no Skype call.

“Look at you,” Shelby said. “I love your costume.”

“I dug this old thing out of my closet. I nearly forgot it was Halloween.” I glanced down at the pioneer getup I'd put together in home ec class for a junior-year living history museum project. A bonnet hung by its strings down my back, wrestling with my low ponytail. My dress was flower-sprigged, worn over a camisole, knickers, and ankle boots. During the museum, one mouthy kid had asked if I was supposed to be a slave, and an old friend had nearly decked him. Fine times in Aidan Falls.

I thought Shelby might be in costume, too, but I wasn't sure. She was dressed in a '60s checkered miniskirt and go-go boots that showed off her endless legs, and her long, light blond hair was held back by a thick headband.

“I was also lazy,” she said, laughing. “But I got dressed up because I'm going with Micah to take his baby cousin trick-or-treating for the first time. I had to come down to see little Henry dressed up like Batman. Isn't that the cutest?”

“Aw.”

“Exactly. So it was a last-minute decision for me to visit, otherwise I would've let you know earlier.”

“That's okay. It's just good to see you.”

“Maybe we can hang out tomorrow before your work shift, have a girly drinking Skype session with Evie.”

“I can't drink before my shift. Your mom would kill me.”

“True . . . unless she killed me first for corrupting you. I'm not actually supposed to be drinking yet, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her, right?”

We continued to chat as she helped me prep the dining room. She hinted around the subject of my billionaire, but when I shut down that topic, Shelby was wise enough not to prod me. She probably saw that I couldn't talk about Noah without getting uncomfortable, but for all she knew, I hadn't seen him since he'd sent me the first round of gifts.

She had no idea.

When Carley showed up early for her shift, looking adorable as a woodland elf with pointy ears, puffed hair traced with glitter, and a sack-like dress with cuffed boots, I got recharged. I hadn't seen her for a couple of days, and friends were good for a smarting heart.

But then I realized she was in a bad place, too.

After I introduced her to Shelby, Carley thumped down onto a bench, shoulders slumped.

Shelby sent me a wide-eyed glance, and although I knew she wanted to chat with my newest friend, she made an excuse to go to the back.

A couple of the coffee drinkers had left, and there was only one more in the corner, a tourist who was taking a break from the road. We lowered our voices under “One-Eyed, One-Horned Flying Purple People Eater” so as not to bother her.

“I had that talk with Bret today,” Carley said. “He came back from a road trip with the band early this morning, and it seemed like a good time to finally get it done.”

“The talk about pulling back from all his serious let's-start-the-rest-of-our-lives-right-now ideas?”

“That one.”

I sat next to her. What a friend I was. I'd almost forgotten that I wasn't the only one with a tenderized heart. The difference between Carley and me was that she didn't have a non-disclosure agreement.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“He was more than bummed out.” She picked at her homemade leather-webbed bracelet. “And we fought. Bad.”

“Oh, no.” I rubbed her back.

“We've never fought, Jade. Not like this. It was like I'd betrayed him and he couldn't understand why I can't just dive right in the deep end and live off our love.”

Words were out of my mouth before I could check them. “Love might not always be enough.”

She shot a stunned look at me, and I glanced away. Wasn't it better for us both to know now that there were some things in life that happiness couldn't shine a light on? Noah had discarded me, and how I'd come to feel about him hadn't done a bit of good; it hadn't saved him. You couldn't jump into something serious with both feet and expect everything to be shiny and perfect.

Carley started to nod as if it'd taken a few seconds for her to come to terms with a truth. “You're right, totally right, and that's what I was trying to tell Bret, but the way it came out . . . It sounded better in my head, before I said it. Everything was so harsh. All I was trying to do was be practical, but Bret's got that attitude like we could survive anything if we were together. And I want to believe him. It's just that I'm afraid to.”

Afraid. Was that what I'd been when I'd figured out what was really haunting Noah? Should I have stayed and told him that whatever he was going through wouldn't scare me away?

Did we even know each other well enough for that?

His kisses . . . the way he held me . . . the tenderness in his gaze and in my soul whenever he looked at me . . . Wasn't that all a start?

But that sounded too simple. Noah hadn't been permanent for me, anyway, and if I texted him now, baring my inner self to him while he was going through the most important business days of his life, he would only toss that burner phone aside.

Maybe he already had.

Yet Carley's situation was fixable, and I was damned well not going to let
her
blow it.

“You love Bret,” I said, “and he loves you. And if he's serious about making this work, he'll listen to what you have to say. Maybe he's bruised up right now from your straight talk, but you'll have to accept his dreamer side and he'll have to accept your practical one.” I smiled. “My uncle Joseph used to talk about my great-aunt Vivian and how they came to fall in love. They were like peas and carrots, he said. They were totally different, but, my, did they ever complement each other in the same dish with some butter and seasoning to bring them together. That's you and Bret—peas and carrots. You'll just need to work a little to make things taste the best they can.”

I was willing to bet Californians didn't speak in those terms, because Carley was watching me as if I were a Martian. Or a Texan.

A gradual smile spread over her face, even if it was full of the blues. “I wish love wasn't work.”

I almost shut my eyes at the impact of her words. Even if you weren't in love, only intense, deep lust and like,
that
was work, too. And I'd left all of it behind so easily.

But I needed to think about
why
Noah appealed to me before I regretted leaving him too much. His money might be a benefit to most, yet all I saw was the trouble it'd brought him. His romantic soul blew me away, yet it came with a dark side. Could anyone ever really explain why it was that some people burrowed down inside of you, finding a home, and some just didn't?

Still, there was another reason I suspected I'd left him without much of a fuss. I'd spent the recent past taking care of my uncle, putting off my dream of going to a university and getting started on my future, shoving aside much of a social life to see to his comfort. Deep inside, had I been looking for an escape so I wouldn't have to take care of Noah now?

Being a doctor was one thing—I had control over that—but I had no such thing with Noah. He was the opposite of control for me.

“So what're you going to do now to get you and Bret on the same page?” I asked. “Or should I say in the same bowl?”

She attempted another smile but failed miserably. “Bret left town again. There's a gig in Austin for Halloween weekend, and he told me to think about what I really want while he's gone.”

“But you already know.”

Carley nodded, her big brown eyes filled with emotion as she took my hand in hers. “You always know what to do, don't you?”

Irony alert. “Always.”

Because, really? I didn't. Yet, for her sake, I pretended like I was wise to how we could get her and Bret back together for good.

Yes, I took care of everyone except, evidently, the person who'd needed me most, and he was back in New York, facing his monsters without me.

When some customers entered, Carley and I had to put off our conversation, and service quickly went into high gear. It was a good night, too, with nice tips and fun people. But my favorite billionaire customer wasn't around, and that put a damper on the holiday.

I told Carley she could go home before me—what did I have to return to, anyway?—and I helped Jackie and the girls clean up in back. By the time I was done, it was eleven thirty, and I drove to my place, my tires slicing over the wet blacktop. It had started to rain, and the streets were an eerie kind of empty, only a few pumpkins still burning with crooked, toothless smiles under covered porches, most of the jack-o'-lanterns already guttered out. Treat-or-treaters had gone home, the older crowd at their parties.

I'd left my porch light off since there was no one there to give out candy, and after I scuttled to my door with my hand over my head to block the rain, I fumbled with my keys, using the moonlight as my guide, finally getting the right one into the lock.

Pushing open my door, I noticed that a light was on in my family room—and I knew I hadn't left one on.

When Noah stood from my threadbare sofa, I could've hit the roof, but I only gaped instead.

***

A whole century could've gone by for all I knew as I stared and stared at him. His hair was tamed, a good sign, and his black sweater and pants were neat. But his arms were curved at his sides, as if he expected that he'd need to raise them to ward off my coming insults.

A fallen angel
, I thought again. One with dark, stiff wings, and he was here in my family room. How?

Why?

He gestured toward the sliding back door that led to the patio. “It was raining, so I went around back, thinking it might be unlocked. I hope you don't mind.”

Mind? I didn't seem to have a mind right now.

With a shake of his head, he said, “I suppose this is the biggest surprise I've pulled yet.”

I nodded.

“Jade, do you want to actually come in so we can talk?”

So he was ready to talk now. I'd told Carley she needed to do that with Bret. But advice is real easy to give out, isn't it?

In any case, I stepped inside, closing the door behind me. It struck me how funny this was—the modest furnishings that were a far cry from the Versailles décor in The Royal Bellerose's penthouse. Had I really been there less than a week ago? With Noah?

But he was here, really here.

I sat on the armrest of a smaller sofa away from Noah's, only now realizing that I was wearing a Halloween costume. I unlaced the bonnet strings from around my neck and tossed the material aside, feeling out of sorts.

“It's Halloween,” I said out of nowhere. I wasn't sure how to start.

“I haven't thought about it.” He sat back down, eyeing me warily. “But I'd venture to say that I've been wearing enough disguises lately to make up for the lack of one now.”

Right—the intimidating cowboy getup in New York, the man-at-ease jeans and flannel he'd put on here in Aidan Falls. “Why're you back, Noah?”

He nodded, as if he'd been expecting me to say that. “The easy explanation is that everything is in limbo with The Reeves Group. My brother Thomas is still courting my uncle Silas into coming around. Thomas feels guilty as hell for what he did to Dad, Mom, and me, and he's on a path to redemption. But he thought Silas would be more receptive without me hovering, so I left. Simmons is still in the city, too, facilitating things, and he agreed that I needed to trust Thomas. I suppose I was being too forceful in the way I was going about it with my uncle.”

“You?”

He sent me a confused gaze.

“I only say that because I can imagine you being forceful in a boardroom. You were very much the gentleman with
me
.” Most of the time.

“A gentleman wouldn't have let you leave like I did.”

I clutched at the rain-damp cotton of my dress, thinking of how it wasn't chiffon, thinking of how Noah and I weren't just peas and carrots—we were night and day.

But I had to give him credit. “It cost you a lot of effort to come here and say that to me.”

“You probably want to know why I bothered, so I'll tell you.”