The Billionaire's Bauble (12 page)

“Hi, Mom.”

“Sloane? Hi, sweetheart.” The word cut through Sloane like a knife. The only person besides her mother that ever called her by that endearing name was . . .

“I suppose you got the great news, huh?” Sloane gulped.

“Yes, I wouldn’t be up so late, but I can’t sleep I am so excited to see you.” Her mother’s enthusiastic voice brightened Sloane a bit.

“Me, too, Mom.”

Sloane had to admit the beloved voice on the other end was one she had been missing for a long time.

“I can’t wait to see you and Dad. How are the wedding preparations going?”

“Fine. We’re almost ready. I’ve been writing recipes all week. I planned to bake five kinds of pie, but I’ll add a chocolate cream now that you’ll be here. When do you arrive?”

Sloane sighed, “Not until the Friday before the wedding. I’m only taking a few days off. I wish it could be longer but . . .”

“I know. You have a new job. I’m hoping you’ll come home and remember how much you love it here. Maybe you’ll stay,” her mother laughed, and Sloane could sense how much her mother missed her. Sloane felt similarly.

She considered her mom’s words. Maybe she should pack it all up and leave Alaska for good. Maybe she could live in New York City and get so caught up in the hustle and bustle, she’d forget all about David Grant.

If only.

Sloane knew he was permanently lodged in her heart, and the thought made her stomach hurt and her eyes sting. Sloane already missed him more than she’d ever missed her family. The thought shamed her.

“Mom, I know how much you’d like me to move home, and I'm not saying it won’t happen someday, but not right away. My new job is going to give me great experience. Fresh out of school like I am, I’m awfully lucky to get it.”

“Sure. Sure. I know. Sloane, Peter’s going to be in the wedding.”

Sloane put her hand to her eyes and rubbed them with her forefinger and thumb.

“I figured as much. It’s okay. I’ll keep my distance. Mom, I don’t want to talk about Peter. The only thing that matters is Charlie and Eva’s wedding. Eva must be as excited as a kid at Christmas. She’s wanted to marry Charlie for years.”

“Yes, she is excited, but the wedding is just a formality. Those two have always been joined at the hip.”

Sloane couldn’t help but feel surprised. Her mother was a strong proponent for marriage, and now she sounded rather flippant, as if Charlie’s wedding was a crossing of the “t” or the dotting of an “i.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure Eva’s parents are thrilled. Listen, Mom, I have an early day tomorrow, so I better go, okay? I’ll see you in a little less than two months. Can you believe it?”

Sloane’s heart beat heavily in her chest. Was it joy, melancholy, or fear? Probably some combination of the three.

“I can believe it, Sloane. I always knew you’d come back sooner or later. Are you sure you’re well? You sound kind of sad tonight.”

Sloane wanted to tell her mother everything. I blew it, Mom. I had Mr. Right on my couch and I kicked him out. Sloane couldn’t believe how stupidly she’d acted. All she wanted was to hold David in her arms, to tell him that she was afraid of how strongly she felt attached to him. Already.

Last night had been everything she had ever dreamed could happen. It had been pure magic, and now…

“I’m fine, Mom. Just tired, I think. The new job is mentally challenging, but I’m up to it. Really. Please don’t worry about me. Focus on Charlie, on Eva. That’s what matters now.”

Sloane could hear her mother stirring her tea. The sound was a comforting bit of home.

“Okay, if you say so. But remember that I’m here for you, and you can call me anytime.”

“I know, Mom. I have to go.”

“Have a good night’s sleep, Sloane. I love you.”

The words stabbed at Sloane’s chest. How she longed to hear those words from David.

Sloane had always expected too much too soon. She had been so loved, was still so loved. Her family wanted only the best for her, but they couldn’t give her the happily ever after she craved. Only David could do that.

Sloane finally admitted to herself she had fallen in love with David the minute she met him back in that bar two years ago. When he looked into her eyes and held her for those few minutes, he won her heart. And now, she’d lost him, had told him to leave and never come back. She was the biggest dolt in America, and she knew it. Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all: that’s what Shakespeare said. She sure hoped it was true.

“Good night, Mom.” Sloane closed her phone and buried her face in her pillow. She thrashed around on her bed, unable to get comfortable, unable to sleep. She kept wondering what David was doing, why he hadn’t called.

“Don’t come back,” she’d said, and she hated herself for being so impetuous and cruel. And after he had been so thoughtful, so kind. Sloane remembered how he’d been so tender with her after the car accident, how generous he’d been with the clothes and cosmetics, how easy it’d been when they made supper, and finally how vigorous sex had been over and over again. How could she have sent him away?

She considered taking another hot bath, to scald away the memory of David’s hands on her breasts and between her legs, of his long, lean body pressing so deeply into hers. She recalled how he fit inside her like a missing puzzle piece, and how when he wasn’t inside her, she felt empty, bereft even, a feeling she’d never had before.

Peter had made love to her many times, but never once had it been the epiphany David’s body evoked. David had brought her to climax more times in one night than she had ever experienced with Peter. Poor Peter. He’d been a fine lover, a caring and gentle lover, yet she had never been wowed by his caresses, had never lost herself to his body. She’d often faked great passion with him, and she regretted doing so, but with David it was real.

She threw the covers off her legs, and then pulled them up again when she began to shiver. She wondered if David was thinking about her. Was he as agitated, as bereft, as besotted as she?

No. David hadn’t been rash or indiscrete. That was all on her.

He was probably back at Grant trying to make that next big deal. He had actually taken a night off for her. Sloane recalled how surprised Tony and Maya had been when he told them. He did it to please her, or maybe he did it to get her in bed. Sloane didn’t know what to think. Tumult and incongruity conspired in her overworked brain. Everything was so new, and so discombobulating.

Had she imagined his tenderness? She wanted him so much, maybe she had misinterpreted all that had happened.

It didn’t take long for Sloane to convince herself she had misconstrued the whole evening. After all, if David really cared wouldn’t he have seen how much she wanted him to fight for her, to stay despite her demands he leave? He certainly had given up readily. Maybe he was secretly relieved to be rid of her.

That was it.

He must have been glad to leave, or else he would have put up some kind of fight.

She convinced herself he didn’t care. She convinced herself she was not missing anything but heartbreak. If she let him get any closer, she would be enthralled for life. She knew it as sure as she knew her name.

Then why did she want to call him so badly? Why did she want to tell him she had made a huge mistake?

She knew if she gave in, called David and apologized, he’d be in her bed tonight. And she also surmised that if he were to come back, she would be lost. If he touched her soul with his, put his body atop hers, she would tell him she loved him.

Yes, she loved him, and he did not love her.

Sloane felt so tormented, she clenched her fists and beat her bed like a child at tantrum.

She knew love had to be a two way street. And the avenue she traveled with David was one way. She had to control her desire and keep herself from him, from seeing him, from reaching out to him. If she went to him now, she would be his until he tired of her or found some new toy, and then she would never have a soul mate.

Was it possible that he was hers, but she wasn’t his? Was it possible that she had been wrong about the concept her whole life?

Self doubt and melancholy flooded her mind and her body. She fell asleep fitfully only to dream about him.

In her dreams, they made love all night, so that when she woke the next morning, she was utterly enervated, bone weary, ready for nothing but a lousy day at Forster. Even the weather reflected her grief. The clouds gathered and rain poured as the whole sky seemed to share her woe.

She wanted to stay in bed and read, but she forced herself to get ready for work. She hurriedly dressed and called a cab, but when she opened the door to leave, a note fluttered to her feet. She picked it up and her heart raced. Was it from David?

The paper was a receipt and the “paid in full” told her David continued to take charge despite her demands he cease. The new car was parked in her spot under the balcony.

“Oh, David,” she groaned, looking at the bright red sedan she could never afford.

She walked around the shiny new car and thought it the prettiest thing she had ever seen next to David’s smile. She wanted to return it, but she also wanted to sit down in the gorgeous leather driver’s seat and fly down the road to thank its purchaser. It was a gift too great to accept, she knew, but sending the car back would only be ungracious. She decided to accept his gift until the insurance check for her old car arrived. She’d pay him back, she reasoned.

Sloane finally sank into the driver’s seat and found the keys in the ignition. A key chain with an
S
hung from the keys.
S
for stupid, sad Sloane.

She almost wept.

Instead, she started the car. As it purred to life, Sloane shook off her self-loathing.

Work to do, she reminded herself with consternation. Sloane decided to drive straight to work, not even stopping for coffee or a strawberry muffin.

But then she found herself driving past Grant Oil on her way to Forster, and she saw David’s sports car in his parking spot. She was so glad to know where he was, to envision him in his spacious office, commanding his staff. She wanted to call and say thank you for the car, but she was afraid to hear his voice. She knew if she did, she would relent, would apologize and then he’d be back at her side. Then what?

Then I’d be happy, she thought.

Could she really be happy living with a man who could make love to her all night but never say the words? Could she settle for loving him, yet never be loved back?

No.

Yes.

Maybe.

Sloane rubbed her temples in confusion.

Pulling into Grant Oil, she stopped her new car behind his black Maserati. She plucked the receipt from her tote and penned a quick note on the back.

David, I’m sorry things didn’t work out for us. Thanks for the gorgeous car. Be assured, I will repay you when I get the insurance check. I hope you have a great life and you get all the happiness you deserve. --Sloane

She got out of the car, and her hands shook as she went to put the note under his windshield wiper. Just as she lifted the steel arm, an ear piercing alarm sounded.