Traded for Love (24 page)

Return to Sender

(Drake)

I watched Chastity stir from across the kitchen. Her arm muscles flexed every time she brought the spatula around the inside of the mixing bowl. It was her first day back, so naturally, I kept a keen eye on her.

She set the bowl down and wiped her hands on her apron. “I don't like it when you hover.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “How did you even know I was here?”

“I just knew.” She went over to the mixer and began scooping heavy cream into the mixer bowl.

“I can't help it. I'm just making sure you're okay.”

When she turned, her eyes were dark, as they usually were when she was irritated. “I'm not a child. I had a
cold
not the plague.”

“You had cold
symptoms
,” I replied. “And all because of that—”

“Shh!” Her eyes were wide as she nodded her head toward Leroy, who was making bread nearby.

I sighed. “Right.”

She frowned. “I hate the way you are sometimes. You're not my father.”

“No. I'm not, but I care about you.”

“Don't remind me.” She went back to her batter.

Incensed, I pursued her. “What's wrong with someone caring about you? Why can't you accept it?”

She resumed her folding motion with the spatula. “You know how I feel about what we have.”

“I don't exactly like being reminded of that either. I still love you, in a way. You mean a lot to me.” I set her hands on her shoulders.

She gently moved my hands away. “I need to smoke. Will you come out with me?”

“Sure.”

We went out back. The silence was painful as she smacked her pack of cigarettes against her palm, took one out and lit it. I waited patiently for her to take the first drag.

“I don't want you to tell me you love me anymore.”

“Well, it's true. I love you as a friend, one that deserves to be cherished. And I won't lie to you or to myself about it.”

“I just want you to stop saying it, okay?”

“So, I'm supposed to just keep quiet? Not saying it doesn't make it untrue.”

She stared at the ground as the smoke from her cigarette curled in the air. “Has it ever occurred to you that I don't
want
to be loved?”

The words struck me directly in the heart. I licked my dry lips. “Everybody wants to be loved.”

“Not everybody.”

“Is this what's been going on in your mind this whole time? For all these years?” I shook my head. “You haven't wanted me to love you? Not even as a close friend?” The volume of my voice rose before there was anything I could do to stop it. “You don't want me to do anything for you? Or care about your well-being?”

“Stop it, Drake.”

“You
mean
something to me. You always—”

“—I'm not worth it.”

Any words I'd decided to say suddenly flew out the window. I was speechless. “Not
worth
it?”

“You heard me.” Her eyes were twinkling, and it occurred to me that I'd never seen her cry. I'd also rarely heard her shout. She was normally pretty soft-spoken.

“Bullshit.”

“I mean it,” she said quietly, tucking the filter of her bad habit between her lips.

“Why would you
ever
think that?”

“Because I can't love you back. When you say shit like this, it just
frustrates
me. It just reminds me that—I can't … ” The twinkle migrated over her cheeks. “Every time you say the word, I feel … ” She sniffed and her eyes lifted to meet mine. “It makes me sick.”

“I never asked you to love me back.”

“You did once. You know I couldn't then and I still can't now.” She sighed and wiped her face on her sleeve. “I hate having this fucking conversation. I hate thinking about this.” She threw her cigarette on the ground and crushed it under her toe. “Promise me you won't ever say it again.”

I swallowed hard. Everything about the promise felt wrong. “I can't.”

“God damn it, I don't understand you, Drake Savage. I really don't.” She turned her back on me. “You swear you love me. You love me, but not enough to promise me this
one
thing.”

“I can't make that promise because you
need
to hear it. And you
need
love, even if you don't want it; even if you can't feel it; even if you can't give it back.”

She spun and faced me, and on her face there was an ardent hatred I'd never seen before. “You have no right to decide what I need!”

Her voice echoed across the parking lot and back.

The door opened behind us, breaking the ensuing silence.

“Oh man. I need me a cigarette bad,” Jerome said to himself, stepping out beside me. He was oblivious to what he'd interrupted.

I gritted my teeth. “Shouldn't you be watching the counter?”

“Margot's got it for a while. I'm having a serious nic-fit.” He took out his own pack and began feeding on a death stick immediately.

Without a word, I turned and went back inside. I hated ending it on that note, but I couldn't think straight, and I was sure Chastity couldn't either, not in her state of mind.

I busied myself finishing the batter she'd begun, and put it in the oven to bake.

After a few minutes, both Chastity and Jerome came back inside. In Chastity's hand was a long, thin, teal box. She walked through the kitchen, went into my office and closed the door behind her.

There was no way to resist following her. I let myself in and saw her sitting in my chair with the box open on my desk. Inside something gleamed up at her.

“He sent me a bracelet.” Her voice was toneless, as if she was unsure of how to process it. “Tiffany's. Not cheap.”

I managed to keep my rage at bay, but my words still came out heated. “Doe?”

She nodded. “He left me his phone number, too. How cute. I'm assuming this means he's sorry.” Her head ticked to the side.

“I'll
bet
he is. As long as it means he can get his dick wet again,” I spat.

“I don't think that's all there is to it.” She lifted the bracelet out and let it dangle from her fingers.

“What do you mean?”

“There's a desperation. When we're together, he almost … bursts at the seams. It's like there's something bigger inside of him struggling to get free.”

“Poor idiot's probably falling for you.” I was sure the spite in my voice didn't escape her notice.

She chuckled. “Already? We've only known each other a few weeks.”

An ache filled my chest, the source of which I couldn't pinpoint. “It doesn't take long.”

Her eyes met mine. They'd softened since we were outside. There was something in her, too, something that wanted to come out—despite the fact that nature had forbidden its existence.

“What will you do?” I asked.

“When I see him again, I'll give it back.”

Part of me was relieved. The other part hated that she wanted to see him, a man I hated, one that had once and, if given the chance, would again treat her like garbage.

“If you really want me to, I'll allow him back in. You'll have to tell him yourself. I don't think I could look the guy in the face without decking him.”

“I know.” She snickered as she closed the jewelry back into its box.

“I'm only doing it 'cause … ” I swallowed the end of my sentence.

Her face was sweet, sympathetic. “I know …. Thank you.”

(Jack)

“Your approval numbers are a little low.” J.B. said over the top of the portfolio in his hand.

“Low?” I leaned back in my office chair. “That doesn't make any sense.”

“You opted out of the gala last week. Several key supporters were there and were …
disappointed
, that you couldn't make it.”

I scoffed. “Bunch of piranhas in this city. They all want something out of me. I've made promises I'm not sure I can keep.”

“It's not like you're going to be mayor. At this level, all they want is for you to represent them in certain cases. The worst thing you're looking at is helping them get around a few zoning regulations to fit their agendas.” J.B. closed the folio and dropped it on the desk. “Look, I'm going to be honest with you. You're going to have to kiss a little ass to get your numbers up. You have to stop ducking out of public appearances and parties and get these people on your side.”

“Yeah.” I picked up the folio. “I just hate it, all this brown-nosing. It's not who I am.”

“Well, it's who you've got to become to get into politics. There's no other way nowadays. You've got money, but not enough to fund a presidential campaign and afford everything you already have. You have to play ball, Duncan, just like the rest of us. You think the president got where he is without bending over for the people with the cash?”

I tossed the folio aside. “I guess not.”

J.B. cleared his throat. “Maybe if
you
won't bend over, your wife
will
.”

I shot him a dark, angry glance. “What the
fuck
did you just say?”

“I didn't mean … the way that you think.” He chuckled. “I mean that maybe you can butter up your constituents by presenting your gorgeous wife to them. She's got her charms. She's the sweet, naïve type. Supporters eat that shit up.”

My heart was pumping fast, and didn't calm until he was done clarifying. Even then, it took everything I had not to lay him out across the marble floor of my office. “Just watch what you say, Stratford.”

J.B. straightened his already-straight tie. “How
is
your wife, by the way?”

I spun in my chair and stared out the window. “She's fine.”

“Anyway, I've got another appointment.” He gathered up his briefcase. “I suggest you invite some of your prospective supporters to this event you're having in a few weeks. Play a little ball.”

I turned to him, having had a chance to gather my wits. “I'll consider it.”

He nodded curtly and walked out of the office.

“Fucking asshole,” I growled, throwing the portfolio hard against the wall.

I'd canceled my appearance at the gala to see Chastity. What a waste
that
night had been.

Too incensed to do anything else that day, I got my stuff together and called for Dante to pick me up.

Reuben came in carrying a stack of papers. “All done for today, Mr. Duncan?”

I turned off my iPad and checked my phone for the time. “Yes, I'll be going home early today.”

“Is there anything you'd like me to do for you before you leave?” he tapped at his Blackberry.

“No. I think I'm fine.” I caught site of the report I'd chucked across the room. “Clean up a little in here, would you?”

“Sure.” He looked up from his phone with a smile. “How did she like the bracelet?”

“Hm?”

“Your wife.”

“Oh. The bracelet.” I snickered. “All women like jewelry, don't they?”

“I guess so,” Reuben answered.

“You guess?” I grinned. “Never given your girlfriend anything like that?”

“Oh.” Reuben's cheeks colored. “I'm gay.”

“Hm. Well, your
boyfriend
then. Wouldn't he like it?”

“I guess he would.”

“Well, there you go.” I smiled. “She loved it. Thanks for asking.”

In reality, I was guessing. I had no idea what Chastity liked. I thought about her wearing the bracelet, about those light-brown eyes looking down at her glittering wrist. It made me happy.

(Emily)

I'd never been a nail-biter, but now I couldn't stop. I held my wrist in my hand to keep my manicure from being totally destroyed. I was waiting for him at the library window.

That fierce anticipation of seeing him reminded me of when we first began seeing each other. Back then, I counted the hours before we'd be together again. He'd always had that effect on me. Well, at least he had before our marriage began suffering. I marveled at how a few simple words and gestures had made me feel as though things had come full circle. Maybe the feeling wasn't exactly full force, but it was just enough to take away my appetite.

All I could seem to do was think. I checked my phone.
Three o'clock
.
It'd be hours before he got home.

Downstairs, the door opened.

I went out to see who it was.

As if on cue, he'd appeared.

He loosened his tie and I glimpsed the briefest view of his neck. I admired the way his shoulder muscles flexed as he handed his briefcase from one hand to the other. I was afraid he'd catch me gawking, so I broke the silence.

“Hi,” I said softly.

He looked up. “Hi.” The sunbeams streaming in through the skylight caught his beautiful eyes.

“Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Sure. Let me just drop all this off in the office.”

“I'll be in the library.” I turned and went back in.

Suddenly, I was unsure of how to position myself while waiting for him.
On the chair? By the window? Does how I look matter? Do I look stronger if I'm sitting or standing?

The door opened before I could think too long on it.

He appeared to be thinking deeply. I worried that what I had to say might burden him further and almost didn't say it.

“How was your day?” he asked.

“Fine.” I fidgeted. It was unnerving that he wasn't touching me. For some reason I wanted him to touch me. “Look, I want to talk about
us
.”

“Okay.” He wandered to the cluster of plush furniture, stopping to test the level of dust on a side table.

“I want to work on things between us. I think it's a good idea for you and me, and for Katherine, too.”

He turned to face me, a pleasant smile on his face. “I'm glad you feel that way.”

“The only problem is that I know before we can move on that I have to forgive you … for what you did.”

He nodded. “That makes sense.”

“I don't know if I'm ready yet.”

“Really, I didn't ask for your forgiveness, but I'm glad that you want to work through it.” I was a little surprised at how he was taking it. “You said you were sorry before. Was that a lie?”

“I was sorry that you were hurt. I didn't intend to hurt you. Honestly, I didn't think you'd find out, but it happened, and I can't take it back now.”

“So, you aren't sorry for doing it at all?”

“It was a worthless relationship. I didn't love Julia. She was just a slave, a means to an end.” He shrugged.