The Wedding Planners, page 29
“Last I checked this was still my house.”
“Yes, right, it is. Of course it is. But you—you’ve not been in it. You’ve been gone.” No wonder the house looked different today. Nash was inside it!
“And how would you know that?”
“Because I’ve been coming here and sitting on the stoop and listening to my depressing playlist since you left,” I confessed without really meaning to. “Not often. I haven’t done it often, well not in the last month or so anyway. Before that, it was week—you know what, we don’t need to talk about that. You’re here. What are you doing here? When did you get back?” As the words continued to tumble out unchecked it occurred to me that he might not be alone. That this might not just be his house anymore, but theirs. The thought sent a nauseous wave through me.
I removed my hand from his bicep and took a step backward, peering past him.
“Nadia isn’t here.”
I nodded, desperate for some clarification. Did that mean she wasn’t in the house, or wasn’t in the city? Or was she just not here because she’d gone to grab them coffees or—
“We filed for divorce last week.”
My mouth opened and closed. Divorced. He was divorced, pretty much. Filing for divorce didn’t mean you were actually divorced yet; I was sure you needed to wait for official signatures and sign offs and things. But it was close enough, wasn’t it? He was divorced and back in the city. When did he come back? Had he been planning on coming to see me?
“When did you get back?” Please say last night, or this morning. Maybe he got the red eye from LA. And he was just about to leave the house. Without shoes. In the snow.
“Two weeks ago.” Ah.
Two weeks. He’d been in the city, in this house, for two weeks. And he hadn’t—no, this was fine. Just because I’d been a sobbing, pining mess since November didn’t mean that he had been also. And it was highly presumptuous of me to think that just because he was divorced now that we would pick up where we left off. He might not even want to be fr—
“I was planning on coming to see you, actually.”
That little flicker of hope burned bright in my chest. “You were?”
He nodded, scratched his beard. He was nervous. “You’ve been busy though.”
“I have, yes, I run a successful business now.”
The left side of his mouth ticked up. “I saw that.”
“I even hired an assistant.” I squared my shoulders, forcing myself to be professional Jemma. Or at least look like it.
“I saw that too. You replaced me?”
I swallowed against the sob in my throat. “I had to.” You were gone. For months. I didn’t think you were coming back. The words teetered on my tongue. I didn’t let them fall. “When were you going to come and see me?”
“Tomorrow. I made an appointment with your new assistant.”
“You made an appointment?”
“I figured that was the right way to present a business proposal. I didn’t want to just turn up on your doorstep. I didn’t know—” He stopped. Cleared his throat. Palmed the back of his neck.
And my heart plummeted through the steps at my feet. A business proposal. He wanted to present a business proposal. Breathe. I needed to breathe. I pressed my lips together and took a steady breath. Did I mean nothing? Did our time together mean nothing? He saw me as a business partner. And I’d been sleeping on the pillow that no longer smelled like him for months.
My phone started up again, and I sent a silent thank you to Sadie and her impeccable timing to get me the hell out of this mortifying conversation.
“I need to get this. I should go. But I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” he agreed with a curt nod.
“Odette will confirm all the details with you.” I stumbled down the stairs and back into the snow, unable to look at him. Nash was here. He’d been here for two weeks. And he wanted to present a business proposal. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh at the absurdity of it, or cry.
I cried.
I cried so much that Odette called Darcy because she didn’t know what to do with me. I didn’t blame her; I didn’t know what to do with myself either. The fact that seeing him was entirely unexpected didn’t help, but I doubt prior warning would have improved anything. I just hadn’t anticipated how it would feel to see him again. How much my heart would swell, only to shatter at the words business proposal. How could he think that the two of us could work together like nothing had ever happened? Had he been lobotomized in LA?
“Slow down, Jem, what’s going on?” Darcy dropped down beside me on the couch, one arm wrapped around my shoulders.
“Nash,” I wheezed. “Nash is here. He made an appointment.”
“An appointment with who?”
“Me. He made an appointment with me. He’s been back for two weeks, and he made an appointment. He’s got a—” I choked back a sob. “A business proposal.”
Darcy said nothing. What could she say? I hadn’t been waiting for Nash, but I hadn’t been moving forward either. Well, apparently it was time. Because it was clear he wasn’t interested. A business proposal!
I stood and marched to my bed, reaching under the pillow and pulling out his shirt. It still smelled of him, just. And I’d been sleeping in it, because apparently, I was an idiot. Months. Months I’d been thinking about him. Without thinking too much about it I threw the piece of clothing into the sink and covered it in dish liquid. The scents of ginger and lime obscuring whatever was left of him. I regretted it immediately, but it was done now.
“What kind of a business proposal?” Darcy asked, eventually, as I stared into the sink and tried not to cry again.
“No idea.” Part of me wasn’t even sure I wanted to know. How was I going to sit through his whole proposal? “I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”
It was a small miracle that I made it through the morning without my brain exploding. From the moment I woke up, even before I opened my eyes, my mind was on Nash. The thoughts were chasing one another, around and around. What would happen when I saw him? What was his proposal all about? Was that really all he wanted? Had I been waiting (as much as I tried to convince myself otherwise, part of me had definitely been waiting) for someone who no longer wanted me? Did he ever? Had I imagined it all? The last question hurt the most. Thinking that maybe the connection I felt wasn’t there at all.
I glanced at the calendar on my screen, my eyes zeroing in on the lavender half hour block of time at eleven-thirty. Neaston, biz prop. I couldn't decide if I was relieved to not have known until yesterday. How long had that appointment even been in there, staring me in the face and I didn’t notice? It didn’t matter. It would be over soon and I could move on. Properly.
We were still without a formal office, although it wasn’t going to be long before we probably needed one, so Odette had booked a small meeting room at a co-working space a couple of blocks from my flat.
If I was going to make it on time, I needed to leave now. I didn’t want any extra time for chit-chat beforehand. I was going to get in and out. I would listen to his presentation, while thinking of a polite way to say: thanks, but no thanks, because working with you would feel like ripping my heart out on a daily basis.
Odette was waiting on the pavement when I arrived with a couple of minutes to spare. Her taffy-pink hair was piled on top of her head, her curtain fringe making me think I, too, could wear it and not look awful (a lie).
“He’s inside,” she hissed, warm chocolate eyes darting around wildly. “You did not tell me he was so fucking hot.”
“Not helping.”
She cringed. “No, right, of course. That’s not—you don’t need to hear that. Are you okay? Do you need a donut?” She’d been spending too much time with Darcy.
“I’m okay, I promise, let’s just get this thing over with.”
“I cleared the rest of your afternoon. Just in case.” She was an actual, legitimate angel.
“Thank you.”
“Do we need a safe word?”
“What?” I snorted.
“That’s not right, is it? Signal, do we need an escape signal?”
“I don’t think so. Let’s do this, O.”
“You got it.” She yanked open the door and waved me through. I straightened my shoulders, blew out a breath and prepared to face Nash. Half an hour. I could sit across a table from him for half an hour and keep myself together. I could do that.
He was fidgeting with a laptop when Odette opened the door to the small room ahead of me. And my breath froze in my lungs. I’d seen him yesterday and yet right now he was a revelation. I loved him. Unquestionably. And he wanted to propose a business idea. I pushed the thought aside before it sent me into a sharp downward spiral.
“Nash, this is Odette, Odette, Nash.” They shook hands, and I took his moment of distraction to drink him in. Dark jeans. Crisp white shirt. Black trainers. His hair was out, the lighter ends dipping just below his shoulders. His full lips were just visible beneath his beard. His eyes barely left me, despite the fact he was talking to Odette, and I sat before I went and did something stupid like throw myself across the table at him. Because he didn’t want that. He was here to talk business.
“Shall we?” I said, keen to get this over and done with and leave immediately. I already needed a drink.
“Yes, absolutely. Let’s get to it.”
As soon as he started talking, I felt as though I’d been punched square in the chest, because I remembered the idea. He first brought it up at Cream and Sugar, the day after we started—nope, I was not thinking about naked Nash right now. I hadn’t forgotten about the idea. He obviously hadn’t either. But how could he want to do this, with me, but not with me?
He finished and stood there, looking expectant and beautiful and my heart was trying to punch its way clean out of my chest. It was brilliant. He was brilliant. But of all the work that had gone into the proposal, and I could tell it was considerable, there was nothing of us. Not the business us, but the heart of us.
I cleared my throat, willing my voice to remain steady.
“Can I have some time to think about it?”
Thirty-Four
Nash
I fucking blew it.
My stomach was a knot of anxiety, my head was pounding and there was nothing but static in my ears as I stumbled out onto the street and took large gulping breaths.
I couldn’t wrap my head around what had just happened.
Can I have some time to think about it?
What was there to think about? She either wanted to be with me or not? I guess that meant the answer was not.
Had I waited too long? I got that it had been a few months, but my feelings for her hadn’t changed. If anything, I was more sure of what I wanted with her now than I had been back in November. Had I misjudged the whole thing? Did she have one foot out the door the whole time we were together? The thought made my stomach clench a little tighter. I didn’t want to think I’d read it all wrong, but there was always a chance.
I should have known it wasn’t going to go well when she brought her assistant. But I really wanted to believe that when I finished, she was going to throw herself across the table and I’d kiss her like I’d been fucking dreaming about since Dallas’ wedding. The bubble had officially burst.
I shoved the last of my things into the satchel, which I had scooped up in a hurry to get the fuck outta there, and took off. I didn’t know where I was walking, just that I needed to get the hell away from there as quickly as possible. I tried not to go into the meeting with expectations, as per the advice from Chase, but fuck it, I did have expectations. Big ones. Good ones. Naked ones. I had a movie fucking montage in my head. But it literally could not have gone worse. Okay, so it probably could have gone worse. She could have refused to meet me in the first place. She could have shut me down mid-pitch and told me to get the fuck out.
After finding her on my doorstep yesterday, I really thought that my expectations were not so unreasonable. She admitted to coming and sitting on my stoop and listening to her wallowing playlist for fuck’s sake. How did she go from that to: Can I have some time to think about it?
How could I let this happen? That was it, my one shot. And I fucking blew it. What the hell was I going to do now?
Drink. That was what I was going to do. It wasn’t the most practical, or the healthiest, thing to do at midday on a Wednesday, but there wasn’t another option right now. I’d drink until I passed out and then wake up tomorrow and regroup. Because I refused to think that this was really the end of Jemma and I. It couldn’t be, could it?
Chase looked understandably concerned when I walked into Rudi Blue fifteen minutes later. She paused for a full thirty seconds, her mouth hanging open, as I crossed the room.
“What are you doing here?” She looked past me, probably expecting to see Jemma. Not today. Maybe not ever.
“I blew it,” I said, dropping onto a stool and letting my forehead fall heavy onto the bar top.
“What do you mean?” She asked, her voice pinched.
“Exactly that. I. Fucking. Blew it.”
She shoved at my shoulder until I was upright before saying, “I need more information, what did she say, exactly?” Her ponytail was all mussed, like maybe she’d been playing with it all morning, probably since I left her place at nine-thirty after my hundredth pep talk in the last twenty-four hours. The woman gave a seriously good pep talk. Not that it did me any good this time.
“There isn’t a lot more information to give you Chase, she said, and I quote: ‘Can I have some time to think about it?’”
“That’s it?” She winced.
I slumped on my stool. “Yup.”
“Hold on.” She took up a knife and continued to slice lime wedges. “That can’t be it. The pitch was so good. Did you mess it up?” She was clutching at straws, just like I had been since I walked out with my heart shattering in my chest. But there were no straws. It was over. Until tomorrow when I could think straight again.
Maybe I had messed it up somewhere along the line. I pretty much blacked out the minute I saw Jemma. As soon as she walked in, my world narrowed to her and her alone. My memories of her were pale imitations of the real thing. Her eyes were more vibrant, her lips more plump, her skin smoother. And her smell. It wrapped around me, coated me, bringing with it so many memories I nearly choked on them. Even her clothes seemed more. A simple pair of blue jeans and a cherry red sweater had never looked as good as they did on Jemma. I rubbed a hand over my chest, willing the ache to subside.
“I don’t think so. I delivered it just how we practiced.” God knew we’d practiced it enough times. “I guess she just wasn’t into it.”
“How could she not be into it? That doesn't even make sense.” She waved off the thought like it was genuinely offensive.
“I don’t know what to tell you Chase. Can I get a drink now?”
She was silent for a few long moments, her mind ticking over with a way to explain whatever the fuck had happened. This was what Chase did. She made sense of things. She fixed.
“Okay look, it’s not necessarily bad.” I leveled her with a skeptical look, which she chose to ignore and carried on, “We know she’s busy, right? Crazy busy. She’s got one staff member and probably bookings from now until the end of time. She can’t drop all of that and move two hours out of the city just because you strolled back into town with an idea and a smile.”
“And a deed to a dilapidated farmhouse.”
“That too.” She blew out a breath. “Maybe she does just want some time to think it all over.”
“Maybe,” I conceded because I hadn’t actually considered that. I thought she’d just say yes, let’s do it, and we’d work out everything else later. Preferably in bed. Preferably naked. But, as usual, Chase was right. Jemma had a lot going on now and it was unfair, and unrealistic, of me to think she could walk away from all of that after one meeting. Not that I expected her to walk away, we could roll everything together. We could make it work. So long as we were together.
I felt marginally better. But I still needed a drink.
Chase slid a pint across the bar, which I accepted and drained half in one scull. I couldn’t stop my mind from straying down the rabbit hole. As much as I wanted to believe what Chase said, I didn’t, not really. Because even if Jemma did need to think things over, we could have done that together. We could have worked out the details together. That was all I wanted. Together. With her. Instead, she wanted time to think it over alone. I really hoped it wasn’t thinking over how best to let me down easy.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, staring into my beer as Chase talked about nothing in particular. None of it really helped to distract me. No matter how much I wanted it to.
“Um, Nash…” Chase said in a strangled whisper.
“I’m fine, Chase, really, you don’t need to babysit me.”
“No, I know that—but you should—” She nodded behind me, her eyes wide and wild.
“What are you talking about? What’s—” Words failed me as I shot a glance over my shoulder and saw Jemma marching across the room. Jemma. Jemma was here. She didn’t look happy. She looked amazing, but not happy.
I stumbled to my feet, suddenly unsure of what to do with my hands. “Jemma, hi, have you—what are you—”
“Were you serious with that proposal?” She cut in, her eyes blazing, it was difficult not to shrink under the weight of that look.
“I—yes.” Was she serious? Did she think I’d wasted both our time?
“Have you lost your mind?”
I didn’t think so, but now you’re making me question it. “No,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster. This was so much harder without the table between us. It was an exercise in restraint to not reach out and touch her. All I wanted was to run my thumb over her lower lip. To bury my face in her hair.
