Wicked Envy, page 20
“Of course, I will,” he says in almost a daze as he takes the envelope. I feel terrible for how badly I’m overwhelming him right now.
I hand the last envelope to him. “Give this to Dane.”
“What is it?” he asks as he takes it.
“Something I should have given him a long time ago,” I whisper as I look at the envelope that contains everything Dane would need to find his father. “Back in our senior year at Berkley, Dane’s dad came to the apartment one day. Dane was really freaked out, and I essentially had to chase him off because Dane was sort of frozen. But the man told me his name and that he just wanted to reconnect with his son. So, I ended up tracking him down and kept the information to give to Dane if he ever wanted to find his dad. I never gave it to him, though. I kept it because I didn’t think Dane would want it. I tried to give it to him a few weeks ago.”
Andrew’s eyes travel to the envelope. “But he didn’t take it.”
“Said he didn’t want it. But I hired an investigator two days ago to update the information, and his father is in the same town working the same job. I want you to give this to Dane. He can decide what to do with it, but I shouldn’t keep it anymore.”
I stand up from the bed and smooth my dress down. My flight doesn’t leave until tonight, and I long for a hot bath to soothe the tension from my shoulders. Then I’ll be going into some comfy travel pants and a pullover as I have a long flight ahead of me.
“Where are you going?” Andrew asks as he stands up. He leans over and picks up the other envelope that contains my resignation.
“Paris,” I tell him.
“You’re taking the job Fabron offered you,” he says.
I shrug. “I’m going to talk to him about it and see if it’s something I’m really interested in. But I will probably take it.”
Andrew steps up to me and shakes his head, his face filled with fear and doubt. “This is so impulsive, Avril. It’s not like you. It’s only been three days… you should give Dane time.”
Bringing my hand up, I touch my fingers to his cheek and smile at him. “Time won’t fix this for Dane. He’s been like this for thirty-nine years and I believe him when he says he can’t. But time will fix it for me. Time and distance is what I need.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, but then he asks in a choked voice, “But what about me? I don’t want the distance. I don’t want to lose my best friend.”
And I lose it right there. The tears well up fast and spill. Apparently, I wasn’t as dried up as I thought I was. I fling myself into Andrew’s arms, and we squeeze each other so hard I can barely breathe.
When his hold on me loosens slightly, I manage to tell him, “I’m going to miss you so much, Drew. But we’ll talk every day, and FaceTime, and we’ll visit each other all the time. You’re not losing me.”
“I am,” he insists as he squeezes me again. “And while I understand why you’re doing this, you have to know this is a mistake, Avril. You may not see it now, but this is a mistake.”
I shake my head and press my cheek hard into his chest. As the tears drip down my face, I tell him, “The mistake was in starting something with Dane in the first place.”
CHAPTER 29
Andrew
My cell phone rings, and it takes me less than a second to process Avril’s ringtone. I snatch it up and connect the call. “About time you called.”
“We’ve talked every day,” she admonishes me with a laugh.
“That’s true, but you’ve never waited this late to call.” I look at my watch and ask her, “It’s what… close to midnight there?”
“The Parisians do like their late-night dinners,” she says followed by a yawn. “It’s hard getting used to it.”
“I can’t believe you’ve been gone just five days,” I tell her as I lean back in my chair and kick my feet up on my desk. “It feels like five years. When are you coming to visit?”
Avril laughs again, and it’s music to my ears. I haven’t heard that much lately. “It will be a few months. But how about you come here to visit? My apartment is lovely and has a lumpy old couch you can sleep on. Oh, and I seem to have adopted a cat. He’s kind of mean tempered and missing half an ear, but he won’t leave and I’m afraid to kick him out now. I named him Clyde.”
“Oh, good God. You’re turning into a cat lady.”
More laughter and I can’t help but grin in response. Fuck, I miss her so bad, but if she’s happy, that’s all that matters.
But without seeing her face, I can’t tell how genuine that laugh is. I need to see her eyes to know the truth.
“Hey,” I say to keep the conversation going. “I ran into Jared yesterday. He needed to get up with you so I gave him your number.”
Avril doesn’t respond. After a few seconds, I have to prod her. “Av… everything okay?”
She gives a little cough and says, “Um… yeah. It’s fine. He called. Apparently, Jamie’s will was read and he left everything to me.”
I let out a low whistle. “Everything?”
“His house, bank accounts, life insurance, and personal effects. The medical practice obviously went to Jared.”
“How does that make you feel?” I venture hesitantly.
“Like shit,” she admits. “I don’t want that stuff. I don’t deserve it. We were over and done with.”
“What are you going to do?”
Avril sighs, and I can feel the weight of her dilemma within it. “I don’t know. Give it to one of the charities he supported? Brain aneurysm research?”
“Both good options,” I reassure her. “But you don’t have to make any snap decisions. Maybe talk to Jared about ideas. You’ll figure it out.”
Another sigh from her this time, and I hear the relief in it. “You always know what to say to boost me up, Drew.”
Apparently not enough to keep her from running off to Paris and leaving her life behind because Dane’s a cowardly jackass.
“So, who did you go out to dinner with tonight? Fabron?” I ask her. I know of his interest in her, and I expected he’d make a move.
Avril snorts. “No, it was just with some people at Révéler. Talking to me about the company to help me decide. And Fabron and I are just friends. Nothing more.”
“Doesn’t have to be that way,” I tell her, not that I want her to be with Fabron, because I don’t. I just don’t want her to give up on the prospect of love.
“Did you not hear I got a cat?” she chides without addressing what I just said. “I don’t need anything more at this time.”
“Don’t give up on love, Av,” I say softly. “Look at everything I’ve been through, and I still believe it exists out there for me.”
She’s silent a moment, but then she says, “It’s still too fresh. It’s going to be a long time before I look for anything.”
The flatness in her voice worries me. “Do you need me to come and hang out with you a bit there? I can totally take some time off work.”
“No, of course not,” she reassures me. “I’m fine. I’ve got my days I’m blue, but I’m sure it will get better.”
“Yes, it will get better,” I say confidently.
“It has to,” she returns almost desperately, and my heart aches for her.
Avril yawns again and says, “I’ve got to get some sleep. Talk tomorrow?”
“Talk tomorrow,” I reply softly. “Love you.”
“Love you back,” she says and then disconnects.
She never asked once about Dane. She hasn’t asked about him during any of our other conversations either.
Which I suppose is fitting, because Dane hasn’t asked about her either. After I handed him her resignation, I watched as he silently read it and then tossed it on his desk. All he said was, “I’ll move Charlie Brent over as interim COO until we can figure out what to do.”
His words were cool and collected, but he couldn’t hide the way his hand was shaking as he read the letter.
Since then, he’s become surly and closed off, and I’ve decided to give him his space. I’m still a little pissed at him for letting Avril go so easily, but on the flip side… I still love the dude the way I love Avril. I want them both to get over this heartache. If I knew how to accomplish it, I would.
Pushing up out of my chair, I decide to walk down to his office to check on him. While I’m firmly in Avril’s corner as being the one wronged, I need to cut him some slack. Nothing he did was mean spirited or without thought. He was being truthful with her, even if it crushed her, and I have to give him some leeway.
I don’t bother knocking on his door because the last time I did, he yelled, “Come back later. I’m busy.”
I know damn well he wasn’t any busier than any other day, and I’ve always walked right into his office unless he had someone in.
Opening the door, I slip inside. He’s so engrossed in something on his computer screen that he doesn’t notice me for a moment. I take a step forward, and his head snaps up to look at me.
And Jesus Christ, he looks bad. So fucking bad. I feel like shit as I should have been paying more attention to him the last few days.
His eyes are red rimmed and bloodshot. He hasn’t shaved in I’m guessing… oh, five days. He’s wearing a wrinkled dress shirt with his tie pulled loose, and the expression on his face is as flat as a board. He doesn’t say a word to me but watches me advance on his desk.
“What are you doing?” I ask casually as I sit down.
He closes his laptop, which is odd, and says, “Reviewing some reports.”
“How do they look?”
“Fine,” he says distractedly. “You did a good job.”
I have no clue what he’s talking about because I haven’t given him any reports to read lately. He picks up a pencil from his desk and starts rolling it through his fingers, which gives him a place to stare at rather than look at me.
“Enough, Dane,” I growl.
His head jerks up, and the pencil clatters to the desk. “Excuse me?”
“Enough,” I reiterate firmly. “Get over it. Move on. You lost her, man. I know it sucks because you made a stupid fucking choice when you chose your cold black heart over a woman who loves you, but whatever, dude. You have a business to run so snap the fuck out of it and move on.”
“You’re an asshole,” he mutters as he picks the pencil back up and starts rolling it again. The fact he’s trying to ignore me pisses me off.
“No, you’re an asshole. You chased Avril away. Now I don’t have my best friend because you’re a selfish prick who is also a coward.”
Dane ignores me and turns in his chair to look out the window. He doesn’t say a word in defense, and his silence indicates he’s not going to engage with me.
“You need to go to The Wicked Horse and get laid, man,” I tell him.
He flinches and even though he’s not looking at me directly, I can see his grimace from his profile. Interesting that The Wicked Horse is distasteful to him.
“I was wrong,” he says so quietly I almost don’t hear him. But his voice strengthens as he turns to look at me. “I was wrong about all of it.”
“What do you mean?” I ask as I scoot forward in my chair a bit to give him my undivided attention.
Dane sighs and leans back. He looks like he’s aged about ten years. “My biggest fear was that Avril would abandon me. That I couldn’t trust her because my dad ripped that away from me. So, I cut bait and ran. I gave her up before she could break my heart. But I was so fucking wrong. Avril didn’t abandon me, nor would she have. I abandoned her. I turned out just like my fucking dad. Everything I hated about him, I turned around and did to her. I became the fucker I despise.”
I want to make a ding, ding, ding sound and tell him he’s won a prize for finally uttering the truth about all of this. But that would be crass and might cause him to clam back up again.
Standing up, I lean over his desk and tap my finger on the top. “Then do something about it.”
Dane lifts his face to look up at me. He studies me silently, and I’m not encouraged by how dead his expression is. Finally, he says distractedly, “Yeah… maybe.”
“Want to talk about it? I’ll help you figure it out. I’m sure Avril—”
Dane holds a hand up and shakes his head. “I don’t need to talk about Avril.”
“Then what do you need?” I ask him gently. “I’m still your best friend, man. Tell me what you need.”
His lips curl up ever so slightly, but there’s no light in his eyes. “I need to figure this out myself. But I appreciate the offer.”
I nod in acknowledgment and take a step back. “I’m here if you need me. Just call.”
“I will,” he says as his head rolls on the back of his chair and he goes to staring back out the window.
Turning, I head out of his office, but I am bolstered by one thing I saw in there.
Laying on his desk was the envelope Avril had me give him that contained all the information on his father. It was open and the contents were spread out.
CHAPTER 30
Dane
My first Christmas I can remember was with my father. My mom had died in childbirth, and I always wondered what it would be like to have one.
But that first Christmas was nice. I’m not quite sure what my dad did for a living but he came home dirty and sweaty every night, so I know it was some type of manual labor. I stayed with a neighbor in the next-door apartment, and he’d pick me up there. We’d then go to our place, and I’d sit in the bathroom on top of the toilet seat while he took a shower and asked me about my day.
I knew my dad didn’t make a lot of money, but I don’t think I really noticed. That first Christmas I can remember with him, I had a lot of presents. And by a lot, maybe five or six. They weren’t overly big, but I’d never seen five or six toys all for me at once before, so it was awesome.
The thing I remember the most was my dad smiling big with each one I unwrapped.
The next year, I was in a foster home with four other foster kids. The foster mother, whose name I can’t even remember because there have been so many, told us that there was no Santa Claus and, “I can’t afford no presents on what the state pays me to keep you lousy brats.”
I could go on and on about similar stories in the various homes I’d bounced around in, but they’re all the same. By my third year in the foster system, I’d become hard and closed off. I looked at potential adoptive parents with distrust and refused to talk to them, making me virtually unadoptable.
The man I completely blame for that is my father, yet here I stand on his doorstep with my hand poised to knock on the door.
I take a deep breath and give a hard double rap. While I wait for him to answer, I take in the rundown apartment complex he lives in. It’s not in the worst part of town, but it’s close. I saw someone making a drug deal in the parking lot when I pulled in, so I sort of expect to find a strung-out man opening the door.
Instead, when it opens, I see the same man who stood at my apartment door all those years ago. There’s more gray in his hair and a few more lines around his eyes, but he looks fit, healthy, and clear eyed.
“I don’t believe it,” he says in a voice hoarse with emotion. “Dane.”
I can’t think of anything to say. For the million things I’d thought of on the plane or in the rental car to get here, not a single thing comes out.
“Come in,” my dad says, remembering his manners. “Come in.”
He backs away from the door, and I enter the small apartment. It’s a one bedroom. The carpet is threadbare and the walls have holes in them, but it’s clean and orderly. There’s a toolbox on the floor near the green plaid couch, and the TV is on with a news program playing on low volume. It looks like I interrupted his microwaved meal, which sits half eaten on the coffee table.
I turn my gaze back to my dad, and I can see he’s now extremely nervous to have me here. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his work pants and rocks back and forth on his heels. We stare at each other, not knowing what to say.
After another look around the small apartment, I ask, “So… you do home improvements?”
“Yeah,” he says with a hesitant smile. “General handyman stuff. Doesn’t make a ton of money but keeps me fed and a roof over my head.”
That strikes me deep because I know more than anyone that people need more than just food in their bellies and a roof over their head. They need so much more.
I rub the back of my neck, feeling the tension starting to take root there. This was probably a stupid fucking idea.
“You know,” I say as I drop my hand. “I don’t even know the details of what you did that got me taken away from you.”
My father’s face goes pale, his expression pained. “Drugs, Dane. As simple as that. Coke, heroine. Whatever I could get my hands on. I started dealing so I could have access and the money to buy them. You don’t remember that?”
I shake my head. “Not really. I remember being left at the neighbors for several days, and then someone just came, picked me up, and took me away.”
“I got arrested,” he says as his eyes hold locked to mine. “Did eighteen months. Got out and went right back to dealing. Got arrested again, did two years. Made some great contacts in that prison stint, and when I got out, went to work for those people dealing. Third time I got arrested, I went away for seven.”
“And then you didn’t go back to dealing after that?” I ask skeptically.
“Met a woman soon after I got out. Angela. She changed my life. Saved me, I guess you could say. I stayed clean, got a good job, and when I felt I was stable enough, I married her.”
“You’re married?”
A look of exquisite pain passes over my father’s face. “She died about eight months ago. Liver cancer.”
My first thoughts go to Avril, and the thought of her dying by some consuming disease makes me sick to my stomach. “I’m sorry,” I manage to tell him.
