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“Okay. I can do that.” I’ve never met a challenge I couldn’t overcome. “Game on, Thompson. Now take the money.” I hold the stack out to her. Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, and she sighs before pocketing the cash.
“I’m putting it in the tip jar,” she warns. “And because we need the money.”
“Wait. What did you say?”
She frowns. “You fired me, Jonah. The paper is gone. A thousand dollars, or whatever this is, is a drop in the bucket. This isn’t even rent for this month.” Her shoulders sink. “Normally, I’d have way too much pride to take this from you, but this week?” She shakes her head. “Pride is for the rich.”
“I told them to pay you, Cal. As soon as I realized what happened, I had the money wired. I’ll do it again. I’ll send you an electronic payment from my personal account right now.” I sound desperate. I guess I am desperate. The thought of her worrying about money makes my heart clench. “Is that why you’re here? For the money?”
“Did you think I was doing this for fun?” Her voice is bitter. “You took everything from me, Jonah.”
Her face is cold when she walks away, and a tendril of doubt worms into my heart. I’ve been so confident that I could convince her to take me back, but what if I can’t?
60
Callie
“Your billionaire is back.”
Danny jerks his head at where Jonah sits in the corner. This is the second week of him lurking at a table in the coffee shop. He looks good enough to eat, wearing another one of his carefully chosen outfits. Today it’s a hunter green suit with some sort of graphic knit T-shirt. There are a couple of women sneaking glances at him from across the room. I can’t blame them. He’s reading on his tablet and sipping an espresso, like a Vogue Italy shoot come to life. Watching them watch him makes my stomach knot. I had him once. He was mine. For two glorious months.
You could have him again, my traitorous brain whispers. Forgive him. I’m not even mad at him anymore. I’ve never been one to hold grudges. Jonah’s actions were awful, but understandable. It’s the lack of trust I can’t get over. That and the fact that I know if I give in, I’ll be giving up a piece of who I am and be wrapped up in his life all over again.
“I’m sorry,” I tell Danny, as he works the espresso machine. “I can tell him to leave.”
Danny shrugs, his tatted arms moving deftly through the motions of pulling a shot. “He’s not bad for business. But he better order more if he wants to sit there all day.”
That’s enough for me to throw my rag down and stride over to Jonah’s table. I cross my arms and tap my foot until Jonah’s head slowly raises. He gives me a heart-stopping smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He’s so handsome, maybe even more handsome now that I can’t have him. His hair isn’t gelled back today. It’s mussed like he’s been running his hands through it.
“Sit with me.” He gestures to the chair next to him.
“You’re going to get me in trouble with my boss,” I respond.
“I’ll buy coffee for everyone here. For the rest of the day,” he responds evenly. He will too. Jonah pursues things with single-minded focus. And now his focus is on me. I suppress a shiver. It shouldn’t thrill me to be in his sights, but damn him, it does.
I roll my eyes in response, but I know Danny will love the extra revenue, so I can’t say no.
“I know you want to yell at me, Thompson. I’ll let you. Just sit. Please.” His soft words and the way my name rolls off his tongue unlock me. I miss him.
I can tell he misses me too, by the way he catalogs my face. He’s scanning for wounds, but he must know they’re all on the inside.
“You make good coffee,” he finally says. “When did you learn?”
“I waitressed when I was at Columbia. Both times.” I pulled his shot this morning, and the service person in me had to make it well.
“Do you like it?” He sips his coffee and watches me with those dark eyes.
“You know,” I say slowly. “I don’t mind it. I like interacting with people. I like seeing the regulars. I’m still thinking about my next move, but this is an okay temporary replacement.”
His mouth twists unhappily before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bulky, folded piece of paper. “Here. Before I forget. For your next move.”
I unfold it and foolish hope bursts in my chest. “A press pass.” I run my fingers over the official badge, with my photo and name printed on it. “How did you get it so quickly?”
He looks embarrassed for a minute. “I used a lot of political capital. Let’s hope Miles doesn’t need to be bailed out of jail anytime soon.”
“Thank you, Jonah.” I raise my eyes to meet his. Something passes between us.
I’ll never give up, his eyes say. He’s all arrogance and confidence when he looks at me like that.
