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I sigh, beyond frustrated. “O, you two can do all that over the phone, so you’re going to have to give me a better reason than those.”
He’ll never do better because I’m not going, but Orion will keep at me until I do.
“Okay, how about this?” He gets a scheming look on his face, and usually his schemes involve me, something I don’t want to do, and is mentioned mostly in the name of joking just to get a rise out of me… now that we’re adults, that is. “You get to rub in Tommy’s face how well you’re doing without him. If he’s disgustingly happy, we’ll go back to Arrow soon and pretend we’re dating just to piss him off. Hell, we’ll even pretend you’re pregnant if it hurts him enough. He used to suspect I was competition. I would’ve been if you wanted me back then. Maybe he still does suspect that I’d date you in a heartbeat, and if that’s true… then we can flatten the bastard without laying one hand on him. People don’t generally like the idea of their old flames being with someone else even after they’ve moved on.”
It’s true that Tommy felt a little on the outside of my chosen crew for hanging and studying with during college, and he sourced out the whore in Orion the minute I introduced them, but…
“O, not only do I not want to hurt Tommy, I don’t want to see him. Don’t even want to think about if he’s married with kids.”
Truthfully, I’ve frozen the Tommy I loved before we split in time. Couldn’t handle seeing him any other way, especially disgustingly happy without me. Or with kids. I don’t begrudge him all the above, just don’t want to see it up close and personal. Not after I promised him and myself as soon as my career was off the ground and his restaurant was solvent, we’d build a family together. That’s not likely anymore, but my stupid body, along with my idiot heart, doesn’t seem to be interested in a family with anyone else. Not even the gorgeous, filthy rich Orion Townsend, best friend who I’d usually do anything for, can tempt me with even a fake offer of a family, let alone a real one.
I was always supposed to be with Tommy, but those days are over. Why the hell can’t I get over him?
“Then go back to face him, Kat. See for yourself that Tommy doesn’t hold you in his grip like you think he does. Sometimes, we don’t know we’ve moved on too, until we confront our past. Sometimes, we have to see that what we thought was the biggest obstacle in our life was knocked down a long time ago before we realize we can take a step into the future.”
God, I detest when Orion makes a valid point that I can’t refute. It usually has to do with something concerning me. As usual, he’s right. How can I move on if I haven’t let go of the idea of a life with Tommy? I’ve been holding on to it, to him, strangling the memories of what we had and were supposed to have been.
I am stuck emotionally. Mentally.
Career-wise, I’m standing strong, but my career doesn’t keep me warm at night. Can’t knock me up with a child. I will have to face Tommy to put him in my rearview mirror for good. If I can. Not being able to, is what terrifies me the most.
I palm the hard, black plaster arms of my chair. “Okay, you’ve swayed me, but if this backfires on me, you’ll be paying for my therapy.”
Orion grins so hard all his perfectly-straight, white teeth on display remind me of a cunning predator. “I pay for all of your other medical needs with the insurance package that comes with your job anyway. Therapy just might be the cheapest thing your doctor puts in a request for payment for.”
“I hope not,” I snipe, getting up to go home and pack.
“You’re just mad because I’m right. Oh, and Devlin has a seat at your table for your plus one if you decide to take anyone… like one of the meaningless encounters you insist on having.” Now, that’s a chair that will remain empty much like the significant other spot in my life it seems.
“Rub it in, why don’t you, jerk?” I utter under my breath.
He laughs. “I heard that. Oh, and your plane takes off in two hours. Your ticket is at checkout, but you should leave now. Security is a bitch everywhere.”
The fucker knew he was going to talk me into going back before he even knocked on my office door. Am I that damn gullible?
I guess so.
I slam my laptop closed, grab it up along with my purse from my bottom drawer, and leave Orion still sedentary on the edge of my desk with a shit-eating grin in the middle of his pie-hole. In the underground garage, I fling myself in my Audi A3, then attempt to collect myself, nerves fraying on the ends.
Tommy. Cannot. Hurt. You. Anymore, Kat. Just walk into his restaurant, say hello, see he’s grown fat an
d bald and ugly. Let him see that you haven’t changed. Much. Just a little thicker from sitting at a desk. A lot stronger from him breaking you down though. Then, go to the wedding and haul ass back to London. Easy as pie.
I start the engine and merge with the fast-moving traffic in the business district. I better take a cab wherever I go in Colorado. After driving on the left side of the street for ten years, I’m going to kill everybody on the road in Arrow if I get under a wheel there. I know this for a fact because I damn near murdered everyone by car here the first twenty times I drove in London—reflex had me wanting to be on the right side, which is the wrong side in London. I don’t think it’s going to be any quicker to reprogram my instincts in the states. Once they commit to something, usually they stick to it, therefore Tommy’s hold on me.
Without bothering to unload the car of my purse and computer, I enter my double-bedroom flat. I traverse through the average-sized beige and white living area, pass the short, reverse L-shaped wall separating it from the kitchen with black cabinetry and stainless-steel appliances. The atmosphere is neutral in my space, neither happy nor sad. Just is. The way I like it after Tommy. I don’t want to feel anything, except I can’t stay in this zone with a family. Unable to feel therefore unable to love. My children, all children as a matter of fact, and whoever I create mine with should get much more than detachment from me.
I enter the tiny hall connecting the guest bathroom and bedroom. Past those is the master’s and ensuite bath. I duck inside my closet and extract a carry-all bag that I’ll be able to take on the plane. While swiftly stuffing it (before I change my mind) with a few changes of clothes, a wrinkle-proof, fire-engine red dress, and matching stilettos, I dial up my mother’s closest friend. Retired Millie Lomax maintains the upkeep on the house in Arrow for me.
She answers on the third ring. “Hey, Miss Johnson. How are you?”
“Lord, Miss Millie, I’m fine, and I’ve asked you a thousand times to call me, Katara, or Kat like you used to do when I was a child.”
“I’ve told you a thousand times that I would if you weren’t my boss, too.”
“Yeah, well, you deserve the most respect, so you’re stuck with Miss Millie.”
This is a vicious circle we travel in every time we talk. Yet, we both end up laughing at the other in the end. I’m still always Miss Johnson the next time I call.
