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“Sure you did. Because I couldn’t reach you on the cheap piece of garbage sitting on your nightstand. Babe, open the door.” He’s demanding, and I think about everything that’s transpired in the extremely short time since we crossed the line from boss and employee to intimate partners.
Squeezing my fists, I say, “I can’t do this James. It’s all too much. You’re too much.” I try to will the tears away. For all the ways he’s made me feel amazing, I’ve lost so much. If I end this now, I’ll save myself tons of heartache and disappointment. Just do it. Tell him it’s over, my mind argues with my needy heart. All those mushy feelings were worth avoiding to protect my little bubble, which is now obliterated by what happened on-air.
“Can we not do this through your apartment door? Please Casey.” I peek out again noticing the bob of his throat, his missing tie and how his hair looks like his hands have done nothing but run his fingers through it for hours.
“I like my door. The door feels safe.” I hear his feet shuffle and what I think is an exasperated huff of air on the other side.
“You’re afraid I’m going to swallow you up whole and take away your control.” James rails against the door, using his pop psychology to coax me. It’s the bang of his fist a moment later— angry, hard, and loud against the door—that makes me jump away for a moment. The vibrations shake me and dust floats from the ceiling in my shithole of a place. I have to fight with myself to keep from opening the door and letting him in.
I let my cheek rest against the door, tracing the grooves and indentations of the frame. My fingers crave to clutch the knob and turn it open, but I don’t. “Well, aren’t you, James? Overwhelming me. It’s what you’ve done so far.” I’m referring to his episodes of uncontrolled anger.
“I would never hurt you, Casey… whatever you’re thinking, stop.” Now isn’t that the crux of this? I can’t stop thinking about it. “Open the door so we can talk about this. Please.” I struggle to decide what to do and my hesitation is frightening me.
“James, I think we need…” I take a breath to gather my words, but he interrupts me.
“No, sweetheart. I want us to fight this together so we don’t have to deal with it ever again. I want us to always be stronger than the bullshit brewing here. We’ve got to talk about this.” Squeezing my eyes shut, I ask my higher power for the strength to keep the tears at bay—I’ve done too much crying with this man. Biting my lip, I slip the chain from the door, hoping this isn’t a mistake, and open it a crack. Our foreheads meet, barely grazing each other, but that touch is light itself.
“Casey, open the door. Open the possibility of our future.” James chokes the words out. I know how lost he feels—about as lost as I do. I open the door all the way, giving him another chance to tear me apart.
“James.”
“Baby.” He pushes the door open, forcing me to step back, and scoops me up in his arms, holding me tighter than ever and squeezing the anger I had for him out of my heart. He tosses the new phone, still in its box, on my couch and continues to walk through my apartment, pushing things and doors out of his way until he drops me lightly on my bed and crawls over me, pinning my arms above my head with no resistance. Our lips meet briefly, barely touching in a kiss born of hurt, sorrow and penance.
Shamelessly, I’m already wet and willing for all things James. This is the safest I’ve been and the most home I’ve felt since this whole thing started. Giving him a second chance feels like I’m willingly burning myself, especially if I’m wrong.
“God, I missed this. Missed you.”
“It’s been forty-eight hours, you crazy man.” He pushes against me, hard and soft meeting in all the right places, and I’m dizzy with want for him all over again.
“I don’t care if it’s been an hour or a week. I love you.” James lingers with kisses over my face, neck, and lower.
He frowns and it doesn’t escape his notice that I haven’t said the words he longs to hear back. “James, you can’t say things like that.” Part of me wants to push him far away—being alone is safe—but he pushes right back, and the words roll off his tongue like delicious torture to my ears.
“I do love you—so much more than I realized.”
It’s the shock that brings me back to reality for a second.
“James. We need to close the door.” Our limbs tangle and clothes are pushed aside as I struggle to get free from his hold.
“I don’t care who knows how I feel about you.” James continues, but someone needs to be the voice of reason here. He scared me two days ago, made me mad beyond reason, and now this. I grab the side of his chest and pinch him. “Casey!”
“The door, James. Shut the fucking door.” With a smile he pushes off me. I don’t want or need another damn audience.
A smirk crosses his face. “Sure, Casey, but when I get back, you better be naked and waiting.” James exits my bedroom with a swagger in his hips he shouldn’t deserve. Rolling my eyes, all I can do is rush to strip down before he gets back because I am such an idiot in love or lust or whatever, willing to lose everything over this man.
26
James
Separating from Casey sucked. Going to the board meeting sucked even more, but it was a necessary evil. Despite having a sixty percent share of the company, I still lost the vote to keep Casey’s contract because of the way the damn bylaws are written. No amount of percentages would sway the votes. I feel awful about it, but my snarky lawyers advised me not to physically assault anyone over it. I had to hold back when Elroy made his snide comments. My fists hurt from clenching them under the table. My leg was sore from the kick my lawyer gave me as the board gave their decision. That little asshole was going to get his due, just not with my aching fists today.
I paid out the FCC fine, half from company funds and half from my own because there was no way in hell I was going to let Casey worry about coming up with a million dollars for something she didn’t do. I didn’t really want to pay out non-returnable funds to the government, but I wasn’t left with much of a choice… at least until we figured out what the heck happened with that recording, a copy of which was now in the hands of a highly recommended security firm I called in New York City.
Giving Casey the space I thought she needed was tough. I made a shit ton of calls to keep myself busy, but it didn’t work for long. The contact who got me in touch with Reed Securities assured me that these guys were good. Damn good for the price I had to pay up front for their services. I didn’t care if they asked for my kidney or a hand full of fingers as long as they kept Casey safe and figured out who was doing this shit at my station.
Hurriedly, I stopped to get her a new phone and made sure it had all the bells and whistles on it. Eli Bennett, the expert from Reed Securities, had instructed me which model and brand would be best for the GPS tracker he would put in it. According to Eli, I could access Casey’s whereabouts from m
y own smartphone and hook it up to a call recorder. I didn’t have intentions of controlling her or listening to her phone calls like some creepy asshole boyfriend, I just wanted to keep Casey safe. I fully realized how weird this was and how it would look if she found out. Eli assured me it was a standard protocol given the stalker situation at the station.
