Honestly, I wasn’t sure. “That’s not really an easy question to answer.”
“I understand.” She didn’t, but I let her believe she did. “I’m sorry to make you do this, but I need to see you.”
I’d expected this. She’d need me to fill out my report and to sign it and whatever else the law required to file a charge against him. “Okay. When?”
“Now. I can have a car pick you up in fifteen minutes.”
Another glance at JC. I didn’t want to leave him this way. There was too much tension between us. “Can we make it a little later?”
“No. We’re meeting with an officer from the NYPD. He just called and this is when he’s available. We need to get your testimony and that security tape. He needs to see your face. Is it bruised?” She was so matter-of-fact about it. I’d always loved that about her. She wasn’t too precious or overly warm. She got things done. She took care of the details.
“Yeah. It’s pretty black-and-blue. He got me with his knuckles.”
“We’ll need to photograph that.”
“Right.” I took a deep breath in then blew it out. “Okay, then. I’ll be ready.”
“Four Seasons, right?”
“Yep.”
“The car will be there in fifteen.”
I held the phone to my ear a few seconds after she’d hung up. My gut had already been in knots about JC. I wasn’t ready to deal with my father too. All I really wanted to do was climb back into bed and start the day over again. Better yet, climb back into bed and repeat the night before—making love and whispering sweet nothings into the darkness.
But the sun was up and a car was on its way.
I turned back toward JC. “My sister,” I said. He’d watched me the entire call, his face even. “She needs me so we can file the charges against my father. She’s picking me up in fifteen. So.”
He nodded. Then he closed his eyes and ran his hand roughly across his forehead. He looked lost. Alone.
It broke parts of me that I didn’t know I had. I wanted to run to him, wanted to wrap him in my arms and make it better. Wanted to convince him that whatever he was wrestling couldn’t defeat him.
But I didn’t know that was true. I didn’t know anything about him at all, really.
I shook my head, not knowing how to deal with the situation, and definitely not having time for it. “I want to talk about this more later,” I said as I gathered my clothes from around the room. “We’ll work everything out.”
“Uh hmm.” He didn’t look at me, his thoughts elsewhere.
In the bathroom, I gave myself ten seconds to examine the colorful souvenir my father had given me, then forced myself to ignore it. I cleaned up in the sink and used some of JC’s deodorant before trading his shirt for the clothes I’d worn the day before. I brushed my teeth with my finger and his toothpaste. My hair took longer to deal with. It was a tangle of knots again, evidence of having been fucked well all night. Luckily, I found a ponytail holder on the bathroom counter from another visit and was able to fasten a messy bun.
When I came out, JC was dressed and sitting at the front room desk, working on his laptop.
“I’m going now,” I said, awkwardly.
He stood and crossed to me. “I heard what you said, Gwen. I want you to know that. But if you change your mind—I booked a room at the Trump Hotel in Vegas. There’s a flight at twelve-fifteen out of LaGuardia. I bought my ticket under Alex Mader, and I have another seat on hold for you. You could join me.”
My head was spinning. “Alex Mader? Is that your real name?”
“No. It’s the name I’m using to travel. Join me.”
His words started to hit me with comprehension. He was leaving. He was really leaving. Now. I had to go deal with my fucking father, and the man that I loved was fucking leaving and he didn’t know when he’d be back.
I started to tell him not to leave or to wait until I got back from seeing Norma, but he cut me off, pulling me into a tight embrace. “Don’t say anything. You have to go. I have to go right now too. I really don’t want to go without you. So think about joining me. Please.”
He kissed me. Like a last kiss, tasting of all the flavors of goodbye. Longing and sorrow. Melancholy and anguish. Desperation and regret. Finality.
When he broke away, he placed one more kiss on the tip of my nose. “Change your mind, Gwen. Change your mind.”
Chapter Eighteen
The car was waiting for me when I got downstairs. It wasn’t the usual black generic company car that Norma used on occasion. It was rich and expensive looking. More plush. Had to belong to Hudson Pierce.
Which meant she’d involved him in my drama. Great. How awesome to have random important people know that no matter how strong I appeared on the outside, I was really just a punching bag.
Despite my humiliation, I managed to smile at the driver—a middle-aged white guy with an overzealous moustache and a full head of brown hair. He was new too. His Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts were definitely not standard uniform. For some reason, the change in routine made me feel even more off-balance.
I climbed into the backseat with a sigh.
Luckily, after he told me where we were headed—to a coffee shop near Pierce Industries—Mr. Moustache didn’t try to chat me up. I was grateful. I needed the quiet. I needed peace. What I really needed was a tumbler of bourbon and a few hours of mindless television, but since that wasn’t happening anytime soon, I’d take the silence.
My mind was overactive, though, and wouldn’t let me rest. Combined with the storm of emotions going on inside me, I felt like a volatile mess. If only JC’s farewell hadn’t been so cryptic, I wouldn’t feel so unsettled. He said he was leaving, and I believed him. But did he really not know when he’d return, or was that a bluff to get me to agree to his ridiculous proposal?
When he’d said it, I’d been mad. Mad that he’d planned to abandon me. Then mad that he wanted to take me away from my life. After that, Norma had called, and I had to leave and it was only now that I was really realizing that he might actually be leaving me. That his invitation to join him at the airport might be my last chance to be with him.
But why on earth would that be true? He acted like he didn’t have a say in when he returned to New York City. Did he have a project that had gone awry? Something that would require more of his time and attention? If that was the case, then why did he want to marry me first? So that I’d be tied to him?