KNOCKED OUT OF ORBIT
LOMBARD STREET ISN’T the same without Hana. I manage to throw myself into work for the first week, which increases my bank account significantly but does nothing to make my oversize mansion seem less quiet. It’s no more than I deserve.
She’s left little pieces of herself in my house. She has a drawer full of random stuff in my bathroom, and one of her ancient but beloved Santa Cruz T-shirts on a shelf in my walk-in closet. Her weird coffee pods for the Keurig. Some kind of Norwegian yogurt in my fridge that curdles my teeth when I try it. I don’t understand what went wrong, why I couldn’t fix this. The charity gala was definitely not a win for me, but the real issue seems to be my buying her mortgage. I turn it over in my head, looking for new angles, trying to figure out where I went wrong. I thought I was being nice and looking out for her. Or maybe that’s what I wanted to think. Maybe it was easier to give her stuff, to share money but not myself with her.
I was kind of a dick.
She hasn’t filed for divorce, but I worry that she will. I guess then she’d have to talk to me, but I don’t think a conversation in the presence of a court-ordered mediator will go particularly well.
I don’t want to lose her.
I work all hours of the day, trying to forget that I’ve fucked things up so badly; however, that has already happened. She set the rules when she agreed to be my temporary wife and then I went ahead and ignored them. I made her feel small.
I remember my mother screaming at my dad when he wandered home. I didn’t like the way he made her feel, as if she wasn’t reason enough for him to stay. He’d send money home, but there was never enough of it. And besides, what we both really wanted was him.
I think Hana may have wanted me until she realized she deserved a whole person, someone who could love her and be there for her. Someone who wouldn’t walk away and send a check.
Now that it’s too late, I know I want her back.
I love her.
Jax won’t answer my texts or calls either, but I’m a stubborn bastard and I’m willing to fight dirty. I finally resort to stalking him outside his current start-up. When he comes out the door, he can’t miss me.
“I need to talk to you.” Hana hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts, and I’m going nuts.
“No.” He turns right, headed for a park that’s down the street from the converted brick warehouse that houses his current start-up.
I fall in beside him. Since it’s the Mission District, we have to step over the occasional passed-out drunk. There are a shit ton of pigeons in the park, but there are also snack carts.
“Tell me how I fix this.”
For a moment I think he’s going to instruct me to fuck off, but then he sighs. “Hana is not happy with you at the moment.”
I want to seize on those last three words and ask if that means she’s happy with me some of the time or is planning on being so in the future, but Jax’s glower warns me not to be a desperate ass.
“I’d like to take responsibility for that.” I say this cautiously because I’m not certain he won’t haul off and punch me. I’d rather he wait until I have an action plan and then he can take a shot at me.
Jax exhales. “She’s not a problem, Liam.”
“I caused it—I fix it. It was my party. I married her. And people wouldn’t have been all over her if I didn’t have the kind of money I do. She’s way too nice to handle that kind of press. They’re calling her the princess of kink.”
Thanks to the photos that leaked of Hana and me on the Ferris wheel. My legal team had them taken down, but too many people have seen them and copies keep popping up. Photos of Leda and me keep circulating, too, which only adds fuel to the fire.
“And Mrs. Kink,” Jax growls. He’s clearly been spending time on the internet. It’s bad. I have a lawyer working on it, but since most of what’s out there is innuendo and out-of-focus pictures, it’s an uphill battle.
“Yeah.” I scrub a hand over my face. “So that’s not good. And it’s my fault.”
“So it’s all about you.”
Now it’s my turn to give him a look. “There’s something about Hana.”
I pause, marshaling my arguments. This would be easier in an email I could review and revise. “Marrying her wasn’t a mistake,” I continue. “I feel things about her. For her. I’d like to have a chance to really be a husband to her.”
Admittedly the only husbandly examples I’ve seen have been more of the what-not-to-do variety, but that’s not going to help my case with Jax.
“Just tell her you’re sorry and grovel,” Jax says finally. “When I say this isn’t rocket science, you should know exactly what I mean.”
“Apologize?”
“What’s she mad about?”
I think about it for a moment. “Top three? I really don’t remember our wedding, I didn’t act thrilled to be accidentally married, and I bought the mortgage on her farm so now she thinks I legally own her business and that I did it either to fuck with her or to prevent her from messing with me. Also, I used her to feel bad about myself the night of the party and my public visibility is the reason her naked photos got the traffic they did. She’s also drawing comparisons between herself and Leda.”
“That’s six,” Jax says, as if the actual number matters. One way to hurt Hana is one too many. “Are you treating her like Leda?”
“Not a chance.”
“So you didn’t have a controlling interest in her business that could be misconstrued by anyone with internet access?”
I shove a hand through my hair. “It wasn’t like that. Leda stole from me. Hell, she stole from everyone. I had a legal obligation to take steps when I found out. Leda is a thief. Hana was vulnerable and I was just trying to make sure she wasn’t anymore.”
“And yet Hana came to the obvious if mistaken conclusion that you’d disrespected her and screwed around with her career behind her back and that you couldn’t be bothered to come up with a decent excuse.”
“Pretty much.” I pull off my suit jacket and drop down onto the grass. From here I can see a square of blue sky framed by the curly gables of a row of Queen Annes. A couple of puffy clouds scoot by and I wonder what Hana is doing. I imagine her swimming in the ocean, maybe in a pink string bikini.
“How do I get her to forget and move on?”
Jax drops down beside me. “You have to show her that she can trust you. It would help if you apologized with actual words, but you’re emotionally stunted, so I get that’s a challenge for you.”
“How do I get her to trust me?”
“You weren’t there for her and you kept shit back. You should have been up-front about what you were doing and she should have had veto rights.”
“I’m not going to let her tell me what to do or not do.”
“You made her feel bad. Now you have to make her feel safe. Stop thinking with your dick for a minute. Also, don’t ever make me say those words about my sister again.” Jax frowns. “Use your brain. She was feeling vulnerable and she took a chance on you. You took that chance to use her to further your career and buy her farm. You made it seem like she didn’t count for much. You have to even things up and make yourself vulnerable to her. It’s like basic math.”
“I can’t have a relationship. You saw my parents. You know what they were like. Do you want a guy like that for your sister?”
Jax shakes his head. “Are you trying to talk me into helping you talk with Hana or out of it?”
Okay. I can figure this out. “Look, this is new for me. I don’t know how boyfriends work, so this whole promotion to husband is like going from fry cook to head chef at a Michelin-starred restaurant. I know there’s a lot riding on this and I actually don’t want to fuck it up.”
While I wait for him to process that, I lie back on the grass and stare at the sky. Sometimes it’s nice to stop racing to the top. Mostly because I’m already there, but you know, it’s good to look around. Stock up on vitamin D. More clouds skate pass. I glance at Jax but he’s still looking up contemplatively. Okay. So it’s boring as fuck and I need to fix this thing with Hana.
He finally shifts his gaze from the sky to me. “Do you want to be married to her?”
“Are you going to punch me if I’m honest?”
“Probably.”
“Long-term I’ve never seen myself as a married guy. But I thought we were working out and I have...feelings for her.”
Jax groans. “If you can’t bring yourself to say those two little words—I’m sorry—then you show her.”
I nod. Okay. Show, not tell. I don’t like even thinking about apologizing. It makes me queasy, but I can demonstrate good faith.
“Because you’d better be sorry,” Jax adds.
It’s way too late for that rule. I think about sex and Hana a thousand times a day. “Give me examples.”
Jax stares up at the sky for a long time. “So you can start with presents. Flowers. Thoughtful shit that shows you’re thinking about her and that you know something about her other than her panty size. Whatever you do, for fuck’s sake, don’t make it about sex.”
“Buy stuff. Got it.”
“But then,” he continues, “you have to open up. You have to go all the way. Make yourself vulnerable so that she feels like she’s getting to know you and can trust you. It’s math, right? You use math all the time. If you want to fly your sorry ass to a planet, you have to figure out how much energy it will take to get to the orbit you need to reach based on the size of your ship. Then you see if your engines can provide that.”
“And this math works for you?”
Jax reaches over and punches me lightly in the shoulder. “I’m still single, aren’t I? But I know what happens if you don’t talk. You’re going to fight and there will be misunderstandings. You have to sit down with each other and really listen. And if your spaceship of love burns up on reentry or you crash-land in the ocean, at least you tried.”
“I’ll have planted my flag,” I say mock-solemnly. “Touched down and left my mark. I’ll be sure to report back to mission control with each new...development.”
Jax growls something I don’t ask him to repeat, but I win a reluctant grin from him. Honestly, I’m just glad I don’t have sisters to protect from billionaire assholes.
Decision made, I start mapping out the steps in my apology. I’ve screwed up big-time, so there’s no way a simple, two-word I’m sorry cuts it. Plus, this is Hana we’re talking about. She deserves the biggest, best apology in the world.