THE USUAL NOISE of the distillery was no match for the pounding inside her skull. It might have been fun hanging out with Celia and Lila, but she’d stayed out too late and drank too much sangria. Gemma didn’t go out often, and this was a clear reason why.
She was still upset by how her conversation with Tom had gone the night before. And she’d ignored him and the missed calls and the voice mail notification that showed on her phone with his message. She needed a little bit of space to give herself time to figure out how she felt about him. She was in love with him, but her own reaction to him not visiting her had scared her. She didn’t want to be the obsessed girlfriend who couldn’t go longer than a week without seeing her long-distance boyfriend.
She looked at the clock. It was barely 1:00 p.m. She envisioned going home, lounging in her bathtub, soaking off the rest of the hangover, and then she made big plans to order a pizza and lie on the couch in front of her TV. She wouldn’t have thought so yesterday, but a small part of her was glad that Tom wasn’t coming down this weekend. She realized that space was what she needed. She wasn’t mad at him, but she was madder at herself for being bothered by it. He was allowed to take a weekend off from their relationship, and so was she.
Her office phone rang, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the trill. Not opening her eyes, she answered it. “Gemma Rexford.”
“Hey, Gem,” Quin said on the other end. “Reid and I are in my office.” He paused, and she knew from his tone of voice that something was wrong. “We think you might want to come up here.”
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Um, just get up here.”
“Yeah, sure. Just give me a couple of minutes.” She hung up and shook off her coveralls. “Jose,” she called to the floor supervisor. “I’m heading upstairs for a few minutes. You’ve got this under control?” He shot her a thumbs-up in response.
Despite her fatigue, she jogged up the stairs. When she walked into Quin’s office, he and Reid were both seated—with matching deep frowns on their faces. “What’s going on?”
“You look like hell, Gemma,” Reid said, frowning.
“Gee, thanks.”
“Yeah, were you out late or something?” Quin asked innocently, obviously knowing what time Celia had come home last night.
“You can both ask your women about last night,” she muttered, taking a seat in the chair next to Reid. “Is that why you called me up here? To ask me about my hangover?”
“No, we wanted to see if you’ve seen this.” Quin handed over his tablet.
“What is it?” She looked at the screen and saw that it was on Cain Rum’s website. At first, she saw the images, and thought momentarily that they were the ones she’d shot for Men’s Lifestyle. But she looked closer and saw it was another woman. She looked up at her brothers, not understanding, but then she saw the ad copy that accompanied the pictures. We don’t need sex to sell fine rum... But it doesn’t hurt.
“What is this?”
“Cain’s new campaign,” Reid said.
She came to a quick conclusion. “It’s obviously a dig at me,” she said.
“We thought so, too.”
She laughed without humor, trying to act like it didn’t bother her. How could Tom do this to her? “And look at the copy. It’s not even good. These guys are failing at everything.”
“Gemma,” Reid said, reaching out and putting his hand on her shoulder. “Have you spoken to Tom?”
“No,” she said. “Not today. Not since last night before I went out.”
“Last night,” Quin repeated. “And he didn’t mention any of this?”
“No.”
“He had to have known about it, though, right?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.” Even though she was trembling with anger, she calmly put the tablet back on the desk. “I’d better get back to work.”
“Don’t you want to talk about this?” Reid asked her, standing as well.
“Why?” she asked equal parts confused, angry and weary. “So you can say ‘I told you so’?”
“We wouldn’t.”
“No? You always hated Tom. You hated that I was with him. You knew something like this would happen.”
“No, Gemma, neither of us agrees with your relationship, but we would never want you to be hurt.”
“I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Wait, Gemma,” Quin said, catching her before she left.
“What?”
“Did you have a chance to read the summer launch information packet that I left on your desk?”
“Not yet. I put it in my bag.”
“The team added some of our ideas for taking on Cain Rum.”
“You think the best time to bring this up is now?” she asked, incredulous.
“You would have seen them anyway,” he reasoned. “I was going to go over them with you today. It’s not my fault that the circumstances have changed.”
She had no idea what the circumstances were. She wouldn’t know until she talked to Tom—to ask him what the fuck had happened, to tell him to go to hell, to hear whatever his side of the story was. She sighed. “I’m going home,” she told them. “I’ll let Jose know. If you need anything from the floor, tell him. I’ll look over the information later.”
“Sure,” Reid said. “Call later, okay?”
“I will.”
She was halfway down the stairs before she dug out her phone and dialed Tom’s phone number. It rang once before his voice mail picked up. She huffed in frustration. And now he wasn’t taking her calls? She didn’t even bother to leave a message. She didn’t need an explanation. He’d completely screwed her over. He had to have known about the ad.
She went back to her office. Her head was spinning. She couldn’t stay there any longer. She went over to Jose, where he was watching over the bottlers. “I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to head home. You’ve got this under control, right?”
“Yeah, we’re good. You go home and feel better. We’ll be fine here.”
Gemma hated to leave the distillery when they were so busy filling orders, but there was no way she would be able to focus on any of it with the way she felt. She felt humiliated, betrayed. And whether Tom had seen the ads or okayed them, he still represented Cain Rum. She went to her office and tried calling him again. Voice mail. She huffed in frustration and threw her phone into her backpack and slung it over her shoulder, and she picked up her keys and left.
On the drive home, Gemma’s mind wandered. She mentally reviewed their entire relationship, looking for clues that he would betray her. And the more she thought about the blissful, fun, loving moments between them, her mind shifted to the questionable things. Like the questions he’d asked her about the distillery, his interest in her equipment. Was he just interested in her, or had he been digging for information? God, she’d been so stupid.
The closer she got to her home, the tighter she gripped the steering wheel. Her knuckles were white, and her hands cramped. She relaxed her grip as she slowly climbed the driveway. She would try to call Tom again, and if he refused to take her call, then that was the last time she would reach out to him.
She felt the tears form at the corners of her eyes. This was why she didn’t do relationships. She hated that she was letting herself get so emotional over some guy. She should have seen what was happening after his first visit to Miami. He’d transformed from a secret, illicit one-night stand to someone she’d cared for. Someone she’d somehow fallen in love with, and had been willing to sacrifice everything for.
When Gemma’s house came into view, she saw that there was another car in the driveway. “What the...?” There was a man sitting on her porch, and she sighed in relief and frustration, when she realized it was Tom. He was sitting with his forearms across his thighs, his head thrown back against her door. She had given him a key, but he hadn’t used it. He was waiting for her to come home before letting himself in. He noticed her and stood, but averted his eyes from her gaze. She was unsure which emotion he wore on his face. Shame? Remorse? He stood and jammed his hands in his pockets, the movement slumping his broad shoulders into a curve. He looked at her briefly before looking down at the ground.
Gemma grabbed her backpack from the passenger’s seat and slung it over her shoulder. She stepped out of her vehicle. “Why are you here?” she called to him.
“To explain.”
An explanation was all she wanted. But she didn’t know what he could say to make it better. With whatever he said, it would likely signal the end of their relationship. She walked past him, and her arm brushed his. “I’d love to hear it,” she muttered sarcastically. She unlocked the door and walked in. He followed behind her.
He closed the door. “You’ve seen the ad, then.”
Gemma tossed her open backpack to the floor and turned to face him. “Yeah, I have. The real question is though, when did you see it?”
“Yesterday.”
“You saw it yesterday. Funny, you never mentioned it when we spoke on the phone.”
“I thought I could stop it before it launched. But I was too late. I was just as blindsided as you are.”
“I highly doubt that. Nobody’s publicly embarrassed you.”
“I wouldn’t say that, but my family has greatly embarrassed me, too.”
Gemma shook her head. No matter what Tom and his father disagreed on, he had never been publicly mocked within their industry. “Why did you target me?”
“I didn’t target you.”
“No, you didn’t. But your company did.” She went into the kitchen, and he followed her. She pulled a bottle of wine from the rack on the wall. She didn’t speak as she opened it and poured out two glasses. “Here,” she said, sliding one of the glasses across the table to him.
“Thanks.”
They both drank wine, watching each other over their glasses. The tension radiated between them. She hated it, hated him. No, she didn’t hate him. She loved him. But she hated everything else. Finally, she lowered her glass. “I’m the best rum distiller in the world,” she said, simply.
“I know you are.”
“And that your company embarrassed me, mocked me, in their newest ad campaign is low as fuck.”
He nodded. “I know. It shouldn’t have happened.”
“I wouldn’t be so mad if you thought you could compete in the distillery. But that’s why you had to resort to shady tactics.”
He put down his glass heavily, and the wine sloshed over the rim. “You know, you keep saying that I did these things. It was done without me even knowing. And none of that changes how I feel about you.”
“Is that why you called and said you wouldn’t be coming down here?”
“It was part of it. I was trying to get ahead of it. I was hoping it could be stopped before it went live.” He paused. “But that wasn’t it.”
“What is it?”
“I had my own doubts and concerns. My father found out about us. That’s why he went after you. I was willing to work past it, but I was scared, too. I didn’t know how to reconcile you and my family. But the difference between you and me is that I was willing to try. I tried to call you last night, but you ignored my calls.”
“I didn’t answer because I didn’t want to talk to you.”
“Because you were mad that I wasn’t coming to visit.”
“I wasn’t mad because you weren’t visiting. I was mad that I cared so fucking much,” she admitted.
“I don’t understand.”
“Everything with us has been so quick—a whirlwind—and the feelings have been so intense. I fell so hard for you. I fell in love with you.”
“It’s been like that for me, too,” he said, taking a step toward her.
“But I never wanted that,” she told him, stopping him in his tracks, clearly not expecting her to say that. “At some point I lost control,” she continued.
“And that’s bad?”
“Yes.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m ridiculous?”
“Yes. Losing control is what love is about. And I’m just as lost and confused as you are. That’s what I realized last night. I was so unsure of how to separate you and the business. But I don’t want to.”
“Well, I hate it.”
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want my old life back.”
“Your old life?”
“I want to be content like I was before.”
“I’m not following you.”
“You made me realize that I want more. I was happy then—single, carefree, focusing on rum, my friends, family. That was enough for me.”
“Was it?”
She looked down into her wineglass. It wasn’t. It hadn’t been nearly enough for her, but it sure as hell felt a lot better than she did at that moment. She’d never felt a hurt so real and powerful. And Tom did that. She loved him so hard that he alone had the power to make her feel like her heart was being ripped from her chest. She sighed and finished her glass of wine. She picked up the bottle. “Want some more?” He shook his head. She poured herself another glass, needing the fortification. “Maybe my brothers were right,” she realized.
Tom visibly stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“We don’t have a future.”
“That’s not true, Gemma.”
“It is. What kind of future do you expect to have? What kind of relationship is this—traveling between two states. Hell, I’m on a first-name basis with the flight crew at this point.”
“So we spend a few days a week on a plane.”
“But it’s not just the distance,” she said. “It’s what’s happening right now. We work for competing businesses, and I thought we were strong enough to just forget all of that.”
“We are,” he told her. “We can be.”
She shook her head. Tom wasn’t even the issue anymore. It was what he represented—every one of the feelings of mistrust she had. “It’s too much. Every conversation has that little bit of secrecy because we can’t talk about work. Every time you ask me a question, I feel there’s an ulterior motive. And then this ad thing. Do you understand how much it hurt, how embarrassing it was to have my brothers show me an ad that mocked me and what I do?” He thankfully said nothing, and she proceeded, her emotions at an all-time high, raising her blood pressure, making her hands flail as she spoke. “And not even to mention our plans to target Cain next year. How could I agree to that if we’re in a relationship—”
“What was that?”
She paused, knowing that she’d accidentally said too much.
“You’re targeting us?”
“It’s business.”
“And you said you agreed to go along with it. Before any of this happened?”
Who was he to turn it back on her? She nodded. “Yes, I did. And you know what? Your concerns that your father is ruining your company, that you could fail and lose everything, didn’t even sway me.” In reality, the decision had given her pause. She had thought about what Tom would think. But with the way his eyes narrowed at her now, she realized that she’d scored a direct hit on their relationship. It was her out. Her way to push him away and make him hate her before she could let herself be hurt by him again.
Tom’s laugh held no humor. He put his hands on his hips. “I see what you’re doing, Gemma. You’re trying to make me mad so that you feel better about me walking away. If you don’t want to be together, you only have to say the words.”
Gemma tried to stand tall, even though she could feel the quiver in her bottom lip. “It’s over.”
Tom looked away from her, and she could see the rise and fall of his shoulders as he took several deep breaths. She saw the moisture gather in his eyes, and he nodded his head. “I love you, Gemma. I’m sorry for what happened with the ad. But maybe you’re right. Maybe this has been too complicated from the start.”
Even though her heart might be breaking, she nodded. She wanted to take it all back. She wanted him to throw his arms around her and kiss her. But she stood her ground. This—ending it now—was for the best. “It never would have worked.” She sat on the couch. While her head said she couldn’t imagine a future with Tom Cain, in her heart, she couldn’t imagine her life without him.
He sat next to her. Even though they weren’t touching, she could feel his warmth, and she had to clench her fingers into fists to stop them from reaching out and touching him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head, but looking straight ahead, not at her. “About the ad. About everything. That none of this turned out the way we wanted.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
Tom pushed his fingers through his hair in an attempt to smooth back the dark waves. “I should leave,” he said finally.
“Okay.” When he stood, she reached out and stopped him. “Wait.”
“What?”
“I have something for you.”
She pushed off the couch and went to the side room where she’d put the bottle a few days before. She came back out and handed it to him.
He handled the bottle. “What is this?”
“It’s our rum.”
“Have you tried it?”
“Not yet. When I brought it home, I thought we could taste it together.”
There was a brief but pregnant pause between them. He held the bottle aloft. “I guess I’ll go now.”
“All right. Have a safe trip home.”
“Thanks.” It surprised her when he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll be seeing you, Rexford.”