CHAPTER 4
When she awoke, hours later, the sun was beginning to set. Apparently she’d slept, yet she felt as if she’d tumbled down a flight of stairs. Moaning softly, she sat up, looked around, reached for her cell phone on the nightstand. She squinted at the face. Five-thirty. She swiped to her messages. There were three from her office, and four voicemails from Gail.
“Dammit,” she muttered. She pushed her hair away from her eyes and lifted her puffy face toward the ceiling. Her private life was falling apart, but she couldn’t let her public life, her livelihood, fall apart as well. She had Gail and clients who depended on her. Her eyes stung. She would not cry. Tears couldn’t wash away the quicksand of ugliness that had begun to suck her under.
She needed to contact Gail. Her messages had escalated from questioning, to mildly concerned to very upset. She took a deep breath and tapped ‘call back’ on the phone. Part of her wanted the call to go to voicemail, but knowing how diligent Gail was, she knew Gail was still at her desk even as the hour drew closer to six.
The call was answered on the second ring.
“Mrs. Graham. Thank god, I was so worried.”
“I’m sorry, Gail. I should have called.”
“Are you alright, the kids okay?”
“The kids are fine.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “Gail, I . . . am going to need to take some time off. I don’t know for how long.”
“I don’t understand. We have clients.”
“I know.” She cleared her throat. “I can’t explain everything now, but I will.” Her voice cracked.
“Mrs. Graham, you can talk to me. Maybe I can help,” she softly pleaded.
“There are some things you can help me with.”
“Anything.”
“I need you to request a postponement on the two cases that are pending. Then contact Leslie Hall’s office and see if she would be willing to take them on. If not, reach out to Meredith Horowitz’s office. I’m sure she will do it. She’s always looking for new clients. But I’d really prefer Leslie.”
The silence from Gail magnified Kimberly’s request, bringing the reality of what had become her life into stark relief.
“Whatever you need,” Gail finally said.
“Thank you. I’ll call you . . .”
“What about regular office operations?”
Kimberly squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden pounding in her temples. “Um, set up a voice mail message that the office is temporarily closed.” She swallowed. “There’s no reason for you to have to deal with the calls and questions. Return any calls that are urgent.” She listened to the muffled sigh.
“All right. Whatever you need, but if you would just tell me—”
“I . . . will. I promise. And I don’t want you to worry about your salary, Gail. I’ll make sure that you’re paid.”
“How long do you think the office will be closed?”
Kimberly dragged in a breath. “I’m not sure.”
“Please, I’m here if you need me. To talk, listen . . . whatever.”
“Thanks. Listen, I really need to go. I’ll be in touch.” She paused a beat, knowing that she was severing a lifeline. “Goodbye, Gail.” She disconnected the call before Gail could ply her with any more questions, or inadvertently make her feel any worse than she already did. She tossed the phone aside and flopped back on the bed.
Fully fed, Zoie’s lioness purr vibrated from her center and settled in her chest. She curled closer to Jackson, needing to feel his heartbeat against her. He draped his arm across her and kissed her forehead. They’d been virtually one person for the past two days, putting all distractions aside and only focusing on each other.
“I could get used to this,” Jackson said.
“Me, too,” she said, feeling that swell of vulnerability rush through her, but maybe this time she could simply ride the tide to shore and the safety of Jackson’s love.
He drew in a long breath, stretched hard muscles before tossing the comforter and sheet aside and rolling to his feet.
Zoie ogled his milk-chocolate physique, the ripple of hard muscle when he moved. She sighed in delight. He was all hers. Almost. She flinched at the idle thought that jabbed her like a hot pin. This time she trained her carnal observation to what rested beneath the surface of that edible skin.
Jackson was a complex man. It would be easy to simply paint him as handsome, sexy, a good businessman and friend. But the one trait that put Jackson in his own lane was his unwavering loyalty. Once he committed, neither hell nor high water nor dynamite would shake him loose. He valued friendships, and anyone that was lucky enough to get swept into his orbit was assured that their friendship would be nurtured and protected. Loyalty was his great strength, and at the same time his big weakness. Loyalty bound him to Lena. It would bind him even more to the child they’d created.
As much as Jackson assured her that he could stand on the outside looking in when it came to Lena and the baby, she knew deep in her soul, in that part of her that totally understood Jackson Fuller the man, that he was not the stand-on-the-outside kinda guy. This time around she wanted things to work between her and Jackson. For that to happen, she needed to be confident that the loyalty that would inevitably bind him to Lena and the baby would not jeopardize what they were trying to build. If she was truly honest with herself, she didn’t see how that was possible. He would have to cut himself in half. Was she willing to settle for half of a relationship?
Jackson reentered the bedroom with a towel tied around his waist. He walked over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of gray sweatpants, dropped the towel and slipped the pants on. “I’m going to whip us up some breakfast,” he said over his shoulder. “Don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” He winked and walked off to the kitchen.
Zoie sat up then pulled herself out of bed, went to the bathroom and took a quick shower. She wrapped herself up in Jackson’s much-too-big-for-her robe and went to the kitchen.
“Need some help?”
He peeked out from the side of the refrigerator door. “I got this. Coffee is hot. Help yourself.”
Zoie poured herself a mug full of coffee, splashed some vanilla flavored cream to lighten it to a soft taupe, then sat at the circular table.
“J . . .”
“Yeah, babe.” He cracked eggs into a bowl.
“Tell me about Lena.”
Jackson froze for an instant then turned to look at her. He drew in a long breath, pursed his lips then whipped the eggs. “What do you want to know that I haven’t told you?”
“How did you meet?”
“Why are you doing this, Z?”
“I need to know. I need to know everything if this is going to work.”
He lined up a row of thick bacon strips into the frying pan that sizzled on contact. “We met at a party, well more of a fundraiser. My company hosted a gathering for community leaders to raise awareness and donations,” he added with a chuckle, “about the housing crisis in the wards. Lena came on behalf of the college and as a concerned citizen.”
Zoie waited for more. Several moments passed. The tantalizing aroma of frying bacon reminded her how hungry she was. “And?” she finally prompted.
His right eyebrow arched. He gave a slight shrug. “We talked after the event. She told me she wanted to find a way to get involved.” He knew from the moment they first spoke that Lena was as interested in him as she was in getting involved in the project that he’d proposed. She was the one that suggested they ‘get together’ and talk. With Zoie out of his life and a beautiful, accomplished woman eager to get to know him better, of course he was flattered and interested. That first night led to others. Lena filled that void that Zoie’s leaving had left. Sometimes, she almost made him forget.
“Did you love her? Do you . . . love her?”
The question stung. Was this how she pried information out of her sources, by locating soft tissue and pinching? His jaw tightened. “What Lena and I had is over now, Zoie. I told you before I will always care about Lena.” He braced his hands on the table and stared her hard in the eyes, his voice coming from that deep place in his soul. “I love you. I always have.” He took a breath and slowly shook his head. “But I won’t do this with you. You can’t be with me if you want Lena to be the third person in our relationship. I know it’s going to be fucking hard, but,” he took her hands, “if you want to be with me the way I want to be with you we can make it work.” He took a step back. “So, once and for all, is it me and you or not?”
She tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth. “It’s the journalist in me. Gotta check and double check.” She lowered her gaze then looked right at him. “It’s me and you, babe.”
He half smiled, leaned down and lightly kissed her lips. “Good. Now, you wanna help get us fed or just sit there looking cute and sexy.”
She crossed her bare legs. “I’ll take cute and sexy for five hundred, Alex.”
Jackson laughed, waved the spatula at her. “Very funny, just the way I like you.”