Crossing Hathaway (25 page)

At a run, I passed through both doors and sprinted down the hallway.

“Don’t walk away from me! Let’s talk about this.”

I whipped open the door to the stairwell and bounded down the steps, continuing my descent floor after floor until I sucked wind and my legs ached. At the fifteenth floor, I stopped and sat on a step, my face wet and snot creeping closer to the edges of my nostrils.

Why was I so upset? Yes, he’d let me down. He was an ass, and his brother hurt me. I should have been furious, not sad. Despite all of that, I wanted to go back to him right that second, curl up in his arms, and go to sleep. I barely knew him, yet I’d given myself to him, and mooned over him like a long lost lover I’d known my whole life.

No. It must have been the exhaustion and stress, not my feelings for Ben Hathaway that made me blubber like a baby. I stood and brushed off my dress pants before I opened the door so I could catch the elevator down. Work would help me file away the look in Ben’s eyes for a little while, even though my mind would keep it forever.

Just before four thirty, my office phone rang. My mouth dried up when I saw Ben’s name appear on the screen. I picked up the receiver. “Have you set up everything for Friday?”

Silence for a moment. “Everything has been arranged.”

I narrowed my eyes, hearing the deception in his voice. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“You asked me to set it up and I have. Trust me now. I told Richard if he so much as calls your name in his sleep, the deal’s off.” Something creaked in the background, as if he leaned forward in his chair. “Will you come and see me later?”

“I uh…” His moment of discomfort chewed at me. My mind spun questions as I shifted in my seat. If Ben had called his mother from the office phone, I could check the logs. “I have a few things to do, and I’ll decide when I’m done, okay?”

“I’ll wait forever then. Until later.”

“’Bye, Ben.”

The instant I hung up, I dialed Brent. “Hey, do you happen to know what Ben’s mother’s phone number is?”

Brent snorted. “What are you up to, Nancy Drew?”

Lightened by his flamboyant energy, I grinned and rolled my eyes. “Do you have it or not?”

Keys clicked on his keyboard. He gave me two numbers, one for home and her cell. “What are you going to do?”

“I need to know if he’s lying about calling his mother. Could you and Denny pick me up later?”

“Yeah, sure, girlfriend. Chin up, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks, Brent.”

My heel bounced up and down as I waited for Paul and Jeremy to clear out for the day. They had a marathon argument over which
Star Trek
was the best,
The Next Generation
or the original, and Paul went on to ask me for dating advice. My nerves stretched to the point I worried they’d snap and buy me a one-way ticket to the loony bin.

With Cam tucked away behind the door of his dank, smelly hole-in-the-wall office, I slipped into the server room and pulled up the program for our digital phone switch. My heartbeat thundered in my ears as I entered the time frame and extension number for the report I needed and clicked Send.

The whirr of the printer signaled my success, so I closed down the program and dashed through the door. I sat at my desk and held the papers in my lap, debating whether or not I should spy on him that way. Was I acting like a paranoid psycho? No. If Ben wimped out on me, it was my ass on the line, not his.

With both of his mother’s phone numbers clear in my head, I scanned the report starting from the time I’d left his office until he called me.

Nothing. He never called her. I crumpled the two sheets in my fists and ground my teeth together. Before I went medieval on his ass, I had to know what phone he’d used for sure. If he’d used his cell, then I’d have to drop it and trust that he’d done what he said.

“Everything okay, Eva?” Cam asked from behind me.

A tiny squeak slipped past my lips. My insides lurched. I stuffed the papers into my pocket with some effort, and spun my chair to face him where he leaned against the side of my cubicle. “Yeah—yes, why, what’s up?” I stammered like the guilty fool I was.

“Nothing’s up. I just glanced over your wall and saw your face all red.”

I dropped my gaze and rubbed my hand along my cheek as if I forced the fury in deeper. “I’m just pissed off about something personal. No big deal.”

Cam nodded, turned away, hesitated. “You know you can talk to me, right? We’re all a team here, and more than that, I consider you a friend, especially after the bang-up job you did dealing with Hathaway when I was off with my boy. My door is always open, for anything.”

Heart swelling, I forced a smile and met his stare with what I hoped to be a blank face. “That’s nice, really, but I’m fine. Thanks, though.” Guilt snaked its way through me. Cam considered me a friend and had been so good to me, and I was lying to his face, digging into records that could get me fired.

Cam squinted. “Sure you’re okay?”

No.
“Yeah, I’m good. See you later.”

I returned to Ben’s floor but lingered at the end of the hall. I’d avoided thoughts of what to do about Ben’s maybe-lie so completely I hadn’t considered how to confront him, or what it might mean for us as a couple. I liked him enough that part of me wanted to fall into his arms and forget about it, but my logical half put her mental foot down. No more stalling. Time to get it over with. I ignored the storm surge in my stomach and forced my legs to carry me past Brent’s empty desk. My task rested on my shoulders like a ten-ton gorilla.

I paused for only a moment before entering Ben’s office. My shoulders squared. My head held high. He sat on the leather sofa like a piece of art, one ankle resting across the opposite knee with a magazine in his hands. A red tie hung untied over the shoulders of his jacket, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone.

His gaze lifted above the shiny paper and settled on me. A smile lit his eyes as he jumped up and bounded over to me, grabbed me in his arms. He covered my lips in a kiss, but I stiffened and pushed against him.

Ben loosened his grip on me a little. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to ask you something, and your answer will determine whether I stay or leave.” I pried his arms off me and studied his face to see if it would betray him.

His swallow raised his Adams apple. “Ask anything and I’ll answer.”

“Where did you call your mother from?” Nothing like ripping the Band-Aid right off the wound.

He rubbed fingers across his brow, smiling before it faded to a frown. “My office, of course. Why?”

My heart fell a little further into the abyss. “So you used your office phone?” My sharpened voice spit the words out like daggers. “Not your cell?”

“Yes, my office phone.” He opened his mouth, closed it again. His palm lifted. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Evangeline?”

My upper lip rippled. “You’re a fucking liar!” I dug the phone logs out of my pocket and whipped it at his head. “I checked the logs. You never fucking called, Ben.” I jammed my fingers into my hair and paced in front of the door. “After everything you know about me, knowing how much I hate to be lied to … how could you?”

Ben stooped, picked up the paper, and stared at it without unfolding it. “I told you I’m handling it.”

“No! You’re not.” I stopped, and my arms flopped straight at my sides as I lifted my gaze to the ceiling to let my fury ebb enough so I wouldn’t scream. After a moment, I looked back at him. “What do you plan to do, Ben? Hide under your bed until he goes away?”

His fingers tightened into fists, the paper crunching in his grasp. His voice came low and gruff. “I told Richard he can have what he wants, his thirty percent of the company and the two properties. He’s coming here Friday night to sign all the papers and then he’ll be out of our lives.”

I gaped at him, shaking my head as if that could rattle what I’d just heard clean out of my brain. “You've got to be kidding me!” I gave grunt of disgusted. “No, he won’t be out of our lives. What will he use me to blackmail out of you next, huh? The rest of the company?” I gestured around the office. “Your apartment? The shirt off your fucking back? Your soul?” I uttered a bitter laugh and tossed up my hands. “Oh wait, he’s already taken that.”

I put my back to him with an ache so deep in my soul it went beyond tears, transcended any pain I knew how to deal with. “I just found my dad after thirty-five years and he needs me right now. I can’t deal with this shit anymore.” My voice fell to a whisper. “I’m done with you.”

Ben grabbed me from behind and spun me around. He held my face in his hands, and I stiffened, averted my eyes. “Look at me, Evangeline.” He shook me a little, desperation leaking into his voice. “Look at me, please!”

I stared into his eyes and hoped he saw the agony in mine, the deadness eating me up from the inside.

“You don’t understand, and I can’t explain right now.” His stare drilled into me, conveying a determination I’d never seen within him. “Just know this—whatever happens in the next few days, know that I’m doing what I have to. I-I love you with every ounce of myself, and I’ll never let Richard hurt you again.”

My breath derailed in my throat. No man had ever told me he loved me before.
God, it’s a lie!
It changed nothing.

A single tear crested his lashes and trailed down his face. “I’d rather you be furious with me and unharmed than the alternative.” He pressed his quivering lips to mine, wetness from his cheeks brushing against my skin.

He’d probably promise the world if it would make me stay, but I was done playing the fool. I knew that day would come when I’d fall so far for him I’d hit bottom. I just never imagined it would come so soon or rip a gaping wound in my chest.

I took a deep breath and blew it out, steadied my voice. “Good-bye, Ben.”

I stood on the steps of Hathaway Pharmaceuticals and stared at the gray clouds rolling overhead. Their dreariness mirrored the gray nothing inside my head. Every step I’d taken away from Ben drove home the realization of what I’d just done, forcing the pain deeper into me until I gasped and pulled at the collar of my shirt. Anger burned away tears before they could fall. I concentrated on the hurt, only the hurt, until all thought and self-doubt vanished.

I’m right and Ben’s wrong. Forget him. Dad needs me now.

A text to Brent let him know I had a stop to make before he could pick me up. After hailing a cab and climbing into its warmth and overwhelming pine air freshener, I leaned my head against the cool window with my arms wrapped around myself. Shop fronts and hordes of window shoppers blurred past. I used them as a distraction to block the pain of Ben’s eyes when I told him good-bye from haunting me.

“We’re here, miss.” The driver spoke so loud I wondered if he’d had to repeat himself.

I blinked and stared at the giant white cube with the blue H on the side. “Uh…sorry. Thanks.” I handed him the money and opened the door before I stepped out onto the sidewalk. Part of me wanted Mom, but I knew the instant I saw her I’d probably lose my composure.

The usual overwhelming odor of sterility and industrial hospital cleaners assaulted my nose the instant I went through the automatic doors. A little shop with several racks of books out front caught my eye from across the lobby. Groups of people crisscrossed my path as I moved toward the store, around crying toddlers with casts and old men conversing in low, gravelly voices. I scanned the book titles, grabbed one I thought Dad might enjoy and paid before I headed toward his room on the third floor via the stairs. The walking would do me some good and I could count the steps to give me focus.

A little winded from my climb, I plodded along the hallway and stopped in Dad’s doorway. Some of the monitors had been removed, but the IV drips and constant beeping from his heart remained. The color had returned to his skin, and even though his eyes were closed, a slight smile curved his lips.

I tiptoed across the room and lowered my butt onto a chair beside the bed. The sight of him, more peaceful and happy than I’d ever seen him, weakened my control. The book still in my hand, I folded my arms together on the side of the bed and rested my forehead on them.

The weight of Dad’s warm hand settled on the back of my head. He didn’t say anything, just stroked my hair. It was the first time I could remember him touching me that wasn’t in anger.

As I sat up, I tipped my head forward so my hair would cover what must have been a grim expression. I grabbed a tissue from the nightstand next to the bed just in case the floodgates opened again.

“Wanna talk about it?” Dad asked in a soft voice.

I blew my nose and choked on a laugh. “Here I am, supposed to be supporting you, and I’m carrying on like an idiot.”

“Those red eyes aren’t for your old man, are they?”

“No.” I slid the fingers of my free hand around his and squeezed.

“That Hathaway fellow?”

My throat closed around my words. I closed my eyes.
Get a fucking grip.
A deep breath cleared my grief, and I met Dad’s stare. “I’m fine. Really.” I held up
The Glass Man
, growing damp in my sweaty palm. “I thought I’d read to you, broaden your literary horizons a little since you stopped playing Trivial Pursuit with me.”

He looked down, cleared his throat. “Guess I have a lot of apologizing to do.”

“No, I never meant—”

“I’m sorry.” His gaze found mine and he chuckled a little. “Never did get how you got so good so fast. Shocked the hell out of me that day.”

“I have a photographic memory. How did you not know? Mom did.”

His eyebrows shot up. “No kidding?”

I nodded, opened the book, and read with the fingers of my other hand still wrapped around his. His touch grounded me, made my life somehow more real, more precious than it had ever been. Nurses came and went. I paused while Dad ate his cold peas and some sort of slop the male nurse called “stew.”

Gran and Mom came at seven. Three of us listened with smiles as Gran told stories about Dad when he was little. When visiting hours ended at eight thirty, Mom and Gran went home and I called Brent. He and Denny showed up ten minutes later in Brent’s Golf.