Irrefutable (The Apprehensive Duet Book 2) (4 page)
THE SMALLER HAND in my left squeezes tightly as the last person finishes paying their respects. I glance at Diana to see her close her eyes and hang her head. She looks like every grieving widow I’ve ever seen on TV or in a movie. The pristine black dress paired with simple shining black heels. Her tiny hat equipped with the black veil attached to hide part of her face. Except her pain is real. You can feel it in every sob that escapes her lips. Tears run down her cheeks despite the attempt to hide them behind the veil. She raises a bunched up tissue to her face with her free hand and wipes the moisture from under her eyes. Drying the path for the next that will soon come.
The restaurant staff did a beautiful job setting up for the luncheon. The tables weren’t overdone with flowers or silly center pieces. A small hurricane lamp was set in the middle of the table with a lit candle. As if lit in honor of Martin’s memory. I’m grateful there were no flowers set up. We’ve seen enough flowers over this week to last a lifetime.
It was a simple, three-course lunch, which went by in a blur, really. Guest after guest came up to Jordan and Diana to tell them how beautiful the service was, but I don’t think I can remember any of their faces. I was too busy making sure Jordan and Diana ate something and that everything went off without a hitch. We didn’t need any problems today. Our plates were at max capacity as it was.
I turn to Jordan on my other side and squeeze his hand. He looks very handsome in his black suit, but he’s hollow. He hasn’t said too much to me with words in the last few days, but his eyes show all his gratitude despite the sorrow living in them. I wait for a signal of some kind that he’s ready to head out. His shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath before turning to me and nodding. I grip both of their hands as Jordan takes his first step toward the exit.
The short path to get from the restaurant to the waiting car seems like a mile. All of us eager yet sad to finalize the day. The last two days have felt like an eternity of their own. The viewing yesterday was six solid hours of people telling us how great of a man Martin was and how he would be missed. I’m grateful that Martin had decided he only wanted a one-day viewing. If we had to do two days of that, I’m not sure Diana would’ve made it.
She’s been pretty much catatonic. Nodding, giving sad smiles of thanks, and sleeping. She hasn’t spoken much the last three days. I can’t imagine how she feels. Empty is what I’m guessing. How do you bury the man you love? I’m thankful that she was able to get through that first day when it seemed like she just might not. She and Jordan were both troopers as we went over everything Martin wanted when things finally settled down at the house, so I could step in and take care of it for them.
I’ve done all I can on my part, but now as we sink into the back of the limo after spending the first half of the day saying goodbye and celebrating a wonderful man comes the hard part. Jordan and Diana now have to begin their lives without their husband and father. And only they can do that.
It doesn’t take long before we arrive back at the house. Diana hugs Jordan as the car comes to a stop out front of her home. She slides past him to me and wraps her arms around me. I hug her back as she whispers in my ear, “Take care of him for me.”
“Of course,” I sniffle in her ear. Jordan has been there when I needed him most. No way will I leave him when he needs me.
Neither of us says anything as the driver closes the door behind his mom. Jordan grabs my hand and links his fingers through mine as I sit back against the seat. I give his hand a tiny squeeze as I shoot him an understanding nod. He doesn’t have to say anything. His pain is clear as day across his face.
I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes as we make our way home. I’ve been staying with Jordan as per the wedding moving plan. Instead of a wedding we got a funeral. Jordan doesn’t need to be alone right now and a fiancée wouldn’t leave his side at a time like this.
Seeing him like this isn’t easy for me. Jordan has been the one holding me together when shit hits the fan. Usually, it’s something from my fucked up father that blindsides us, but not this time. This time Jordan needs me. I’ll do anything I can to be here for him.
My eyes slowly open as the car comes to a stop and the driver gets out. Gripping Jordan’s hand, I slide down the bench in the limo pulling him with me. He’s in a daze. Almost as if he used up every ounce of energy to get through everything today with his mother. Now, it’s like leading a small child.
As we make our way into the building, I fish in my clutch for my keys. I find them just as the lobby elevator doors open and we make our way on.
Jordan presses the twenty-four button for our floor and then rests against the back wall of the elevator. He doesn’t look at me, instead tilting his head back and closing his eyes. God, he looks so broken. His shoulders aren’t strong and squared displaying his usual confidence. His usual smirk of happiness gone. Everything about him at this moment screams “lost.”
As soon as I get the apartment unlocked and open, Jordan rushes through and heads right for the bar set up in the corner of the dining room. He grabs a tumbler and sets it down on the table before turning back to grab the crystal decanter half full of Scotch.
He pours himself a good three fingers and downs it all at once. The glass makes a loud thud as he slams it back down on the mahogany dining room table. It’s quickly refilled with another three fingers. As soon as it’s empty, Jordan stares down at it for a moment before hurling it across the room. The tumbler makes several gouges in the paint as it shatters in every direction, filling the room with shards of glass.
The sound of breaking glass doesn’t drown out Jordan’s anguish. His sobs echo all around, tearing at my heart. My body is pulled to his as he slides down the wall, crying into his hands. His whole body shakes as the grief rips through him. He’s been so strong for his mom the last few days; I don’t think he allowed himself a moment for it all to sink in. His father is gone. He said his final goodbye to the man who helped make him who he is. I can’t begin to fathom the sadness he feels in this moment.
I slide down next to him, thankful that not much glass made it back to this side of the room, and wrap him up in a hug. Jordan’s arms immediately drop and wrap around me. His fingers dig into my arms as he wails into the crook of my neck. He holds on to me so tightly that I feel suffocated, which probably isn’t half of the pain he feels. My silk blouse sticks to my neck and shoulder as Jordan’s tears saturate it.
“Let it all out,” I whisper to him as I run my hands up and down his back in comfort.
We sit there on the cold, uninviting hardwood in that dark, depressing dining room for what feels like hours. Nothing about the room is comforting. This is the last place Jordan should be right now.
“Come on, let’s get out of these clothes and get in bed,” I suggest. “It’s been a long day.” The soft blue of his bedroom walls will make for a much better background than the deep red in here. It may sound stupid, but I feel like color always affects your mood. If you’re sad or angry, darker colors tend to add to your bad mood. Brighter, softer colors can help lift you up, pulling you from the darkness.
Jordan nods and pushes up from the floor, pulling me with him. I lead him through the kitchen, avoiding the glass mess that way, toward his bedroom.
“You coming back?” he asks, his voice gravelly and vulnerable.
“Of course,” I smile. “If that’s what you want.” He asked the same thing last night and the night before too. Jordan and I have never shared a bed until three nights ago. He didn’t want to be alone, and I couldn’t blame him.
I cross the hallway to my room and quickly change out of my black dress, opting for my fun, pink Victoria’s Secret sweatpants and a white tank. Bright colors, brighter mood. I reach into my drawer for a pair of my favorite fuzzy socks and then head back to Jordan’s room.
As I enter, I find Jordan sitting on the side of his bed now wearing a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt. His head rests in his hands until he hears me make my way further into the room. A pair of red, tear-swollen brown eyes look up at me and I wish I could do something—anything—to take his pain away. Jordan never hurt anybody. He’s good people. He doesn’t deserve this.
I crawl up onto the bed and sit back against the headboard. It takes only a few seconds before Jordan follows suit. But instead of lying next me, he lays his head down in my lap and cries.
“It’s not fair, Quinn,” he sobs. “I knew this was coming, but we were supposed to have more time. I know deep down that he knew his time was coming and didn’t say anything. I should’ve noticed he wasn’t doing so well. Why would he hide it? I had so much left to ask him. So much left to tell him. Why? Why him? There are so many people out there who deserve to die a horrible death, but he wasn’t one of them.”
I can’t agree with him more. People like my father, child molesters, and murderers get to live among the rest of us while the good are gone. Now I understand the saying “Only the good die young” so much better.
“I know, sweetie,” I try to comfort him. “He was such a wonderful man and the world won’t be the same without him.”
His entire body rises and falls as he takes deep breaths trying to calm himself down. My fingers run through his short hair as he tries to gain some composure. It doesn’t take long for his breathing to even out as he falls into a deep sleep. The alcohol and stress from the day finally pulling him under.
Staring down at him, I wonder how the hell I’m going to tell him about everything I’ve been keeping from him. Saying goodbye to Martin was hard, even for me. But it also taught me something. We never know how long we have here in this life. We only get one shot. Jordan deserves to live life to the fullest. Marrying me will keep him from having that. Doubts have been plaguing me for days leading up to the wedding, and now I know I can’t do this. He deserves the kind of love his father wanted him to experience. A true, soul-gripping kind of love. I can’t give him that. All I’m going to do is drag him down. Who knows if it’s already too late to keep him from being in the line of fire when it comes to my father?
I’ve held up my end of the deal. We gave Martin the peace he was looking for. There’s no reason to keep Jordan tangled in this web of lies and blackmail. He no longer has a horse in this race.
But how do I tell him I’ve been lying and keeping things from him? We’ve always been upfront about everything, and I know he’s going to be mad that I didn’t tell him this. As a friend, he’s going to be hurt, but as a businessman he’s going to be pissed. I didn’t give him all the risks up front.
I take in the redness around his eyes and nose, evidence of the pain he’s already feeling. I don’t want to add to it but I know I don’t necessarily have a choice. I have to tell him the truth. I’ve betrayed his trust by keeping this from him. He should’ve had the choice to back out.
How the fuck do I get myself out of this fucking mess without hurting anyone?
“HOW DID SHE seem today?” I ask Ashley as soon as she makes her way down the back staircase of her home leading into the den. They got back from the funeral about an hour ago, and when I showed up twenty minutes ago, Tanner told me she was upstairs feeding the baby and putting her down for a nap. It’s felt like an eternity waiting for her to finish.
I spent the morning waiting for her call telling me she and Tanner were on their way back from the funeral. Tiffany threatened to duct tape me to a chair on several occasions if I didn’t sit still. I wanted nothing more than to be there for Quinn today, but my presence would’ve only made things harder for her.
Plus, if we’re being completely honest, despite wanting to be the shoulder she leans on, I’m still angry at her. She still owes me a lot of answers. Frankly, it hurts to be near her and having no idea what’s haunting her makes it that much harder. We’re going to have to have a heart to heart soon because this hot and cold running through my body when it comes to her is enough to drive anyone to the brink of insanity. Just when I convince myself I’m done with her, I get sucked back in and my feelings take over my rationale.