Finally, someone answered.
She held her breath, waiting to hear his voice, and was ridiculously relieved when Mrs. Hemingway’s crisp tone came onto the line.
“Good evening, Cole Hammond’s office,” she said.
Eva opened her mouth to ask for Cole, but nothing came out and she realized in an instant the implausibility of her plan. Talking to him, hearing his voice, picturing his blue eyes—she couldn’t possibly break up with him with any dignity. She would sputter and stammer, starting and stopping but never getting the words out.
“Hello, this is Eva Butler,” she said, deciding to take the coward’s way out. Breaking up with a man’s admin wasn’t as shabby as breaking up with his land line. “I’d like to—”
“Oh, Ms. Butler,” Mrs. Hemingway interrupted in a relieved rush, “I’ll put you through right away.”
“
No
,” she screeched. Then she took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “What I meant was, no, please don’t disturb him. I just wanted to cancel our dinner plans for tonight.”
“Ms. Butler, I really think you should talk to Mr. Hammond. Please hold the line and I’ll put you—”
“No,” she said softly. Eva had herself under control now. Her panic was just as intense, but she’d reined it in. “Please send my regrets to Mr. Hammond and tell him that I think it is better that he doesn’t call me anymore.” Oh, God, she thought. Can you get any more shoddy? Breaking up with a man’s executive assistant! “Please tell him it’s for the best.”
“Ms. Butler, I’m putting you through—”
Eva hung up. She didn’t want to hear Cole’s voice. After throwing the phone on the floor, she went into the kitchen, opened the fridge and stood in front of it, trying to decide what she wanted to eat. She was hollow inside, but the thought of food repulsed her and she shut the door and leaned against it. Eva knew she had to pull herself together. She had to find a lawyer and mount a defense—mount a defense! she thought, still baffled by what was happening to her—but she would do that tomorrow. Now, tonight, she would wallow in misery and cry a little over life’s rabid unfairness.
The phone started ringing again. It’s Cole, she thought. It has to be him. Mrs. Hemingway told him I called and now he wants to—what? Stand by her in her time of crisis? Thank her for saving him the awkwardness of having to cut her loose? Rail at her for deceiving him? Rather than listen to him, she disconnected the phone. It was the only way she knew how to protect herself from the outside world. He would go away. As soon as being with her became too difficult, Cole would abandon the field and move on to easier quarry. There was no reason why someone like him should have to work this hard at a relationship.
Eva turned on the television, hoping to find mind-numbing entertainment. She was exhausted and restless at the same time
—
an awful combination—and she flipped incessantly for a half hour, finding absolutely nothing that grabbed her attention. She couldn’t concentrate on the television, but she couldn’t
not
concentrate on it either.
She needed a sedative, something that would make her oblivious to the passing minutes. She didn’t have Valium on hand so she tried the next best thing: aged whiskey. Eva had never in her life used alcohol as a crutch, but then again, she’d never in her life been the target of a Justice Department investigation and decided that this one time wouldn’t hurt her. And it didn’t. The whiskey was smooth and gentle and made her bones feel warm for the first time in hours.
She was pouring herself a third drink when the pounding started. There was someone at her door, an irate someone by the sound of it. No doubt it was a reporter trying to get a scoop. She put down her glass, walked over to the door and stuck her eye up against the peephole.
Damn it to hell, it was Cole.
I could pretend I’m not home.
“Eva, open up,” he said loudly as his fist continued to pound on her door. “I know you’re in there. I can see your eye shifting.”
Damn it.
She opened the door a crack, to tell him to leave, and, anticipating just such a maneuver, he shoved it open with his shoulder. He was talking on the phone as he entered the apartment. “Yes, she’s fine,” he said to the person on the other end of the line. His eyes swept the room and settled on the bottle of whiskey. “She’s been drinking some Johnnie Walker and looks a little worse for wear, but she’s fine.” He paused. He listened. He nodded “Yes, I’ll tell her to call you.”
Cole shoved his phone in his pocket and stared at her angrily. Eva wasn’t prepared for his anger and took a step back.
“That was Ruth,” he said calmly. “She wants you to call her. She’s been trying to get in touch with you all day.”
Eva nodded. She knew Ruth wanted to talk to her, but Eva wasn’t ready for her yet. She wasn’t ready for anything but oblivion. “I don’t want to talk to anyone,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady, despite the two shots of whiskey on an empty stomach and his surprising, always disconcerting presence. Then she turned her back on him and walked into the living room, leaving him alone in the kitchen. Her body language spoke volumes and the message was clear: You can go now.
But Cole wasn’t going anywhere and he followed her into the living room. Eva sat on the couch and pulled her blanket around her, feeling cold again. The whiskey warmth, only a temporary solution, had deserted her.
She couldn’t imagine why he was here. Well, actually she could and none of the reasons were satisfactory: He felt a misguided sense of chivalry, he was angry at her for deceiving him, he wanted to break up properly.
Eva knew it was best if they had it out, but the thought of doing this now almost destroyed her. She’d been through so much already. Didn’t he have the decency to see that?
But she would do this now while she was still half numb from whiskey and betrayal. And she comforted herself with the knowledge that this moment would have come sooner or later. What they had together—Cole and Eva, the affair—wouldn’t have lasted. During the whole of their relationship, this breakup scene had been a small ship on the horizon. It didn’t matter what brought it to shore: her crimes, his boredom. Its occurrence was inevitable. Cole would have moved on to the next willing female soon enough. That it was happening now rather than later she owed to the villain who’d set her up. Perhaps she should thank him or her.
There was something about grief and sadness that made all of this startlingly clear. Last night, while they’d been looking at photos of Ruth and Mark’s honeymoon over dessert, she had thought that she and Cole stood a chance, but that was just a giddy delusion brought on by happiness and perfectly prepared crème brûleé. She knew that now.
When Eva didn’t say anything, Cole took the lead. “So let me tell you a bit about my day: There I am in the office, trying to get in touch with you, which I’ve been doing nonstop for several hours, when Mrs. Hemingway tells me you called to cancel dinner and, it seems, our entire relationship.” He spoke slowly and calmly as if nothing were wrong, but Eva could see the anger burning in his eyes. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “After she gave me your message, I hopped immediately into the car to come here. And during the drive down, I said to myself, Don’t get angry. Think of the day she’s had. In with Oliver Murray and Carlin Jeffers for six hours.” Noticing her wide, surprised eyes, he nodded. “Yes, I know exactly what your day has been like. I made a few calls and found out everything. So I told myself to be patient and understanding and not angry. Anger, I told myself, is the last thing she needs after all she’s been through. And yet here I am with the damnedest urge to strangle you.” He sat down next to her on the couch and spoke with quiet menace. “How
dare
you try to kick me out of your life?”
Eva felt the tears well up in her eyes. Damn it! She’d gotten through the entire ordeal without one single drop and now a deluge threatened to overwhelm her. But it mustn’t. She couldn’t kick him out of her life while she was crying. He’d never go. He’d never believe that she was no longer smitten with him. She took a deep breath and got her emotions under control.
It cost her much, but Eva managed to laugh. She thought laughter conveyed an indifference that no other reaction to his speech could. “Really, Cole, don’t be so dramatic. I’m not
kicking
you out of my life. We can certainly have lunch now and then,” she said, striving for a sort of been-there-done-that sophistication that had always been repellent to her.
Cole wasn’t the least bit fooled, perhaps because he’d spent so much time with women who had really been there and done that. Instead of saying that they could indeed still be friends, he laughed. And it wasn’t the sad little trickle that Eva had treated him to moments before but a robust amused sound. “I don’t know if you’re being noble or stupid,” he said, shaking his head. “All I know is that you’ve been wounded and poorly treated and are about to pass out from exhaustion and perhaps alcohol. So I’m going to put you to bed and you can try to break up with me again in the morning when you’re well rested. Do note, Eva darling, that I said
try.
You won’t succeed, of course, but for some reason—nobility or stupidity—you feel a need to get rid of me right now.”
If he had taken another tactic, Eva might have been able to withstand him. If he had held on to his anger or made some threats, she might have been able to turn away from him, but this bemused good humor, as if he really did understand her, completely destroyed her defenses. Everything else in her life was about to be taken away—reputation, respect, career—and yet this one thing, this one beautiful thing, was standing in her living room refusing to budge.
She threw herself into his arms. “I thought you’d believe it,” she said, tears flowing down her cheeks.
He held her tight and rubbed her back comfortingly as the storm of emotion overtook her. “I know.”
“I couldn’t believe it this morning when they escorted me from the building and then they started interrogating me. I thought—” She broke off here to take a deep breath. It was hard to talk and sob at the same time.
“Shh,” he said softly. “I know.”
But Eva couldn’t stop. The flood gates had been opened. “I thought it had to be some awful mistake, but they just kept showing me document after document with my name on it.”
He tightened his arms around her. “I know, but it’s going to be all right. Trust me.”
Eva appreciated the comfort—indeed reveled in it—but she couldn’t quite bring herself to trust him that much. There was no telling what would happen, and even the great, hugely imperious Cole Reed Hammond held no sway with the Justice Department.
After a while, Eva cried herself out and started to calm down. She was aware of how solid Cole felt, how dependable, and for the first time that day, she thought she might get through this disaster with his help. But she wouldn’t let him be tarnished with her brush. She kissed him softly on the cheek with wet, salty lips and then pulled back. She wasn’t going to kick him out of her life—she understood how impossible that would be now—but she would still try to push him to the margins for a little while. “I’m better now,” she said with a hiccup. “Thank you.”
He examined her carefully, not quite convinced that she was okay. “Can I get you something? Some water?”
“Water would be nice, yes.”
Once he was several feet away from her, she proposed her plan. She couldn’t have done it while in his arms, but now that he was in another room she could muster strength for an argument. “I don’t think we should see each other for a while.” With a glass in hand, he looked at her with patent disbelief. Hadn’t they just jumped this hurdle? “No, no. I’m not breaking up with you,” she rushed to explain. “No, really. I just think we should put a little distance between us for the duration of this mess. There’s no reason for your name to be dragged into this any more than it already is.” When he remained doubtful, she tried another approach. “Think of your mother. What would she say about the scandal?”
Cole sat down on the couch and took her hand in his. “Quite frankly I don’t care what my mother has to say on the topic, but since you asked, she believes it’s utter nonsense and suggested quite strongly that I sue the United States government on your behalf for defamation of character.”
This was lovely to hear, but it didn’t dissuade Eva from her goal. “I won’t put you or your mother through this. It’s not fair. This is my problem.”
“I beg to differ, my dear. It’s
our
problem.”
He said it so matter-of-factly that Eva almost believed him. “No, listen to me, Cole, it’s already bad and it’s going to get much worse. Didn’t you see that story on Gawker? They’re saying I had an affair with Ethan. Isn’t that ludicrous? But people already believe it. My own friend, the guy I’ve sat next to for almost two years, was quoted as saying we were lovers. And Ethan didn’t deny it. He said no comment with a sly grin! And if they could do that with some stupid unsubstantiated rumor, just think of what they could do with you. You’re rich and powerful and all the things that their salacious minds love. What will they make up about you? I can’t bear to think about it. Their lies make you feel dirty and cheap, and I won’t let that happen to you. I won’t.”
He listened to her earnest speech silently and considered the problem from her point of view. He respected her desire to protect him—it was exactly the way he was feeling—but he couldn’t let her do it. He couldn’t let her go through this alone. After a moment, he said, “I love you, Eva. I’m not going to abandon you to the wolves.”
Eva froze as a sliver of joy wrapped itself around her heart. This was the only thing that would possibly redeem the worst day in the history of the world and there it was: Cole loved her. She could almost hear the angels singing, it was so miraculous.
Too miraculous.
She came crashing down to earth, and Cole watched in amazement as she shook her head. “No, no, you don’t.”
He almost smiled at the conviction in her voice. Somehow her reaction didn’t surprise him. “I don’t?”
“It’s just pity. You’ve never loved me before.”