Winning Her Over (11 page)

“Bren, don’t be like that.” Cal’s brows drew together in annoyance.

“Like what?”

“If you’re pissed off with me, we should talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Look.” He exhaled in frustration. “I didn’t want to ask you to come with me because I know you don’t have the money or time, and I didn’t want to offer to pay to fly you down because it would’ve felt…awkward. And there are going to be a lot of people I know from work there, and I didn’t want to tell anyone about us while I’m still up for partner.”

She’d been more or less with him until that stunner right at the end. “Are you—you’re not embarrassed by me, are you?”

He looked stricken. But he hesitated before saying, “No, of course not. Why would I be embarrassed by you?”

Cal was such a horrible liar.

“You
are,
” she said softly, incredulously.

The brutal silence continued until she broke it with a single word, her voice low with disappointment and vibrating with anger.

“Coward.”

“Brenna!” he protested.

She stood abruptly. “You need to go. We’re done.”

Cal stood as well and took a step toward her. “Wait! We can’t be done. Please don’t just give up on us like this. I—you know you mean a lot to me.” His voice actually sounded ragged around the edges, like he was overcome with emotions he’d barely expressed to her. “Please. Just…give me a chance to work it out with you.” He paused before continuing in a lower voice, as if the admission pained him. “I need you.”

“What for? To be your fuck-buddy? I thought we’d moved beyond that, but I guess I was wrong.” She flung the words at him, and he winced. Her laughter sounded hollow to her own ears. “The sex may be good, but I told you before, that’s not enough for me.”

Of course, he completely missed her point. “What do you mean,
good
? The sex is amazing, and you know it!”

“Okay, you win, Mr. Lawyer. It’s amazing. You’ve raised the bar. Happy?”

“I haven’t raised the bar, I
broke
the damn bar.”

“You know what? You’re probably right. But it doesn’t matter, because I need more than that. I
deserve
more than that. I need to be with someone who supports my choice of career and is proud of what I do. I need someone who might be able to…love me back.”

Cal just stared at her, stunned.

She pressed her trembling lips together. There was no way in hell she was going to cry in front of him. “You need to go,” she repeated. “You’re going to miss your flight.”

He swore and closed the remaining distance between them. “We’re
not
done. Not until we talk about it. I’ll call you tomorrow morning.”

Her chin went up. “Don’t bother. I won’t answer.”

“Brenna, how can I fix this if you won’t talk to me?”

“You can’t.” She tried to sound strong, confident, convincing, but the shakiness she despised had already crept into her voice. She needed him to leave,
now
. Before the tears started. So she said the words necessary to accomplish that. “I’ve realized this isn’t going to work for me anymore, and you need to accept that.”

He searched her face, and she took the opportunity for one last look at him. So she saw the exact second he gave in, his shoulders slumping into a dejected posture.

His voice was hoarse as he entreated her. “Can I—can I kiss you one more time? Before I go?”

The bitter taste of disappointment overwhelmed her. She knew she’d be angry with him later, but right now, she needed one last kiss more than she needed to breathe.

If she said anything, she’d start crying, so she simply nodded her assent.

As his lips descended on hers, a lump rose in her throat. His kiss started out sweet, so achingly sweet, a tender brushing of lips. And then his arms enfolded her, warm and strong, his scent surrounding her. It just felt so damn
good,
being pressed against him. Her arms came up, too, and she gripped the back of his shirt, clinging to him for these last few moments, not wanting to let him go, even though she knew she’d never really had him in the first place.

So this is what good-bye feels like.

She broke away from him then, on an indrawn breath that sounded nearly like a sob.

“I’ll miss you,” he said. A suspicious shimmer turned his eyes to molten silver.

“I’m sure you’ll get over me.” Her voice was rough, her throat aching so fiercely she could barely get the words out.

His next words were so softly spoken, she wasn’t sure he’d meant her to hear them at all. “I’m not.”

He strode the few paces to the foyer and bent down to grab his bags. Then he straightened once more. With a harsh sigh, he opened the door. Half-turning to look back at her, he said, “I’m sorry.”

And then he walked away, allowing the door to close behind him, and the tears she’d been holding back scalded her cheeks as they began to fall, one by one.

I
t had been
seventy-two hours
since Brenna unceremoniously dumped him, and Cal was still bewildered. Not to mention pissed off and moping, and sometimes all three.

He’d worked his ass off since he’d gotten back to DC, as usual. But he missed her. His muscles ached, and his normally boundless energy had deserted him. It felt like the flu, but he knew better. It was her. Her absence had created a craving that could never be assuaged.

So he kept billing the hours during the day like a good little worker bee, and late at night, once the summer heat died down, he went on five-mile runs, blasting his “Fuck the World” playlist.

He hadn’t noticed it before, but he’d gotten used to winding down his day on the phone with Brenna, or exchanging text messages when she had a break between appointments. He didn’t even want to think about how shitty he’d feel on Friday, when he should have been flying up to see her. Instead he’d be spending his first weekend in months without her.

He revisited their argument again and again, considering what he could have said or done Sunday night to generate a different outcome. Not opening his big fat mouth in the first place, for one thing.

And how many times had Brenna reiterated the importance of her business and her career? Yet when she’d asked if he was embarrassed by her, he’d frozen. Stupid, stupid, idiot.

Then there was that other thing she’d said. The thing that had completely floored him, though it shouldn’t have been a surprise, because his own feelings had been inexorably moving in the same direction. Which made his deer-in-the-headlights act when she’d obliquely mentioned the L-word his crowning achievement in that evening’s unadulterated stupidity.

“Wilcox. Snap out of it.”

His head jerked toward the door. Jordan Castle, a junior partner who was also Cal’s closest friend at the firm, regarded him with arms crossed, a forbidding expression on his face.

“What happened to knocking, so you can politely announce your presence?”

Uninvited, Jordie stalked into Cal’s office and closed the door behind him. “Can that shit, Wilcox.”

He bristled. “What’s your problem?”

Jordie shook his head, tight-lipped. “Got back this afternoon from taking depositions in Chicago. I heard you’ve been closeted in your office all this week. People are starting to talk.”

Cal’s heart sank into his stomach.
Shit.
But he tried to play it cool. “About what?”

“Some people think maybe you’re job hunting. But you’re not doing that, are you? Because that would piss me off. I backed you for partner, and you never once said anything—”

“I’m not,” Cal said in a low voice.

Jordie appraised him for a moment, then the tension drained out of his stance. “Yeah, you look too shattered for that. What’s up?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

His friend’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a girl, isn’t it,” he surmised, not even bothering to make it a question.

And there was the reason Jordie had been named a Rising Star litigator last year. Too damned perceptive.

“So, tell me how you fucked up.”

Cal enunciated more clearly. “I said, I’m not talking about it with you.”

Instead of taking the hint, Jordie pulled out one of Cal’s guest chairs and sat down, steepling his fingers. “Fine. Maybe this will cheer you up.” From the way Jordie’s brown eyes were dancing behind his frameless glasses, he apparently had some good news to share.

Sighing, Cal turned back to his computer. “At least let me sign out of my search.” As he’d learned early in his career, clients got really ticked off if you left the meter running on your Westlaw searches while chatting with someone.

“So,” Jordie said, “you should make sure you block off the first weekend in November on your calendar.”

Cal frowned. That wasn’t at all what he’d expected to hear. He brought up his schedule, saying over his shoulder, “Why, you planning to elope that weekend or something?”

“Nope. I’ll be in New York City for the Partner Prom, with the rest of the partners.”

The Partner Prom, despite its ridiculous name, was actually a pretty swanky event from everything Cal had heard. All the partners in CMH’s US offices were invited to bring their significant other to a delicious catered dinner, followed by cocktails and dancing, where everyone wore formal attire and got impressively sloshed. Those from out of town were flown in and put up overnight at a high-end hotel.

And then Cal froze, hands hovering over the keyboard, as it all clicked into place. “No,” he breathed as he turned back to his friend, his heartbeat speeding up. The man’s grin was bigger than he’d ever seen it. “Really?”

Jordie nodded. “But you can’t tell a
soul
before the official announcement. I mean it. Not your mom, not your secretary, not your best friend from college.
No one
.”

The ache in his chest leveled him yet again. The three people he most wanted to share this secret with were Brenna, and his parents. And two of them were no longer in his life. His shoulders sagged, but he tried to sound excited for Jordie’s benefit. “No problem. That’s awesome,” he said, forcing his lips into a smile.

Jordie shook his head. “I can tell your heart’s not in it, and that’s not good, because this is a big deal. Tell me about her. Maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

Cal doubted it. “She’s up in Boston. I started seeing her in May, but in the past few weeks things had been getting more serious.”

“Why is this the first time I’m hearing about her, then?”

Cal shrugged. Keeping his relationship secret had been another tactical error he’d be more than happy to rectify if Brenna ever forgave him. And if the partners—no, wait, the
other
partners—didn’t like it, so be it. Despite his mindset in recent weeks, CMH wasn’t the only law firm out there. Besides, a lateral move to another firm—if CMH forced his hand—would be easier as a partner than a senior associate.

“Wait, Boston—what, did you meet her when you were up there for that trial?” The man may as well have been a mind reader.

“Well…” Cal trailed off, unwilling to describe the circumstances under which he’d gotten together with Brenna.

Jordie took his lack of elaboration as a yes. “Dude, I’m impressed. How on earth did you manage to hook up with someone while you were at trial? I barely have time to eat and sleep.”

“We didn’t get together until after the trial was over. And that’s all I’m going to say about it.”

“What did you say she did?”

He hadn’t, of course—but that had never stopped Jordie from fishing for info before. “She’s, um, a massage therapist,” Cal said.

Jordie laughed. “Ah, so that’s how you met her.”

Cal actually felt the heat rushing into his cheeks as he exercised his right to remain silent, confirmation enough for Jordie.

“I can’t believe you were dating a massage therapist for three months, and you never said a word.”

“Yeah, what of it?”

Jordie raised his hands in the universal
settle down
gesture. “Hey, take it easy. You know I wouldn’t have judged. Not that I can speak for everyone at the firm.”

“That’s exactly why I never said anything about it. And now we stopped seeing each other anyway, so there would have been no point.” Or maybe that was the point. Who knew anymore?

“You want my advice?”

“That would be a no.”

Leaning forward, Jordie ignored him. “Get her a present. Something that shows her how much you care about her.”

Cal scowled. Though it wasn’t a bad idea, actually.

“It’s obvious you do care about her. I’ve never seen you this torqued up over a woman, not the entire time I’ve known you.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil.” Cal capped his sarcasm with the classic lawyer brush-off. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

“Fine. Ignore my words of wisdom. Just trying to help.”

“I know. And I appreciate it.” Then he smiled for the first time since he’d left Brenna’s apartment. Because in that instant, at last, he came up with a plan. “But I think I’ve got this.”

“All right.” Jordie stood. “Well, have at it, then. At least you don’t look like someone kicked your puppy anymore.”

“Way to boost a guy’s confidence.”

Jordie grinned. “My work here is done. And I expect an introduction to your golden unicorn at the Partner Prom.”

Before Cal could ask what a golden unicorn was, Jordie’s eyes lit up. “We should bill this point-one to the new mentoring program.”

That got the first laugh out of Cal in days. Though he supposed the past six minutes did qualify as mentoring, in a way. “I’ll do it if you do it.”

“Deal,” Jordie agreed.

“Thanks for letting me know about…that information, by the way.”

“Absolutely. No way I wanted you to hear it from someone else. Anyway, wanna call it a night and grab a beer before you head home?”

It beat the hell out of drinking alone. “Sure. Why not.”

Jordie stood. “I’ll stop by and grab you in about fifteen minutes. We’ll hit Cleary’s.” Then he lowered his voice and held out his hand. “Congrats, man. You deserve it.”

“Thanks.” Cal clapped his hand into Jordie’s for a shake. “See you in a bit.”

First, he had some presents to buy.

* * *

“
W
hat’s this
?” Brenna asked Marcus
, the UPS guy. It was a silly question, because he couldn’t know what was in the medium-sized cardboard box any more than she could.

Predictably, Marcus shrugged. “Beats me.” He hefted it a couple of times as she provided her electronic signature for the package. “Doesn’t weigh that much. Four, five pounds, maybe.”

The unexpected delivery on Friday morning was a bright spot in what had otherwise been a pretty rough week. She should have been angry with Cal for the lack of respect he’d shown for her time and choice of profession—and she was—but she’d been gripped predominantly by disappointment and grief since their breakup. He’d been so close to perfect in so many ways, and just when she’d thought their relationship might actually be moving beyond the friends-with-benefits arrangement that had never sat well with her, he’d tumbled right off her pedestal.

His spectacular failings didn’t stop her body from remembering all the incredible things he knew how to do to her, though. Or all the pleasure he’d brought her. And they didn’t stop her heart from aching, either.

Brenna forced the depressing thoughts from her mind and exchanged Marcus’s tablet for her package, thanking him. After seeing him out, she examined the box more closely. There were no clues to the sender’s identity. She would just have to open it.

Two dozen individually wrapped dried fruit and nut bars nestled amongst environmentally sound crinkled paper strips. A brochure proclaimed the “High Energy Snack Bars” to be from the White Pine Bakery in Burlington, Vermont. They looked delicious, and much healthier than the energy bars she used to buy. One end of each bar was dipped in chocolate—artisanal, small-batch chocolate from sustainable rainforest sources, according to the brochure.

But who were they from? She had a suspicion, but was holding out unrealistic hope her mother had sent a care package. For the first time since college.

Digging around in the box, Brenna finally found what she was seeking. A small, square envelope contained a card, which read:
I miss you. And I knew this was the only way I could be sure you’d eat.

Infuriatingly, the energy bars looked too yummy for Brenna and her growling stomach to refuse them. And no matter how she felt about Cal, she couldn’t accept his gift without acknowledging it.

So she texted him:
Thanks for the energy bars.

He responded almost immediately.
They aren’t energy bars. They’re highly nutritious snacks, lovingly handmade in the woods of Vermont from the freshest of ingredients.

Her eyes narrowed, and she picked up the brochure again. There were his words, stolen straight from the marketing copy.

She smiled wryly. He knew how to amuse her, but a box of glorified candy bars and some sentimental words weren’t going to be nearly enough to make up for what he’d said. Not after his revelation last weekend that he was too ashamed of her profession to want to introduce her to his work colleagues.

Another text notification warbled, interrupting her thoughts.
Did you eat lunch today?

It was almost three o’clock. No wonder her stomach was feeling so empty. Not that she’d had much of an appetite, lately.
No comment,
she responded.

Please eat. I still worry about you.

Her mood shifted abruptly from annoyance to desolation, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep upwelling tears from spilling over. Another client was due shortly, and Brenna couldn’t look like the mess she was inside.

I need to go. Thanks again.
She ended their conversation, shutting off her phone before he could entice her into lingering, and before she began to cry in earnest.

Sighing, she unwrapped one of the gourmet snack bars and took a bite from the chocolate-dipped end. It undoubtedly would have tasted much better if she hadn’t had to force it down past the lump in her throat.