WHO'S JUDGING WHO?
Monday morning, Juliet was swallowing hard as she adjusted the long, black blazer she wore over her patterned leggings. She'd never been nervous about a meeting before. She'd never been afraid of confrontation or been apprehensive about going after something she wanted. Now she stood outside of Michael Wayne's office door, silently going over her parting speech.
The night before, she and Eric hadn't spent the night together. At this point she almost wished they had, but the time apart was a good thing. As much as she felt like she wanted to be next to him twenty-four seven, she knew they each needed their own space. The last thing she wanted to do was run him off for being too "clingy."
However, that hadn't stopped them from spending a good portion of the night on the phone. They talked about so many things that her head nearly spun at the memory. She laughed until she cried about stories he told about running from dogs as a child, pranks he played in college, or the multiple ways that he and Travis used their twin statuses to their advantage. Eric was long-winded and she loved to hear him talk. She didn't say much in these conversations, mostly because she didn't have much to share. Her childhood was nothing to reminisce about. Nor was any part of her life before New York, really. So his stories were often more plentiful and more entertaining than hers and she let him tell them till his heart was content.
She told him about her apprehensiveness about switching realtors. Suddenly, uncharacteristicially of her, she didn't want to hurt his feelings. "He's been working with me for so long," she told Eric. "I hate to just up and dump him but the truth is, he's just not getting anything done. I'm ready to start this project and he's nowhere near making a sale."
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you that you have to think about what you want," he had said. "Sure, he's gonna be pissed to lose a sale, but he'll get another one after you. It's what happens when people drag their feet--they lose out on opportunities. Remember, if this is the way you feel about doing business with him, then it's his loss and not yours."
"I know," she'd sighed. "I know all of that, I just...I'm scared to death to make any big changes this far into the game, you know?"
"Well, you have me," he'd said. "And if I have to hold your hand in that office and ruffle a few feathers to get something done, I will. I'm no stranger to that sort of thing. And I'm not saying this just because I'm dying to tear that thing down."
"You're so violent," she'd giggled.
"I'm nowhere close to violent," he'd replied solemnly. Then his voice brightened. "But, there's nothing quite like busting through a wall with a sledge hammer. You should try it sometime, you'd love it."
Eric had been right. It was her business, it was her project, and if she needed to make the change, she needed to make the change. Part of her wished he was there to hold her hand, though. She'd never needed that before, but now...well, now she wanted it.
Michael Wayne was the kind of man that could be referred to as "vanilla." No part of him stood out. He was average height, short brown hair, and brown eyes, and nothing spectacular about his smile, every part of him sadly displaying his severe lack of charisma. But his smile brightened as Juliet walked through his office door and she wished that it didn't. "Miss Carson!" He greeted her cheerfully. "To what do I owe this meeting on such short notice? Got another offer for the seller?"
"Sure," Juliet said, taking in a deep breath. "If you want to call it that."
"Please," he motioned to a chair across from his desk. "Have a seat."
"Thank you," she replied quietly. She didn't really want to take a seat, she wanted to spit it all out and get it over with. But she obliged and she tucked her purse into her lap for support. After all, she'd never broken up with anyone before. Her last breakup only happened because her husband died--and that had been joyous.
"So," he said, adjusting himself in his chair and folding his hands on his desk. "To what do I owe this impromptu pleasure?"
Juliet looked at him for a moment and a moment was all she needed to decide that she'd been wrong about this guy. He did have something unique about him. He had that typical shit-eating grin that she suddenly realized that she'd grown sick of and despised, therefore making the purpose of today's meeting that much easier on her. "Well. The truth is, Mike, I've come here to inform you that your services as my realtor are no longer needed."
From behind his desk, the shit-eating grin disappeared from his face and was replaced by apparent shock. Adjusting his tie nervously, he blinked his eyes for a moment. "Is there, um, did you find another building?"
"No," she shook her head. "I didn't find another building."
"Okay, then," he replied, struggling to keep his professionalism. "Tell me what I can do to change your mind."
"I'm so sorry, Mike," she continued, the break-up speech coming to her much easier as she spoke. "I appreciate you working with me for so long. But it's been too long now and I'm afraid that I've decided to switch realtors."
"Switch--switch realto--switch--who? Parker Realty is the best firm in New York--"
"I didn't say I was leaving the firm," she clarified slowly. "I said I was switching realtors. I found a realtor that...well, that I feel is better suited to my needs. Time is of the essence and this is business, after all."
"But--but, Miss Carson, I'm familiar with the seller. I'm doing everything I can to speed up the process and finalize the sale--"
"Jason Kamealoha is a superstar in his field. I know that, you know that, and I can't believe I didn't know he existed in this company before recently. Again, as I said, I appreciate you working with me, but I don't have time to sit around, blowing smoke. In case you've forgotten, I am Juliet Carson, and there's hardly a person or a company in New York who isn't itching to get their hands on one of my designs or in my wallet. So, if I may be frank, I find it a little hard to believe that the seller has actually done this much pussyfooting around. When I walked into Parker Realty and demanded that I be given the very best, I expected the very best. You've been a delight to work with, but you are not the best. I'm sorry that this is how it has to be, but honestly, all I want to do is buy a building. That's it."
"Well," Mike huffed as he sat back in his chair. "Jason Kamealoha, huh? I should have guessed. Can't say I'm surprised. I suppose it wouldn't have taken long for a woman of your reputation and a playboy like him to cross paths. I'm sure it'll be a match made in the bloody guts of heaven."
Juliet sucked in a breath through her nose and held her head high as she rose from her chair. "Well, then. Thank you for cementing my decision, it's been the most helpful you've been since we met. I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors."
"Yeah? I hope that piece of shit building fails inspection. Miserably."
She smiled sweetly before heading to the door. "Yeah? Well, so do I. Because we're tearing it down, anyway."
With that, Juliet closed the door on Michael Wayne's dumbfounded face and smiled down the hallway, immediately itching to take out her cell phone and celebrate her small victory with Eric. But, first, she had to take care of further business.
Heading to the end of the hallway, she stopped at a desk and was greeted by a middle-aged redhead. "Excuse me," she asked. "Where might I find Jason Kamealoha?"
"In his office," she smiled. Then she leaned over her desk and pointed. "All the way to the end of the hall, there."
___________________________________________________
Jason Kamealoha had a lot on his plate. As a matter of fact, he couldn't remember a time when his plate wasn't full. After high school, he'd left Michigan to go to school in New York. He'd worked in the bar by night and gone to college by day. He couldn't count the sleepless nights he spent, trying to juggle his late-night job, his social life, and his studies.
His mother's sudden diagnosis had caused him to drop everything, including school, to go back home and take care of her. For the first couple of years he spent all his time with her until she found herself in remission, and then when he wound up with a pregnant girlfriend, he had to think fast. So he got licensed in real estate and soon skyrocketed as one of the best realtors in his hometown. After a lengthy battle and seven years of being a single father, Noah's crazy mother and her family reared their ugly heads again just long enough for her to give up all of what was left of her rights and responsibilities to their son. It had been the last straw and he'd immediately packed Noah up and left town, coming back to New York where he knew he'd be comfortable. Now he worked long hours and spent every waking moment that he could with Noah. His housekeeper, Clara, had been a godsend.
While he loved his son, life as a single father could be lonely. He rarely had time for himself to meet anyone or go out and when he did, he felt guilty for it. The relationships never worked out or went past the first couple of dates. Dating was a completely different ballgame when you had a kid waiting on you back at home. You weren't thinking about yourself anymore, you weren't casually sleeping around, and at thirty-five years old, he wasn't really about that life anymore. No, Jason was ready to settle down. For himself and for his son.
He sat behind his desk in black slacks and a light gray dress shirt, his cuffs rolled up off of his wrists. His jacket hung from the back of his chair and his tie was shoved somewhere in a desk drawer, likely with several others. Jason hated a tie. He didn't even know why he attempted to wear them. He had just hung up his phone when there was a light knock on the door. Inviting the guest in, the door opened and he grinned in an instant at the sight of Juliet Carson in a pair of tight pants that could be the death of any man she came in contact with. Forcing his eyes into hers, he stood to greet her and invited her to sit down. "Jules! While I expected you to come crawling to me, I wasn't expecting it this soon."
She curled up her nose and made a face at him. "I didn't come 'crawling' anywhere. I just came from Michael Wayne's office."
"Ah," he nodded as he sat back down. "Is he crying?"
"No. Just expressed his gratitude in the form of insults and assumptions. I'm used to it, it's no big deal."
"Nobody likes that guy," he assured her. "You're not the first client he's lost, you won't be the last."
She merely nodded.
Jason studied Juliet for a moment. She had always been what he liked to call "beautifully tragic." When he knew her all those years ago, back when they'd been much younger, she always seemed so shy and uncomfortable. The men at the bar flocked to her constantly, every single night, and he couldn't count the times he had to answer questions about her to the men that were asking. But she never went home with any of them. She never dated any of them and the few that she did meet turned out to be worthless wastes of life. It was as if she was always the right woman but it was never the right man. She was beautiful in every way a woman could be beautiful, whether she knew it or not. The tragic part was that he couldn't ever seem to get her to look at him the way he wanted her to.
Apparently not much had changed. Beneath her confident façade, she was still the same beautifully tragic Juliet, as nervous and uncomfortable as she had been the night she first stumbled into the bar from a seemingly different planet and spilled her drinks all over the customers. From the moment she batted those doe eyes at him as he helped her clean up her first mess, she had him hook, line, and sinker.
Swallowing at the memory and clearing his throat, he adjusted himself in his chair and brought himself back to the present. "So," he said. "We buying a building or what?"
Finally, she smiled and she instantly seemed at ease. "You think you can help me?"
"Are you kidding?" He scoffed. "I can sell anything I get my hands on. Sit tight for a minute, let me, uh, retrieve some information and we can get started."
"You don't--I mean, right now? You don't have any appointments or anything?"
He smiled at her as he stood from his desk. "I have time. Stop worrying about me and relax. Let me work my magic." And then he winked at her and walked out of his office.
There was a certain satisfaction that Jason felt as he made his way down the carpeted hallway to Michael Wayne's office. In spite of himself, he was always looking for a way to stick it to the guy just for being the weasel that he was. He'd given Jason nothing but a hard time since he started with the firm and Jason never missed an opportunity to give it right back.
Knocking on the door with his index knuckle, Jason invited himself into Mike's office. Mike flared his nostrils at him and Jason smiled. "Mike," he greeted him. "So sorry I didn't get a morning hello from you today."
"I'll be even sorrier of the door doesn't hit you on the ass on the way out," Mike spat.
"Mike," he continued to smile. "Let's not be harsh with each other. We all have the same goals here."
"No, we really don't. My goals are not to steal clients from other realtors and I certainly don't sleep with them."
Suddenly, the round of friendly banter left an angry taste in Jason's mouth. "I beg your pardon?"
"Come on," Mike said, lowering his voice. "As soon as everyone finds out about your shiny new account, there, everybody's gonna know you're nailing Juliet Carson. Hell, I already know it."
Jason looked him over, offended. "I'm not nailing her!"
"Maybe not right now, but you will. She's the biggest whore in Manhattan, everybody's had a piece of her. Wall Street, Broadway, the Times...everybody's waiting in line, everybody's got a horror story to tell, but they'd all go crawling back in a heartbeat."
"You are way out of line--"
"What, do you live under a rock?" Mike laughed. Then he sat back in his chair. "Oh, yeah, that's right. You are somewhat of a newbie, huh? All you gotta do is Google her. Educate yourself. Then come back and tell me what I missed out on."
As the weasley little bastard chuckled, Jason glared down at him as he towered over his desk. "Look. I've known Juliet for over ten years. We go way back. So I'm not gonna stand here and listen to your bullshit anymore. Just give me the damn file I came for so I can get out of here."
Mike took a moment to retrieve the large, manila legal file that belonged to Carson Innovations and handed it to Jason without hesitation. "Google her. I'm telling you."
With one more glare, Jason stormed out of Michael Wayne's office and down the hall toward his own. Halfway there, however, his mind had begun to race and he started to wonder if anything Mike had said held any water. He felt ashamed of himself as he slowed to a stop in the middle of the hallway, resting his back against the wall, tucking the file under one of his arms, and fishing his phone out of his pocket. He glanced down the hallway toward his office before pulling up the Google website and typing in "JULIET CARSON."
A plethora of links immediately pulled up and he found himself not having to scroll very far before he got to the juicy stuff. Headline after headline after headline, dating years back and up through the present, and even ones chronicling her romantic history, showed him things that made his stomach churn. Apparently, Juliet had a new man practically every week. Every color, every flavor, every height, shape, and size. She wasn't picky. There were photos of her with so many different men, Jason's head spun. And all the stories were similar. Some of the disgruntled men submitted confessionals of their own. She never stayed, she never called, and she was selfish in the bedroom. His heart sank every time he found a new tabloid.
Jason wasn't sure why this bothered him so much, but it did. After all, it was Juliet's life, she could do whatever she wanted with it. And he had disappeared for seven years and knocked up a woman he didn't even love, so who was he to judge? But still. This wasn't her. This wasn't the shy, naïve, innocent Juliet he used to know. And this wasn't her when he'd left town, either. What had happened to her? What made her dispose of men the way she did?
What if it had been him? What if he'd pursued her and she'd finally given in to his advances all that time ago? Would he have been one of these victims, too?
In turn, his heart broke. He had hoped to be able to try again with her. Maybe time would have been good for them and they might have been in a better place to see if there was anything there between them. But now? Now he just wasn't sure about it. He had a son to think about now. And Noah didn't need anything like this in his life.
Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he continued on his way back to his office. Closing the door behind him, he found Juliet in exactly the same spot he'd left her in, seemingly not having moved an inch.
She smiled as he sat behind his desk and laid the file down between them. "I'm so excited. I've waited so long to finally start accomplishing something with this relocation."
"Juliet, what happened?" He asked her, sitting back in his chair, studying her eyes.
"Do what?"
"After I left town. What changed?'
"Um," she sputtered, her eyes darting around. Then she smiled sheepishly. "Um, I'm not really sure how to answer that. Beth and I own a company now. That's a pretty big change. But that's really about it..."
"No, it isn't," he shook his head.
"What are you talking about?"
"Why wouldn't you date me? Why back then, I mean. I had it so bad for you, Juliet, you had to know it. You had to. I didn't make any effort to hide it. I was nice, I was attractive, and you--you knew me. So what was it about me that turned you off?"
Her eyes widened and he knew he'd caught her off guard. She opened her mouth to speak and then she closed it again, merely staring back at him in silence. Finally, she managed to get out, "Jason, that was...that was a really bad time for me. I wasn't--I didn't--it wasn't you. I found more than enough to be attracted to in you and in a perfect world, I would have fallen all over you. You were a woman's dream. But I just...it just wasn't the right time for me. I wasn't ready for a relationship of any kind--"
"Yeah?" He sneered. "What about those couple of assholes you saw here and there, huh? What did they have that I didn't have?"
"I couldn't do it to you, Jason!" She finally raised her voice, her hand coming down, frustrated, onto the dark, wooden desk. "I couldn't do it to you! You didn't deserve it! I couldn't commit, I couldn't--I didn't even know who I was! I couldn't depend on you to carry all the burdens of all my--my bullshit! I was no good for you, Jason! I was no good for anyone!"
"Why don't you let me be the judge of who's good for me and who isn't?"
She shook her head. "Because you have no idea what you're getting yourself into."
"I'll say," he scoffed. "Apparently I've been away from New York for far too long. Had to have a crash course in what I missed out on down the hall, there, for the past five minutes. I'm shocked and I'm surprised and I want to know where my Juliet went. Where is my girl? My best friend? My confidant and partner-in-crime? Where is she?"
Juliet took in a breath and straightened her spine in her chair. "I worked very hard to make sure that she didn't exist anymore," she said quietly, carefully. "That Juliet was never meant to exist. That Juliet came from a world that was no longer...her world. I am self-taught, I am self-made, and I am every bit of that because I got rid of that sniveling little shit that I used to be. And I will not sit here and let you or anyone else knock me down."
"No? But you can sit around and let half the sleaze of New York have their way with you while the other half of the sleaze sits around and writes about it and smears your good name all day long. That's rich, Juliet. That's the American dream, right there."
"No man has their way with me! You don't even know what you're talking about."
"Except that I do--"
"You don't." Then her eyes fell and she nervously tucked her hair behind her ear. "I didn't come here to be judged. I came here for business. If you don't, um, if you don't want to continue doing business with me, I can find someone else--"
"I never said I wasn't going to help you. I'm just disappointed is all."
"You don't have any room to be disappointed," she said quietly. "You're the one who left town. You're the one who split up the three of us, me, you and Beth. You were half of my safe haven and you left--"
"I told you why I left, Juliet. I didn't have a choice--!"
She scoffed and shook her head. "You know, you want to sit here and try to make me feel all guilty, telling me all about how much you cared about me and wanted me back in the day. But you sure didn't give two shits about me after you left, did you? You never tried to call, you never visited, you made zero effort to make zero contact with me, so now I have to sit here and wonder, what if I did give in to you? You would have left me anyway. Just like all the rest of them. So, really, how different would you have been?"
Jason stared at her in silence, going over her words in his head. The truth was, she was right. He was really no better than she was, the only difference being the mistakes they'd made. But they'd still made them and they couldn't change them. He was beginning to regret ever bringing any of this up to begin with.
"Okay," he conceded with a nod. "Okay. I'm an asshole."
"I didn't say you were an asshole."
"No, but I am. You're right. I have no room to...I'm just...why so many men, Jules?"
"It's really not that many. Sure, I date a few times per month, so what? If I don't like them I move on. It's that simple. I don't do anything different than a man, do I?"
Jason shook his head. "I just...I just...I don't know..."
"Jason," she said softly. "We're not in the bar anymore. We're not in our twenties, we're not partying every night after work and we're not all shacking up in the bed together, nursing hangovers. Those days are over. I'm different. You're different. You're a father, I'm a business-owner--we've grown up. We're not the same people we used to be. Accept it. It isn't going to change."
"Well," he said, rubbing his brow and collapsing his wrist onto the desk. "I'm not sure how comfortable I am with your current...lifestyle choice. I gotta be honest."
"Not that it's any of your business, but I've been seeing the same man off and on for the past three weeks," she said as she finally stood from her chair. "And he's the only one I've seen. You can't believe everything you read. In the meantime, I'll let you study over that file and you can get back to me when you're ready to make a real appointment to get this done."
She headed for the door with Jason sitting behind his desk, filling more and more with regret by the second. Stopping, with her hand on the doorknob, she turned to look at him. "For the record, I never once judged you for anything. Not ever."
And with that, Juliet Carson disappeared from his office.
Jason sighed and rubbed his eyes with this hand. She had certainly grown up, all right. And changed right along with it. The girl he used to know was deathly afraid of confrontation. Now, it seemed that she couldn't be bothered to think twice about it before she handed your ass right back to you.
In spite of himself, he found himself extremely turned on by it.
_______________________________________________________________________
Juliet's meeting with Jason had been a disaster. He was the last person on the face of the planet that she would ever expect to judge her the way he had. How dare he? He had always been the confrontational type, intuitive, and bold. He never hesitated to state his opinion and he fought like hell for what he believed him. For several years, Juliet looked at him with stars in her eyes with admiration, wishing she could be more like him.
But he was also accepting of anyone and anything. He embraced individuality and independence and freedom. He believed whole-heartedly that every person was unique and special. Juliet learned more from him in those few short years than she had learned in her entire life. Jason was put into her life to show her the goodness in humans and the goodness in life.
And then he left.
She, in no way, blamed her personal decisions on him. After all, she was her own person and she did make conscious decision after conscious decision. It wasn't his job to be the voice in the back of her head that told her she should think twice about fucking the banker in the bathroom of the Chinese restaurant. It also wasn't his voice in her head that encouraged her to volunteer her time and money to animals and children, either. She was her own person. Jason merely taught her that being your own person was okay.
Except now she was beginning to hate the person she had become and Jason hadn't been around for that. Eric Reynolds came into her life and inadvertently forced her to confront the demons she'd avoided for over ten years and now it was wreaking havoc on her mind, body, and soul. She knew, deep down, that facing her past was good for her. She knew deep down that she needed to face and accept and move on to truly be happy in life. But she hated herself and she hated that Eric had now caught himself in the cross hairs of these revelations that she was fighting with herself to deal with. She fought with herself--the battle was always her own within. He didn't deserve to be caught in the middle of any of it and he sure hadn't asked to care about such a difficult woman. Juliet wished she was a perfect Mary Homemaker just like every other woman in America seemed to be. Eric needed a woman who could take care of him, not a woman he would have to anticipate driving to the psych ward every five minutes.
For the rest of that evening, Juliet sat on her couch with a sketch pad, sketching a new house while the TV played something she wasn't even paying attention to. This was after she took the plunge and Googled her name, that was. She sat in her kitchen window sill, smoked a cigarette, and had a teary-eyed pity party for herself as she read the horrible things about herself online. There was a reason she didn't pay attention to what anyone said or wrote about her, and this was it. The local papers and magazines liked to dub her a "socialite," but Juliet didn't understand it. So she liked to go for dinner and drinks sometimes. Sometimes she enjoyed a live show. Sometimes she went on dates with men. So what? Apparently it was a sin for her to go out with all types of different men, enjoy sex, and then turn around and go to work the next day. "Whore" was a common word that she saw. They liked to poke fun at her "flavor of the week." There was a column in one of the online publications called, "Man Watch: Juliet Carson Edition." She was a laughing stock. A joke. How she managed to get any business in the city was beyond her. She had thought she was living her own life. She had thought that she was strong and independent and doing anything she wanted to do. But apparently being free and self-sufficient was catching up to her. Perhaps living her life the way she pleased was doing more damage to her than good. It was hurtful, the things she read about herself. But more than anything, she feared for her career. And for her relationship with Eric.
As if on cue, Juliet's phone rang beside her and she picked it up to check the ID. Seeing Eric's name, her heart sank with guilt as she was suddenly reminded of her neglect of him. In her quest for self-pity that evening, she hadn't even thought about calling him. She was already blowing it as a girlfriend. Was that what she was? A girlfriend?
"Hey," she answered meekly, not sure what she would get on the other end.
"Hey," he replied softly, his voice soothing her in an instant. "I, uh, I wanted to try to give you your space, but I haven't heard from you all day--"
"I'm sorry," she said, letting out an exhausted breath. "I'm sorry, I just--it hasn't been the best day ever."
"I'm sorry," he said. "Something happen with the realtor? Did you tell him what was up?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I switched...I just don't know how I feel about this new one. It's like--like every business transaction I touch lately is full of drama and headache and I know it's all my fault. I know it is. I just...I feel like I'm falling off the ledge, like...like I'm losing control and I just don't know what to do to get it back."
"Jules," he said gently. "I never meant to make things complicated for you. I admit, I may have been...more than a little selfish in my primary reasoning for pursuing a business relationship with you. I've...done and said some things I'm not proud of and it hasn't been easy on you. I know this--"
"Eric. I'm not--I'm not really referring to you--"
"But I would do anything to be with you," he continued, as if he hadn't heard her. "I'd do anything to belong to you in any way, shape, or fashion, and sometimes I don't know when to stop when I set my sights on something I want. And, Juliet, I want you. My company wants your company's business, but I want you."
She sucked in a breath through her nose to stave off the overwhelming rise of emotion and she swallowed the lump in her throat. "My old realtor implied that I'm a whore and I'm pretty sure my new one is judging me based on the tabloids."
"Well, that's bullshit," Eric spat angrily. "All they're there to do is sell you a fucking property, nothing else is any of their business!"
"Eric, I've--I've made some...some not-so-smart decisions in my life and I think they might finally be catching up with me. I'm--I'm becoming a burden--"
"I'm coming over."
"What? No. Don't--don't uproot yourself if you're comfortable. You have to get up for work in the morning. Get some rest, I'm okay--"
"I'm coming over right now so you don't finish that sentence you started. You're wrong. And I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Eric--"
But her protests didn't matter. He'd hung up the phone and now she felt horrible. She didn't want to be this way. She didn't want the kind of relationship where she played the damsel in distress and he constantly had to be the knight in shining armor that rescued her. That wasn't fair to him. Even she knew that.
Nonetheless, after ten minutes on the dot, there was a knock at her door. Adjusting her pajama shorts and her sweatshirt appropriately, and tightening up the tie in her hair, she took a deep breath and opened the door.
Eric was a sight for sore eyes. She hadn't seen him since Sunday morning and she didn't realize how terribly she missed him until that moment. His light, ash blonde hair was slightly disheveled and he sported a darker five o'clock shadow which, admittedly, was the sexiest thing she had ever seen. His jeans were relaxed and she prayed for a tight Henley underneath his heavy coat.
"I'm here," he stated, his blue eyes boring into her brown ones. "I will always be right here--whether you like it or not."
"Why?" She whispered. "You have no idea what you're getting into. It'll only get worse."
"I already know what I'm into. And there's no turning back. It always gets worse before it gets better. Either way, I'm still here."
"Eric," she said, her voice cracking, her arms reaching out for him.
In seconds he was in the door, closing it behind him, and wrapping his arms around her body. Sliding her arms around his neck, she hugged him tightly, taking a deep breath as it staggered back out. She fought the tears with all her might. She was not going to cry.
Instead, she breathed in the comfort of his scent, the faded aftershave and the natural smell of his skin that intoxicated her with every contact. She was addicted to him. So utterly, miserably addicted to him.
This addiction led her lips to his, needing his kiss, needing the intimacy, needing to feel the desire of someone who didn't think of her as something she wasn't. She craved this soul that had latched itself onto hers as if it was the puzzle piece that had been missing in her life. Eric's kiss was everything. It was her entire existence.
Breaking the kiss, afraid that she might lose control of herself, she wrapped her arms around his neck again, closing her eyes and smiling at how good it felt as he held her tight and rubbed her back. The chills ran through her body as her heart warmed and she was reminded of her complete happiness in his presence.
"Thank you for being here," she whispered.
"Anything for you," he murmured into her hair. Then he pulled away as a grin spread across his face. Reaching into his coat pockets, he produced a bottle of white wine and two DVD's.
"Jesus, Eric!" Juliet laughed. "What the hell kind of pockets do you have in that thing?"
"I grabbed a bottle out of the fridge on the way out. These," he said, raising the DVD's, "are hours upon hours of the stupidest, most useless shit you'll ever watch. But you'll laugh your ass off. All I need is a corkscrew and a comfy spot on your couch."
Juliet's eyes lit up. "I have cookies!"
"That doesn't surprise me," he deadpanned.
"Here," she said excitedly, helping him out of his coat. "I'll take your coat and you can stay awhile. The remotes to the TV and stuff are on the coffee table. I'll be right back with the rest of the stuff."
With a grin that hurt her cheeks, she draped his coat over the armchair and flew into the kitchen, her socks sliding across the floor. She rummaged through her drawers for a corkscrew and came out with half a package of shortbread cookies from the pantry and raced back into the living room, sinking herself into the couch cushion next to him, tucking her feet underneath her.
The room was dark and he was already fiddling with the DVD remote as the menu screen of the feature he'd chosen lit up the room. It was black and white, likely from the late thirties or early forties. Her heart melted as she smiled at him in the dark. He knew her. It wasn't like he'd plucked a couple of black and whites off the shelves because he knew what she liked. He knew what was on these discs, these were part of his personal collection. She swore she felt their connection deepen with every moment they spent together.
For the next hour, they curled up on the couch together, passed the wine bottle back and forth, and polished off what was left of the cookies. They laughed and they joked, and sometimes they stopped to rewind and repeat a part or two. They shared useless trivia, traded stories they could relate to the screen, and discussed modern comedy versus classic comedy. They couldn't even get through a full-length feature without talking about everything under the sun.
As the wine bottle nearly emptied, the couple grew weary and, before long, Eric lay across the couch on his back while Juliet lay draped over his torso, resting her head comfortably on his chest underneath his chin, her legs nestled in the space between his. Their laughing at the film was reduced to light chuckles as they continued to watch, but were obviously concentrating harder on their closeness than they were the shenanigans on the screen. She tried to ignore the fact that she could feel every ripple of his hard body underneath the delicious, navy blue Henley he was wearing and, instead, listened intently to the beating of his heart against her ear. It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard in her life.
_______________________________________________________________________
Eric's heart hurt for Juliet. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to be her. How did someone like her find relief? In this corner, she had a horrific past she was trying to recover from and in the other corner, she was dealing with the nastiness that was the general public. It was no wonder that nobody had ever been in her apartment before her party. It was no wonder that she preferred to stay holed up inside of it and keep to herself. So how did someone like her feel relief? Hopefully by finding comfort in him. That's who he wanted to be. He wanted to be the good and the comfort in her life. He hoped that his presence did that for her tonight.
However, he was exhausted. Actually, he hadn't realized just how exhausted he was until he found himself stretched out on her couch. Her steady, even breathing had become contagious and he found his eyelids growing heavy as she mindlessly traced the lines inside his hand.
It was when he opened his eyes and found the screen blurry, though, that he realized that he was suddenly finding it slightly difficult to breathe.
He blinked his eyes, figuring that since he'd dozed off that it was sleep in his eyes, but they never adjusted. He figured maybe his issue with his breathing was Juliet's dead body weight on his chest, but she wasn't that much of a bother to him. His eyes darted around as he looked at the clock on her DVD player and the anxiousness set in him with a quickness.
"Babe," he said to her softly, as calmly as he could. "Babe, I hate to do this, but I gotta go."
She sat up and looked at him, her eyes full of regret. "You do? Why? You can stay here tonight if you want to."
"Thank you," he smiled, desperate to control his breathing so that she wouldn't notice. "But I can't stay tonight. I'm not...I'm not feeling well. I really need to get home."
"But...I'll take care of you," she offered.
His heart would have melted if he felt like he could survive it at the moment. "I know you will, Jules. But I'm sorry. I can't stay. We have a meeting tomorrow, though, so don't forget."
As the pair stood from the couch, he tried to avoid her disappointed eyes. "Meeting?"
"Yeah. So we can finally nail down that contract and start getting plans started for the project. Your receptionist didn't give you the message?"
"No," she mused. "I suppose not."
Walking past her, he collected his coat and kissed her lips quickly. "Baby, I gotta go."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he promised her. "I'll call you when I get home."
"Eric, I'm worried..."
"I'm okay," he assured her once more as he headed for the door. "Lock the door behind me. Sweet dreams."
"Goodnight," she said warily.
But he couldn't stick around. He closed the door behind him and forced himself to walk briskly through the hallway.
The drive around the next couple of blocks was brutal as his vision only grew worse and his breathing only shortened. Beyond those ailments, nausea was beginning to set in and he couldn't seem to get home fast enough.
Finally, after what felt like hours, he staggered up to his apartment, barely got himself in the door, and miraculously found his way straight into his bathroom. He was barely able to shrug off his coat and pull his shirt off over his head, when he heard his phone fall onto the floor out of his coat pocket and he looked at it in thought for a moment before he ignored it and went about his business. He couldn't call Travis. Travis would kill him for letting things go this far. Besides, he promised Juliet a phone call. Right after he took care of his little situation.
Glancing at his blurry reflection in the mirror, he hated what he saw. He hated himself for being this way. Travis would kill him when he found out what he'd done and there was no way he was ever going to tell Juliet. At least it was no secret with Travis. But Juliet? Juliet needed a real man, not a man who had to rely on a needle to get him through the day. There was no way he could disappoint her like that.
Scrambling frantically through the cabinet underneath this sink, he pulled out a small, black bag and unzipped it, nearly spilling out the contents. Finding comfort in a sterile syringe, he squeezed his eyes open and shut in an attempt to get a clear visual on how, exactly, he was filling it. The rest of the next few moments was a blur as he flicked the plastic cylinder with his middle finger a couple of times before reaching it over and jamming into his arm. He was brutal with it, he didn't care. He would have jammed it anywhere, just as long as it got into his body.
He stood there for a minute, gripping the sink, waiting for the substance to set in, and when he didn't get the immediate relief he was seeking, he began to panic. Struggling, he staggered to the floor and picked up his phone. Finding Travis's number had been easy enough and the next thing he knew, he found himself saying weakly, "I need you to come over."
"What's going on?" Travis asked with authority.
"Just--just come over."
"Eric," he said seriously. "You did it again, didn't you?"
"I didn't call you to be judged," Eric spat. "I just need you to come over."
"You got yourself a needle?"
"Yeah."
"How much did you take?"
"Fuck, I don't know," Eric breathed. "It just...doesn't feel like it's working this time."
"I'm coming," Travis said, now breathless as if he was moving at top speed. "Just keep your head up and your eyes open. Got it?"
"Yeah. Use your door key, will you?"
"I got my key. I'm in the street right now, I'll be right there."
"Hurry," he whispered.
And that was the last thing Eric remembered.
Monday morning, Juliet was swallowing hard as she adjusted the long, black blazer she wore over her patterned leggings. She'd never been nervous about a meeting before. She'd never been afraid of confrontation or been apprehensive about going after something she wanted. Now she stood outside of Michael Wayne's office door, silently going over her parting speech.
The night before, she and Eric hadn't spent the night together. At this point she almost wished they had, but the time apart was a good thing. As much as she felt like she wanted to be next to him twenty-four seven, she knew they each needed their own space. The last thing she wanted to do was run him off for being too "clingy."
However, that hadn't stopped them from spending a good portion of the night on the phone. They talked about so many things that her head nearly spun at the memory. She laughed until she cried about stories he told about running from dogs as a child, pranks he played in college, or the multiple ways that he and Travis used their twin statuses to their advantage. Eric was long-winded and she loved to hear him talk. She didn't say much in these conversations, mostly because she didn't have much to share. Her childhood was nothing to reminisce about. Nor was any part of her life before New York, really. So his stories were often more plentiful and more entertaining than hers and she let him tell them till his heart was content.
She told him about her apprehensiveness about switching realtors. Suddenly, uncharacteristicially of her, she didn't want to hurt his feelings. "He's been working with me for so long," she told Eric. "I hate to just up and dump him but the truth is, he's just not getting anything done. I'm ready to start this project and he's nowhere near making a sale."
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you that you have to think about what you want," he had said. "Sure, he's gonna be pissed to lose a sale, but he'll get another one after you. It's what happens when people drag their feet--they lose out on opportunities. Remember, if this is the way you feel about doing business with him, then it's his loss and not yours."
"I know," she'd sighed. "I know all of that, I just...I'm scared to death to make any big changes this far into the game, you know?"
"Well, you have me," he'd said. "And if I have to hold your hand in that office and ruffle a few feathers to get something done, I will. I'm no stranger to that sort of thing. And I'm not saying this just because I'm dying to tear that thing down."
"You're so violent," she'd giggled.
"I'm nowhere close to violent," he'd replied solemnly. Then his voice brightened. "But, there's nothing quite like busting through a wall with a sledge hammer. You should try it sometime, you'd love it."
Eric had been right. It was her business, it was her project, and if she needed to make the change, she needed to make the change. Part of her wished he was there to hold her hand, though. She'd never needed that before, but now...well, now she wanted it.
Michael Wayne was the kind of man that could be referred to as "vanilla." No part of him stood out. He was average height, short brown hair, and brown eyes, and nothing spectacular about his smile, every part of him sadly displaying his severe lack of charisma. But his smile brightened as Juliet walked through his office door and she wished that it didn't. "Miss Carson!" He greeted her cheerfully. "To what do I owe this meeting on such short notice? Got another offer for the seller?"
"Sure," Juliet said, taking in a deep breath. "If you want to call it that."
"Please," he motioned to a chair across from his desk. "Have a seat."
"Thank you," she replied quietly. She didn't really want to take a seat, she wanted to spit it all out and get it over with. But she obliged and she tucked her purse into her lap for support. After all, she'd never broken up with anyone before. Her last breakup only happened because her husband died--and that had been joyous.
"So," he said, adjusting himself in his chair and folding his hands on his desk. "To what do I owe this impromptu pleasure?"
Juliet looked at him for a moment and a moment was all she needed to decide that she'd been wrong about this guy. He did have something unique about him. He had that typical shit-eating grin that she suddenly realized that she'd grown sick of and despised, therefore making the purpose of today's meeting that much easier on her. "Well. The truth is, Mike, I've come here to inform you that your services as my realtor are no longer needed."
From behind his desk, the shit-eating grin disappeared from his face and was replaced by apparent shock. Adjusting his tie nervously, he blinked his eyes for a moment. "Is there, um, did you find another building?"
"No," she shook her head. "I didn't find another building."
"Okay, then," he replied, struggling to keep his professionalism. "Tell me what I can do to change your mind."
"I'm so sorry, Mike," she continued, the break-up speech coming to her much easier as she spoke. "I appreciate you working with me for so long. But it's been too long now and I'm afraid that I've decided to switch realtors."
"Switch--switch realto--switch--who? Parker Realty is the best firm in New York--"
"I didn't say I was leaving the firm," she clarified slowly. "I said I was switching realtors. I found a realtor that...well, that I feel is better suited to my needs. Time is of the essence and this is business, after all."
"But--but, Miss Carson, I'm familiar with the seller. I'm doing everything I can to speed up the process and finalize the sale--"
"Jason Kamealoha is a superstar in his field. I know that, you know that, and I can't believe I didn't know he existed in this company before recently. Again, as I said, I appreciate you working with me, but I don't have time to sit around, blowing smoke. In case you've forgotten, I am Juliet Carson, and there's hardly a person or a company in New York who isn't itching to get their hands on one of my designs or in my wallet. So, if I may be frank, I find it a little hard to believe that the seller has actually done this much pussyfooting around. When I walked into Parker Realty and demanded that I be given the very best, I expected the very best. You've been a delight to work with, but you are not the best. I'm sorry that this is how it has to be, but honestly, all I want to do is buy a building. That's it."
"Well," Mike huffed as he sat back in his chair. "Jason Kamealoha, huh? I should have guessed. Can't say I'm surprised. I suppose it wouldn't have taken long for a woman of your reputation and a playboy like him to cross paths. I'm sure it'll be a match made in the bloody guts of heaven."
Juliet sucked in a breath through her nose and held her head high as she rose from her chair. "Well, then. Thank you for cementing my decision, it's been the most helpful you've been since we met. I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors."
"Yeah? I hope that piece of shit building fails inspection. Miserably."
She smiled sweetly before heading to the door. "Yeah? Well, so do I. Because we're tearing it down, anyway."
With that, Juliet closed the door on Michael Wayne's dumbfounded face and smiled down the hallway, immediately itching to take out her cell phone and celebrate her small victory with Eric. But, first, she had to take care of further business.
Heading to the end of the hallway, she stopped at a desk and was greeted by a middle-aged redhead. "Excuse me," she asked. "Where might I find Jason Kamealoha?"
"In his office," she smiled. Then she leaned over her desk and pointed. "All the way to the end of the hall, there."
___________________________________________________
Jason Kamealoha had a lot on his plate. As a matter of fact, he couldn't remember a time when his plate wasn't full. After high school, he'd left Michigan to go to school in New York. He'd worked in the bar by night and gone to college by day. He couldn't count the sleepless nights he spent, trying to juggle his late-night job, his social life, and his studies.
His mother's sudden diagnosis had caused him to drop everything, including school, to go back home and take care of her. For the first couple of years he spent all his time with her until she found herself in remission, and then when he wound up with a pregnant girlfriend, he had to think fast. So he got licensed in real estate and soon skyrocketed as one of the best realtors in his hometown. After a lengthy battle and seven years of being a single father, Noah's crazy mother and her family reared their ugly heads again just long enough for her to give up all of what was left of her rights and responsibilities to their son. It had been the last straw and he'd immediately packed Noah up and left town, coming back to New York where he knew he'd be comfortable. Now he worked long hours and spent every waking moment that he could with Noah. His housekeeper, Clara, had been a godsend.
While he loved his son, life as a single father could be lonely. He rarely had time for himself to meet anyone or go out and when he did, he felt guilty for it. The relationships never worked out or went past the first couple of dates. Dating was a completely different ballgame when you had a kid waiting on you back at home. You weren't thinking about yourself anymore, you weren't casually sleeping around, and at thirty-five years old, he wasn't really about that life anymore. No, Jason was ready to settle down. For himself and for his son.
He sat behind his desk in black slacks and a light gray dress shirt, his cuffs rolled up off of his wrists. His jacket hung from the back of his chair and his tie was shoved somewhere in a desk drawer, likely with several others. Jason hated a tie. He didn't even know why he attempted to wear them. He had just hung up his phone when there was a light knock on the door. Inviting the guest in, the door opened and he grinned in an instant at the sight of Juliet Carson in a pair of tight pants that could be the death of any man she came in contact with. Forcing his eyes into hers, he stood to greet her and invited her to sit down. "Jules! While I expected you to come crawling to me, I wasn't expecting it this soon."
She curled up her nose and made a face at him. "I didn't come 'crawling' anywhere. I just came from Michael Wayne's office."
"Ah," he nodded as he sat back down. "Is he crying?"
"No. Just expressed his gratitude in the form of insults and assumptions. I'm used to it, it's no big deal."
"Nobody likes that guy," he assured her. "You're not the first client he's lost, you won't be the last."
She merely nodded.
Jason studied Juliet for a moment. She had always been what he liked to call "beautifully tragic." When he knew her all those years ago, back when they'd been much younger, she always seemed so shy and uncomfortable. The men at the bar flocked to her constantly, every single night, and he couldn't count the times he had to answer questions about her to the men that were asking. But she never went home with any of them. She never dated any of them and the few that she did meet turned out to be worthless wastes of life. It was as if she was always the right woman but it was never the right man. She was beautiful in every way a woman could be beautiful, whether she knew it or not. The tragic part was that he couldn't ever seem to get her to look at him the way he wanted her to.
Apparently not much had changed. Beneath her confident façade, she was still the same beautifully tragic Juliet, as nervous and uncomfortable as she had been the night she first stumbled into the bar from a seemingly different planet and spilled her drinks all over the customers. From the moment she batted those doe eyes at him as he helped her clean up her first mess, she had him hook, line, and sinker.
Swallowing at the memory and clearing his throat, he adjusted himself in his chair and brought himself back to the present. "So," he said. "We buying a building or what?"
Finally, she smiled and she instantly seemed at ease. "You think you can help me?"
"Are you kidding?" He scoffed. "I can sell anything I get my hands on. Sit tight for a minute, let me, uh, retrieve some information and we can get started."
"You don't--I mean, right now? You don't have any appointments or anything?"
He smiled at her as he stood from his desk. "I have time. Stop worrying about me and relax. Let me work my magic." And then he winked at her and walked out of his office.
There was a certain satisfaction that Jason felt as he made his way down the carpeted hallway to Michael Wayne's office. In spite of himself, he was always looking for a way to stick it to the guy just for being the weasel that he was. He'd given Jason nothing but a hard time since he started with the firm and Jason never missed an opportunity to give it right back.
Knocking on the door with his index knuckle, Jason invited himself into Mike's office. Mike flared his nostrils at him and Jason smiled. "Mike," he greeted him. "So sorry I didn't get a morning hello from you today."
"I'll be even sorrier of the door doesn't hit you on the ass on the way out," Mike spat.
"Mike," he continued to smile. "Let's not be harsh with each other. We all have the same goals here."
"No, we really don't. My goals are not to steal clients from other realtors and I certainly don't sleep with them."
Suddenly, the round of friendly banter left an angry taste in Jason's mouth. "I beg your pardon?"
"Come on," Mike said, lowering his voice. "As soon as everyone finds out about your shiny new account, there, everybody's gonna know you're nailing Juliet Carson. Hell, I already know it."
Jason looked him over, offended. "I'm not nailing her!"
"Maybe not right now, but you will. She's the biggest whore in Manhattan, everybody's had a piece of her. Wall Street, Broadway, the Times...everybody's waiting in line, everybody's got a horror story to tell, but they'd all go crawling back in a heartbeat."
"You are way out of line--"
"What, do you live under a rock?" Mike laughed. Then he sat back in his chair. "Oh, yeah, that's right. You are somewhat of a newbie, huh? All you gotta do is Google her. Educate yourself. Then come back and tell me what I missed out on."
As the weasley little bastard chuckled, Jason glared down at him as he towered over his desk. "Look. I've known Juliet for over ten years. We go way back. So I'm not gonna stand here and listen to your bullshit anymore. Just give me the damn file I came for so I can get out of here."
Mike took a moment to retrieve the large, manila legal file that belonged to Carson Innovations and handed it to Jason without hesitation. "Google her. I'm telling you."
With one more glare, Jason stormed out of Michael Wayne's office and down the hall toward his own. Halfway there, however, his mind had begun to race and he started to wonder if anything Mike had said held any water. He felt ashamed of himself as he slowed to a stop in the middle of the hallway, resting his back against the wall, tucking the file under one of his arms, and fishing his phone out of his pocket. He glanced down the hallway toward his office before pulling up the Google website and typing in "JULIET CARSON."
A plethora of links immediately pulled up and he found himself not having to scroll very far before he got to the juicy stuff. Headline after headline after headline, dating years back and up through the present, and even ones chronicling her romantic history, showed him things that made his stomach churn. Apparently, Juliet had a new man practically every week. Every color, every flavor, every height, shape, and size. She wasn't picky. There were photos of her with so many different men, Jason's head spun. And all the stories were similar. Some of the disgruntled men submitted confessionals of their own. She never stayed, she never called, and she was selfish in the bedroom. His heart sank every time he found a new tabloid.
Jason wasn't sure why this bothered him so much, but it did. After all, it was Juliet's life, she could do whatever she wanted with it. And he had disappeared for seven years and knocked up a woman he didn't even love, so who was he to judge? But still. This wasn't her. This wasn't the shy, naïve, innocent Juliet he used to know. And this wasn't her when he'd left town, either. What had happened to her? What made her dispose of men the way she did?
What if it had been him? What if he'd pursued her and she'd finally given in to his advances all that time ago? Would he have been one of these victims, too?
In turn, his heart broke. He had hoped to be able to try again with her. Maybe time would have been good for them and they might have been in a better place to see if there was anything there between them. But now? Now he just wasn't sure about it. He had a son to think about now. And Noah didn't need anything like this in his life.
Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he continued on his way back to his office. Closing the door behind him, he found Juliet in exactly the same spot he'd left her in, seemingly not having moved an inch.
She smiled as he sat behind his desk and laid the file down between them. "I'm so excited. I've waited so long to finally start accomplishing something with this relocation."
"Juliet, what happened?" He asked her, sitting back in his chair, studying her eyes.
"Do what?"
"After I left town. What changed?'
"Um," she sputtered, her eyes darting around. Then she smiled sheepishly. "Um, I'm not really sure how to answer that. Beth and I own a company now. That's a pretty big change. But that's really about it..."
"No, it isn't," he shook his head.
"What are you talking about?"
"Why wouldn't you date me? Why back then, I mean. I had it so bad for you, Juliet, you had to know it. You had to. I didn't make any effort to hide it. I was nice, I was attractive, and you--you knew me. So what was it about me that turned you off?"
Her eyes widened and he knew he'd caught her off guard. She opened her mouth to speak and then she closed it again, merely staring back at him in silence. Finally, she managed to get out, "Jason, that was...that was a really bad time for me. I wasn't--I didn't--it wasn't you. I found more than enough to be attracted to in you and in a perfect world, I would have fallen all over you. You were a woman's dream. But I just...it just wasn't the right time for me. I wasn't ready for a relationship of any kind--"
"Yeah?" He sneered. "What about those couple of assholes you saw here and there, huh? What did they have that I didn't have?"
"I couldn't do it to you, Jason!" She finally raised her voice, her hand coming down, frustrated, onto the dark, wooden desk. "I couldn't do it to you! You didn't deserve it! I couldn't commit, I couldn't--I didn't even know who I was! I couldn't depend on you to carry all the burdens of all my--my bullshit! I was no good for you, Jason! I was no good for anyone!"
"Why don't you let me be the judge of who's good for me and who isn't?"
She shook her head. "Because you have no idea what you're getting yourself into."
"I'll say," he scoffed. "Apparently I've been away from New York for far too long. Had to have a crash course in what I missed out on down the hall, there, for the past five minutes. I'm shocked and I'm surprised and I want to know where my Juliet went. Where is my girl? My best friend? My confidant and partner-in-crime? Where is she?"
Juliet took in a breath and straightened her spine in her chair. "I worked very hard to make sure that she didn't exist anymore," she said quietly, carefully. "That Juliet was never meant to exist. That Juliet came from a world that was no longer...her world. I am self-taught, I am self-made, and I am every bit of that because I got rid of that sniveling little shit that I used to be. And I will not sit here and let you or anyone else knock me down."
"No? But you can sit around and let half the sleaze of New York have their way with you while the other half of the sleaze sits around and writes about it and smears your good name all day long. That's rich, Juliet. That's the American dream, right there."
"No man has their way with me! You don't even know what you're talking about."
"Except that I do--"
"You don't." Then her eyes fell and she nervously tucked her hair behind her ear. "I didn't come here to be judged. I came here for business. If you don't, um, if you don't want to continue doing business with me, I can find someone else--"
"I never said I wasn't going to help you. I'm just disappointed is all."
"You don't have any room to be disappointed," she said quietly. "You're the one who left town. You're the one who split up the three of us, me, you and Beth. You were half of my safe haven and you left--"
"I told you why I left, Juliet. I didn't have a choice--!"
She scoffed and shook her head. "You know, you want to sit here and try to make me feel all guilty, telling me all about how much you cared about me and wanted me back in the day. But you sure didn't give two shits about me after you left, did you? You never tried to call, you never visited, you made zero effort to make zero contact with me, so now I have to sit here and wonder, what if I did give in to you? You would have left me anyway. Just like all the rest of them. So, really, how different would you have been?"
Jason stared at her in silence, going over her words in his head. The truth was, she was right. He was really no better than she was, the only difference being the mistakes they'd made. But they'd still made them and they couldn't change them. He was beginning to regret ever bringing any of this up to begin with.
"Okay," he conceded with a nod. "Okay. I'm an asshole."
"I didn't say you were an asshole."
"No, but I am. You're right. I have no room to...I'm just...why so many men, Jules?"
"It's really not that many. Sure, I date a few times per month, so what? If I don't like them I move on. It's that simple. I don't do anything different than a man, do I?"
Jason shook his head. "I just...I just...I don't know..."
"Jason," she said softly. "We're not in the bar anymore. We're not in our twenties, we're not partying every night after work and we're not all shacking up in the bed together, nursing hangovers. Those days are over. I'm different. You're different. You're a father, I'm a business-owner--we've grown up. We're not the same people we used to be. Accept it. It isn't going to change."
"Well," he said, rubbing his brow and collapsing his wrist onto the desk. "I'm not sure how comfortable I am with your current...lifestyle choice. I gotta be honest."
"Not that it's any of your business, but I've been seeing the same man off and on for the past three weeks," she said as she finally stood from her chair. "And he's the only one I've seen. You can't believe everything you read. In the meantime, I'll let you study over that file and you can get back to me when you're ready to make a real appointment to get this done."
She headed for the door with Jason sitting behind his desk, filling more and more with regret by the second. Stopping, with her hand on the doorknob, she turned to look at him. "For the record, I never once judged you for anything. Not ever."
And with that, Juliet Carson disappeared from his office.
Jason sighed and rubbed his eyes with this hand. She had certainly grown up, all right. And changed right along with it. The girl he used to know was deathly afraid of confrontation. Now, it seemed that she couldn't be bothered to think twice about it before she handed your ass right back to you.
In spite of himself, he found himself extremely turned on by it.
_______________________________________________________________________
Juliet's meeting with Jason had been a disaster. He was the last person on the face of the planet that she would ever expect to judge her the way he had. How dare he? He had always been the confrontational type, intuitive, and bold. He never hesitated to state his opinion and he fought like hell for what he believed him. For several years, Juliet looked at him with stars in her eyes with admiration, wishing she could be more like him.
But he was also accepting of anyone and anything. He embraced individuality and independence and freedom. He believed whole-heartedly that every person was unique and special. Juliet learned more from him in those few short years than she had learned in her entire life. Jason was put into her life to show her the goodness in humans and the goodness in life.
And then he left.
She, in no way, blamed her personal decisions on him. After all, she was her own person and she did make conscious decision after conscious decision. It wasn't his job to be the voice in the back of her head that told her she should think twice about fucking the banker in the bathroom of the Chinese restaurant. It also wasn't his voice in her head that encouraged her to volunteer her time and money to animals and children, either. She was her own person. Jason merely taught her that being your own person was okay.
Except now she was beginning to hate the person she had become and Jason hadn't been around for that. Eric Reynolds came into her life and inadvertently forced her to confront the demons she'd avoided for over ten years and now it was wreaking havoc on her mind, body, and soul. She knew, deep down, that facing her past was good for her. She knew deep down that she needed to face and accept and move on to truly be happy in life. But she hated herself and she hated that Eric had now caught himself in the cross hairs of these revelations that she was fighting with herself to deal with. She fought with herself--the battle was always her own within. He didn't deserve to be caught in the middle of any of it and he sure hadn't asked to care about such a difficult woman. Juliet wished she was a perfect Mary Homemaker just like every other woman in America seemed to be. Eric needed a woman who could take care of him, not a woman he would have to anticipate driving to the psych ward every five minutes.
For the rest of that evening, Juliet sat on her couch with a sketch pad, sketching a new house while the TV played something she wasn't even paying attention to. This was after she took the plunge and Googled her name, that was. She sat in her kitchen window sill, smoked a cigarette, and had a teary-eyed pity party for herself as she read the horrible things about herself online. There was a reason she didn't pay attention to what anyone said or wrote about her, and this was it. The local papers and magazines liked to dub her a "socialite," but Juliet didn't understand it. So she liked to go for dinner and drinks sometimes. Sometimes she enjoyed a live show. Sometimes she went on dates with men. So what? Apparently it was a sin for her to go out with all types of different men, enjoy sex, and then turn around and go to work the next day. "Whore" was a common word that she saw. They liked to poke fun at her "flavor of the week." There was a column in one of the online publications called, "Man Watch: Juliet Carson Edition." She was a laughing stock. A joke. How she managed to get any business in the city was beyond her. She had thought she was living her own life. She had thought that she was strong and independent and doing anything she wanted to do. But apparently being free and self-sufficient was catching up to her. Perhaps living her life the way she pleased was doing more damage to her than good. It was hurtful, the things she read about herself. But more than anything, she feared for her career. And for her relationship with Eric.
As if on cue, Juliet's phone rang beside her and she picked it up to check the ID. Seeing Eric's name, her heart sank with guilt as she was suddenly reminded of her neglect of him. In her quest for self-pity that evening, she hadn't even thought about calling him. She was already blowing it as a girlfriend. Was that what she was? A girlfriend?
"Hey," she answered meekly, not sure what she would get on the other end.
"Hey," he replied softly, his voice soothing her in an instant. "I, uh, I wanted to try to give you your space, but I haven't heard from you all day--"
"I'm sorry," she said, letting out an exhausted breath. "I'm sorry, I just--it hasn't been the best day ever."
"I'm sorry," he said. "Something happen with the realtor? Did you tell him what was up?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I switched...I just don't know how I feel about this new one. It's like--like every business transaction I touch lately is full of drama and headache and I know it's all my fault. I know it is. I just...I feel like I'm falling off the ledge, like...like I'm losing control and I just don't know what to do to get it back."
"Jules," he said gently. "I never meant to make things complicated for you. I admit, I may have been...more than a little selfish in my primary reasoning for pursuing a business relationship with you. I've...done and said some things I'm not proud of and it hasn't been easy on you. I know this--"
"Eric. I'm not--I'm not really referring to you--"
"But I would do anything to be with you," he continued, as if he hadn't heard her. "I'd do anything to belong to you in any way, shape, or fashion, and sometimes I don't know when to stop when I set my sights on something I want. And, Juliet, I want you. My company wants your company's business, but I want you."
She sucked in a breath through her nose to stave off the overwhelming rise of emotion and she swallowed the lump in her throat. "My old realtor implied that I'm a whore and I'm pretty sure my new one is judging me based on the tabloids."
"Well, that's bullshit," Eric spat angrily. "All they're there to do is sell you a fucking property, nothing else is any of their business!"
"Eric, I've--I've made some...some not-so-smart decisions in my life and I think they might finally be catching up with me. I'm--I'm becoming a burden--"
"I'm coming over."
"What? No. Don't--don't uproot yourself if you're comfortable. You have to get up for work in the morning. Get some rest, I'm okay--"
"I'm coming over right now so you don't finish that sentence you started. You're wrong. And I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Eric--"
But her protests didn't matter. He'd hung up the phone and now she felt horrible. She didn't want to be this way. She didn't want the kind of relationship where she played the damsel in distress and he constantly had to be the knight in shining armor that rescued her. That wasn't fair to him. Even she knew that.
Nonetheless, after ten minutes on the dot, there was a knock at her door. Adjusting her pajama shorts and her sweatshirt appropriately, and tightening up the tie in her hair, she took a deep breath and opened the door.
Eric was a sight for sore eyes. She hadn't seen him since Sunday morning and she didn't realize how terribly she missed him until that moment. His light, ash blonde hair was slightly disheveled and he sported a darker five o'clock shadow which, admittedly, was the sexiest thing she had ever seen. His jeans were relaxed and she prayed for a tight Henley underneath his heavy coat.
"I'm here," he stated, his blue eyes boring into her brown ones. "I will always be right here--whether you like it or not."
"Why?" She whispered. "You have no idea what you're getting into. It'll only get worse."
"I already know what I'm into. And there's no turning back. It always gets worse before it gets better. Either way, I'm still here."
"Eric," she said, her voice cracking, her arms reaching out for him.
In seconds he was in the door, closing it behind him, and wrapping his arms around her body. Sliding her arms around his neck, she hugged him tightly, taking a deep breath as it staggered back out. She fought the tears with all her might. She was not going to cry.
Instead, she breathed in the comfort of his scent, the faded aftershave and the natural smell of his skin that intoxicated her with every contact. She was addicted to him. So utterly, miserably addicted to him.
This addiction led her lips to his, needing his kiss, needing the intimacy, needing to feel the desire of someone who didn't think of her as something she wasn't. She craved this soul that had latched itself onto hers as if it was the puzzle piece that had been missing in her life. Eric's kiss was everything. It was her entire existence.
Breaking the kiss, afraid that she might lose control of herself, she wrapped her arms around his neck again, closing her eyes and smiling at how good it felt as he held her tight and rubbed her back. The chills ran through her body as her heart warmed and she was reminded of her complete happiness in his presence.
"Thank you for being here," she whispered.
"Anything for you," he murmured into her hair. Then he pulled away as a grin spread across his face. Reaching into his coat pockets, he produced a bottle of white wine and two DVD's.
"Jesus, Eric!" Juliet laughed. "What the hell kind of pockets do you have in that thing?"
"I grabbed a bottle out of the fridge on the way out. These," he said, raising the DVD's, "are hours upon hours of the stupidest, most useless shit you'll ever watch. But you'll laugh your ass off. All I need is a corkscrew and a comfy spot on your couch."
Juliet's eyes lit up. "I have cookies!"
"That doesn't surprise me," he deadpanned.
"Here," she said excitedly, helping him out of his coat. "I'll take your coat and you can stay awhile. The remotes to the TV and stuff are on the coffee table. I'll be right back with the rest of the stuff."
With a grin that hurt her cheeks, she draped his coat over the armchair and flew into the kitchen, her socks sliding across the floor. She rummaged through her drawers for a corkscrew and came out with half a package of shortbread cookies from the pantry and raced back into the living room, sinking herself into the couch cushion next to him, tucking her feet underneath her.
The room was dark and he was already fiddling with the DVD remote as the menu screen of the feature he'd chosen lit up the room. It was black and white, likely from the late thirties or early forties. Her heart melted as she smiled at him in the dark. He knew her. It wasn't like he'd plucked a couple of black and whites off the shelves because he knew what she liked. He knew what was on these discs, these were part of his personal collection. She swore she felt their connection deepen with every moment they spent together.
For the next hour, they curled up on the couch together, passed the wine bottle back and forth, and polished off what was left of the cookies. They laughed and they joked, and sometimes they stopped to rewind and repeat a part or two. They shared useless trivia, traded stories they could relate to the screen, and discussed modern comedy versus classic comedy. They couldn't even get through a full-length feature without talking about everything under the sun.
As the wine bottle nearly emptied, the couple grew weary and, before long, Eric lay across the couch on his back while Juliet lay draped over his torso, resting her head comfortably on his chest underneath his chin, her legs nestled in the space between his. Their laughing at the film was reduced to light chuckles as they continued to watch, but were obviously concentrating harder on their closeness than they were the shenanigans on the screen. She tried to ignore the fact that she could feel every ripple of his hard body underneath the delicious, navy blue Henley he was wearing and, instead, listened intently to the beating of his heart against her ear. It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard in her life.
_______________________________________________________________________
Eric's heart hurt for Juliet. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to be her. How did someone like her find relief? In this corner, she had a horrific past she was trying to recover from and in the other corner, she was dealing with the nastiness that was the general public. It was no wonder that nobody had ever been in her apartment before her party. It was no wonder that she preferred to stay holed up inside of it and keep to herself. So how did someone like her feel relief? Hopefully by finding comfort in him. That's who he wanted to be. He wanted to be the good and the comfort in her life. He hoped that his presence did that for her tonight.
However, he was exhausted. Actually, he hadn't realized just how exhausted he was until he found himself stretched out on her couch. Her steady, even breathing had become contagious and he found his eyelids growing heavy as she mindlessly traced the lines inside his hand.
It was when he opened his eyes and found the screen blurry, though, that he realized that he was suddenly finding it slightly difficult to breathe.
He blinked his eyes, figuring that since he'd dozed off that it was sleep in his eyes, but they never adjusted. He figured maybe his issue with his breathing was Juliet's dead body weight on his chest, but she wasn't that much of a bother to him. His eyes darted around as he looked at the clock on her DVD player and the anxiousness set in him with a quickness.
"Babe," he said to her softly, as calmly as he could. "Babe, I hate to do this, but I gotta go."
She sat up and looked at him, her eyes full of regret. "You do? Why? You can stay here tonight if you want to."
"Thank you," he smiled, desperate to control his breathing so that she wouldn't notice. "But I can't stay tonight. I'm not...I'm not feeling well. I really need to get home."
"But...I'll take care of you," she offered.
His heart would have melted if he felt like he could survive it at the moment. "I know you will, Jules. But I'm sorry. I can't stay. We have a meeting tomorrow, though, so don't forget."
As the pair stood from the couch, he tried to avoid her disappointed eyes. "Meeting?"
"Yeah. So we can finally nail down that contract and start getting plans started for the project. Your receptionist didn't give you the message?"
"No," she mused. "I suppose not."
Walking past her, he collected his coat and kissed her lips quickly. "Baby, I gotta go."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he promised her. "I'll call you when I get home."
"Eric, I'm worried..."
"I'm okay," he assured her once more as he headed for the door. "Lock the door behind me. Sweet dreams."
"Goodnight," she said warily.
But he couldn't stick around. He closed the door behind him and forced himself to walk briskly through the hallway.
The drive around the next couple of blocks was brutal as his vision only grew worse and his breathing only shortened. Beyond those ailments, nausea was beginning to set in and he couldn't seem to get home fast enough.
Finally, after what felt like hours, he staggered up to his apartment, barely got himself in the door, and miraculously found his way straight into his bathroom. He was barely able to shrug off his coat and pull his shirt off over his head, when he heard his phone fall onto the floor out of his coat pocket and he looked at it in thought for a moment before he ignored it and went about his business. He couldn't call Travis. Travis would kill him for letting things go this far. Besides, he promised Juliet a phone call. Right after he took care of his little situation.
Glancing at his blurry reflection in the mirror, he hated what he saw. He hated himself for being this way. Travis would kill him when he found out what he'd done and there was no way he was ever going to tell Juliet. At least it was no secret with Travis. But Juliet? Juliet needed a real man, not a man who had to rely on a needle to get him through the day. There was no way he could disappoint her like that.
Scrambling frantically through the cabinet underneath this sink, he pulled out a small, black bag and unzipped it, nearly spilling out the contents. Finding comfort in a sterile syringe, he squeezed his eyes open and shut in an attempt to get a clear visual on how, exactly, he was filling it. The rest of the next few moments was a blur as he flicked the plastic cylinder with his middle finger a couple of times before reaching it over and jamming into his arm. He was brutal with it, he didn't care. He would have jammed it anywhere, just as long as it got into his body.
He stood there for a minute, gripping the sink, waiting for the substance to set in, and when he didn't get the immediate relief he was seeking, he began to panic. Struggling, he staggered to the floor and picked up his phone. Finding Travis's number had been easy enough and the next thing he knew, he found himself saying weakly, "I need you to come over."
"What's going on?" Travis asked with authority.
"Just--just come over."
"Eric," he said seriously. "You did it again, didn't you?"
"I didn't call you to be judged," Eric spat. "I just need you to come over."
"You got yourself a needle?"
"Yeah."
"How much did you take?"
"Fuck, I don't know," Eric breathed. "It just...doesn't feel like it's working this time."
"I'm coming," Travis said, now breathless as if he was moving at top speed. "Just keep your head up and your eyes open. Got it?"
"Yeah. Use your door key, will you?"
"I got my key. I'm in the street right now, I'll be right there."
"Hurry," he whispered.
And that was the last thing Eric remembered.