Dirty Rich(27)

"You couldn't send me a message?"

"It's not the kind of thing I thought you'd appreciate hearing about in a text."

"You couldn't call?"

He shakes his head, shoulders raising in a hint of a shrug. "It was late when I was finally free … "

This is all so goddamn irrelevant. The fact that Jax did this and said  nothing to me is a secondary problem, though I can't help but dig at him  over it. The main issue is that he thought he had the right to make a  change like that in my life, and he did not. He absolutely did not. It's  unforgivable.

I step over to him, looking him straight in the eye. "Let me make  something crystal fucking clear to you, Mr. Hunter." I watch the last  two words twist the knife. "Nobody makes decisions for me. Nobody. Not  even men like you."

For an instant, I almost feel sorry, because Jax doesn't give me a cocky  smile. He doesn't have a cutting reply ready. He doesn't step forward  and try to overwhelm me with kisses, doesn't press his body to mine  until all I can think of is the clean scent of his skin, of his clothes,  until I'm so lost in him that all I can do is dig my nails into his  back and surrender to the most intense pleasure I've ever experienced.

He just looks down at the floor.

"I'm sorry, Cate. It didn't play out how I thought it would."

"No, I imagine it didn't."

He twists away from me, a hand over his eyes, and a moment later  straightens up, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. Well, isn't  he the fucking model of self-control.

"Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

"Discuss?" I get it. Now that I haven't just folded, just gone along  with his grand plans-never mind that he couldn't take the time to  consult me about my own life-he's going to treat me like another  business associate.

"Yes. Was there anything else?"

I take a deep breath and prepare to unleash another stream of anger on  him-goddamn it, it's my fucking right after what he's done-when my phone  buzzes.         

     



 

The habit is so ingrained that I don't even think about the situation  I'm in, think about the gravity of what's happening between the two of  us. I pull it out and look at the screen even as I swipe to answer it.

It's Dex.

Dex almost never calls me. When the family is together, we get along and  enjoy each other's company, but unless he's around when Bee is video  chatting with me, I don't hear from him. He's a busy guy.

"Hello?"

"Cate?" When I hear the strain in his voice, my heart drops into my stomach.

"It's me. What's going on, Dex?" I turn my shoulders away from Jax,  whose face instantly filled with concern when he heard the question.

"You've got to come home, Cate." Terror. Pure, cold terror. Something has happened to my sister. What happened to my sister?

In a split second I switch modes. It's like I'm back behind the desk at  Basiqué, dealing with a thousand things at once like it's nothing. I  shove my fear and my anger deep down into the center of me, where it  can't interfere with what I have to do.

"Is it Bee?" My voice is clear, strong. Get the necessary information. Move into action.

"Something went wrong … something … I don't know exactly what," Dex's voice  is choked. He's doing his best to hold it together, but Bee is his wife,  the love of his life. "She's going into emergency surgery to deliver  the twins right now."

"I'm on my way."

"She might not make it, Cate!" he cries, voicing his darkest fear for probably the first time since this nightmare began.

"She'll be all right," I tell him, projecting every ounce of confidence I have into my voice. "I'll be there soon."

"Get here. Just get here."

He hangs up and I'm already walking, moving toward the door.

"Cate."

I turn back to Jax one last time. I'm about to walk away from him  forever, and I hardly care. I need to get to my sister. My family is the  only thing that matters now. I raise my eyebrows. What does he have to  say that's so important?

"My private jet will be fueled up and ready to leave by the time you get to LaGuardia."

I don't want to take the offer, but I need to get to my sister.

"I'm not coming back."

"I know."

It's his money, his plane. I can't waste any time on refusing on  principle, even if that makes me the worst goddamn person on the face of  the earth.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I get into the elevator without looking back.





Chapter 37

Cate





Less than four hours later, I'm staring through a glass window at the  hospital's NICU at the unbelievably tiny, perfect forms of my sister's  twin daughters.

Dex stands next to me, his exhaustion and worry and sheer joy all  showing on his face. He needs a shave and his hair sticks up in every  direction from running his hands through it all day.

"I can't believe it, Dex," I say, reaching over and squeezing his hand.

"I can't either."

The babies are incredible.

I only wish I could enjoy it more.

The flight only lasted an hour and a half. By the time we'd lifted off  the runway I regretted the things I'd said to Jax, regretted what I'd  done, and my heart caved right into my stomach.

What the hell was wrong with me?

What the hell is wrong with me?

I forced myself not to think about it the rest of the flight. My first and only priority had to be getting myself to Bee's side.

When I arrived at the hospital, my parents were leaving for the night.  They stayed until Bee made it safely to her recovery room.

In the lobby, they both hugged me tight, not letting go for a long time.

I guess no matter how old you get, you're still your parents' child.

Then I waited with Dex until the nurse came out to get him.

The actual C-section hadn't taken very long, the nurse explained, but  Bee had lost a lot of blood. Then she rattled off several medical terms  that frankly I had no interest in.

"Is my sister going to be okay?"

"She's stable now," the nurse replied evenly, looking from me to Dex and  back again. "As long as she's given enough time to heal, she should be  good as new."         

     



 

Then she guided Dex to the NICU. I stood next to him by the nursery  window while he got the first glimpse of his daughters, and I joined him  by the window, where we've been waiting for their condition to be  assessed. It must be sheer torture not to be able hold them, but Dex's  eyes shine with his love, even though they're framed by dark circles. He  will wait as long as it takes.

A nurse comes through the door.

"Mr. Stevens?"

"That's me." He answers quickly, so eager to do anything he can.

"I know who you are, Mr. Stevens. Would you like to hold your daughters?"

"Oh, my God," he says, tears coming to his eyes. "Yes, of course I would. Of course I would."

The nurses let me stand nearby as he scrubs his arms up to the elbows  and changes out of his shirt for a sterile gown, which they help him  secure loosely, exposing his collarbone so the babies can get maximum  skin-to-skin contact.

They're premature, but not by so much that holding them will cause harm,  explain the nurses as they gently place the two bundles, attached to  wires and monitors, into his arms.

He stares into Twin A's face-they haven't decided which name goes with  which baby yet-and then shifts his gaze to look into Twin B's eyes. It's  the most sacred thing I've ever witnessed.

And then Dex bursts into tears.

He contains his sobs so that the babies aren't jostled in any way, but  the tears stream down his face unimpeded, causing tears to form in my  own eyes.

"Fatherhood looks awesome on you, Dex," I say, wiping my tears away with  the back of my hand and stepping forward to dab at his with some of the  hospital's tissues.

"I didn't realize it would be so wet," he says in a dry tone that can't hide his all-encompassing joy.

I snap thirty pictures on my phone. Bee will want to see this the moment she's awake.

The sight of Dex holding his daughters, cradling them both so tenderly,  breathing in their baby scent, delighting in every move they make with  their tiny balled-up fists, is salt in the wound of my broken heart.

The broken heart I gave to myself.

This is what I want, I think, looking at him. A man to be my partner  instead of a boss. A man who will look at our baby like this.

Jax could be that man.

I dismiss the thought.

Didn't he prove to me that he can't set aside his own selfish desires to respect mine?

My stomach twists. Even that is a lie. He cared for me when he didn't have to. He made sure I had everything my heart desired.

Somehow, he must have been trying to do the same thing when he had me  fired from my job, but I wouldn't settle for his explanation.

I wouldn't even hear him out.

Then, to twist the knife even more, I took advantage of his generosity and flew here on his private plane.

What made me into such a monster?

The answer is there before I have to look for it: my fear of failing.

Failing, as in not working hard enough to be considered valuable.  Failing, as in being forced into making a decision I do not want without  a safety net.