Chapter Nineteen
Jonah stepped out of the distinctly girlie bedroom he’d finally completed with the help of a Pottery Barn Kids catalog and turned off the light. Next time he was in the apartment, Gabby would also be there. Renee would accompany her…their daughter on her first visit, but after that it would just be the two of them. After meeting Gabby, he was even more certain that pink was an ill-advised choice, but they’d work on it. If she wanted posters of Disney Channel stars or superheroes, he’d get them for her. He’d give her whatever she wanted.
Knowing he shouldn’t, Jonah walked the short hallway and entered the master bedroom. He’d paid the delivery guys extra to assemble the bed, not feeling capable of it himself at the time. It was pathetic, really. He’d held Caroline as she slept in a bed—not even this particular one—for a mere five minutes, and he’d somehow ruined himself for all beds. For sleep. Dreams. They all consisted of her. Every fucking one. Caroline looking at him from over the rims of her glasses, those lips pursed and smug. Caroline standing in his bedroom wearing nothing but a red thong, vulnerable and brave. Caroline staring at him from the back of a cab as she drove away.
What would she think of this place? If she could see the home he’d created, so vastly different from his dark cave above Serve. Would she approve of the blue billowy curtains he’d had a hell of a time figuring out? The ones so similar to the ones he’d seen in her bedroom that he’d had to have them. Needed them, if for no other reason than a reminder she’d invited him into her room for a brief time. What it had felt like to hold her. Would she climb into his big, new four-poster bed and flop back, stretching her arms above her head, inviting him to climb on top of her?
Jesus. Stop. He had to stop.
Every time he got to this point, which had been countless times over the last couple days, he remembered how she’d looked walking into the conference room. Even now, the memory had sharp denial flooding him. Dammit, a stiff wind could have knocked her over. Her eyes, already so big in her face, had looked larger, haunted, smudges of black beneath. Skin, usually glowing and vibrant, had looked pale in the harsh lighting. And still, still, he’d been able to see the outline of his garter beneath her skirt.
He’d been selfish with her. Incredibly so. He’d made it his responsibility to care for her, to make sure their relationship only caused her to thrive, but he’d withered her in the process. Forgiveness for himself wouldn’t be happening any time soon. He didn’t deserve it. Maybe she’d been right all along, and he didn’t deserve her.
Jonah backed out of the bedroom, commanding the image of Caroline stretched out on his bed to fade. It wouldn’t. It followed him all the way to the subway station, sitting on his shoulders and slithering through his consciousness like smoke. He had a driving need to know she was in better shape than when he’d left her, but he wouldn’t allow himself that privilege. No, he would keep his vow to her. If nothing else, when she thought of him in passing weeks, months, or years from now, he wanted her to remember him as a man who kept his promises.
He stood on the subway platform, waiting for the train to arrive. The train that would take him back to Serve, a place that used to fill him with pride and purpose but now only felt empty, lifeless, now that she’d been inside it and gone. He leaned over the track to check for the train’s headlights and saw none yet, so he turned toward the underground newsstand behind him and asked for a pack of Red Vines. As the clerk dipped below the counter to retrieve the licorice, the headline of Preston’s ReVAMPed demanded his attention.
“What the hell?” he murmured, reaching for the partially covered magazine. What he saw made his heart slow, slow, before racing wildly. The sound of the oncoming train roaring past the platform behind him matched the deafening pulse ripping in his ears. On the cover of the magazine was a picture of Caroline and Oliver, announcing their plans for a merger, turning Preston’s into a sophisticated lifestyle magazine with a financial twist. Jonah tried to focus on the words, the announcement, but his eyes were continually drawn back to the picture of Caroline, her posture so composed but her solemn expression jumping off the page and going right through him.
He tore his gaze away from the sight of her and glanced at the bottom of the page where the article ended.
I’m in love with you, Jonah Briggs. Everything about you. Don’t give up on me.
Missing you. Needing you. C
As Jonah slowly lowered the magazine to his side, the train screeched to a stop behind him.
…
Caroline threw a glance over her shoulder, sighing at the abundance of news camera lenses trained on her as she approached Serve. They’d been following her doggedly since that morning, about an hour after the Times piece ran. She’d refused to give them any kind of statement or sound bite, hoping they would leave her alone and let her work speak for itself, but she’d had no luck avoiding them.