That Thing Between Eli and Gwen(69)

I walked in.

He stood up, buttoning his dark navy suit, and walked in front of his desk, his arms over his chest. “You came—”

“This place reeks of bullshit. Mr. Evans, can we just get down to the point?” I said, taking a seat.

Katrina stood right beside my chair.

“Gwen—”

“Ms. Poe would like to apologize for not getting any of your requests, though I do believe the fault lies partly with you and your office for not going through the correct channels. If you have work for my client, you should speak with her agent, who will filter the request to Ms. Poe. I’m sure any judge will agree with me.” Katrina threw his lawsuit back onto his desk.

He didn’t look at her, only stared at me. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Can’t you see this smile? I’m fine, Mr. Evans. How could a man such as yourself hurt me?”

“Gwen!” he yelled.

“Mr. Evans, yell at my client again, and I will not only sue you for harassment, but will make sure to add emotional distress to the list. Do you feel emotional, Ms. Poe?”

I frowned. “Now that you mention it—”

“Gwen, please.” He sighed.

Katrina was about to say something, but I shook my head. “Say what you want to say, Sebastian.”

He sat up straighter, moving to stand right in front of me. “I know what I did was horrible. I hurt you, and I truly am sorry, because there is no woman on earth whom I love as much as you. I couldn’t see it. I was just so nervous about us…worried we wouldn’t make it, like my parents. Remember? My mother walked out on us, and I just didn’t want to be hurt like that again. Every time I close my eyes, I see you. I remember how you held on when I took you to see Cirque du Soleil, how you would fill the fridge for me, even when I told you not to, and how you would rearrange the apartment and dance in the living room. I miss you, Gwen. I will spend every day of my life trying to make it up to you. You are the only woman in this world for me.”

Katrina looked down at me, her eyebrow raised.

“Bash,” I said softly, sitting up onto the edge of my chair.

“Gwen.” He smirked.

“I was so blind when I was with you that hearing you speak right now makes me want to slap myself. I remember Cirque du Soleil. I held on to you because I have a fear of heights, and I thought I was going to have a panic attack watching it. The reason I filled your fridge all the time was because before I moved in, you never did it yourself. And if you did, not once did you buy anything I liked eating. I had to rearrange the apartment because you bought big-ass furniture after I told you I didn’t want anything in there. You only care about yourself. You are not the only man in the world for me. So, please. PLEASE. Stop. The shades are off. I’m not blinded by the great Sebastian Evans any more. Don’t use stupid lawsuits to draw me here. Don’t call me in the middle of the night. Stop, because if you don’t, I will get a restraining order against you. I’m sure that would kill the last few months I have on contract, right, Katrina?”

“You should have told me he called you in the middle of the night. I would have filed a restraining order with Judge Banks that very night,” she replied.

I stood. “Anything you need me to do, please work it out with my agent. Tara will make sure I have it scheduled. Goodbye, Mr. Evans,” I said, closing the door.

Only once we were in the elevator did Katrina speak. “We will only do this once,” she said to me, raising her fist up for me to bump it.

Grinning, I knocked my fist against hers.

“Now we will never speak of it again.”

“Of course.” I tried to sound as cool as ice, just like her, but it was too funny. Walking out of the building, my phone rang. When I checked, I saw it was none other than Stevie’s mother. “Mrs. Spencer? Is everything okay?”

“Hi, Gwen. I’m so sorry to call you out of the blue like this. I was trying to call your mother, but it kept going to voicemail.”

I knew why. My mom hated talking on phones for long periods of time, and Mrs. Spencer could go on for days sometimes. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Spencer?”

“Well, quickly, do you know the name of your father’s doctor? The one he went to after the heart attack? I want to make sure to get Ryan to go. I swear, that man doesn’t believe me when I say all this food of his is killing him. Do you know what he had last n—”

“Wait. I’m sorry, did you say my dad had a heart attack?” What? Maybe she was confused.

“Yes. It was about three weeks ago, wasn’t it? Ryan, honey, when did Masoa have his heart attack?” she yelled, forgetting to move the phone away. “Yeah, it was about three and a half weeks ago—”