Except I can’t quite tear the two things apart.
“I see. Were there any other updates you wanted to share with me?” I want to shout at this woman, to ask her how she can be so blind, so fucking selfish, but I’m brought back from the brink—that would show her that her decisions are under my skin, and I won’t do that.
“That was all.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course, Mr. Hunter. I’ll keep you apprised of how things proceed.”
“Excellent.”
With that, Sarzó turns on her heel and waltzes out of my office.
She hasn’t been gone five seconds when my cell rings in my pocket.
The name on the Caller ID is the prison where my father lives.
For the first time in a long time, I feel a rush of pity instead of sickening hatred.
And I answer the phone.
“Hello?”
Before my father can speak, I have to sit through a prerecorded warning about accepting calls from inmates.
“Jax?”
His voice is tired and worn.
“Hello.” I don’t know why he’s calling. More than that, I don’t know why I answered. It’s been years.
“Hello, son. I’m—I’m calling about your mother.”
Ah. “I’m not sure why.”
“Well—” The silences are painfully awkward while he searches for the words. “Someone from her place got in touch with me. In the letter they said she wasn’t doing very well.”
“She isn’t.”
“They said—” Another excruciating pause. “They said she’s been asking for me. That she can’t remember the divorce.”
The urge to rip him to shreds for everything he did still rises in my chest, but it’s somehow softer, more controllable.
Something clicks into place in my mind.
Cate is working herself to death out of a desperation I still don’t entirely understand.
That same motivation, whatever is at the goddamn heart of it, is what drove my father to do what he did.
“That’s true,” I tell him.
“So I was…” He’s wary, waiting for me to lash out. “I was thinking, that if you thought it might help her, I could send a few letters. I won’t be out for another year, but I could write.”
I let out a deep breath, and with it goes a large part of the animosity I’ve felt toward him all these years. “I’m sure she’d love that.”
“All right.” The relief in his voice is palpable. “Okay. I’ll do that.” There’s noise in the background. “I’ve got to go. Thanks…thanks, Jax.”
“You’re welcome.”
I hang up and slip my phone back into my pocket.
I know what I have to do.
She might hate me for it, but I’m getting Cate out of this job before it kills her.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Cate
I stay late at the office—very late—trying to keep up with all of Sandra’s latest directives. My motivation is back in full force. Now that I have a plan, I feel like I can do anything. With a little Advil in the mix, I’m unstoppable.
I’m about to leave the office when the message from Jax comes in. He doesn’t text me often, and when he does, I know it’s important.
I won’t be home until very late—possibly not until tomorrow. You don’t have to stay at my place alone if you don’t want to.
I consider it for a minute, but…we’re just not there yet. I’d feel pretty weird about being there with his staff if he was away.
That’s okay—I’ll be at home.
I love you.
That’s the first time he’s sent me those words in a text. A physical record exists now. My heart beats faster.
I love you. Is everything OK?
No.
I wait. He’ll send more if he wants me to know.
My mother isn’t well. They need me to come right away, and I’m not sure how long it will take before I can leave.
I’m so sorry!!
Part of me wishes he’d taken me with him, but that’s an insane expectation to have at this point in our relationship. And Sandra needs me here.
The thought brings me up short. Would I really choose Basiqué over him if he asked me to go?
The answer that comes immediately to mind makes me uncomfortable in its clarity. Am I really that much of a monster?
It’s all right. I’m here now. Have to go.
I send him back a heart.
Mark drives me back to my apartment, and inside of ten minutes I’m dressed in my comfiest sweats, Chinese food ordered from the restaurant down the street, a glass of wine in my hand.
After everything that’s happened, I need a breather. I just wish it could have come under better circumstances.
The food is good, but I find myself missing Laurence’s smile, his laughing enthusiasm, the way he’d take something simple that I liked and make it into an artistic creation.