Twenty-One
Jenner
“You’re fucking kidding me,” Dominick said from the other side of his desk. “Jo is Walter’s daughter?” His eyes went wide, his head shaking. “How the hell didn’t you figure that out?”
“Jo Cartwright is what’s listed on her Instagram. I assumed that was her last name. Turns out, it’s her middle name, and I’m the fucking moron who didn’t ask her.” I dropped my hands on the armrests, exhaling so loud. “If Walter finds out the things I’ve done to her …” My neck tilted back, I closed my eyes, imagining the scene that would go down if he got wind that I’d tied Jo to my fucking bed. “He’d hang me by the goddamn balls.”
“Especially if he knew your history with chicks.” He eyed me. “Oh fuck, he does, doesn’t he?”
I remembered a dinner we’d had where he asked if there was a skirt in LA I hadn’t looked under. “Yeah … he does.”
“Fuck.” Dominick shifted in his seat, adjusting his dick, like he was protecting his own balls. “Is she going to tell him?”
“Her father? Hell no. There’s no reason to say anything to him. We’re done.”
He lifted his coffee off his desk, watching me as he drank. “You said you two will be working together now?”
“On the Utah build-out, but once that ends, I don’t know if our paths will cross.” I clasped my hands behind my head, using my palms as a pillow. “Did I forget to mention she’s moving to LA? Fifteen minutes from my place.”
“Everything you wanted but wouldn’t admit.” He continued to stare at me. “But still, there has to be a way to make this work.”
I laughed.
In fact, I laughed so fucking hard that I almost rocked out of my chair. “What are you smoking?” I halted, waiting for him to change his mind. When he didn’t, I added, “Do you honestly think I can go to Walter, who pays me millions a year, and tell him I’ve been fucking his daughter, and now, I want to date her?”
He took a deep breath. “I don’t think I’d put it like that …”
“How would you put it, then?”
His stare moved to the top of his coffee. “I don’t know, but if I wanted to be with her—like I suspect you do—then I’d figure out a way.” His gaze returned to me. “I’m just having a hard time accepting that you two are finished.”
“We are, trust me.” I stood from his chair and walked to his office door, sighing. “And it’s too fucking bad because I’m really going to miss that girl.”
Jo: It’s been four days … can we talk?
Me: What is there to talk about?
Jo: Us.
Me: There is no us, Jo.
Jo: It hurts so bad to read those words. I can’t believe you can dismiss me so easily.
Me: There’s no dismissing. I’m just accepting the reality that we can’t be together.
Jo: But we can. If you care about me as much as I care about you, then we’ll find a way.
Me: We both know that’s not possible.
Jo: No, that’s what you believe. I believe in us.
My fingers hovered above the screen as I stared at her reply.
She thought I didn’t care, that I didn’t want her.
That I didn’t think about her non-fucking-stop.
When the truth was, Jo was the only thing on my mind.
And this was hurting me far worse than it was destroying her.
Engaging more would only make things worse.
I turned my phone around, placing the screen against my desk, and I returned to my computer to finish the email I had been typing.
“We’re going out,” Ford said from the doorway of my office.
I shook my head. “I have an early flight in the morning. I need a good night’s sleep.”
He laughed. “I’m sorry, when did you turn into the biggest pussy? And since when do you need sleep? Go home. Get changed. I’ll pick you up at eight, and don’t even think about coming up with an excuse. I’m the one with a kid, and my ass is still managing to go out.”
I dropped the folder I was holding. “If you’re doing this to get my mind off Jo, I’m all right. You don’t have to bother.”
Dominick popped in, leaning against the doorframe. “What’s happening? What did I miss?”
“We’re going out,” Ford told him, and then he looked at me. “Because I need a fucking drink.”
“Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” I asked.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ford groaned. “Dominick, either meet us at Jenner’s or we’ll see you at the bar.”
I checked the time at the top of my monitor.
I had three hours.
Except I needed that drink now.
Ford left, and I looked at Dominick. “Any reason we should wait until eight to start drinking?”
He came into my office and took a seat in front of my desk. “Hell no.”
“Perfect answer.”
I walked to the wet bar in the back of the room—one of the first things I’d had built when I took over this space. Fresh out of law school, I’d told my parents that clients would be impressed by it. In all actuality, it was for circumstances like this.
“Cheers,” I said, handing him a glass as I returned to my seat.
“Sounds like you’re over this day?”
I nodded. “Not just this day. This whole fucking week.”