“Next stop Hoboken Station.”
“What?” I ask breathlessly as his nips at my earlobe.
“Now arriving at Hoboken Station.”
My eyes flutter open, expecting to see Jackson’s sexy face, but … no. I’m on the train.
Holy shit! I was dreaming. It was so real. My palms are sweating and my pulse is racing, and if I’m being honest, I’m panting a little. But none of it happened. Oh, how I wish it had.
I gather my belongings, grab my keys out of my purse, and head out to my car. That drink is looking better and better.
Chapter Five
The drive back to my apartment is short thanks to the lack of traffic at this time of day. It’s odd being home so early. I have about an hour until Ashton is due home, which gives me enough time to change and check my emails. Throwing my hair into a messy bun, I opt for my leggings, a gray tunic, and my mint-green lace leg warmers—cute and sassy, as Ashton would say. I can’t wait to unload all the stuff going on in my messed-up brain—nothing seems to make sense.
I step out into the living room and stop dead in my tracks. This place is a mess! Papers are everywhere, mail’s lying around, dirty dishes sit on the table, and clothes are strewn over the back of the couch. Between both our schedules, the house is rarely spotless, but we’ve never let things get this bad. I decide to skip the emails and pick up a little. We pay way too much money for this place to allow it be this out of control. Ashton and I looked for an apartment in Manhattan. We had always wanted to be like the girls on television, but once we saw the going rate for apartments and sublets we opted for New Jersey. Our high-rise is on the river, overlooking the city, so our rent is high, but it’s worth it. We both make a good salary, so we decided to live comfortably and have an apartment with security.
Me: Hey. Gonna start dinner.
Ashton: K. I’ll be leaving the city soon.
I look through the kitchen and realize we’re out of pretty much anything edible. I can either head to the store or order in. The sensible choice would be to go to the store, but after the day I’ve had, I decide to say screw it.
There’s a knock at the door. Weird. The doorman usually calls if we have visitors.
“Open up, Cat,” a bubbly voice says. Gretchen.
With a huge grin, I throw the door open.
“What are you doing on this side of the river?” I ask.
“I had a case here in Jersey, so I figured I’d see if my two crazy-ass friends were around. And lucky me, I get you!” She grins as she walks through the apartment.
“At least it’s lucky for one of us,” I snort.
“Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be here. What gives?” she says, assessing my outfit and facial expressions.
“I had my meeting today for that prospective new client. I finished early. Figured I’d work from home.” I shrug, attempting nonchalance.
Gretchen glares, giving me her lawyer look. The one that sees through you as she weighs each word you say and interprets your tone. She does that and then she chews you up. I should’ve remembered who I’m dealing with. Even fielding questions from crazy reporters hasn’t properly prepared me for her.
“So why do you look like shit? Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on, Cat? Considering I don’t believe you for a second.” Her voice is stern but sympathetic. She knows the nightmare I went through. I knew it would only be a matter of time until she started pushing me to talk.
We head into the kitchen and sit at the table. I look down, trying to find a way to put into words what’s jumbled in my head, as my fingers trace the grain of the wood. “I’m a mess, Gretch. It’s been three months since Neil cheated on me, and sometimes it feels like it happened yesterday. Sometimes it hurts so much it’s hard to breathe, but I have to pretend I’m great.
“Then today I had to present against him at the client meeting I told you about. Not only was Piper there …” I trail off, looking up to see her reaction.
“What? Oh wow,” she says, stunned, before recovering. “You’ve had quite a day, babe.”
“You could say that. And then I find out he stole my presentation.” My head falls to my hands and I release the flood of emotions I’ve been restraining. “This is the man I was supposed to marry?” I drop my hands, letting out a ragged breath. My voice trembles when I ask, “How can I still love him, Gretch?”
“Do you really love him?”
“Yes … No … I don’t know. I’m so stupid! I don’t understand how he could have loved me and then done such messed-up things. I thought I knew him. I trusted him, gave my heart to him—only to have it ripped out of my chest. Why did I let him do this to me?” The tears I’ve been fighting threaten to spill over.
“I feel like something changed about a year ago. At least that’s when I noticed it. He got distant and moody and started skipping out on things.”
“I remember. I noticed too. When I questioned him about it, he proposed. I figured he was nervous about taking such a big leap.”
“You never really know someone. But the more you sit here and question yourself, the more you’ll drive yourself bat-shit crazy. Trust me. My mother used to say this to me and I think you should hear it: love is a verb—it’s an action. Can you tell me what he did to show you he loved you? Anyone can say the words, but they need to prove it. His choices are his choices and now you have to make yours.” Gretchen grabs my hand and holds it tight.
In the beginning he did show me. He cared and did things to make sure I felt special. It was the little things that meant the most—the handholding, the stolen moments between us, an unexpected note or text—but slowly that all changed.
“I know I’m not to blame for his choices, but his choices affected the rest of my life,” I reply, my voice filled with bitterness and hurt.
“That’s where you’re wrong, hun. What he did affects today—but you decide if it affects tomorrow. The only power he has is the power you give him. You know how brave and strong I think you are. Not many people could handle what you saw and dealt with. Sure, you cried, but you still went to work, kicked ass, and found a way to smile.”
It’s liberating finally letting it all out. With Ashton I always guard a small part of myself—the vulnerable side. Sure, we share everything, for the most part, but she’s so much stronger than me. Gretchen would let me sulk and mope forever, but Ashton doesn’t play that game.
“Oh, if you would have seen me, I don’t think you’d be saying that.” I laugh and squeeze her hand.
Gretchen smiles with warmth and love. “I did see you. I saw the mess you were, but I saw the strength behind it too. Look at you now. You had a fucked-up day, but you’re not sitting here sobbing. You’re surviving, and you’re up for yet another promotion. Of course there are going to be bad days, but you dictate how many. I don’t want to mother you, but anytime you want to talk, you know I’m here.”
My phone rings, interrupting our heart-to-heart. Taylor’s name flashes across the screen, which is odd because we usually text or email. She never calls, not unless it’s an emergency.
“I gotta grab this.”
“No worries. I have to get going anyway. I love you! Remember what I said, though.” She stands, giving me a kiss on the cheek before heading to the door. I smile at how great our impromptu visit was, waving as the door closes behind her and the phone rings again.
“Hi, Tay.”
“Sorry to bother you, but I thought you’d want to know immediately,” she replies excitedly.