Blake took a step toward me. "It's only negative if it isolates you. If it keeps you from having a connection with people. If it makes you forget what's real."
I poured two fingers of the amber liquid then, after a slight pause, made it three. "I'm all too familiar with what's real." My mother. Elizabeth. You…
"That's why you don't date. That's why you've never had a girlfriend since Elizabeth left you. That's why you hired me to live with you for a year—so you can give me money and send me on my way, without having to get attached!" Her whole face was flushed now, her hands clenched into tight fists.
I set the bourbon down without drinking it. "And you're so different?"
She looked slightly abashed. "I'm still close to people. And I'm not the one…"
"What?"
Blake shook her head. "Nothing. Never mind. I need to remember my place. I'm the hired help."
Her words cut me. "Don't say that."
She looked at me, her chin jutting out in an almost imperceptible sign of defiance. "The truth hurts, but don't worry. It hurts me, too." She headed down the hall. "Is it okay if I go to the gym and then take a shower? Today's sort of thrown me for a loop."
My shoulders sagged. "You don't need my permission. I'm not your jailer."
She stopped and turned to me. "So then, would you like to come with me? You've been so worried about that deal…" Her tone turned from angry to wistful. "We haven't hung out in a while."
"I have to go back to work," I said, hating myself.
The flash of disappointment across her features was clear. "Of course."
"I'll see you later, though." I wanted nothing more than to be with Blake right now. I could probably retire and just spend the rest of my years being her gym buddy, letting her order for me, and worshipping her body, not necessarily in that order. But this had to stop. She was leaving in a few months. In fact, if Serena had the trust terms annulled, Blake was leaving any second. I had to get a motherfucking grip before I let what I was feeling inside rip me apart.
Nodding, she disappeared into the bedroom.
I was in a foul mood at the office. Shirley tried to ask me a few questions about our new HR initiative, but I practically ripped her head off and bowled it down the hall. In an effort to calm down, I downloaded all my quarterly reports and started analyzing them. My business holdings were performing better than expected. Normally, this would satisfy me, but I couldn't keep my mind off of Blake. She'd been reeling from what her sister had pulled, yet I'd pushed her away again.
I stood up and grabbed my cell phone. I needed to go back home and make this right.
The receptionist buzzed in. "Mr. Ford, there's someone here to see you."
"I don't have any appointments," I snapped. I never had any appointments. I made Shirley do all my dirty work, and I paid her quite handsomely for it.
Another example of throwing money at your problems, my inner analyst chimed in.
Fuck off, I chimed back.
"It's Chelsea Maxwell."
"I see." The sister has balls. Time to cut them off. "Bring her in."
My receptionist appeared shortly thereafter, followed by a young woman who looked strikingly similar to Blake. She had long blond hair and blue eyes, but she was slightly shorter and curvier. Where Blake's skin was smooth and fair, Chelsea's was a deep bronze, as though she spent a fair amount of time at M Street Beach with a big bottle of coconut-scented oil, a stash of wine coolers, and a red Solo cup at her side.
Her ample assets almost burst out of her black, low-cut dress that seemed to have a death
grip on her body. Spiked heels, big hoop earrings, and lots of black mascara completed the look—a Southie hottie in her prime, out for an afternoon stroll, an iced coffee with extra cream from Dunkin' Donuts, and a side of blackmail.
Someone had left Blake for her? I couldn't fathom it. But then again, Elizabeth had left me for my father, who favored ascots and wore argyle socks to bed. People were so fucking weird. That was why hiding in my office was awesome.
Not that I was actually admitting to that.
The receptionist closed the door behind her, and Chelsea batted her dangerously long lashes at me. "Lucas Ford, we finally meet! It's such a pleasure."
She held out her hand to shake mine, but I just motioned for her to sit. "What do you want, Chelsea?"