“I would say I don’t understand what this means, but a lot of things are abundantly clear. I finally understood on an emotional level how my mom took my dad back after his indiscretions, and that it wasn’t just because she wanted to hold on to the lifestyle. She truly loved him, and though she always said it, I never got it viscerally until now.”
He turned fully toward her, opening his body language in preparation for what he knew was to come.
“I love you too, Mari. And yes, I still want to be with you.”
Mari practically flew toward him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she grabbed him in a hug.
He held her thin frame to him tightly, his body celebrating at holding her close again.
When they finally pulled away, she said, “Aren’t you afraid your dad will cut you off?”
He shook his head.
“Even if he did, I’m pretty much set. I mean, I’ve worked in finances practically all my adult life. I picked up a thing or two.”
Mari’s eyes didn’t leave his face, and they seemed larger than normal, shimmering with unshed tears.
“Will you come home with me tonight?”
She didn’t say it in any lewd way, but he grinned wickedly at her.
“Why, Mari, I’m exactly that kind of guy.”
He pulled her into a brief kiss.
“After tonight, though, as cozy and warm as your apartment is, I’m going back to the penthouse. It’s got quite a view and too many bedrooms for just me, so you’re welcome to come too. If you like it, maybe we can work something out.”
He winked at her.
“I really do love you, Jim,” she said far too seriously.
He held her face in his hands.
“I really do love you too, Maribel Gibson. Oh—remind me to tell you more about this dream I had.”
“The one where you were marrying someone who wasn’t Lucy?”
“How did you know I meant that one?”
“Just a guess. Especially since it’s the only one you ever mentioned.”
“Well, I told you the details were all fuzzy, but recently, the face of my dream bride became clear.”
Chapter 14
Maribel
Maribel knew her mouth was hanging open and didn’t care.
She looked around the suite, wondering how long it would take to actually visually take it all in.
She felt like she’d already spent a few minutes checking out just a quarter of Jim’s place.
The penthouse was easily larger than the home she’d grown up in, and the view from it took her breath away.
“This doesn’t even make sense,” she said, trying to process the striking evidence of his wealth before her.
The furniture, the flooring, the furnishings—everything was a testament to the handsome man’s fortune.
She felt like she should take off her shoes and leave them outside so they didn’t spoil the look of the place.
“How…?”
“Just over four thousand square feet. See, I told you—I need some company so it’s not such a waste.”
“How the heck did you stay in my place for days when you have all of this here? My god, my apartment must have felt like a bathroom to you. And just the toilet part.”
He chuckled.
“It’s easy once you’re there. Once I met you, I had a longing to be wherever you were. Home is where the heart is, right? Besides, I had the whole avoiding-the-public-and-the-press thing going on—well, so I thought. Speaking of which, I would have never pegged you for a sleazy reporter, Mari; you really surprised me there.”
She felt offended at first but realized that’s exactly the road she’d been about to embark.
“I never planned to be. I wanted to be more like...Erin Brockovich. Or Michael Moore. Investigative journalists with public health—physical and otherwise—in mind.”
“So how did you go from Erin Brockovich to TMZ?”
She shrugged.
“You don’t understand—I don’t fail anything. I’ve been on the honor roll my whole school life, never got anything less than a B, graduated high school salutatorian, graduated magna cum laude from college with a double major in Journalism and Communication Studies. I’m used to things going pretty smoothly, so when I got here and didn’t get the job that seemed promised to me, I panicked.”
“My god, you’re hard on yourself. And I thought my dad was bad. You didn’t even give yourself time…”
“But I have a five-year plan! And it includes winning a Pulitzer by the age of twenty-five, thank you very much.”
He chuckled again.
“Wow. You do dream big. Well, I hate to break it to you, but celebrity gossip won’t get you there.”
“I just thought it would get my foot in the door. I thought somehow it would buy me a way in, and soon, I’d be able to dictate my own stories and terms. The sooner I got hired, the sooner I could flex my article-writing muscles. I thought how I started wouldn’t matter so much—it was all about getting to a particular end.
“Anyway, the longer I stayed here, jobless, the more panicked I got as I realized what and who I was up against. Sure, I have some savings for living expenses, but as you know—well, you might not—it’s super expensive here, and I had sort of nightmarish visions of having to take up something—anything else—just to pay bills, spending valuable energy doing something I didn’t want to do. Even if gossip wasn’t exactly what I wanted to do, at least it was in the general vicinity of my intended job—unlike admin or something. I could at least tell people I work for so-and-so magazine or newspaper. All most people back home know is that I wanted to be a reporter—not specifically what kind—and I wanted to, you know, look like an instant success. Everyone expects it, including me.”
“Well, it looks to me like you were in such a hurry to get out, you didn’t give yourself time to figure out a structured path. Not to knock the entertainment industry, but you don’t have to wallow in that muck to get your name out there—it might even be detrimental if you want to be taken seriously. Believe me, I know—rushing into something just as a means to some end is not always the best idea. Essentially, by throwing me under the bus for your trashy exposé, it would have been like you committing to marrying Lucy; while some sort of immediate benefit might come of it, think of what it could prevent you from having instead. For example, you could be fulfilling some silly request for your boss and not have the time to pursue some other worthwhile story.”
He grabbed her hands.
“I waited for you, Mari. You can wait for the right opportunity. Like I said, I do have friends and friends of friends in high places. I can pull some strings, possibly even get you a job as a news assistant—a reporter in business news, perhaps. But eventually.”
He hesitated, and she wondered about the wary look in his eyes.
“Sounds to me like you could have built up a portfolio where you’re from—it seems you had plenty of material to work with there.”
“Top three racist states in the country? No doubt it’s fertile ground, but good luck getting anyone to pay attention. I might as well type water is wet. Maybe eventually, after establishing myself.”
“So you’re sure you want to stay here?”
She looked at him quizzically.
“Of course.”
“Great. I have a proposition for you. Listen—don’t get offended, but I’ve been doing some thinking and that led to a bit of digging, and I think you should get your master’s degree from Columbia’s School of Journalism. Depending on if you’re getting the M.S. or M.A., you’ll be done in nine or ten months, and it’s a hell of a thing to add to your resumé. Hell, it was founded by Joseph Pulitzer himself—it’s where they hand out the awards. You don’t even have to go full-time; you can attend part-time while working if you want. Either way, you’ll be rubbing shoulders with past, present, and future greats in the field. Maybe the real reason you were led here was to get you in that school. Heck, you live just, what, thi
rty minutes from it?”
“You’re saying, despite my plans, the actual reason I was drawn here was to run into some millionaire to encourage me to continue my schooling.”
“And pay for it, of course.”
It took Maribel a few seconds to form her words.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. It’s only about a hundred grand, and I’m sure we can find some way both you and my company can benefit from it. Now, from what I read, you’ll want to start with the Master of Science since it’s for aspiring journalists, possibly the concentration in Investigative Journalism.”
“Wow, you sure did your homework. You know, I had considered graduate school, but not everyone gets scholarships, and if I didn’t get a job that could cover it…”
“Well, that’s no longer a concern, is it? So let’s tuck that baggage away.”
She smiled, feeling as if a weight had been lifted.
“So you’ve figured things out for me—what about you?”