26. Mandy

Twenty minutes. That was all the time I had until Jack would arrive to get me and then head to the airport. I was a bit uneasy about going back to where everything had been set in motion for us, but I hammered it home to myself that this was just a networking event, an opportunity for me to meet new people, create new connections, and to get more ideas. It wouldn't hurt.

"I don't understand why you even need to go in the first place," Harry grumbled, his back against the doorway of my private office. "We have plenty of clients. We're good."

"We'll need more after we finish up with J.B. Tech if we want to stay afloat. You know that." I grabbed my stack of business cards and shoved them in my purse, along with a folder full of examples of LV Interior's work. Harry had been short with me ever since I told him that I was going with Jack to the conference. In truth, I was genuinely excited to talk shop with new people, but he was souring the mood.

"If this is such an important thing, surely I should be coming along," he snapped.

"Yeah, sitting on a plane with you and Jackson bickering for four hours sounds like a great idea," I mumbled as I zipped up my bag.

"It would be if Jack wasn't going."

I glared at him as I grabbed my coat off the back of my chair. "Jack is the entire reason I even get to go in the first place. He deserves to tag along."

"Hasn't all the media attention you've been getting enough to draw clients in?" Harry asked, his eyes fixed on me as I pulled my jacket over my arms. He'd been out of the office pretty frequently lately, working from home, and I could tell from the dark circles under his eyes that he wasn't getting much sleep.

It almost made me not want to argue with him, almost. "The attention is dying down. We've gotten a few new clients from it, but it's not enough."

"It's dying down?" He asked, his brows raising, his body more alert. I knew what he was thinking already—I could stop being around Jack so much. He could stop worrying about it. "Does that mean the fake engagement is over?"

I shook my head and checked the time on my phone. Nothing from Jackson yet. "No, not yet."

"Ugh," he groaned, crossing the few steps between us and picking up my left hand. He inspected the ring again, his face contorting. "Can't you just ask him to call it off? I just want to get back to normal, Mandy. It's concerning, you being with him all the time."

"I'm not his boss. I don't get to make those calls, and I'm fine being around him," I snapped, pulling my hand back. "You don't need to worry."

"I do," he insisted. His wild, sleepless eyes met mine, and despite how irritating he could be, I could see the worry behind them. "I can tell your heart is already in it. Your priorities are getting all crisscrossed."

"My priorities are fine. I'm doing what's best for our business and you need to be okay with that," I pressed, thinning my lips. I knew he just wanted what was best for me, but god, why did he have to be so intense about it?

"No, you're doing whatever you damn well please," he countered. He ran his fingers through his dusty blonde hair, the little curls rippling in the wave of warm air coming through the vent above him. I could feel the tension between us building the way it always did when we got into these… conversations. He felt like a powder keg about to explode with the way his jaw tightened, the way his hands flexed. He just needed to cool off.

Harry was starting to piss me off, and I reallydidn't want to have to deal with this, not before my trip. I didn't want to spend the next twenty-four hours wondering whether or not he was going to meetings with our clients or if he was avoiding work entirely because of this.

"You've slept with him, haven't you?"

I froze. "What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"

He took a step back, his eyes going wide, his mouth opening in a shocked grin. "Oh my God, you have." He rubbed his jaw, an angry chuckle seeping out from between his lips. "I honestly thought you were better than that."

"I'm not talking about this with you," I breathed, the anger beginning to boil in my blood. I snatched my bag from my desk and took a wide step around him to give myself space. "Who I sleep with is my business, not yours."

"No, this business is your business, Miranda. You're going to end up getting your heart broken by him againand I'm going to be left to pick up the pieces, aren't I?" Harry glared at me, his dark circles appearing more prevalent with the fluorescent lighting coming down from above. "I'm going to have to show up for all these new clients you're going to be bringing in, while you're at home crying in your shower, drowning yourself in sad music and wine, pretending that you couldn't see it fucking coming."

My lower lip quivered. I bit it to keep him from seeing, to keep myself from overthinking about whyhis words bothered me so much. He could have said a million other things to me, but he chose to say that, knowing damn well it would hurt.

"I'm sorry. I… I shouldn't have said that. I just don't want you to get your fucking heart shattered by him again," he said, the words clashing against the tone he'd used only seconds before. It was almost like whiplash. "You're too good for him. You know that, I know that, the whole world knows that."

The burning in the back of my throat spread to my eyes, making them water a little too much to keep under control. I turned my head from him, trying to hide that, too, but I knew it wasn't enough.

"Please don't cry," he breathed. "Please. I'm sorry."

I nodded. I knew what he'd meant, knew why he was so angry, knew that he only had my best interest at heart. But for the love of all things holy, he could learn to speak those words clearer and less like they were a dagger being shoved into my chest.

"I just worry about you. That's all."

"I know," I croaked, swiping my eyes with the back of my hand and throwing a passing glance at the ticking clock. "But you're wrong if you think I haven't considered any of that."

A crease formed between his brows as he let out a huff. "All right. I… I'll drop it, for now. Just please, Mands, be careful. Protect yourself."

————

Jackson wasn't in the car that arrived for me. Instead, an older man named Steve, graying and bearded, had shown up in an unmarked, tinted Range Rover. I didn't like that Jack wasn't there. I had hoped that his presence would make me feel better about the argument with Harry.

"Are we still going to the airport?" I asked, our eyes meeting in the rearview mirror.

"Of course, Ms. Littleson."

"Without Jack?"

"Jackson will be joining you at the airport, I believe," he explained as he put the car into drive. Harry stared down at me from behind the glass window of our office block, his arms across his chest, his jaw locked. His eyes never left the car as we pulled away.

I filled the bitter silence by distracting myself with my phone. I couldn't help but look up any remaining articles about Jack and me, what had once filled the news cycle now only took up one or two slots. We weren't even trending anymore. The plan had worked.

So why wasn't I happy about that?

My heart jumped as my phone started vibrating in my hand. As much as I wanted it to be Jack, I was instead met with a cute photo of Mom and me at the beach in New York nine years ago, my curls swept up into a bun just like hers. "Do you mind if I take a call, Steve?"

"No, ma'am. That's fine. Would you like some privacy?"

"Yes, please," I nodded, watching as he pressed a button on the console, a dark, glass divider going up between the front and back seat.

I swiped to answer the call.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hi, sweetie," she cooed. I could hear her loudly cutting vegetables in the background, way louder than usual. She has me on speaker. "I haven't heard from you in a bit. How are you doing?"

I glanced at the divider. "I'm doing okay," I sighed.

"That doesn't sound very convincing. What's going on? Is it Jack?"

"Yeah, I guess," I said quietly, settling into the leather seat. "It's a bit complicated, Mom."

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked, her voice going soft as she put down the knife.

"I don't have enough time to unpack it all," I chuckled. "I don't know. Feelings are there. I don't think they ever left. And then on top of it, we're falling out of the news cycle, so our fake engagement will probably end soon and we're about halfway done with the campus, so I guess… I don't know. I'm preparing myself for the inevitable."

"Oh, honey."

"I told him I still loved him."

Silence overtook the line for a moment before she breathed out. "Did he say it back?"

"Yeah," I croaked, that same quiver in my lip making a reappearance. "He did. It's never been like that with anyone but him, Mom. I don't know how to handle it. I don't know what to do. I don't want it to end but I feel like it's going to have to."

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry. That's so tough. You went to his sister"s wedding, though, right? I saw some of the photos online. Surely he wouldn't want to break it off if he included you in the family photos."

I sniffled as I sank further into the leather, hoping that Steve couldn't hear. "But I don't know if that was for publicity or not. It's all so confusing. We spent most of the reception outside just watching the sunset and talking about where we'd be if he hadn't disappeared on me ten years ago. That was enough to make me want to cry."

"You should talk to him about it, Mandy. Get your answers. Don't overcomplicate things by putting it all on him and getting yourself twisted up over it, okay?"

I nodded before realizing she couldn't see that through a telephone call. "Yeah," I sniffled.

A knock came on the divider before it lowered down enough so Steve could peek at me through the rearview mirror. "We've arrived, Ms. Littleson. Time to board."

"I've got to go, Mom. I'll call you later."

Steve opened up my door and helped me get my bag from the car. Jackson's plane sat on the tarmac before me, the pilot and copilot standing by the steps leading inside. One of them grabbed my bag from Steve and carried it into the cabin. Jack must already be inside.

"Thanks, Steve," I called over my shoulder as I walked up the steps, one pilot behind me and one in front. Aside from the humming engine, it was silent, and as I entered the body of the plane, Jack was nowhere to be found.

I whipped around in an instant.

"Where's Jack?" I demanded, catching the door to the cockpit before they could close it behind them.

"He'll be joining you in a few hours. We've been given the go-ahead to get you out to New York."

What?

Uneasiness bloomed in my gut. I let the door close as I pulled out my phone, finding his name in an instant. Still Jackson Pig. Four rings, voicemail. Again. Four rings, voicemail. He never avoided my calls.

Four rings, voicemail.

Four rings, voicemail.

I stared dumbfounded at the call log, blinking until I couldn't help but flick it away. Was he even joining me at all? Did he stand me up?

The knot in the back of my throat felt more like a fucking log as I pulled up my texts and fired two off to Harry, shock and anger driving every movement of my thumbs against the too-bright screen.

Me: I think he's stood me up.

Me: Maybe you were right.