Page 50 of A Song for You

Chasing Pavements by Adele

“She really wants to see it?” Sophie asks again, shocked.

I dragged Sophie downstairs for a cup of coffee and a gossip session before I have to head to lunch with Jay. Thank God for the excitement over Cynthia’s interest in our Christmas list. Otherwise, I’d be panicking about how the next couple of hours will go.

“Yes, Soph.” I take a sip of the perfect pumpkin spice latte and sigh. “And she mentioned Paris. Paris! She takes two interns every spring,” I whisper, because I’m not sure that’s public knowledge.

Her eyes bulge. “I thought you were crazy when you suggested expanding the list. I figured Cynthia would shoot you down before you even finished the pitch. But maybe you’re onto something. Can you imagine?”

I smile so big my nose scrunches. “Honestly, I’m more excited about this than the potential of being chosen for the Paris trip.”

She hits me in the arm. “Shut up! Let’s do both!”

I laugh. Yeah, let’s shoot for the moon.

My anxiety finally spikes as I walk into the Beacon Hotel, prepared to meet Jay.

I give my name to the maître d’, and he smiles as he leads me to the table. “Mr. Hanson should be here shortly,” he tells me.

With a curt nod, I settle in to wait. It’s Friday, so the lunch crowd is a little on the rambunctious side. Most people have drinks in hand, likely getting their weekends started early. Not me, though. I need all my faculties when it comes to Jay.

The waitress delivers an iced tea, and I bite back a smile. Asshole ordered for me already.

I squeeze the lemon and then take a sip, closing my eyes as I do. I’m taken back to the front porch of our house in Bristol. I was probably four, cuddled on my mom’s lap, baby Cash was lying on her shoulder, and Carter was playing baseball with my grandfather in the yard.

My phone buzzes, and I wince.

Jay: Running late. I ordered food. Enjoy.

I close my eyes and breathe. I’m not going to let him get to me. He doesn’t want to have lunch with me, fine. I can eat alone.

The waitress arrives with a large tray. “Mr. Hanson ordered two of everything.”

My eyes bulge at the assortment, and I’m not the only one taking in the sight. The women at the table beside me look on with pity in their eyes, likely thinking I’ve been stood up. And I suppose I have.

On second thought, I don’t want to eat alone. And I don’t have to. I pick up my phone and make a call. Then I shoot Jay a text.

Me: Thanks. My date and I will enjoy. Have a good day, Mr. Hanson.

Twenty-Nine

Jay

Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve

The week has been unbearably long. Knowing Cat slept in my bed on Sunday night made it nearly impossible not to show up at the train station on Monday. But I couldn’t. She asked me not to say goodbye; she asked me, instead, to walk away. And if I’d shown up, then I risked being forced to say it. A man can only walk away so many times.

I’ve gone in circles over our situation and the roadblocks that keep us apart. In the end, one thing remains clear: I can’t go through with my father’s revenge plan. Not if it means Cat could get hurt in the process. Even peripherally.

Her father and my mother made choices years ago, and we’ve paid for their actions. I lost my mother, and according to Cat, she has no relationship with her father. I have to believe some part of that had to do with his affairs. I refuse to make her pay for her father’s actions any more than she already has.

And I’m done suffering for my mother’s.

But convincing my father that the past should be left there won’t be an easy task. And bringing Cat into my life—and giving him the opportunity to use her to hurt her family—isn’t a risk I’m willing to take.

Which leaves me sitting at the bar, like a coward, watching her sit by herself. I wince at the sheer assortment of food that arrives. What was I thinking? Two of everything? She’s going to be so pissed.

I glance at the text I sent her and wonder if she’ll even reply. She smiles at the waitress and then picks up her phone.