Mid Life Love (Mid Life Love #1)(121)

“I want to be a part of your life regardless of this conversation. I don’t think it’s fair for you to write me off like I’m some type of—”

“Was what you did to Claire fair to me?”

“No...” She sighed. “And I’m sorry, but I—”

“I said ‘if’ this isn’t something worth salvaging, so you better be completely honest with me. Are you willing to do that?”

“Yes...”

“Good. Give me one second and we’ll start.” I picked up my phone and called executive affairs. “Milton, get me the proper paperwork to impeach a member of the board. I want it within an hour and I’ll be exercising clause seventeen to make the impeachment effective immediately.”

Chapter 29

Jonathan

Two months later...

Stacy ran her fingers through my hair and kissed my lips. She tried to part them open with her tongue, but they wouldn’t budge. She slowly unfastened the top buttons of my shirt and started to pull it off, but I pushed her hand away.

She sighed. “I should’ve known you weren’t up for this...” She grabbed her bra off the chair and handed it to me. “Can you help me put it back on?”

“What?”

“My bra...Can you help me put it back on?”

“Oh. Sure.”

“The third row, please. And for the record, I’m officially taking the ‘with benefits’ tag off our friendship. We haven’t had sex in forever.”

I snapped the last hook on her bra. “Fine...”

“I’m really worried about you.” She turned around and cupped my face. “You’re scaring me...”

“Because I’m not having sex with you?” I rolled my eyes.

“Because you’re not being the Jonathan I know. Why can’t you just call Claire? You’re not the type to stay away from someone you like. This isn’t you at all.”

“You’re suggesting that I call the woman who broke up with me and begged me to leave her alone?”

“I’m just saying that—”

“That’s not my style.”

“Whatever. How long do you need me to stay in town?” she asked. “I need to tell the condo manager a date tomorrow.”

“Not long, and you’re more than welcome to stay here or at one of the beach houses.” I re-buttoned my shirt. “I just need you to go to the Juniper Conference with me as my date in two weeks. I’ll need someone to keep the single women away from me. I don’t want them thinking I’m available.”

“I don’t have to accompany you to the morning tech sessions do I? You know that stuff bores me out of my mind.”

“Not unless you want to.”

“Ha! No. Parties and mixers only, and I’ll do my best to act like I’m your girlfriend. By the way, since I flew out here and you left me hanging again, I’ll need a shopping spree on your behalf. Tomorrow. Actually, make it every day this week.”

“Fair enough.” I stood up. “Are you spending the night here?”

“Um, I was actually going to—”

“Can you?”

“Why?”

I sighed. “I just need someone to be here...” I didn’t feel like going into another spiel about Claire.

“Sure.” She put on her shirt and kissed my cheek. “I’ll set up my bed in the living room. You want to get breakfast in the morning?”

“We can’t share a bed?”

“No.”

“Why not? We normally do.”

“Jonathan...” She sighed. “You haven’t called me ‘Stacy’ once today. You’ve been calling me Claire ever since you picked me up from the airport. You didn’t even ask me how I’ve been doing until we were at dinner...As a matter of fact, after I told you, you asked me about Ashley and Caroline ... I didn’t want to say anything because I’ve never seen you like this and I didn’t want to upset you.” She placed her hand on my shoulder. “I don’t want to put you in a situation where you sleep with me, subconsciously thinking that I’m Claire because I’m not. I want you to get your shit together and figure this out. I’ll be in the living room if you need me...Okay?”

“Okay... Goodnight, Stacy.”

“Goodnight. See you in the morning.” She gave me a reassuring smile and walked away.

As soon as she left my room, I walked over to my dresser and pulled out the latest set of pictures: Claire was running on the Golden Gate Bridge, hosting meetings at Starbucks, and lying on the beach in a beautiful black bikini—one of the ones I’d bought for her to wear on my yacht.

I flipped through the pictures over and over, scrutinizing every part. Then I realized that the running pictures were all taken at night, and that these weren’t the latest pictures—they were two weeks old.

I called Greg. “Greg, are you—”

My doorbell rang and I knew it was him; he was always nearby.

I rushed downstairs and let him in, ushering him into the parlor room. I poured us both a glass of scotch and sat in front of the fireplace.

“Good seeing you, Greg...” I took a few sips of my drink and leaned back in my chair, wondering why he wasn’t doing the same.