Love, Chloe

“What the F?” I stomped my foot, mostly for dramatic effect. “Why?”

  “I’m not shuttling your ass around the set while you complete your shopping list.”

  “So … I can go?” Fred asked, stuffing Joey’s cash in his pocket.

  “Yeah,” Joey said, and Fred nodded his goodbyes, the door creaking shut behind him.

  Joey waited until he was gone, then nodded at me. “Talk.”

  “Yeah, Nicole was having an affair?” Hannah perched on the counter and unzipped the bag, peering inside and checking out the inner pockets. “And she’s pregnant?”

  “Yep.” I said, hoping she wouldn’t press for details.

  “Who was it?” Hannah asked, looking up from the bag.

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged, opening Joey’s fridge. I grabbed a beer and avoided eye contact, shredding the skin on my palm before I realized it wasn’t a twist off.

  “You don’t know?” Joey stepped closer, and Hannah pushed him away.

  “She doesn’t know. Stop hounding the woman.”

  “You still with Carter?”

  I looked up, the beer finally open, and met his eyes. “Yeah. No thanks to you.”

  His mouth twisted. “I’m sorry about that. I…” He grimaced. “I was an asshole.”

  “Wow.” Hannah raised her eyebrows. “The truth comes out.” Joey glared at her and she giggled, refocusing on her new bag.

  “You were,” I agreed, tipping back the beer. “Total asshole. You know how you could make it up to me?”

  “Tickets to the premiere?” he offered.

  “I was gonna say cheese biscuits, but sure, throw in tickets to the premiere. Two,” I said pointedly.

  He clutched his chest in mock pain. “You won’t be my date? I’m heartbroken.” He raised his eyebrows in hope. “And forgiven?” He looped an arm around my shoulders and waited for my answer.

  “And forgiven,” I affirmed, smiling when he pulled me to his chest. “Now, get me cheese biscuits before I change my mind,” I threatened.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He lifted a chin to Hannah. “You coming?”

  “Oh no,” she said. “I plan on getting some one-on-one time with my new lover.” She patted the side of the Balenciaga.

  “Enjoy it,” I said, waving at her as Joey dragged me to the door. “Courtesy of Victor Worth.”

  She laughed. “I’m an equal-opportunity slut, I’ll take gifts from anyone. Feel free to send that Maserati my way!” she hollered, the words catching me right as Joey tossed my beer in the trash and shut the door.

  The Maserati. I wondered what happened to it. I’d signed the title over and left it in the glove box. Had overnighted Vic the keys. And a few days later, it was gone.

  “I’m gonna miss you,” Joey mused, reaching out to tug on the end of my ponytail.

  “I’m gonna miss this place.” I held up my fingers an inch apart. “Just a bit.”

  “And me?”

  I scrunched up my face. “A little.”

  He stopped at the back of the catering line, pushing his hands into the front of his pockets and looking at me, all hints of teasing gone. “I really was an asshole, pushing you to date Vic. Carter … I can see you guys together. You’re a cool girl. He’s got his shit together—always did.”

  I grinned at him. “So, you approve?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. You have the Joey Plazen blessing of approval. It’s kinda a big deal.”

  “Thank God,” I breathed. “I can go to sleep happy.” The line moved, and we stepped up to the window. I placed my order, almost groaning with pleasure when I got the cardboard box of mini biscuits, steam rising out, the smell almost as good as the taste. Joey walked me all the way out, promising to call Carter and see me soon. I waved to Fred and stepped out the gate.

  And just like that, my time at Boston Love Letters was done.

  When I was little, my mom told me you should find a man who loved you more than you loved him. That way, she explained, you would never get hurt. In theory, it made sense. But now, I believed half of the beauty of love was in the loving.

  I didn’t want to be the aloof woman who had a boyfriend wrapped around her finger. I wanted to be terrified of how madly-in-love I was, ready to give up everything for him, for us.

  And finally, I was.

  I packed boxes, and he carried them. Half of my life had been moved up one floor and into his apartment. I wanted to finish. Had set aside the entire evening. The girls offered to help, but I wanted, before I merged my life with Carter, the time to myself. He’d be busy anyway, a dinner date set with his mother. Apparently her private investigator had finished his report and she wanted to “go over it” with him. I eyed him from my spot on the living room floor, his arms above his head as he pushed a new air filter in place. “What time’s dinner?” I asked.

  “Seven.” He got it in and stepped off the toolbox, moving closer to me as he wiped his hands off on his pants. “I can bring you back a plate.”

  “Nah.” I busied myself with my DVDs, flipping through five seasons of Friends and wondering if I would actually watch them again. “I’ve got a frozen pizza I can heat up.”

  “You seem stressed about my dinner.” He stopped in front of me, and I set down the DVDs, looking up at him.

  “Aren’t you?” He seemed ridiculously calm. Annoyingly so.

  “Her decision doesn’t matter.” He crouched before me so that we were eye level. “It’s not going to affect us.”

  “Oh yeah.” I snorted. “What’s financial security?” I shrugged. “You don’t need that.”

  “I’d rather have you.”

  I shook my head and pulled a stack of novels off the shelf. “You say that Carter but … you don’t know. I know what a sacrifice that is.” I looked at him. “I lost everything. It’s not easy. It’s romantic, but it isn’t easy. It sucks. And I don’t want to be the one responsible for you to go through that.”

  “You don’t think you’re worth it.”

  “Changing the direction of your life?” I looked away from him. “No.”

  He caught my chin and pulled it to him. “Look at me, Chloe.”

  I did. His eyes grounded me. I could look at them all day. My calm in the storm, they looked at me as if they knew all of my secrets and loved me for them. They were certain and strong, as if they had never second-guessed anything. “You act like I’m the only one giving up something.”

  “You are.”

  “My parents’ wealth is the exact same as that Maserati that sat across from our building. You could have had it. You could have had that life, either with him or a million other guys in this city. But you didn’t. You stayed with me. You didn’t even hesitate.”

  “That’s different.”

  “It’s not.” He shook his head. “I love you, Chloe. Everything else fades away from that.”

  I thought of my mother’s advice, how stupid it was when compared to a love like this. There was no room for a safety net with love, not when you had feelings that overrode all reason. I grabbed ahold of his shirt and pulled his mouth to me, scared of the depth of my feelings for him. I wanted to give him everything and was heartbroken that I had nothing to offer, my love seeming paltry in the face of all that he was risking.

  Being with him could never be considered a sacrifice. And what he was saying—that I had given up wealth by choosing him—that was crazy. Nothing was being given up by being with this man. I kissed his mouth and tasted his love and didn’t need another thing from this world.

  The cardboard box got pushed aside, my books falling off the shelf as he pulled me down to the floor and kissed me. I got dust in my hair when he grabbed it. His tool belt dug into my hip when he pulled me to him. When his phone rang, we were breathless.

  “Don’t answer it,” I begged.

  “I won’t.” He silenced the phone but saw the time. “But I have to go.”

  I pouted, and he kissed me. Promised to be back so
on, and then left.

  I rubbed gently at my swollen lips and stared at the TV stand, a moment passing before I had the sense to resume packing.

  I finished the box and tucked over the lid, pushing it aside and moving to the bookshelf, pulling framed photos off the shelves and wrapped them in hand towels. I thought about the night before. We’d been up late unpacking my stuff in his place. He’d wanted to know everything, a story about every framed photo, my favorite shoes, my stuffed zebra, the set of elephants from my summer in South Africa. Some of the stories were Vic stories, but he didn’t care. It was another thing I loved about him, his confidence. Times when Vic would have slunk off to sulk, Carter pulled me closer and laughed.

  My confidence wasn’t as strong. I asked him to pack up the Presa Little art. Offered to help him carry them down to the storage lockers, but he refused, announcing that he was listing them for sale.

  “You don’t need to do that.” I had pulled at his arm, trying to get his cell phone, to stop his call to the gallery.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” He’d frowned down at me, genuinely confused. “They bother you. And they should. They were from when I dated her.”

  “But … they’re beautiful.” And they were. Some of her best. They took my breath away every time I walked in his apartment.

  “Not as beautiful as you.” He pulled me closer. “We can sell them. Put the money down and buy a place.”

  “But what if…” we break up. That was what I was going to say. He’d never be able to afford to buy them back.

  “We’re not.” His touch had been gentle when he’d lifted my chin, and I closed my eyes to his kiss. Relaxed in his arms and let him work his cell phone out of my hand.

  I boxed up the books and then moved to the stack of loose papers, thumbing through receipts, a cable bill, and then, my first résumé. I looked it over, the pathetically sad page that I had brought to Nicole’s interview. Thank God she’d never asked for it. I carried it to my laptop and stuck it underneath, updating it another to-do item I needed to knock out next week. Monday, I was going to empty out my savings and pay off my tuition bill. It’d leave me with nothing, but Carter had insisted on it. He didn’t want me to get another dead-end job just because I didn’t have a degree. So, with a diploma finally in hand, and an updated résumé, I’d hit the employment search again. It wouldn’t be easy; New York was hell on the unemployed. But at least I had a place to stay. And a deposit that would be returned to me, if Carter deemed the apartment to be in suitable condition. Maybe a bribe was in order, one of the sexual variety. It couldn’t hurt, right? I could wait until he was working in the engine room, all sweaty and hot, then tempt him with some ice water. Get him up to our apartment and then strip him naked.

  I lost track of my plans when the door to my apartment opened. Turning around, I stared at Carter. “What are you doing?” I glanced at the clock. “You should have left by—”

  “I canceled.”

  “What? When?”

  “Just now. It’s pointless, meeting with her.” He stepped forward, tossing his jacket on my couch, his hand pulling at the knot on his tie. I loved when he was dressed up. Loved the look of him with neat hair that begged to be violated. A stiff shirt that hugged his muscles perfectly. Dress pants that clung to that fine ass.

  I pulled my eyes from said pants. “Pointless? How can it be—”

  “I don’t care if they approve of you.” He got the tie loose and yanked it off. Stopped before me and pulled at the bottom of my sweatshirt, his fingers snagging my T-shirt too, pulling both of them over my head. He grabbed at the front of my sweatpants, his hands dipping inside and around my waist, big palms settling on and squeezing my ass, yanking me hard against him as he kissed me. “I love you,” he said, pulling off my mouth and pushing me down on the couch, rolling my sweatpants down the length of my legs. “That’s the only thing that matters. We’ll figure the rest out.” He stood above me, my heart beating hard, and I watched as he removed his belt, pulled his dress shirt over his head, and then his pants unzipped and everything I loved was before me, naked. Then on top of me, hard.

  After that … I lost track of thought.

  “What do you think?”

  Carter chewed the edge of his lip and examined a stain on the ceiling. “I think it’s a shithole.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed happily. “It is.” I walked to the window and pushed aside the cheap shade. “But look at that view.”

  “Trevor thinks this is a good investment?” He met me at the window. “It seems a little … small for him.”

  I almost laughed. Small would be a nice word to describe the two-bedroom to my boss, a man who bought city blocks and not rundown apartments. A boss who had taken pity and given my skinny resume a chance. A boss who seemed thrilled at the real estate opportunities I had found him so far. “I haven’t approached him about it.” I turned to Carter. “I found it for you.”

  “There’s no me anymore.” He turned to me. “Us.”

  I rolled my eyes but didn’t hide the smile. “Okay fine. Us.”

  His last Presa Little had sold at auction three weeks earlier. I wasn’t trying to dig into his business, but I could use a calculator. My poor boyfriend had enough for a down payment on this, plus a chunk left over to remodel it. Especially since he could do the majority of the remodel himself.

  He leaned against a wall and crossed his arms, looking at me. “What would you suggest? To flip it?”

  “You want my expert opinion?”

  He laughed. “Yes.”

  “I’d keep it. Renovate it and rent it out. It’ll more than cover itself.”

  “Would you want to live here?”

  I scrunched up my face. “Not really.” Not that the place wouldn’t be nice, but our apartment—there was just so much love in those walls. I felt like we had history there. I loved it despite it being owned by his parents, who had cut all ties with him, save for business calls about his job. I don’t know if they were mad because of my parent’s actions, or mad because he chose to date me despite that, or—and I think this is really it—they didn’t like him choosing me over them. Carter stepped toward me and I refocused on him.

  “Okay.” He lifted his chin. “Make an offer on it.”

  “Really?” I clenched my notebook and did a mini jump for joy.

  He chuckled, pulling me to him. “You’ve looked at property every day for four months, and this is the first one you’ve ever brought me to. I think that’s a good sign.”

  “It is a good sign,” I promised him. “It just had a big assessment and they’re redoing the school around the—”

  “Chloe.” He shut me up with just the word, tugging on the ends of my hair and looking down at me.

  “Yes?” I looked up at the man I loved and almost swooned.

  “Stop talking and let me kiss my wife.”

  “Your what?” I pushed against his chest, but then his lips were on me, and they were my weakness, soft and strong, my mouth opening for him, our kiss deepening.

  When he pulled off, I tried to speak, tried to understand. Surely he wouldn’t propose here, not in this filthy condo in Tribeca. Proposals were supposed to be done in grand fashion, with candlelight and music.

  But then he dropped to one knee and looked up at me, holding my hand, love pouring from those eyes. And in that moment, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  “Chloe Madison, will you marry me?” he whispered.

  I didn’t hesitate, didn’t need to think it over; the question one I had dreamed of for months. “Yes!” I shouted, his arms wrapping around me. He laughed against my mouth and pulled back.

  “I don’t have the ring with me,” he admitted. “I wasn’t … it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry.”

  I pulled his mouth down to mine. “Don’t ever be sorry. It was perfect.”

  And it had been. A little unorthodox. Not what I had always envisioned. But this entire li
fe wasn’t how I had envisioned it.

  It was so much better.

  >>>

  Epilogue - Carter

  I had seen girls like Chloe before. That’s what I thought, that first time I saw her. She was like a baby doe, skittering on her feet, legs and arms spread out for balance in that New Year’s Eve snow. My first instinct had been to protect her, to scoop her into my arms and carry her inside. But I’d known girls like that my whole life, and they didn’t want protecting—at least not from men like me.

  My first mistake was judging her—just because she wore expensive clothes and stepped from a private car, a purse dog in hand. When she smiled at me, I saw every girl from my upbringing—the girls my mother warned me away from, the ones that only saw Prince Charming if he wore the right watch, in the right zip code, with a big portfolio and an intent to spoil. I was afraid of her because of it. Afraid because, in the wobble of her smile, I saw something else. Something that drew me in and wouldn’t let go. A hint of a girl who needed saving, and not financially. A hint of a girl who I wouldn’t be able to walk away from.

  She stuck in my mind, like a dream you couldn’t shake, each memory fainter than the last. I should have gotten her last name. Her number. Anything.

  And then she opened that apartment door and was there.

  I’m not gonna tell you the leap my heart took. Or the way I had to tighten my hand against the doorframe because I thought I might fall. But I will tell you that the fear returned. She was different from my memories. Her hard edges softer. Her eyes kinder. The stiffness she had given me that New Year’s Eve night … it was gone. And I almost wanted it back. I needed the reminder of why she wasn’t good for me, of why we wouldn’t work, of why, in this huge city, I needed to find a simple girl—one who would fall in love with me, and not my trust fund. And Chloe wasn’t that type of girl. She was the type who’d look at me and wouldn’t want to dive any deeper. Except … she did. And from the beginning she shook my foundation. She scared me.

  And later, she broke me. She found the weak places in me and slipped in, her tiny hands cradling my heart and making it her own. Such a tentative touch, yet one forever imprinted on my heart. Protection is the smallest thing I want to do for her. I want to protect, but also provide. I want to build her a home, and make babies with her, and to open her eyes to everything she hasn’t seen. I want to watch the rest of her journey—to see her in a job she truly loves, in a life she truly wants, and I want to give it all to her but I know she has to find it on her own. And that is the hardest, and the most beautiful part.