Chapter Seven
* * *
I WOKE UP the next morning in Duke’s king-sized bed—alone. Reluctant to leave the warmth but curious about where he was, I pulled on more of his clothes—which didn’t fit at all—and padded out to the kitchen.
“Duke?” I called out his name a few times. No answer. I checked all over the apartment. There was a pot of coffee on, but it had gone cold and he was gone. He must have left hours ago.
“Could have left a note,” I grumbled as I heated up the coffee on the stove.
At first I figured he’d just ventured out to the store again—perhaps he found more cash or had more stock options to give out. I sat down with my notebook, pen and mug of coffee and began to write. But when an hour or two had passed and Duke hadn’t returned, I began to get nervous.
Where was he?
Another hour passed. I got annoyed. So annoyed that I couldn’t concentrate on writing. I started having imaginary fights with him in my head—upon his imagined return I would rage at him for disappearing without leaving a note. That is, when I wasn’t alternating between imagining some tragedy having befallen him. What if he had fallen down the dark stairwell and broken his neck? What if a tree branch fell on him as he was searching for an open bodega?
Curses to the mind of a writer!
My annoyance turned to anger mixed with serious worry. I had resorted to pacing and looking out the windows for signs of him when he finally returned later in the afternoon.
“Where have you been?” I thundered the minute he stepped into the apartment.
“Exploring,” he said with a grin, as if he wasn’t aware that I was now furious for having been left alone, clueless.
“You could have left a note!” I said sharply. “I didn’t know where you had gone or what had happened to you. I was worried! Now that you are obviously fine, I am just pissed off!”
“Shhh, Janet . . .” he murmured, using one of his pet names for me. “Stop freaking out. You want to hear what I did.”
I folded my arms over my chest.
“What did you do?” I grumbled. He crossed the room and pulled me into his arms. I softened against him.
“There’s a room at the Lowell Hotel uptown waiting for you. It has hot running water, toilets that flush, heat, light, and Wi-Fi. And room service. It has every modern-day amenity. So pack your bags, Sweater-Set. We’re going uptown.”
He had me at hotel room. Everything else was icing on a cake.
“Where exactly is this paradise?”
“Sixty-third and Madison,” he answered.
I walked past him, put on my ballet flats and picked up my purse.
“I’m packed. Let’s get out of here.”
“I’m not. Give me a few seconds to get some clean T-shirts and stuff.”
I followed him to the bedroom. He pulled a backpack from his closet and stuffed it with a bunch of his T-shirts, clean underwear, socks and other necessities. That was the thing about Duke: He was insanely rich and lived in a fabulous apartment. But he kept everything else simple. Within minutes we were packed and on our way uptown.
“I don’t suppose this hotel has clean clothes for me?”
“It could,” Duke answered. “The shops uptown are all open. It’s like the hurricane never happened up there. Or we could stop at your place on our way.”
“Isn’t my place out of the way?” Fifteenth and Eighth wasn’t exactly in the path of Duke’s place and this magical luxury wonderland awaiting me at Sixty-third and Madison.
“Maybe a little. But it’s really only, like, three miles,” Duke said. “I’m sure we can handle it. Especially if you change into more practical shoes.”
“Elizabeth Bennett walks three miles on her way to Netherfield,” I said. “If Elizabeth can do it, so can I.”
“I don’t really know what that means, but you can explain it to me on the way,” Duke replied.
I just grinned and asked, “How badly do you want to Google it?”
He grinned right back. “Let’s walk faster. The sooner we get uptown, the sooner I get Wi-Fi.”
IT WAS AN easy walk over to my place through Washington Square Park and up Greenwich Avenue. We saw the building where the entire front wall had fallen off. The sidewalk had been roped off and police officers milled about.
Just after that, we turned the corner to my street. We’d only gone a few steps when my building came into view.
I stopped in my tracks.
“What is it?” Duke asked, looking at me and then following my gaze.
Sam was sitting on the front stoop of my building.
“Jane!” Sam called out my name when he saw me. Duke’s head snapped up sharply. He dropped the bag he’d been holding and lunged toward Sam.
First his fist slammed into Sam’s jaw and his head snapped back. I might have screamed. Then Duke planted another punch in Sam’s stomach and he doubled over as he fell to the sidewalk.
“Stop!”
Duke just dropped down and kept throwing punches. A crowd gathered—where had they been the other night when I needed help? Some of them whipped out their phones and began to take pictures and record the fight. I felt my blood start to boil. Duke did not need the consequences of a public brawl right now—his reputation in the media was fragile enough and his IPO was just days away.
I didn’t really care about Sam’s reputation. Or the black eyes and bruises he was going to stumble away with.
Sam raised his hands to shield his face—but I think that was instinctive. He didn’t hit Duke back because he knew he deserved this pain. That realization only made me more pissed.
He knew better.
He did it anyway.
The words “Stop!” and “Enough!” were on the tip of my tongue. For a moment, I bit them back. But then logic and reason made their appeal. Duke needed to stay out of the news and Sam needed to get off this island and out of my life.
“Stop! Duke, stop!” I cried out.
I grabbed the back of Duke’s T-shirt and pulled him back just as police officers from around the corner started to push through. The crowd thronged around them.
“Oh hell,” I muttered.
“Is there a problem ma’am?” The officer leveled a stare at me. I felt myself instinctively shrinking in the face of authority. What could I say? I glanced down at my current boyfriend, whose hands were a swollen, red mess and my ex-boyfriend, who was a bruised and bloody mess writhing on the sidewalk.
“Not anymore,” I told the officer.
I did not fancy a trip to jail right now. I wanted a trip to that uptown hotel wonderland Duke had promised me. But first, I wanted to head up to my apartment for clean clothes, make up and other little frivolities and forget all about this drama.
After some negotiating with the officers, they eventually left and the crowd dispersed. Sam had clambered to his feet. He wiped his bloody nose on his sleeve.
“I thought you two were fake,” he said, glancing from me to Duke and back again. As if that explained anything.
“And I thought we were real,” I replied softly. By “we” I meant me and Sam. I thought we had really loved each other. I thought we mattered to each other. But I didn’t know about that anymore.
“I just wanted to apologize,” he said. “I was drunk. In a bad place. I’m sorry, Jane.” Sam reached out for my hand. Duke lunged forward, Sam and I jumped away from each other.
“We’re done, Sam,” I said softly, standing behind Duke’s tall form.
“I’ll see you around, I guess,” Sam said with a nod. “Maybe I’ll see you at the reunion on Friday.”
On the spot I decided that I wasn’t going to the reunion after all.