“Did you ever ask her why she did those things to you?”
“Are you kidding me?” he chuckled bitterly. “You definitely haven’t met my mother, if you’re even asking that question.”
“I don’t think I could stomach meeting her.”
His eyes locked onto hers and he simply let her see him. His eyes were sad, she realized. He was a sad person in many ways, underneath it all. And she loved him for his sadness and darkness and complexity—and for his humor too. Red Jameson, underneath all the layers of glitz and glamor, under the control issues and anger problems and the fear around trusting women—was a sweet soul.
Nicole thought to herself that everything he’d built up—all of the businesses and celebrity and riches, and his public persona—were merely protection for the sensitive man that still existed in the center of it all.
“You’re a good man,” she told him, and stroked his cheek.
He smiled and she could tell her was a little choked up. “Nobody’s ever told me that before,” he whispered.
“But it’s true. I’m not just saying that.”
He smiled at her. “Thank you, my angel. Thank you.”
***
The next day, they drove into work together and he actually walked Nicole to her desk, kissing her in front of the entire office. Normally, Nicole would have been too embarrassed, but after the pitying looks most of her coworkers had bestowed on her when they thought she’d been dumped, it was sweet revenge.
She worked happily through the morning.
Red had a meeting during lunch hour and Nicole was sick and tired of always spending the entire day in the Jameson International building. Instead, she decided to go to lunch at a Café Metro, nearby.
She was practically skipping on her way to the cafe. She had a huge smile on her face the entire time—her cheeks practically hurt from grinning so often. It felt as though everything in her life was finally coming together. She and Red were back and stronger than ever, work was rewarding and she was actually being paid for her effort, Danielle didn’t hate her anymore.
Of course, Danielle might hate her again when Nicole explained that she’d gotten back together with Red. Danielle would spell out all the reasons why it was a mistake, yada yada yada.
Entering Café Metro, Nicole was busy studying the menu and trying to decide what she might want, when a person also in line kept getting closer and closer to her. She stepped away to get some space, but the tall, thin man stepped closer again.
She glared at him with some annoyance. What was this guy’s problem? Was he trying to hit on her or something?
He was nearly bald, and the hair he did possess was salt and pepper and thin. He wore thick-rimmed glasses and a beige suit with a red tie. He looked like one of those nerdy economists who would go on all the talk shows and bore you to death lecturing about the debt crisis.
When she gave him a dirty look, he turned and smiled brightly at her. “Hello, Nicole.”
Her blood suddenly ran ice cold. That voice. She knew that voice.
He turned fully towards her now. “What, aren’t you even going to say hi?” he asked.
“You’re that weirdo. Anderson, the one who won’t leave me alone.”
“That’s me,” he said happily.
“Leave me alone or I’ll scream,” she told him.
“Now, why on earth would you do that?” he asked, looking puzzled. “I’ve never threatened you, I’ve never hurt you and I’ve certainly never lied to you.”
“I don’t care. Go away.”
He shook his head. “Nicole, I’m one of the few people actually trying to help you.”
She laughed derisively at his. “I’m not an idiot.”
“If you’re smart, you’ll listen to me.”
“Well, who are you?” she said. “I don’t trust people who won’t tell me their real names. How did you get my number? Do you work for The Rag or something?”
“Come, let’s sit together for a moment.”
She folded her arms and shook her head. “No way.”
“We’re in a public place. I’m not going to hurt you, I’m an old man and you could probably beat me up.”
“Definitely,” she said, without humor.
“Then what are you so afraid of?” he asked. “The truth?”
She laughed at that. “Hardly.”
“Then come sit for a few minutes. I have something to show you.” He walked without looking back at her. Confidently, he sat down in the corner, knowing that she’d follow him.
And she did follow him, because part of her couldn’t help but want to know what he had to say that was so important, even as she dreaded it.
Nicole sat opposite him.
He was carrying a small brown satchel, which he placed delicately near his feet. She saw that his brown shoes were clean, new, and polished to a bright and shining surface.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” he told her.
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“This sort of thing gives me no pleasure.”
“Then why do you do it?”