No matter how much it hurt her to hurt Neil, she quickly realized that he was absolutely not the right man for her. Whether now or later, her penchant for casual sex as a single woman would have come up. It would have been a way in which Neil felt superior to her, tried to control her, and made her cede to his judgment. It would have been a way that Neil kept them oh-so-slightly on uneven footing—him as the holier of the two, the absolute head of household, the de facto better person. For the rest of her life, she’d be made to feel inferior, and one day, she might have even believed it.
But right here, right now, Libitz didn’t feel like she was inferior to Neil, and she certainly didn’t feel inferior to Jean-Christian. She had made her decisions as a responsible adult and had always insisted on protection and safety. She didn’t feel bad about her choices, nor did she fault Jean-Christian for sampling his fair share of women. And in a blinding flash of sweet realization, she knew that Jean-Christian would never judge her or belittle her as Neil just had—he would never, ever make her feel “less than” or “not as good as” him…and not because they had a history of casual sex in common, but because Jean-Christian wasn’t a judgmental asshole. He was an adult with faults, just like she was. And he was the adult-with-faults that she wanted.
Buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz.
She reached for her phone and opened the screen to a new text that made the growing smile on her face broaden with joy.
JC: One, I figured out something about LBJ.
JC: Two, are you ready for your convo with Neil?
JC: Three, in case you’re having cold feet, let me remind you that I am crazy about you, Elsa. All of you.
JC: Four, I’m dying a little waiting to hear from you, so if you ever wanted to torture me, this is an ideal opportunity.
JC: Five, my offer to fuck you hard stands, but if you need something else from me tonight, just tell me. I can be whatever you need. I promise.
They came in quick succession, text after text buzzing in her hand, making her laugh and cry at the same time, her heart soaring with the kind of forever-love she hoped she’d only feel about one man for the rest of her life.
When she was sure no more texts were coming, she wiped her eyes and freshened up her lipstick. Then she grabbed her phone and threw it in her bag, asking Duane to lock up as she sailed out of her gallery and hailed a cab.
Chapter 13
J.C. checked his phone again, then threw it down on the bed in frustration.
He hadn’t heard from her all day.
Not once.
Clenching his jaw, he picked up his glass of scotch on the rocks and crossed the suite to stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was almost five o’clock, and late-afternoon shadows were setting in over Columbus Circle. With a fine mist of rain falling, New York looked gray and gloomy, and it matched his mood.
She’d been upset last night. Maybe he should have overruled her request for alone time and insisted that he stay with her?
“You’re shit at this,” he muttered, wondering if he should call étienne for some advice. His little brother knew far more about relationships than J.C. ever would. But surely Kate had shared that they’d moved beyond flirtation, and he supposed étienne wasn’t thrilled about them upsetting her, so he couldn’t imagine his brother would be a very sympathetic ear.
Maybe she’d decided that since he didn’t stay with her last night, he didn’t care about her on an emotional level. And maybe she’d thought about Nice Neil and how much more caring he was. And maybe she’d decided that she’d be better off with Nice—fucking-Neil in her life over J.C.
“Fuck,” he cursed. “Nice Neil can suck it.”
Crossing back over to the bed, he grabbed the phone again and unlocked the screen only to throw it back down with a grunt when he saw that there were still no messages waiting. He checked the time on the digital clock beside the bed. Five ten.
Five ten meant that she was still at work, meant that there were still about two hours before she talked to Nice Neil at seven. Making a quick decision to go plead his case, he grabbed his blazer and shrugged into it as he headed for the door. He’d explain that agreeing to give her space didn’t mean he didn’t care about her feelings. Not at all. In fact, he was trying to respect her feelings by—
Yanking open the door to his room, he gasped and stopped short. Libitz was standing in the hallway, her fist poised in midair as though she was about to knock on his door.
“Wait!” he demanded, blinking at her. “What are—You’re here?”
“I’m here.” She smiled at him, lowering her hand. “Are you going somewhere?”
“I’m going to you.”
“To me? Why?”
He nodded, still stunned by her sudden appearance. “I’m going to tell you every reason why Nice Neil is wrong for you and I’m right.”
“So tell me,” she murmured, holding his eyes with hers.
“Come in?” he asked, taking two steps back, still turned around by her unexpected arrival.