“Yes, I am. And you know why? Because after I’d lost the only man I really loved and had a bunch of disappointing relationships, Jonas was by far the best man I could've gotten.”

  I smile.

  “You sound like my mom.”

  “I know,” she says and lets out a soft chuckle. “The only problem is that I don’t love him, and I can tell he doesn’t either. Not in the crazy, wild way, like Jagger and his friend have loved you.”

  My heart drops.

  “What are you saying?” I ask, my cheeks burning.

  She studies me for a moment.

  “How long have you known me, Violet?”

  “Long enough,” I say and smile.

  “You know I’m not a newbie. I may look clueless, but I’m not.”

  “I know,” I say, laughing softly.

  “You lived in Spain, on an island, in a beautiful villa with two young males who used to share women. It’s not as if I’ve never thought about it, but when his dad gave you away, and that snake of a woman couldn’t stop smirking suggestively, I got my confirmation.”

  My grin vanishes from my lips.

  “Are you back to being the old Violet?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Well, if you are, good luck with that,” she says as if she didn’t hear me. “You thought living here was the honorable thing to do. Building a career, getting back in the dating game. Have some mindless, pounding sex, and an awkward dialogue in the morning.”

  “No, no... It’s not that.”

  “Everything you said made sense up to a point, and I’m all with you on that. You should spend time on your own, and figure out your life, but you shouldn’t cut the good things out.”

  “I haven’t cut him out.”

  “Maybe in your mind you haven’t.”

  “I can’t do it any other way.”

  “Okay, I guess you know best,” she says, just as the men come back to the table.

  BRAXTON, London

  “Come on, motherfucker. If you don’t fuck her, I will,” Todd says, his eyes on the woman who’s on her knees under the table.

  “I want Braxton,” she says, the alcohol making her drawl the words.

  She giggles, terribly amused by the sound of her voice.

  “Be my guest,” I say to Todd, sliding out of my seat.

  “Who wants another round of drinks?” Samuel shouts at the other end of the table.

  “I’m done. I’m heading home,” I say, grabbing my jacket.

  “So fucking early man?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I’ve had enough,” I say, grinning. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  I step out of the booth, stride across the club, and step out on the street.

  A fist of rain hits me in my face. It’s cold and wet and windy. Lamp posts line the empty road. I lift up the collar of my jacket, shove my hands in my pockets, and briskly walk down the street.

  Good thing, my flat is only a few blocks away. Cool air rolls over my face, throwing shivers down my back. I spot the well-lit building from afar, and the doorman rushing to hold the door open for me.

  “Good evening, Sir,” he says, and I give him a quick nod as I enter the building.

  A big Christmas tree sits in the corner of the lobby, a thick rug absorbing the sound of my footsteps.

  I run my hand through my wet hair, and out of reflex, I check my phone, scrolling down uselessly.

  He’s not gonna call. He’s too stubborn. Or maybe busy. Or perhaps full of regrets. Or simply a coward. As this last thought hits me in my chest, I close my hand into a fist, shove my phone into the pocket, and walk into the elevator.

  I ride up a couple of floors before the car stops and the door slides open to reveal a large corridor.

  I make a right, pass by lavish plants and ceiling high mirrors, and then I stop in front of my door. The window at the end of the hallway is sunk in darkness.

  I shift the key in the lock when something draws my eyes to that dark corner. I catch the slight movement of a silhouette and my heart jerks in my chest.

  I take a step in that direction.

  The man freezes, the familiarity of him sinking into me, warming up my body, making my hands shake.

  “Jagger...?” I call him, incredulous.

  He takes a small step forward and walks into the patch of light coming from the service stairs.

  He wears dark pants, a black dress shirt, open at the neckline, and a short, double-breasted coat unbuttoned, clinging to his shoulders. His hands are stuffed in his pockets. His cheeks are hollow. His skin is pale. His eyes are sad and rainy like the night outside.

  I erase the space between us, filling my eyes and heart with him, at the same time bumping into a wall of sorrow.

  “What happened to you? I thought you were in Paris.”

  His lips curl into a pained smile, his eyes glistening. He looks down, and his bangs fall over his eyes, and it feels as if a big chunk was carved out of his heart.

  “Jagger?” I call him softly, and he raises his eyes.

  Glittering tears wash over his eyes.

  He looks at me as I run my gaze over his face. He’s leaner than a week ago and emptier.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “She broke up with me...” he finally says, the words dry, drenched in his heartache.

  “Violet?! Why would she do that?”

  He stays quiet and looks down again, and my heart sinks.

  I take his face in my hands and tip it up.

  “Is it because of us?” I breathe out, crushed by a dark feeling.

  He slowly sways his head.

  “I wish.”

  He lets out a sad chuckle, and I stare at him baffled. He makes no sense.

  “Let’s get inside,” I say, and curl my arm around his shoulders. “Come on, man. It can’t be that bad.”

  I pull him in my apartment, and he slips out of his coat and sinks into a chair next to the fireplace. I walk to the bar and fix two glasses of scotch. I hand him one and then I sit on the couch not far from him. He takes a swig and sets his elbow on the armrest, his glass dangling from his hand.

  “What did she say?”

  “It’s her old story, but this time it’s no joke. It’s the real deal. We lost track of her. Both of us. We worked so hard at tying her to us, making it impossible for her to pull away, and then unknowingly we let her go. We both did. She said she needed time to figure out her life. You know when people say that?” He looks at me, his smile so sad, I feel his pain straight in my heart. “When they fall out of love or when they no longer feel loved. That’s when they need to find themselves. That’s when they feel they're missing out. She’s gotten to that place, and I didn’t have the slightest idea. Although I should’ve known. She spent too much time alone. I was not there for her, and neither were you. The whole thing we had last summer vanished in a moment. She went back home, and I didn’t think much of it. I thought it would make her feel good. Instead, it fed that part of her that questions everything and is always dwelling, never sure.”

  Shaking his head slowly, he lets out a sad chuckle.

  “Like a fool, I thought it was all good. That fucker Jonas moved on, her husband was getting married. Instead, all that shit reflected badly on me. Her friend is now some online publishing queen along with her new man, and here comes Violet, torn and lonely and feeling like she’s missing out on things. She’s probably had a wake-up call and looking at us from afar, she didn’t see more than two fuckers good for entertainment,” he says bitterly.

  He takes a good gulp of alcohol, his eyes squinting as he swallows, his throat absorbing the burning sensation.

  “You don’t know any of that,” I say.

  “I know what I’ve heard. I wish she were angry. I wish she had a grievance, something I could latch on, build some hope, but no, no. She said it doesn’t have anything to do with me as if I don’t matter, as if my heart doesn’t mean a thing. I know she was lonely. I asked her to come with me, but she didn’t want to,” he mutters.

  He tosses the glass on the table and leans back against the chair. Running his hand through his hair, he shakes his head again.

  “How did it all go to hell, so fast?” he mumbles. “Hmm?”

  He looks at me, his face flushed, his eyes dull.

  “I thought I did the right thing. I thought that if we lived here and showed her a different life, she’d shake off those mixed feelings,” he says.

  “I told you––”

  His hand flips up.

  “Don’t fucking say it, Braxton.” I stay silent. “I know you were right,” he murmurs.

  “It’s not your fault, Jagger. You did everything you could. We may have lured her to our side, but she pulled right back, and I feel for her. I really do. It’s easy for us. We don’t dwell, but for her, it’s not that simple. There’s a part of her that’s wild and vibrant and hungry for freedom, and then there’s the other part that holds her back, pulls her in whichever direction. And I bet she thinks that’s what real freedom is. That’s why she said she wants to figure out her life. In her mind, at least right now, that’s the real freedom...”

  He shrugs and crosses his arms across his chest and then glances outside.

  “Don’t worry, just because she said that, it doesn’t mean it’s all lost,” I say and grab my phone. “I’ll order something to eat. Do you want some?”

  “I’m not hungry,” he says.

  “I guess that’s a yes.”

  BRAXTON, London

  The room is quiet. A small light glows in the corner, the noise of crackling fire wafting through the air.

  He slides on the bed next to me. He wears sweatpants and a long sleeve T-shirt like me. Folding his elbow under his head, he glances up at the ceiling. The flames cast shadows over his face.

  “I screwed up,” he says. “And I also feel really bad for letting you leave like that,” he mutters and shifts his eyes to me.

  “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No, it wasn’t. It hurt me so much because it was the truth. It’s hard to be in love with one person, let alone two. The day you left, she broke up with me. After I’d waited for her the whole day like an idiot, she finally answered her phone and told me she isn’t coming back, and then I went home, and everything around me reminded me of you. The time we spent, and how good we felt together. One moment I thought I had you both. And then the next minute you were both gone.”

  He pauses.

  “Where were you tonight?” he asks, glancing at me.

  “Out.”

  He purses his lips.

  “Fucking?”

  “No. Drinking mainly. There was some opportunity, but I passed on it.”

  “Lucky jerk!”

  “Why would you say that?”

  He gives me a small smile.

  “You live the fucking life.”

  “No, I’m not,” I say, serious. “I spent the whole fucking week with my eyes glued to the phone, waiting for a sign from you, and the only reason I didn’t come to Paris was because I couldn’t stand to see you angry again.”

  “Good thinking, Braxton,” he says, and his smile suddenly dies out. “I don’t want to go back,” he murmurs voicing a different thought.

  “Then don’t. Stay here, with me.”

  “I have to fly to Hamburg.”

  “You do your work, and then come back here. There’s no point in staying in Ibiza if she’s not there.”

  His face darkens again.

  “Don’t worry about her. We’ll get her back...”

  He looks at me.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Remember the night when I took her out, and then we came back late, and you got mad at me and left us...”

  “It was for a good reason,” he says, trying to smile.

  “Yes. It was. That night I fucked her in the Crescent Cove, and she accused me of making it hard for her not to love me, and I left her there. She had to swim on her own across the wall. When I pulled her out, she was angry and frightened like hell, and I told her that we are all bound together, and without one the others drown. When you left us the following day, we couldn’t find our hearts. I told you I didn’t touch her and she didn’t want me either. One night before, we rocked the fucking heaven, but without you, nothing was the same...”

  “What are you saying?”

  “We need to get her back... or things will be different between us. She’s tied to us, and if she’s not coming back, I’ll always remind you of her, and like her, you’ll not want to have anything to do with me, and I can’t afford to lose you.”

  His eyes stay locked with mine.

  “I’ll get her back for you, Jagger.”

  11

  JAGGER, London

  “Liv?”

  “Yes,” she says suspiciously. “Who’s this?”

  “Jagger Parker.”

  “Oh, hey... I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize your voice.”

  “That’s okay. How are things with you?”

  “Good. How about you? Still in Europe?”

  “Yes. I work here now.”

  “Good for you.”

  “I’ve heard you’re getting married soon. Congratulations!”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you have a moment?”

  “Yes. Sure. Let me close the door to my office first.”

  I wait a few moments, and then I hear her voice again.

  “What can I do for you?” she says, sounding a bit official and bossy.

  “Have you talked to Violet since she came back?”

  “Yes. Of course. We work together now.”

  “You do?” I say, barely stifling my surprise.

  She pauses for a moment.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you knew. She didn’t tell you?”

  “What kind of work is she doing?” I ask, having a hard time to unclench my teeth and speak.

  “Consulting work for Rapt.”

  “Really?”

  She remains silent for a few moments as I struggle to continue.

  “Listen, Jagger... I know what happened,” she says with a friendlier voice. “Just so you know this is not something that she planned.”

  Which is what I thought. And it makes me feel like a fool.

  “So what exactly did happen?”

  “I think she got homesick while she was there, in Spain. You may have missed the signs, or maybe it was something that was lurking somewhere in the back of her mind. I don’t think it was clear to her before she came back here.”

  “Is she seeing anyone?” I blurt out.

  She takes her time to respond, and my stomach ties in knots.

  “It’s fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you that.”

  “I don’t think she’s planning on dating anyone. That doesn’t mean there aren’t people who are interested.”

  My stomach curls in pain.

  “I understand. Do you know where she lives?”

  “Momentarily, she’s at my old place.”

  She pauses for a moment before she continues.

  “If you ask me, I think she’s going through some soul searching right now. That’s not always a bad thing. But there’s always that slight chance that she might switch tracks, fall into something else, or let someone new enter her life. Things happen. And they’re not always good. I tried to talk to her, and give her a different perspective on things, but she seemed fairly set in her ways, so I didn’t make much headway. What I’m saying here is, she may not be completely lost to you, but if I were you, I’d think of something to make her reconsider things before it’s too late.”

  “Thanks, Liv.”

  I drop the phone on the couch, walk to the window, stuff my hands in my pockets, and look outside. It drizzles a mix of rain and snow, fog clumping over the buildings.

  “How soon can you go?” I ask without turning.

  VIOLET, New York

  A soft glow illuminates the restaurant. Brocade draperies trimmed with velveteen drape over the windows.

  Christmas wreaths hang on the doors, the incense of pine trees drifting through the air. The Rapt’s Christmas party is well on its way, the atmosphere cheerful and relaxed. I meet people I used to work with, and some of Jonas’ business partners and their spouses.

  Liv sits next to me at the table. Jonas on her right, and Elan on my left, Elan. She wears a soft cream dress that makes her look feminine and delicate while I fashion a black lace short dress with scalloped hem, long illusion sleeves and open back, my attire screaming for attention. High heels finished off with satin ribbons around my ankles, complete my look.

  We’re almost through with the main course when Jonas’ phone lights up, flashing a call.

  He rises to his feet, his face bright with a smile.

  Liv’s eyes follow him as he strolls to the door.

  “Who’s he waiting for?” I ask, merely to make conversation and also to find an explanation for the four seats unoccupied at our table, across from me.

  “He’s waiting for another potential buyer,” she murmurs in my ear, making sure Elan doesn’t hear her.

  “That’s good. Do they bid against each other?” I mouth to her, and she softly nods.

  The hostess cracks the door open, a gust of wind pushing flurries inside.

  Absently, I give the woman a double take, just as a man whose silhouette looks familiar steps inside.

  He shakes hands with Jonas, his back turned to me, and I try to place him when the door swings open for the second time and another man walks inside.

  I almost choke on my wine.

  Shiny black hair combed back, blue eyes sparkling, a million dollar smile draped on his lips.

  My mouth drops, my breath hitching in my throat. I start to mumble something as Liv leans to me and gives me the answer to the question I haven’t even had the chance to ask.

  “This is Doug Wellington and his son.”

  A shiver runs down my back followed by a surge of heat that melts my skin, and the explosion of my pulse in my veins.

  My mind spins trying to glue my thoughts together, yet nothing makes much sense.

  And then I realize...

  We’re minutes away from the moment when Braxton’s name will circulate around the table, and Liv will finally have a face to go with the name, and she’ll know who the second man I have shared my life with was.