Heading East (Part 2 of 2) (The True North Series) (14 page)

17

KAT

I checked my phone for the seventeenth time as I stood in the elevator.

Fifth floor, suite 505.

When the elevator dinged I put my phone away and headed towards the office. The receptionist pointed me in the right direction, towards the studio where West and Sabrina were currently recording.

I paused with my hand on the doorknob. I didn’t even know why the hell I’d even agreed to come. I’d been perfectly happy stewing in my own anger last night when
West had asked me to come to the studio and watch him record, so that maybe I’d see for myself that there was nothing to worry about.

Now here I stood, not even sure why my heart was thudding a million miles per hour. I mean, it wasn’t as if I was going to walk in on
West and Sabrina having sex, or even kissing. Still, something bugged me, this feeling that their history ran deeper than I could ever imagine.

A petite Asian woman suddenly opened the door, jerking me forward until I let go of the doorknob. “Oh, hi, you must be Kat,” she said. “Come on in.”

I followed her to a couch that faced a huge table filled with knobs and buttons that sat in front of a glass window. West came out of the door to the right of the window with a huge smile on his face. “Hey, you came,” he said, crossing the room and giving me a searing, claiming kind of kiss.

I pulled away, torn between embarrassment and pride. “I’m here.”

He took my book bag and set it on the floor. “Take a seat on the couch. We’re just about to record the first take.” He pointed to the window where I saw Sabrina standing, pretending she couldn’t see us. He kissed my forehead and walked back to the sound booth, giving me a wink.

I perched on the edge of the couch, trying to see into the booth.
West took the headphones from the stand and said a few words to Sabrina, who nodded.

The sound engineer began pressing buttons and pushing knobs and suddenly the room filled with guitar music.

“We recorded the guitar first,” Lindie said, sitting on the couch casually. “Next we record the vocals. Then we layer the two, maybe record a few more harmonizing vocals if it’s needed.”

I nodded, keeping my eye on the two people behind the glass.
West sang first, his eyebrows drawn as he rasped into the mic. He looked over when it came time for Sabrina to sing and a smile grew on his face. The two were looking at each other as the chorus kicked in, their voices blending in perfect harmony.

My stomach began to hurt as I watched the man I loved singing sweet words to someone else. Sabrina was poised and classy, talented and beautiful in a way I could only be after a complete surgical reconstruction, including a lobotomy. She was someone who was in his league, who could go toe to toe with his friends with a martini in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

I felt physically sick by the time the song ended and I all but ran out of the room.

“Kat, where are you going?”
West asked, chasing me down at the elevators. I must have looked like complete shit because he asked, “Are you alright?”

I shook my head, fighting the bile rising in my throat. “I have a stomach ache,” I said, which was, technically, not a lie. “Must have been the burrito I ate for lunch.” Well, that part was not so truthful.

He looked back down the hall towards the office then back to me. “Maybe they can get you a glass of water or something to settle your stomach,” he said, his eyes flicking around my face in concern. “Then I can take you home.”

“No, I have to go,” I said, turning away just as the tears stung my eyes. “I’ll just see you at home, okay?”

I made it off the elevator in time to run to the first floor bathroom and throw up. After flushing, I wiped my mouth and sat on the toilet lid, resting my head on my book bag, berating myself for being so emotional. But I guess that’s what happens when you get involved romantically—you eventually start to care for someone other than yourself.

What the hell was I so worried about? West had said he wanted me. Me. And even if, somehow, singing that song rekindled their relationship and he left me for her, it wouldn’t change who I was. It would hurt like a motherfucker, but at the end of the day I’d still be Kat Hollister, with or without him.

After a long time I emerged from the stall with my head held a little higher. As I washed my hands the door opened and who should walk in but Sabrina.

We traded looks of surprise, but hers quickly turned into determination. “Kat, right?” she asked, standing beside me at the sink. When I nodded, she said, “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to talk to you.”

“About?”

“Luke.” Sabrina glanced at the stall. “But I don’t want to talk here. Do you mind if we go to a coffee shop or somewhere?”

“Fine.” I stepped outside and waited for her to pee. I contemplated leaving but really there was no way I’d go without hearing what she had to say.

We went to a crowded little coffeehouse across the street and sat at a table with our drinks in hand.

“So… talk,” I said.

Sabrina took a long pull from her cappuccino then set down her cup. “It’s about Luke.”

“So you said.”

“And about me.”

My scalp tingled and I braced myself for the news.

“Luke and I have a history. We basically grew up together. Our parents were friends long before their divorces and even joked around that Luke and I were betrothed.”

“Are you telling me you’ve got an arranged marriage?” I asked incredulously.

She let out a startled laugh. “No, nothing like that. We were just friends growing up, but he and I always had a thing. I secretly loved him and I was sure he felt the same way about me. We went our own ways for a while, but after we college we both moved back to the city and it looked as if it was finally our time to be together. But then his dad died and Luke was hurt. I was there every day for his recovery, then his physical therapy. I was there for him until the day he decided he didn’t need me and set out to seduce every woman he came across.

“Then last year we ran into each other again. I told him how I felt about him and we tried to make a relationship work,” she said. “He said he wanted to be a better man for me.”

If I wasn’t already feeling frozen with shock, her final words turned my insides to ice. Apparently I wasn’t the first woman he’d tried to improve for.

Sabrina was like a freight train that couldn’t be stopped. “But it didn’t work out. We weren’t ready to be with each other so we broke up. When I heard that he was missing, I went crazy with guilt. I thought that maybe I’d driven him away, made him so angry he did something reckless…” She looked at me, letting me know exactly what reckless thing
West had done. “Thank God he’s okay.”

I looked down at the table and realized I’d shredded the cup’s cardboard holder.

“I can tell he’s a different person. And I have you to thank for that. For saving him from death, for changing him for the better.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” I mumbled, wishing I
was better equipped for this emotional war. But I had nothing, no ammo with which to shoot down her claims.

“I know, but I’m grateful regardless.”

My hands itched to grab her hair and scratch off that stupid, earnest look on her face, but of course I didn’t. I was no longer in the wild frontier; here in the city I had to fight my battles with my wits. Unfortunately, at that moment, I had none.

“Does this mean you’re going to leave us alone?” I asked, feeling dumb and insecure even as the words left my mouth.

My heart sank when she shook her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I love him too much to let him go without a fight.”

“If you think I’m going to stand back and let you lure him back, you are so mistaken.”

She at least had the grace to look horrified. “I wouldn’t,” she said, but before I could breathe a sigh of relief she added, “I’ll just let him decide on his own. I’ve waited for him for years, I can wait a little bit longer.”

West came home that night with a bottle of Sprite and some chicken soup, going directly to me to check my temperature.

I pulled his hand away from my forehead. “I’m okay.”

He set the bag of food down on the desk and studied me. “What happened back there?”

“I threw up.”

I saw his face go from concerned to horrified in two point five seconds. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“Um, no,” I said in surprise. “But even if I was I wouldn’t tell you after that reaction.”

He swiped a palm down his face. “I’m sorry. I was taken aback.” He rubbed my arm. “So do you feel better?”

“A little,” I said, breaking out in a cold sweat.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” I turned back to pinning fabric, determined to keep with the plan. I’d decided the moment I’d walked away from Sabrina that afternoon that
West didn’t need to know about our meeting. Frankly I didn’t want him to know that he even had that choice.

Was it selfish? Of course it was. But I’d never claimed to be selfless either. If Sabrina wanted to fight for his affection, then she was in for quite the battle.

West
finished recording all the tracks on his album a week before Christmas and took another week off from Kohl Media to spend time with me during school break. We spent a lot of time walking around New York, the holiday season seeming to bring the city to cheery, colorful life.

West
showed me places that meant something to him, like the playground that he frequented when he was young, and the elementary school he attended. We also spent a lot of time at home, sitting together on the couch, talking and watching the snow falling onto the patio.

I thought I’d succeeded in setting aside the threat of Sabrina, that for a while there I’d managed to convince myself that there
may be a place for me in West’s world. Even his friends had started to include me in plans, asking West to bring me along, knowing that he would anyway.

So it was that, on Christmas Eve, I found myself wearing another one of my designs on the way to the bar that Decker had rented out for the night. I sat in the passenger seat of
West’s car, my hands clutched on my lap, my stomach in knots.

West
reached over and laid his large hand on my thigh. “If you’d rather not go, just say the word and I’ll turn this car around.”

He had warned me days ago that old friends would be in
attendance, that I would probably have to face some women he’d slept with in the past. But my stupid pride was still in control, intent on showing the world—especially the man beside me—that I was beyond petty jealousy. I was actively trying to put his past behind me. That’s what mature people in relationships did, right?

Besides, this was my chance to prove that even an unrefined Alaskan recluse could belong in his world.
I wasn’t about to give up that chance.

West reached for my hand as we entered the dimly-lit bar, probably sensing I was two seconds away from tucking tail and running.

I didn’t know why I thought I could be mature about this. Who the hell was I kidding? I was going to devolve into a jealous, raging bitch at the first sign of an ex. It was not a matter of if, but when.

West squeezed my hand and leaned over. “Relax, Kat. I won’t leave your side.”

Forcing my tight muscles
to unwind was hard work. “No big deal. I can do this,” I said through my teeth and pulled him into the thick of it.

The first woman came up to us in less than five seconds. I’m sure she broke some Guinness World Record or something.

“Well, well, it’s been a long time,” said the really tall, really fucking beautiful woman, coming to a stop in front of us. She wore a silk sheath dress that sat on her thin frame, her blond bob perfect, her French-manicured nails impeccable. She leaned forward and gave the obligatory fake-ass kiss greeting. “It’s been a long time.”

“This is my girlfriend, Kat,” West
said, flashing me a reassuring smile.

After a few minutes of chitchat we mov
ed away to find a table. As we talked with other people I found myself wanting to ask if he could just go ahead and point out each and every woman he’d slept with that was in attendance. It would certainly make it easier to maneuver around the room if I knew where the emotional landmines were buried.

But I realized, as I watched him talking animatedly with a few friends, that he probably wouldn’t tell me anyway. He’d think it was gauche to give details about his past lovers.

“I’m going to get another drink,” I whispered and headed across the room towards the person who would probably have no problems naming names. “Great party,” I said as I took the stool beside Decker.

He grinned lazily over at me, obviously already several drinks deep. “Thanks. Are you having fun?”

I fiddled with the glass in my hand. “I’d have more fun if I knew who I was talking to,” I said, giving him a meaningful look.