In my Arms Tonight (NYC Singles Book 2) (31 page)

When the seventh call ended, she gave up. He probably needed time to clean up the mess she’d made.

As she was stuffing it into a drawer, her phone buzzed. A message.

From Alex.

I don’t have time to talk to you. Send an email explaining why the fuck you did what you did. And your explanation had better be good.

Overjoyed that he was at least willing to listen to her, Kat got to work drafting her email. Since she was good at writing, this was the perfect way for her to get everything across without leaving anything out.

Hope sprang up in her chest. He’d definitely understand her feelings once he read her email. Maybe they could even remain friends. Or maybe more. No, that was fanciful thinking.

But she could hope. She’d chosen her path, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want him on it. Those two things might be contradictory, but she had the right to daydream, didn’t she?

And if it didn’t happen, that was okay too. She didn’t need a man. She could live the way she had lived all these years—on her own.

She had everything in life. Work. A home. Parents. Supportive friends.

She’d survive.

She’d bury her nose in her writing and she’d survive. Somehow.

The Jacuzzi at Senator Hoylman’s Hamptons mansion was indeed very relaxing. It eased Alex’s sinews, carried away the fatigue from his tired skin.

But it didn’t do anything for his fuming anger.

He was outraged. Beyond outraged. Betrayal, deception and rage were thrashing about in his skull. Why had he trusted her with his past? He hadn’t told anyone about it before. What had made him think she deserved to know? And why in the world had he gone and fallen in love with her?

The email Kat had sent him was a poor joke. It wasn’t an apology. It wasn’t a convincing explanation. Alex wasn’t even sure what it was. He’d wanted to give her a chance, believe that he had been wise in trusting her, but maybe this was a mistake.

After the way she’d broken his trust, even a five-page apology wouldn’t have cut it. Her rambling, confusing email? No way.

Still, they were the only words he’d had from her since last night, so he clung onto them and let the flowing water calm his body, which stung at the thought of her.

Alex,

Right now, I’m the person you hate the most. And your anger is totally justified. I messed up. I hurt you. You’re probably going to lose the election because of what happened.

I know that you expect me to apologize. But I can’t. I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t feel sorry for having written that story. I did the right thing. Not the right thing for you, or the right thing for me, but the right thing to protect something that we both believe in—democracy.

Put yourself in my shoes for a second. Actually, don’t. Just be yourself.

You’ve been fighting for close to a decade against discrimination in the workplace and income inequality. You believe everybody should be treated the same, don’t you? So do I.

You’re the same as any other mayoral candidate. I shouldn’t treat you differently. Just because I’m your girlfriend, is it okay for me to hide important details about you so you can win? Is it okay for me to protect you at the cost of keeping the public in the dark? If Stephanopoulos had asked me to suppress something in his past, would I have done the same thing?

You know, I asked myself these questions over and over again. And the answer is no. I wouldn’t have protected anyone else. I wouldn’t have lied to my boss so Stephanopoulos could win the primary. I wouldn’t have lost the respect of my colleague so Stephanopoulos could fulfill his dream of becoming the mayor.

But I did those things for you. No, I don’t mean to tell you that what I did was brave or heroic. It wasn’t. It was cowardly. It was cowardly to choose my own personal happiness over my duty as a journalist. Over my principles. Over preserving the essence of democracy—an unbiased, free press.

And I don’t want to be cowardly anymore. I want to be brave, even if it’s not in my personal interest to do so. And if you can’t accept me being brave, I don’t think we should be together.

Thank you for loving me. I told you I’m not easy to love, but you tried so hard. Please keep trying.

Kat

Alex laid his phone face down in the edge of the Jacuzzi. Reading her message riled him up.

What was she trying to do? Show him how warped her thinking process was? What woman hurt someone and then tried to rationalize it like that?

Not a single ‘sorry’ in there. No ‘forgive me,’ either. And the worst part was that she’d done it deliberately. She hadn’t been pushed, forced or threatened. If it had been those things, he could’ve understood. He could’ve forgiven.

But he couldn’t forgive someone who’d destroy his dreams so coldly. Who could kiss him tenderly one night and backstab him the next. He expected more loyalty from his woman. He expected her to support him.

Earlier, he’d at least toyed with the idea of giving her another chance. But it was out of the question now. She didn’t deserve a second chance.

Was he going to get a second chance if he lost this election? No. Should she get one? No.

He stormed off an angry reply.

Let’s break up, darling.

Only after pressing send did he realize he’d forgotten to delete that ‘darling.’

By afternoon, Kat was at the end of her rope. She’d been working like crazy, but somehow, her mind still found enough time to think about Alex.

Rubbing her leaking eyes into the the already damp fold of her hands, Kat spit out another long wail.

This wasn’t getting any better. She couldn’t stop worrying about Alex. She couldn’t stop sending him a zillion emails a day to check whether he was doing okay and to remind him that he needed to get a press conference going. He, of course, replied to none. After his conclusive reply, she knew it was stupid to expect anything.

She should go about her life, but it suddenly felt like she didn’t have a life. All she had was work.

Words, words, words… she was living in a blur of sentences, none of which she could connect to. She loved her job, but it wasn’t doing such a good job of helping her cope with the breakup. With Michael, there had been no problem returning to her equilibrium. With Alex, she didn’t know if she was ever going to.

Why don’t you sing
All By Myself?

Like a fool, she’d grown used to the things that came after work—cuddling with him, talking to him, being with him.

Those memories now shredded her heart into ribbons. The loss was so overwhelming.

It was unlike her to be so stuck in misery, to be wallowing in sorrow non-stop.

She wasn’t fourteen. Why was she behaving so immaturely? Why couldn’t she just move on, accept that things hadn’t turned out the way she’d wished and make peace with that?

Kat had imagined that if she cried enough, at some point the tears would stop and she would find the strength to move on.

That was not happening. Contrary to feeling better, she was feeling worse with every passing hour.

So she called Bella.

She’d been ignoring her friends and her family because she had no strength to talk to anyone, so she was anxious about what Bella would say.

“So you finally call,” Bella said. “I was shocked when I read about Alex. Then I saw who wrote that article and I fell off my seat. Care to explain what happened?”

“I’m so lost.” One salty tear of hers dripped down the sleek body of the phone. “Bell, I’m so lost.”

“Frankly, so am I, Kat,” Bella said. “I thought you loved Alex, then there’s this, and now I’m not sure whether you knew this before you started liking him or whether you’re upset because you found out about this.”

“I loved him despite knowing,” Kat explained. “And I promised him I’d never tell anyone. But Bill found out too and he wanted to me to write it. I resisted, but I felt awful, so I thought that if I did it I’d feel better. But I don’t. I still feel awful. Is this one of those situations where every choice leads to suffering?”

“If Alex had done the same thing to you, how would you have felt?” Bella’s voice was quieter, more deliberate.

“I’d have felt horrible, but I’d still be willing to forgive him if he explained why he did it and that explanation was convincing.” Because she loved him too much to not even give him a chance.

“I believe he’ll do the same.”

Kat sucked in the phlegm that was dripping out from her nostrils. “He already broke up with me. Even after I explained everything in an email.”

“Then let him go—”

“Do you think I don’t want to? But I can’t. I keep holding onto the hope that he’ll understand me. That he’ll understand that I couldn’t do anything else and continue to look myself in the eye. That he’ll recognize that he didn’t fall in love with a woman who could easily sacrifice her ideals. And I hope he’ll be proud of that.”

“If you think that, you’re more blindly optimistic than I ever gave you credit for.” Sarcasm permeated the line. “You can’t have the cake and eat it too, Kat. You can’t have love and be adamant about doing things your way. Something has to give.”

“But what’s the point in gaining love and losing myself?”

Bella coughed. “You know, maybe falling in love with a politician wasn’t the best idea. There was going to be conflict of interest eventually.”

Kat usually admired Bella’s frankness, but it irritated her now.

“Our careers don’t define us. Can’t we disagree professionally and still love each other? If we’re secure in our own beliefs, we wouldn’t be affected by everything we write and say about each other. After all, I love Alex for being Alex, not for being the most brilliant politician to ever step on the face of this planet.”

Bella snorted. “Did we exchange sun signs, by any chance? Because right now I’m shaking my head like a critical Virgo and you sound like an unrealistically optimistic Sagittarian.”

“Bell, stop with that sun sign nonsense,” Kat warned.

“Hate to rain on your parade, but there is no man in the world who is secure enough to be able to love a woman knowing that she could destroy him anytime.”

“Next time, I’ll give him an advance warning so he can be prepared.” Kat bit down a yawn.

“You didn’t tell him this time?”

“I tried, but I couldn’t.”

There was a hiss. “Then I don’t think there’ll be a next time.”