Made to Love (22 page)

I woke the next morning early, dressed and
silently crept out to the kitchen.  There was no sign of Brooke, which struck
me as odd.  Granted, she could have already left for the office, but the
kitchen and bathroom showed no signs of her having went about her morning
routine.  I grabbed my bag and tiptoed to her room, where the door remained
firmly shut.  I hadn’t seen or heard from her all afternoon and evening, not
even when Gabby had texted us an invitation for dinner, and not even when I’d
replied all to the text and politely declined and then had ordered takeout,
hollering through her door to come out and eat.  It had been almost twenty
hours since she’d barricaded herself behind this door and slammed it shut. 
What was she doing in there?

I knocked on the door.  “Brooke?  I know
you’re in there.  I’m leaving for work.  Are you coming?”

I heard movement behind the door, but still
no audible response.  I pounded again.  “Brooke! Talk to me, please.  Are you
okay?”

More movement.  “No and no.”  Her voice was
soft, barely heard through her door, and I pressed my ear against it, straining
to hear what she was saying.

“No, what?  Can you just open the door so we
can talk?”  By contrast, my voice sounded overly loud in the silence of the
hallway. 

She must have stepped closer to the door
because her voice was clearer.  “I’m not okay, and I’m not coming.”

Not coming?  Brooke never missed work. 
“Brooke, why—“

“Look, I’ll talk to you later, okay?  I’ll be
fine.”  Her words trailed off and I imagined her walking back over to her bed,
away from the door.

I hesitated a moment longer, and then shook
my head and left for the office.  With her all but dismissing me there wasn’t
much more I could say, and I didn’t expect any further response anyway.  I was
still clueless as to why my involvement with Nathan had set her off this badly
when she had been not so subtly telling me to just go for it a few short weeks
ago.   And now she was blowing off work?  What had changed?

Nathan

I walked uncomfortably into my office.   I’d
just deposited Reagan at her office door, and the sight of her in that black
pencil skirt and her mile high heels had almost been enough for me to ignore
the fact that my father had security cameras everywhere, drag her into her
office, lock the door and bury myself inside her.  While I was sure my father
had gotten more than a few eyefuls courtesy of his spy-cams, and had had more
than his own fair share of footage erased, I couldn’t do that to Reagan.   I
was fairly confident in my claims that our involvement would pose no problem
for her here, but that didn’t mean I had to be an idiot, either.   There was
the minor issue of the kisses we’d already shared in her office, but they could
easily be explained away should it come to that.

However, if I was to continue keeping up the
pretense, we definitely needed to discuss her office attire. 

I had no sooner shut the door when Nancy’s
voice came over the intercom.  “Mr. Preston is on line one.”

I busied myself with pouring some coffee and
perusing the Manhattan skyline from my office window, making sure Dad enjoyed
the hold music, before settling into my chair.  I stabbed the flashing light
and leaned back.  “Nathan Preston,” I answered, as if I didn’t know who was on
the line. 
Sometimes it was just too easy
.

“Where’s your cell phone?  I do not
appreciate having to be routed through your secretary like some goddamn
employee,” my father practically snarled into the phone.

 “Good morning, Dad.  Are you sure you dialed
correctly?  You know how technology sometimes gets the best of you.”  It was
untrue.  I had two missed, or rather ignored, calls from him and we both knew
it.

“I don’t have time to belabor your incompetence,
Nathanial.  I am on my way to the airport now and will be back in New York this
evening.  I expect status reports on all account activity that has transpired
in my absence immediately upon my arrival.”  The line went dead before I could
respond further.  Dad was never one for small talk. 

It was interesting to note that he was still
out of the country and yet Brooke was not, and I wondered if that accounted for
his surlier than usual mood.  Had he and his little side piece called it
quits?  There was a story there, and I made a mental note to seek out George
and find out what he knew. 

As for Brooke, I made another mental note to
talk to her as well.  In light of her secret—and yet so obvious—affair with my
father, I highly doubted she would be making any noise about me and Reagan. 
Still, it didn’t hurt to cover all bases. 

My cell phone rang, and seeing the name on
the display, I smiled and answered.  “Jake, what’s up?”

“A lot.  Where you been?  I haven’t seen or
heard from you since you were all hell-bent on rescuing your latest interest
from the clutches of Winston.  How’d that go anyway?”

“All went well.  You and I both know Tyler
never stood a chance.  So what do you mean by a lot?  What’s going on?”

“Well, the realtor you recommended—thanks for
that by the way—found some space for me in a business plaza that had been
vacant for a while.  Fairly reasonable rent, and it’s big enough to put a small
practice in.  So I’ve been busy with that.   Got a few more weeks of remodeling
yet, and still waiting on some certifications from the state, but once they
come through and I hire some office staff, I’ll be good to go.”

 “That’s awesome, Jake.  I’m happy for ya,
buddy.”  I lazily opened up my office chat, the mouse hovering over Reagan’s
name.  Too soon?

“Thanks.  Yeah, let’s get together sometime
soon.  I still need to meet this mystery woman that has you jumping through
hoops and yet won’t let you in her pants.”  That’s right.  Jake didn’t know
about the Boston trip and just how far in her pants I’d gotten in just two
short days.  Normally, I’d be using up bragging rights about my easy conquest,
but it felt too. . . .
off. 
Wrong, somehow. 

I gave a light laugh.  “Yes, soon,” I
promised, offering no further details, and then after a few more moments of
typical guy chatter, Jake hung up and I returned to my office chat. 

It had only been what—thirty minutes?—since
I’d deposited her at her door, but I already missed her.  This was becoming
nothing short of ridiculous. 
What was happening to me?

Refusing to explore that thought, and before
I could talk myself out of it, I closed out the chat box and walked out of my
office.  “Hold my calls,” I absently told Nancy as I passed. 

She was deep in concentration over whatever
was on her computer screen when I entered her office, and the click of the door
shutting as I closed it startled her.  She looked at me, apprehension,
nervousness and desire in those gorgeous dark eyes of hers, and I was gone
enough to admit to myself that she was quite possible more beautiful now than
when I’d seen her just a mere half hour ago.

I was truly losing it.

“Nathan, I—“  Reagan broke off as I crossed
the distance to her desk, and leaned down to capture her mouth with my own.  I
knew I should not be doing this here, now, with cameras recording our every
move, but I couldn’t exactly escort her to the bathroom—one of the few places
the cameras could not view—and waiting until we both left the office was not an
option. 

Her lips parted beneath mine as a soft moan
escaped her, and I slowly brought her to a standing position so I could wrap an
arm around her waist, pressing her to me, letting her feel just how much she
affected me.  That was a mistake though, because she reached down and cupped me
through my pants and I jerked in response, suddenly desperate to feel her skin
against mine.  I tore my mouth from hers and stepped back slightly.  Her hand
fell back to her side, and I watched as her pulse pounded heavily beneath the
delicate skin of her neck. 

“Hi,” I said softly.

She pressed her fingers to her mouth, and
inhaled a shaky breath.  “God, Nathan, what are you. . . I can’t. . .”

“I know.  Me, too.”  The idea that something
more was happening between us was impossible to ignore.  She didn’t know what
to do about it, didn’t quite understand it.  And I wasn’t sure I did either. 

She sat back in her chair and I perched
myself on the edge of her desk.  “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know, actually,” I answered
honestly.  “I wanted to see you.”

Her eyes softened.  “You just saw me,” she
chastised, but there was no real heat to her words.

“That was ages ago,” I replied, again being
honest, because that is what it felt like.  My interest in her wasn’t waning
and I didn’t know what I was going to do about that just yet.  “What are your
plans for tonight, because I was thinking dinner and then perhaps dessert at my
place.”  And by dessert, of course I meant her. 

She chewed on the end of her pen.  “Can I let
you know?”

This I didn’t expect.  “What is there to
think about?”  If she was already retreating back to her safe zone less than
thirty-six hours after returning home, I would probably come fucking unglued.

“Things are very unstable with Brooke.  Did
you know she didn’t even come to work today?”

I leaned back on the desk.  “I did not. 
Interesting.  But you know that you can’t hide from her forever.  She already
saw us and she’s not stupid.” 

Reagan tossed the pen on the desk.  “I know
that.  I just don’t know what is going on with her and she’s my roommate. . .I
just need to figure out. . .something’s wrong, ya know?  She never misses
work.”

I sighed.  I didn’t like it, but she did have
a valid point.  “Fine.  But if you can’t get away tonight, at least call me and
let me know things are alright.  I would not be opposed to a little sexting,
either.”  I was only half joking.

She laughed and shook her head.  “I’ll call
you,” she promised as I stood up and headed to the door.  I swung it open and
almost barreled into Bailey Cooper, his hand raised as if he’d been ready to
knock.

He dropped his hand and surveyed me with
narrowed eyes.  “Mr. Preston, pardon me, I didn’t realize you were here.”

I stared back at, mutual understanding passing
between us.  He may bat for the other team, but Mr. Cooper was still, after
all, a man.  “No harm done, Mr. Cooper.  I was just getting an update from Miss
Andrews on the J & J account.”  I turned back to Reagan, who was doing her
best to appear immersed in work.  “Thank you again.  She’s all yours,” I told
Bailey as I exited the office and headed back to my own.

Reagan

Four months.  That’s it; just four measly
months was all it took to completely destroy life as I knew it.  The life we’d
had with Mom wasn’t easy, and it certainly wasn’t all that good, but it was OUR
life.  It was what we knew.  And it was gone.

Alex was gone.

Apparently he had family outside of us.  A
father, who’d had no idea he was, but had discovered the news of Naomi’s death
and her orphaned children quite literally by accident.  A father who had
cleaned himself up and was doing well in Houston, and couldn’t quite let the
smallest possibility that one of these children could be his go.  It was he and
his parents, Alex’s grandparents that had come for him.  Jacob had argued and
pleaded with anyone who would listen to not take his brother, but his cries
were not heeded.  Tests had been ran, paperwork had been filed, and Alex’s
daddy had come to take him home. 

Four months.

Despite our resolve to stay together,
Jacob and I had been placed in separate foster homes.  I refused to eat the
first two days, and snuck out every night searching for Jacob, having gotten it
into my head that if I could just find his foster house, I’d be okay.  My
sneaking out was interpreted as defiance, and the fact that I head butt my
foster father hard enough to break his nose the second his arms wrapped around
mine in a forceful attempt to bring me back home, didn’t help.  I was returned
within a week.

Life at the second foster home wasn’t any
better, although they at least let me talk to Jacob on the phone, where he made
me promise to be good, this was only temporary, and we’d find a way to be
together soon. 

But it wasn’t to be.  Jacob was thriving
at his foster house, thriving so well in fact that they wanted to officially
adopt him.  They had lost a son, and Jacob filled that void for them.  While I
remained bouncing from foster home to foster home.  Apparently a bed-wetting thirteen
year old who refused to allow anyone to touch her was not good adoption
material.

Four months.

Four months, and I found myself staring
across a table at a woman with eyes full of tears that she unsuccessfully tried
to hide.  A woman that started our acquaintance by simply telling me she was
sorry, and then asking me if she could hold my hand.

We sat hand in hand across the table from
each other for a solid hour, not speaking a word, and yet saying so much with
our silence.

That woman was Helen, and the one I would
eventually call Mom.

“And what, my dear, was that?”

“What was what?”  I watched as Bailey made
himself comfortable in the chair across from my desk.  We both knew what he was
referring to, but damned if I wasn’t gonna make him fish.  “He came to get some
files on the J & J account.”

“And yet, he left with nothing.”  Bailey
countered. 

“Yeah, well, my update was small.  There
wasn’t much new to tell him.”  God, I needed to get better at this lying thing
if I ever wanted to keep my involvement with Nathan a secret.

“Probably because the man is here,
getting
an update,
every other day.”  He was having entirely too much fun at my
expense, and I frowned at him.

“He’s the boss, B.  He asks and I deliver.” 
Bailey’s eyebrows shot up under his hairline and I realized just how that had
sounded.  I rolled my eyes.  “You know what I mean,” I muttered.

“I do, oh indeed I do.”  He laughed and I
threw a rubber band at him. 

“Was there a reason why you’re here?” 

He sobered up.  “Yes, about that.  What’s up
with Brooke?  The word is out she’s quit.  Know anything about that?”

My mouth fell open.  Brooke had quit?  What? 
Surely that wasn’t right.  It was just the work rumor mill running wild. 
Brooke loved this job.  
Oh my god, she quit?

“I’m gonna guess by the unattractive way your
mouth is imitating the Grand Canyon that you are not aware of this interesting
development.”

I snapped my mouth shut.  “No, I—are you
sure?  I know she is out today but I’m sure it’s just a one day thing.  She
didn’t just quit.”

Bailey shrugged.  “Her resignation was
received in HR this morning, signed by Roger Preston himself.   I can’t believe
you didn’t know.  You live with her.  I’m gonna need you to step it up,” he
admonished, snapping his fingers at me. 

I didn’t even take his bait and snap back at
him, still too in shock from his words.  “Do you know why?”

He held his arms out to his sides and
shrugged again.  “That’s what I was asking you.  But you don’t know,” he
replied sadly.  “Well, whatever the reason, it had to be a good one.  I hear
Roger Preston is on his way home and he’s royally pissed.”

“More than usual?” I questioned, still lost
in thought. 

Bailey laughed.  “I know, right?”  He stood
up.  “Anyway, let me know if you do hear anything.”

I barely acknowledged his departure as I stared
unseeing at my computer screen.  In the short time I had lived with Brooke, if
there was one thing I had learned, it was that she loved her job.  She had no
boyfriend that I knew of, and outside of dinners with Gabby and Paul, and the
occasional night out with me, her entire life centered around the work she did
for Elite.  So I had been a little concerned over finding out she was taking
the day off.  Not because a girl couldn’t get sick, but it had just seemed
odd.  Now, she had apparently quit?  Something was definitely wrong.

I dialed her number on my cell, but hung up
after it went to voicemail.  I went about cleaning up my email inbox, but the
situation with Brooke was never far from my mind.  I didn’t know if I should rush
home after work and demand an explanation or if I should just keep my distance
and let her come to me.  I wasn’t good at this kind of thing.

I met Nathan for lunch that afternoon at a
deli several blocks over that he seemed convinced was far enough away from the
office that we would remain unseen.  He’d been intrigued over the news about
Brooke, but hadn’t said much other than again reassuring me I had nothing to
worry about when it came to her spilling the beans about us.  Again, I wasn’t
sure I shared his confidence.

I tried Brooke again after lunch, to no avail. 
I left the office as soon as I could and headed home, uncertain about what I
would face when I got there.  For all I knew, Brooke could still be closeted in
her room.

But she wasn’t. 

She was sitting cross legged on the couch
when I walked in the apartment, wrapped in a blanket, and her hair up in a
sloppy knot on top of her head.  She didn’t even glance my way when I came in,
and simply stared ahead at the TV.

I grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and
flopped down in the chair beside her.  A rough looking group of guys on
motorcycles drove across the screen.   I looked over at her, but she continued
to stare mindlessly at whatever show was playing. 

This was getting more than slightly
ridiculous.

“Brooke?  What are we doing?”

She pulled the blanket up around her
shoulders.  “I am watching Netflix.  Did you know that Peg Bundy is on a show
called Sons of Anarchy?  I started watching it last night.  It’s pretty good,
actually.”

What was she talking about?  Who cared about
Peg Bundy, or Katey something-or-other?  I reached over and hit the mute on the
remote, causing her to finally look at me. 

“It really is good.  You should watch it. 
Netflix has all the previous seasons if you want to binge watch.”

“I’m sure it is, but is that really what you
want to talk about right now?”

She looked back at the TV.  “What else is
there?”

My eyes widened.  She was being deliberately
bitchy and I suddenly wanted to slap her.  “I don’t know, maybe we could talk
about the rumor flying around that you quit Elite?”  My tone was more snippy
that I had intended, and her head snapped back as she looked at me again. 

“Only if we can talk about you and Nathan
Preston,” she shot back, the challenge in her voice clearly evident.  This was
not the Brooke I had been living with for the last month, and I was determined
to find out what had happened.

“Really?” I leaned forward in my chair.  “Why
did you quit Elite, Brooke?”

“Why do you have a dress in your closet that
you say isn’t yours but you won’t let anyone touch it?  Whose is it and why the
big mystery?”

I felt anger flare up within me.  Brooke had
been a bitch since I’d came home the day before, and while I knew me and Nathan
would be a little unsettling at first, this couldn’t possibly be about that any
longer.  Or at least not all of it.  She was too pissed.  And to bring up my
mom’s dress? 

Unbelievable.

She reached over and unmute the TV.  “Yeah. 
That’s what I thought.”

Okay, enough was enough.

I stood up and walked in front of her,
effectively blocking her view of whatever she was watching.  “Okay.”  I rested
my hands on my hips as we stared at each other.  I couldn’t believe what I was
about to say.  “Fine.  The dress belonged to my mother.  And yes, I went to
Boston with Nathan, and yes he fucked me the whole time we were there.  Does
that mean we are together?  I have no idea, but I plan to see him again and
yes, the fucking will most definitely continue.  Is that enough information for
you?”

Whatever I had expected Brooke to say in
response, the tears that suddenly pooled in her eyes threw me.  I didn’t
understand what was going on and I threw my hands up in frustration.  “What? 
You were the one who told me to go for it, remember?  What is wrong?  Why did
you quit Elite?”

She shifted her gaze to look out the window
as a single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.  She wiped it away and let
out a humorless chuckle.  “You’re right.  I did tell you that.”  Another tear
escaped, but she didn’t bother with that one.  “But that was before.”

I cocked my head to the side, completely
confused.  I took a deep breath.  “Before what?” I calmly asked. 

“That was before.  Back when I was still
sleeping with his dad and dreaming of being the future Mrs. Preston.”

I felt the breath leave my body as I became
very still.  Brooke and Roger Preston?  The idea was laughable.  He was
married.  And a giant asshole. 
Brooke and Roger Preston? 
I had no
words.

She turned back to face me and cocked an
eyebrow.  “Weren’t expecting that, now were you?” 

I slowly walked back over to the chair and
fell in it.  “I don’t. . . .”

“It’s okay.  I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just
blurted it out like that.”  She sighed and pressed the power button on the
remote, turning the TV off.  “I’m sorry about all of it.”

I knew she was apologizing for her behavior
the last twenty-four hours, but my mind was still reeling from the news that
she’d been sleeping with Roger Preston.  Did Nathan know? 

But of course he must have.  Why else was he
so confident she wouldn’t be so quick to tell everyone I was sleeping with the
boss’s son?  Because she was sleeping with the boss himself.

“It started by accident, you know?  He was
always such an incredible jerk and scared the hell out of me, but it was a good
job, better than I’d ever had, and so I was determined to stick it out.  No
matter how much of a dick he was, I just took it all in stride, and made sure I
was the best damn assistant I could be.  I learned everything I could about
that man, knew his schedule better than he did.”  She stared back out the
window, lost in thought for a moment.  “I had things ready for him before he
even knew he needed them.  And then one day, it just. . . .” her voice trailed
off, but I remained silent, barely breathing as I waited for her to continue.

She cleared her throat and shrugged.  “I
don’t know, it just happened.  He grabbed my arm when I had turned to walk away
and there was just this look in his eye.  Maybe it was real, or maybe by then I
just saw what I wanted to see, but it was almost as if there was a
vulnerability there.  And I didn’t think about it.  I just kissed him.  And
next thing I knew, he picked me up and I was against the wall.”  She sniffed
and wiped her cheeks.  “We never spoke about it after that.  But it happened
again three days later, and a week after that, and pretty soon it was all the
time.  On business trips, in the office after everyone had left, obscure hotels
on the weekend.  Even here sometimes, before you moved in.  And I. . .I fell in
love with him.”

I had no idea how to process what she was
telling me.  I still could not reconcile the Roger Preston I knew with the one
Brooke was now describing to me.  I closed my eyes against the mental image of
the two of them fucking in his office.  Maybe there was a reason no one ever
set foot on the thirteenth floor.

My god, did anyone at the office know?  “How
did. . . . I mean. . .what about his—“

“His wife?”  Brooke laughed, but again there
was little humor.  “Katherine Preston is a raging alcoholic.  She has been
since they lost their son two years ago.  But they’d been having problems long
before that.  I know that appearances are everything to Roger, but I foolishly
continued to believe that one day he would leave and we would be together.   And
to be honest, I didn’t let myself think much about Katherine.  Dumb, isn’t it?”

“What happened while you were in Tokyo?” 
Because whatever it was, I was now convinced it was the real reason for her
actions since yesterday.

“It was so stupid, really.  He’d snapped at a
waitress while we were out and I told him he was being ridiculous.  We fought
about it the whole way back to our hotel.  It wasn’t like we hadn’t had
disagreements before, I mean, this is Roger Preston.  But when we got to our
room, he told me I wasn’t his wife so I should stop acting as if I were.  And
it was like, BAM!  Ever have one of those epiphany moments where suddenly
something becomes so clear?  It was like that.  For the first time, I could see
myself and the situation I was in, and I hated it.  I wasn’t his wife, and I
wasn’t ever going to become his wife.  I would always be the secretary that
felt she needed to validate her existence by sleeping with her boss.  For all
the moments between us, whether real or imagined, I was still just his piece of
ass on the side.  I had become the cliché.  So, I left.  Packed my stuff up and
hid out in the room we always booked in my name, for appearances, you know. 
And the next day I changed my flight and came home.  I didn’t even tell him.” 
Brooke dragged in a deep breath, as if suddenly exhausted after having divulged
so much information.  “Of course, he didn’t even bother coming to my room to
check on me, apologize, nothing.  He probably just assumed I’d get over myself
and crawl back in his bed during the night.  I’m ashamed to say it wouldn’t
have been the first time.”