Made to Love (7 page)

Reagan

                Life was different after Charlie left.  I
celebrated my eleventh birthday in my room, hiding in the closet with Jacob and
Alex.   Charlie was no longer stationed outside the door, and our sense of
security, however false or flimsy it may have been, was lost.  It was now the
three of us against the world, literally.  There were no other family members
waiting in the wings to whisk us all off to a Candyland paradise, taking us
from the hellish squalor we lived in.  I had no idea who our father was; did we
have the same one or had Mom managed to get knocked up by four different men?  I
supposed the latter wasn’t much of a stretch, all things considered.  Not that
any man who had fathered us would have been worthy of raising any of us
anyway.  So it wasn’t as if the man, or men, would be coming around anytime
soon to check on his offspring.  As for grandparents, well, I knew we had
them.  But I’d never met them, Mom had never spoken of them, and if they were
aware of any of us, they’d never made a single attempt to know us.  Who knew if
they were even still alive?

                No, we just had Mom.  And while in her
lucid, sober times she occasionally made a half-hearted attempt at making sure
we were cared for, those times were few and far between.  Things that should
have been her responsibility had fallen to Charlie.  It was he that would steal
what money he could find from Mom’s room to buy food so we had something to
eat.  It was he that instilled in us to do our best at keeping our rooms clean,
no matter that the rest of the house was covered in filth.  It was he that made
sure we attended school, even though we wore the same clothes year after year,
until they became so small or worn he had to steal more from the local thrift
shop.  Now that he had left, these things fell to me and Jacob and we weren’t nearly
as good at it as he had been.

                I used to wonder if Mom had ever really
loved us.  Had there been that moment upon discovering she was pregnant where
she had lovingly touched her belly, imagining the child growing there and had
made plans and wishes for our future?  Or had she not cared?  She had been a
junkie for as long as I could remember, but I never knew if that was something
she’d taken up before she’d had any of us, or after.  I had always been told
crack babies were born with defects, and none of us were, but then who really
knew?  Truth was, not much had been known about my mom’s early life, and it
hadn’t been like she was exactly in a position to be forthcoming.  When I had
been younger, I had always held out hope that the woman who would sometimes
dance with me in the living room would one day hold me in her arms, tell me she
loved me, and take us all away from the horror.  But I’d learned that the
poison she injected into her veins was a lover that had consumed ever y part of
her, so there was no room left for any of us.  And I would soon learn to never
ask or want to be held . . . ever again.

                My stomach was a mass of jumbled nerves.  I
closed my eyes as I waited for the elevator to reach my floor.  I had started
preparations for the J&J rough draft immediately upon arriving home from
the Hamptons on Sunday, but still felt as if I could have used another week. 
It didn’t help that Nathan was never far from my mind.  I hadn’t seen him since
he’d had me against the wall in his parent’s house, and I burned with
embarrassment and anger when I thought about it.  Embarrassment because, had I
been so horny and hot for Nathan Preston that I’d practically begged him to
take me right there in that hallway, allowing him to give me the most mind
blowing orgasm I’d ever had in less than a minute? 

                And anger, because really.  I
had
been
so horny and hot for Nathan Preston that I had a sneaking suspicion that I
truly did beg him to take me right there in that hallway, and then allowed him
to give me the most mind blowing orgasm of my life in less than a minute.  

                I really couldn’t continue this.  I had a big
day ahead of me.  Bailey had forwarded the rough draft proposal to Roger
Preston yesterday as planned, and the only response had been an invite to
today’s ‘touch base’ via his secretary.  That was it; nothing to indicate if he
had been pleased with what I had written up or if he’d laughed at what he
considered my poor attempts to impress.  I wasn’t sure what to make of it.  I
didn’t know if I should be confident that I had been asked to join this
meeting, or nervous that Mr. Preston had seized the opportunity to shred my
proposal—and me along with it—in front of a roomful of people.  I should be
solely focused on winning over Roger Preston, and proving to him that I was
worthy of being employed at Elite.  The fact that I couldn’t stop thinking
about his son, if I was honest with myself, both excited and infuriated me.  

                I had to get over this ridiculous attraction. 
This was me, Reagan Andrews.  I didn’t let people like Nathan in, and had
carefully erected walls around my heart to avoid that very thing.  I had become
a master at avoidance and non-commitment.   So if some hotshot in a suit
thought he could tear down walls years in the making just with one make-out
session, he was sorely mistaken.   

                The elevator dinged, and the doors opened,
ending my mental tirade.  Taking a deep breath, I stepped off the elevator and
was met by Brooke.  Taking in my pale face, she squeezed my arm
sympathetically.  “You look great, hon.  Relax, you’ll be fine.”

                I didn’t reply as I followed her down the hall
to the conference room, barely listening to her explain about how to work the
slide presentation.  I felt familiar cold prickles of sweat bead on my forehead,
and a slight buzzing in my ears, and wanted to cry. 

                Not now, please!
   

                I entered the conference room behind Brooke
and immediately connected with a familiar face.  Nathan smiled at me with a
slight nod of his head, and just like that, my impending anxiety attack faded. 

I could do this.  Whatever I was here for, I was prepared, and
could handle it.  I gave him a small smile in return and discreetly took in the
rest of the room’s occupants.  Roger Preston, of course, was there, talking
with a few of the same members of the finance team who’d been at the last
meeting.  I pulled out my copies of the proposal as my gaze shifted to the lone
gentleman seated at the far right of the table.  My stomach did a somersault as
I recognized his face.

                What was he doing here?

I retreated to my office and closed the
door.  The last two hours had been excruciating.  I had apparently missed the
memo indicating Royce Johnson, of
the
Johnson and Johnson Corporation,
would be present at the meeting.  Bailey had apologized profusely, saying he
hadn’t been aware either so it had apparently been a last minute addition.  I
wasn’t given much time to dwell on his presence though, because Roger Preston
had immediately requested I present the proposal myself to the group.  Yeah,
thanks for the heads up, dude. 

I had fielded a few questions from Royce
Johnson at the end, and overall, felt as if I had held my own.  Never mind the
clammy hands and upset stomach I had sported the entire time.  Royce seemed to
be pleased, although I had been given nothing more than a ‘Thank you’ and a
smile before being dismissed.  But I hadn’t been fired on the spot so, all in
all, not bad.   I had left the meeting before the others so I was still left a
little uncertain about the final outcome, but Nathan had winked as I had passed
him on the way out, which I had taken as a good sign.  Then again, that
could’ve been his attempt at flirting and have had nothing to do with the
Johnson and Johnson account whatsoever.  Which was the more likely.

I sighed as I thought of him.  I hadn’t seen
him since Saturday night when I had ran from the hallway.  I had stayed in my
room as long as I was able to, and would have stayed there all night had Brooke
not pounded on my door after a few hours, insisting we go down for the
fireworks.  Thankfully, or sadly, depending on how I chose to view it, Nathan
hadn’t been anywhere in sight.  After the fireworks, I had made some lame
excuse and retreated to my room.  The following morning I had begged Brooke to
leave as soon as we could, using my proposal as an excuse, but knowing I was
avoiding Nathan. 

And I didn’t really have an explanation for
why I was doing it.  Avoiding him.  At least not an explanation I was willing
to explore anyway.  Guys in general, and sex?  It wasn’t like I hadn’t had
experience with both.  But physical attraction aside, I didn’t want to be
bothered with things like holding hands, talking about my day, or the whole
candy, flowers and long walks in the park thing.   I never let someone get too
close, and the minute some guy started hinting at the future, or about meeting
his parents, I was out.   

But Nathan was different.  He made me feel
things no one else had before.  Crazy, I know.  I barely knew the man.  But it
was there, nonetheless.  I had a suspicion that should we ever become involved,
things would be neither casual nor light, and that my efforts to keep him at
arms-length would be unsuccessful, and that scared me. 

Yesterday I had spent all day on eggshells,
holding my breath every time the elevator doors opened, but I left at the end
of the day without having seen him.  A small part of me had been secretly
hoping he would want to see me after what had transpired between us, but
apparently not. 

Which I supposed was for the best, anyway. 
It wasn’t like I was seeking him out either.

I glanced at the clock, wondering if he was
still closeted away with his father and Royce Johnson.  I was dying to know
what they had decided.  Figuring Bailey would be around as soon as there was
word, I was just beginning to filter through email when I heard a knock on my
door.  I glanced up to see Nathan himself standing in my doorway, a slight
smile on his face.   I ignored the tiny flip flop in my heart and cursed it for
its weakness.

“Hi,” I said by way of greeting. 

“Hi, back.”  He walked in, closing the door
behind him, and crossed the distance from door to desk in three strides to
slide into one of my office chairs.  I pretended not to notice how his shirt
flattened against his stomach as he appeared to settle in for a lengthy chat. 

I wondered if I should mention the door.  I
didn’t need anyone thinking I was having a tryst with the boss’s son on my
desk.  Although--

“Reagan, you did an amazing job this
morning,” he said, interrupting my daydream of papers flying as Nathan flung
them off my desk and threw me on it.   

I fidgeted with a pen on my desk, hoping my
flushed cheeks could be excused as relief.  It was about time someone had
filled me in.  “Thank you.  I appreciate that.”

“Royce, Dad, pretty much everyone was
impressed.”  He threw his arm over the back of the chair and I swallowed hard
as the action only defined his sculpted arm.  I went back to fidgeting with my
pen.  At what point would we talk about what happened at the Hamptons?  “We
should celebrate.”

I glanced up at him.   “Celebrate?”  This I
had not expected.

“Dinner.  Tonight.”  Nathan announced. 

Oh. My. God. 

“Dinner?”  Why was I repeating his every
word?  I sounded like an imbecile.  I tried again.  “Thank you, but I don’t
think so,” I finally declined.  I needed to set some boundaries. 

“Is it dinner you are opposed to, or me? 
Because if it’s the former, I’m fine with just drinks.  Although, I am
starving,” he quipped.  There was a moment of silence as neither of us spoke,
and then he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.  “If it’s the
latter, well then.  The Hamptons was. . .fun.  But I may have been a bit. .
.carried away and for that I apologize.  It won’t happen again.  Unless you
want it to, and in that case—“He stopped and leaned further over my desk, slowly
extracting the pen from my prying fingers.  Having nothing to distract me, I
finally looked up at him.  “Look.  It’s just drinks.  You did a good job, and
I’m just trying to say thank you.  Promise.”  He gave me a lopsided grin.

No, things with this man would never be
simple.  I knew it, as sure as I knew that I was about to say to hell with all
my misgivings. 
 

“Fine.  One drink, but that’s it.” 

Nathan stood and headed back for the door.  “Excellent. 
Meet me in the lobby at six?”  He winked and left my office before I could
reply.

All the reasons I should have declined—and
they were many—flooded my mind the minute he was gone, but I squelched them
down, determined to ignore them. 

Nathan was handsome, charming.  He wanted to
celebrate a job well done.   With me.

It was one drink. 

So despite my concerns, I was going to enjoy
it.

Nathan

I walked back to my office, hoping the smile
on my face didn’t make me look like a complete idiot.  I don’t know what I had
expected when I’d walked into Reagan’s office, so I’d be lying if I said I
hadn’t been slightly surprised when she’d agreed to have a drink with me.   I
was certain she’d see through my lame attempt at apologizing for what had
happened last weekend, because truth be told, I wasn’t sorry.  Not in the
slightest.  Did I wish that our first kiss hadn’t happened in a darkened
hallway in the upstairs of my parents’ summer home, like we were two teenagers
making out on the sly?  Of course.   But this was a woman who had captured my
attention the moment I had stepped onto an elevator with her just one week ago. 
My attraction to her was unexplainable, yet certainly undeniable.  Making out
with her had been the only good thing to come of that weekend.  And I couldn’t
bring myself to feel sorry for that.  

But if my half-hearted apology had been key
to her acceptance, then so be it.  I wasn’t going to dwell on the why’s of it
and instead was going to make the most of the opportunity I was now presented
with.

My good mood dissipated immediately upon
entering my office.   

“Mom, what brings you here?” I kissed her
cheek as I moved to the back of my desk, removing my jacket and hanging it up. 
I covertly glanced at the sidebar in my office, but nothing appeared out of
place. 

Mom rarely made an appearance at the office,
and I couldn’t help but wonder if my father’s travel plans had anything to do
with why she was unexpectedly here.  Not that he ever cleared things with her
first.  I sat down, choosing to approach what I hoped would only be a few
minutes with caution.  It wasn’t that I didn’t love my mother.  I did.  But
interactions with her always ended up in a walk down memory lane, and I’d
walked that path so many times over the last two years, I was more than weary
of the journey.  I could only handle so much.

“Hi, honey.  Sorry to intrude; Nancy showed
me in.   I was heading home from my meeting with the charity league and thought
I would stop in to see what your plans were this weekend.”  She fidgeted
nervously with the strap of her Chanel bag, diamonds glittering on her
fingers.  I knew full well that my weekend plans were the least of her
concerns.  She would simply call about something that mundane.   As she
continued to stare out the window, refusing to meet my gaze, it dawned on me
that not only was she completely aware of Dad’s upcoming trip, she was also
aware of the milestone coming next week.  She didn’t want to be alone.   

I dragged a hand through my hair as I got up,
walked around to where she sat, and leaned against the edge of my desk.  She was
hanging on by a mere thread, and I needed to get her out of here.

“At the moment, I have nothing planned.  Did you want to get
together?”

 She sighed, moving a shaking hand up to her
hair as if she was trying to make sure everything was in place. “That would be
nice.  Your father is going to be out of the country you know,” this said with
a quick glance my way, “and next week . . . well, it’s just lonely.” Her lips
trembled as she clamped them shut. 

This was not the woman I grew up with. 
Katherine Preston had been a force to be reckoned with as the powerhouse wife
of Roger Preston.  She would fight for better textbooks at our school, write a
check for the new library, organize charity events for the needy, take us to
the park and kiss our scratched knees, and still manage to look the picture of
perfection on my father’s arm on his corporate rise to fame.  It was hard to
reconcile that woman with the weak, fragile alcoholic that sat before me now. 
Thomas had happened to all of us, yet while Dad buried himself in business and
if I wasn’t mistaken other women, refusing to acknowledge his wife’s drinking,
I was always left to deal with what had become of my mother in the aftermath.

I leaned down and hugged her.  “Mother, why
don’t we have dinner Saturday evening? It will be good to spend some time
together,” I told her.  She buried her face in my shoulder and began to quietly
cry.  I could smell the alcohol she had presumably consumed at the charity
league brunch, and clenched my jaw.  Mom wasn’t a beer slinger; no, she was
much too sophisticated for that.  Champagne and orange juice at breakfast,
followed by wine until lunch.  Then to make sure she was completely numb from
head to toe, it was coffee and Baileys until she could finish off with her good
friend Jack right before bed.    I wanted to shake her, knock some sense into
her, and tell her to stop acting like a child.  She was not only embarrassing
herself, but what was left of her family.  Tell her that Thomas’s death had
been hard on us all, but we had managed to somehow pull through, changed, yes, but
still here.  Tell her for all the guilt she had over her son’s death, she had
climbed in bed with the very thing that had killed him.

But I said none of these things, and simply held
her tighter while she cried.  Several moments passed in silence before she
leaned back and wiped her eyes.  “I’ve taken enough of your time, Nathan.  I
apologize.  It’s just been so hard since Thomas.” She dapped at her eyes where
mascara had begun to run, and I quickly fished out a handkerchief from my
pocket.

I released her and stood.  Any mention of
Thomas typically preluded that memory walk, and I honestly did not want to do
this now.  Talking about my brother accomplished nothing.  What was the point? 
“Mom, I have a meeting in a few minutes,” I lied, telling my conscience to go
to hell.  “Take all the time you need, but I need to go.”

She collected herself and stood, heading
toward the door.  “Oh, don’t worry about me, Nathan.  I need to be going as
well.  Do please call me about Saturday; I look forward to it.”

I walked her to the lobby, denying myself the
pleasure of escorting her to the thirteenth floor and forcing my father to deal
with it.  He wouldn’t though, and it would be Brooke who would have to feed her
some bullshit excuse for why he couldn’t see her.  That wasn’t fair to anyone
involved and I couldn’t bring myself to do it. 

I was all she had left, and I didn’t know how
I felt about that.  I watched until her driver assisted her into the car and
then turned away, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes to stop the sudden
burning there. 

How had it come to this?