Dear god, I'd made a mess of it. My parents hadn't lost just one daughter, they'd lost two. Because they didn't even know Angelina, not anymore. I'd been trying so hard to be Gracie for them that I'd completely buried their youngest daughter.
You're not being true to yourself.
Yeah, wasn't that the understatement of the year? And it had only taken falling in love to make me finally see it.
"Ms. Raine?"
I was on the patio, standing by the glass barrier, looking out over the lake, though I wasn't really seeing it. Now I turned in response to Peterson's voice. "Yes?"
"Can I bring you anything? You should eat some lunch."
"I'm not hungry."
"You didn't have breakfast." He paused. "Is there something I can help you with, perhaps?"
"No." He couldn't help me, and I was having one hell of a time helping myself. For that matter, I was having a hell of a time getting my head on straight.
I knew what I wanted--I wanted to stay. I wanted Evan. I wanted to work for the foundation.
I wanted to be true to myself. But I was scared of stepping off the path I'd paved for myself. And I was terrified of disappointing my parents.
There was only one person I knew who could help me. Only one person who could hold me tight and keep me firmly safe while I took the kind of risk that I was thinking about taking.
I needed to jump--and I knew with absolute certainty that I could only do that if Evan was beside me.
"Peterson," I called, turning around and catching him before he moved efficiently back inside. "Wait. There is something you can do for me."
"Whatever you need, Ms. Raine."
"I need a car."
The driver took me to Evan's downtown office first, but unless his secretary was covering for him, he wasn't there.
I tried the boat next, and didn't find him there, either.
"Shall I take you back home, miss?"
"No," I said sharply. I pulled out my cell phone and almost dialed. But I didn't want to give him the opportunity to tell me to stay away. "We're going to Destiny," I said, then settled back for the ride.
I hoped like hell he was there, because if he wasn't, I was all out of ideas. And while I had reached the point of begging Cole for help, I really didn't want to go that route unless it was absolutely necessary.
I didn't see Evan's car as we drove up, but I also didn't have a full view of the rear parking lot. I thanked the driver and, since I was all about the power of positive thinking, I told him not to wait. Then I stepped inside, paid my cover--this time to a petite brunette--and pushed through the doors into the main room.
It looked just the same as it had before. The girls were still dancing. The men were still watching. Everything seemed exactly the same as it had been the last time I'd been here. The only thing that had changed was me.
"I know you."
I glanced up to see a familiar blonde in a tiny miniskirt and nothing else.
It took me a second, but I finally recognized her as the girl who'd worked the entrance my last time here. "Hi," I said. "I'm looking for Evan."
"Again?"
"Excuse me?"
She shrugged. "He's in a meeting right now," the girl said, and I silently cheered. At least he was somewhere on the premises.
"I'll just wait at the bar." I took a step in that direction, and the girl fell in beside me.
"Um, is that okay?"
Instead of answering, she looked me up and down. "So you're the flavor of the month."
I blinked at her. "Excuse me?"
"It's just that he fucks a lot of women. None of us, of course. Rules and all that shit. But he brings them here. Gets them all hot, you know?"
I didn't say a word.
"Anyway, the point is it never lasts. I mean, I'm not telling you anything you didn't already know, am I? He was up front, right? About the fact that you're just a temporary thing."
I swear there were giant rocks just sitting in my stomach. "Is there some reason we're having this conversation?" It was surreal. I was sitting at a barstool talking about sleeping with Evan to a woman whose breasts were only inches from my face. What the fuck was wrong with that picture?
She shrugged. "Consider me a walking, talking public service announcement. Because if he didn't tell you, then you should know. Because there's only one woman for Evan. He may burn through a dozen pussies, but in the end, she's the one he goes back to, every goddamn time. I mean, hell, he's even got her tattooed on his arm."
"He's got--wait. What?"
"Ivy," the blonde said. "That tattoo on his arm. It's for his girl. What? You didn't know?"
"I knew," I said, sliding off the stool. "And I know that I need to go talk to him now."
She didn't try to stop me as I went through the same door that Evan had taken me through the last time I was here. I remembered seeing offices back there, and since I didn't have a better idea, I assumed that he was in one of them.
I pushed through, found no one on the other side to stop me, and kept on going.
Ivy. What the hell? I thought of the tattoo on his arm. I'd even asked him about it, and he hadn't told me that it referred to a woman.
Shit.
And did that mean that Evan was lying to me--or was the blond bitch the liar?
I knew the answer I wanted. I even knew the answer I believed.
I just wasn't sure if what I believed was true.
I heard voices from behind the closed conference room door, and I paused, my head cocked as I tried to discern if Evan's voice was among them.
Then the door jerked open--Evan was right there--and I jumped so high I almost bumped my head on the ceiling.
"Lina?"
"Holy fucking crap, Evan," I shouted, more because I was embarrassed at getting caught than because I was actually scared.
Behind him, I saw Tyler and Cole at a conference table that was covered with blueprints and technical drawings and all sorts of sketches.
They all three looked frazzled. And none of them looked happy to see me.
"What are you doing here?" Evan said.
I swallowed, feeling like I'd been tossed into the middle of the school play, but no one had told me my lines. This wasn't the way I'd imagined this. In the story in my head, I'd gone to him, confessed that he was right, and then folded myself into his arms.
Now I wondered if he'd even missed me at all.
Now I wondered about Ivy.
"I made a mistake," I said, forcing the word out past the tears in my throat. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come."
I caught a flash of worry in his eyes, but I didn't have time to think about it. I turned and ran toward the back door, then pushed through it and out into the bright afternoon sun.
Immediately, I knew I'd screwed up. The building was huge, and if I was going to get to the street, I had to go all the way around it. "Shit," I snapped, even though I was the only one to hear it. I dug into my purse for my phone as I started to circle the building. I'd call a taxi. I'd call Peterson. I'd do something to get the fuck out of there, because I couldn't stay. But I also couldn't really move, because the tears had started to flow, and the world was blurry, and all I wanted to do was sit down on the asphalt and cry until everything stopped hurting.
"Baby."
Evan's arms went around me, strong and firm, and though I wanted to shake them off, I let him hold me as I made my way down to the curb where the sidewalk met the parking lot.
"Sweetheart, what are you doing here?"
I pulled away from him, but then I had to hug myself, because as soon as his arms were no longer around me, I felt lost again.
"Lina? Jesus, Angie, talk to me. You're starting to scare me."
I sucked in a deep, stuttering breath, pushed my hair off my face, and turned to face him. "Who is she?" I demanded, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Who is Ivy?"
His eyes widened, and he said very slowly and very carefully--as if I was a bomb that might go off at any mome
nt--"Why do you want to know?"
I told myself I wasn't going to scream. That I was going to be rational. That I trusted him and I wasn't going to be one of those women who flew off the handle in a fit of jealous rage.
I told myself that, but I was having one hell of a hard time implementing it.
I reached out and touched his arm. It was hidden by his shirt sleeve, but I almost felt as if I could feel the tattoo burning into me. "I need to know that you weren't just playing me, Evan. I mean--I guess if you were then it was my own damn fault. I'm the one who said I wanted this to be temporary, right? I'm the one who said three weeks."
I pushed up off the curb and turned to look at him. I felt the tears trickle down my face, but I wasn't sobbing anymore. I was a wreck, but at least I was a wreck with some semblance of control.
"But then you asked if I was staying, and I guess I thought--I mean, maybe I hoped--"
"What?" he asked.
It was just one word, but he said it with such soft hope that it gave me courage.