Four Seconds to Lose
Page 71And of course that’s the exact moment that Charlie would show up unannounced. Because that’s the kind of luck I have.
By her wide eyes and hanging jaw, I can tell that Charlie is both surprised and hurt.
And I can’t blame her.
In one quick motion, I remove China from my lap—trying not to shove her too hard as I push her off—and I stand, straightening out my pants. Charlie’s eyes drifting down tells me that the bulge in my pants is noticeable. Dammit! That wasn’t from China! That was because, while China was working on a basic math problem, I was eyeing the silver tie hanging on my door, remembering how I walked in to find Charlie wearing it—and only it—a few nights ago.
This is exactly why I should never have sex in my office.
Clearing her throat, her voice is strangely calm. “Sorry, I should have knocked. I came by to tell you I need the night off. I’m not feeling well.”
Not feeling well. Bullshit.
Neither am I. Fuck, China!
I stall. “What’s wrong, exactly?” Stupid question.
“Female issues.” Her eyes avert to the floor and I know without a doubt that she’s lying. But what can I say, except, “Sure, okay. I’ll drive you back to my place.”
“No. That’s okay.” She threw that one back fast. She begins to turn and my hand instinctively flies out, clasping onto her forearm. Not tightly, but enough to keep her there. “That wasn’t what it looked like, Charlie. I promise.”
She responds with a tight smile. Twisting out of my reach, she turns on her heels and briskly walks out. I hear the heavy exit door slam shut a moment later.
And that’s when I explode. “What the f**k was that?” I spin around and settle a deadly glare on China, who has the decency to keep her eyes on the ground as she bites her lip. “What made you think that would be okay?” Picking up my glass from my desk, I swig back the last mouthful, those few seconds of emotion on Charlie’s face replaying in my mind. “Dammit, China!” The empty glass is sailing out of my hand and toward a far wall before I realize that I threw it. It detonates into countless shards.
It takes me a moment to stop my shaking, and then I finally make myself turn around to face China again.
And my heart sinks.
There she is, backed into a corner behind my desk, trembling, her shoulders pulled in tight as she cowers. All color from her face has vanished. The China who works the crowd like she’s got puppet strings affixed to their backs is gone, replaced with a pitiful young girl whose father used to scream and throw dishes at her. Right before he raped her.
My hand flies over my mouth as I realize what I’ve done.
Shit.
“Christ . . .” I start to rush over but when she shrinks farther, I slow my steps, holding my hands up in surrender. “I’m not going to hurt you.” I approach her with extreme caution, until I’m close enough that I can wrap my arms around her shaking body and pull her against me, all while the thickness in my throat grows. I smooth her sleek black hair back with my hand as her tears start to flow, dampening my shirt.
“I’m sorry,” she offers between sobs, her voice so pitiful, so weak, so childlike. “I’ve only ever wanted to make you happy.”
“I know.” She needs to get back into therapy. She was doing so well. Then she started focusing on beating her learning disorder and she let the therapy part slip. She shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have let that happen. China still needs professional help. And lots of it.
When she quiets but stays pressed against my chest, I ask, in as gentle a voice as possible, “What made you do that? We’ve already talked about this. I thought you understood.”
There’s a long pause, during which she reaches up to wipe away some tears. “I don’t know.”
“China.” Playing clueless has never suited her.
“I just thought you needed it.”
“What I need, ” I say as I pull China away from me to look directly into her pleading green eyes, “is for you to accept that I will never use you like that.”
She drops her gaze to my chest and nods. With pursed lips, she whispers, “Do you love her?”
Of course. I should have known that this is what it was about. I don’t avert my gaze as I say very slowly, “I don’t know yet. Maybe.”
She can’t keep the tears from welling in her eyes. “Why her, Cain? Why not me?”
Ahh . . . f**k me . . . I’m still angry with her but my pity trumps it. “I don’t know. These things are beyond our control, sometimes.” Pulling her to my body as she starts crying again, I mutter to myself, “I’m not sure it’s going to matter either way, now.”
I give her ten more minutes of my time.
And then I hand her off to Nate—who is not too happy about the prospect of a sobbing China on him—and I go after Charlie.
Chapter thirty-four
CHARLIE
I so badly want to pick up that phone.
My hand falters, picturing the other end pressed up against Cain’s stubble.
The slow but heavy rhythmic beat of my heart speeds up with thoughts of him, of what happened between us, of seeing him with China. He claimed it wasn’t what it looked like—and it looked like China was giving him a lap dance while her tongue was down his throat. I almost buckled, the sight like a punch to my stomach.
Has that happened before, between them? Has that happened since he’s been with me? My arms curl tightly around my body at the crushing thought. Has he been lying to me this entire time?
Do I have a right to be angry with him, given all the ways in which I’ve lied to him?
Maybe Cain would be better off with China. Or a woman like China. Or anyone other than me, really. Anyone who wouldn’t be putting him in danger as I have, by being so selfish, and so stupid as to believe I could have a future with him. My cluster-fuck of a life feels ready to explode, right here in this gas-station parking lot.
I didn’t go home. I couldn’t. Cain would track me down and then I’d fall apart into a mess of sobs. Maybe I’d even be brainless enough to tell him everything.
And that would put him in real danger.
I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
Chapter thirty-five
CAIN
“I hope you enjoy it,” the young woman behind the counter offers, flashing me a teasing smile as she hands the key lime pie to me, intentionally grazing my fingers. She’s pretty, but she can’t be more than eighteen years old and that’s way too young for me. Plus, I highly doubt I’m what she’s looking for, unless she has daddy issues.
“Thank you,” I offer politely. I don’t recognize her, but I haven’t been to this café in months. It has the best key lime pie in the city and I’m on my way to see Storm. I don’t know what to do. Charlie’s not at her apartment, she’s not at my condo. She’s not answering her phone. I’m going out of my f**king mind.
As I walk out the front door and pass by the patio, I note the newly occupied tables.
A pretty doll face catches my eyes.