Dear Heart, I Hate You Page 9

  “I feel like it can’t be over. I mean, why meet him if that was it?” Then her face lit up. “Unless his whole purpose was to wake up your dead black heart for the next guy,” she said with a laugh.

  Three days ago, I would have laughed too, but I didn’t laugh tonight.

  “I don’t want a next guy. I’m not done with this one,” I said without thinking, the words slipping out before I could stop them. But it was true.

  She gave me a smug grin. “I knew it. I’ll bet you money that you two see each other again.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t see it happening. He’s too focused on work. And I don’t factor into that equation.”

  I wanted to be wrong, but in my heart, I knew that I wasn’t. I couldn’t begrudge Cal his ambition. After all, I had my own.

  “Sounds like someone else I know.” She poked my shoulder with her finger.

  “I’m aware. I think that’s part of why we were so attracted to each other. We thought about things the same way. We’re very like-minded, you know?”

  “That’s hot. Seriously. Hey, speaking of, please tell me you have a picture of Cal Not-Klein.”

  My mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe that wasn’t the first thing I showed you!”

  I pulled out my phone and opened the gallery, scrolling through the pictures to my favorite. It was the one of us in the car from earlier today when our heads were smooshed together. We were both wearing genuine smiles that were reflected in our eyes; we looked really happy.

  When I handed Tami my phone, she gasped.

  “Shit, Jules. Cal Not-Klein is stupid hot. You two look amazing together.”

  I tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. “We’re cute, huh?”

  “Yeah, that’s not really the word I’d use, but okay. We’ll go with cute.” She moved to hand me back my phone, but scrolled through the other photos instead. “You were holding out on me,” she said as she zoomed in on the picture of Cal kissing me. “Now this, this is hot! Damn, where can I find me a Cal?”

  How could I help her find a hottie when mine was in another state? And he wasn’t even technically mine in the first place?

  Tami tossed the phone into my lap and said the first thing that had made the most sense all night. “You’re in trouble.”

  I nodded. “Exactly. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  Can’t Take It

  Cal

  Jules had only been gone for less than twenty-four hours, and I felt like I was losing my damn mind. The first thing I’d done this morning—after feeling disappointed that she was no longer in town—was to fire off a text to her so she’d get it when she woke up. It was sweet, a gesture that even my romantic brother would approve of. I pressed Send on my phone before I could talk myself out of doing it.

  It seemed like the only saving grace at all was the time difference between us. Knowing she was three hours behind me made it easier to resist calling her just so I could hear her voice.

  Wait . . . just so I can hear her voice?

  Looking at me now, you’d never know I wasn’t always like this. Jules had me affected . . . infected . . . whatever, and it was making me crazy. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I could be in the middle of working on a trade or checking a client’s portfolio, and her smile would break into my thoughts. Before I knew it, I’d be sitting at my desk just staring off into space, daydreaming about being with her.

  It was horseshit.

  To be honest, I hated that she was gone and that I wished she were still here. No woman had ever gotten me so twisted up in her so quickly before. Three days with Jules and I’d already grown used to the idea of seeing her all the time, used to her being around.

  Was that how quickly it took for a habit to form? Jules had become a habit that I didn’t want to break, but I needed to.

  My mind was relentless, constantly reminding me of the cute way she laughed, the way she felt in my arms, the way her green eyes sparkled when she looked at me. I struggled to push the thoughts away, but in the end, she always won out. I was a desperate man, missing someone I barely even knew. Somewhere between dropping her off at the airport yesterday and this moment, reality had slipped away, leaving me in dreamland.

  I pulled up a florist website on my computer and looked at the arrangements, torn between wanting to send Jules flowers to let her know I was thinking about her, and thinking it was the stupidest idea I’d ever had.

  “What are you doing, dipshit?”

  Lucas’s voice stopped me cold. I quickly switched to my screensaver before glancing up at him and waved a hand over the papers scattered across my desk.

  “What’s it look like, asshole?”

  “Looks like you were about to send someone flowers.”

  “I wasn’t,” I lied.

  Lucas leaned against my cubicle wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “I think you were.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Not likely,” he said with a huff.

  “Did you want something?”

  “I did, but now I can’t remember. Your mental vacation to la-la land with a certain blonde distracted me.” He walked over to my desk, pushed a folder out of the way, and sat in the space he’d just cleared.

  “I can’t stop thinking about her, okay,” I admitted, feeling defeated somehow, as if I’d lost some sort of important internal battle. I wanted him to tell me that I was crazy to be hung up on a girl I’d just met, but I knew he wouldn’t.

  “That’s what happens when you actually like a girl,” he said, as if this were news to me.

  Leaning back in my chair, I scoffed at him. “I don’t want to like the girl. She lives three thousand miles away. It’s beyond unrealistic.”

  “Sorry to break it to you, bro, but your heart doesn’t care about reality or miles. Cal,” he said, speaking slowly in a tone one might use with a small child, “a heart is this thing that lives right here.” He pointed to his chest. “That’s where most people think they feel everything related to love. Now, love is—”

  “Shut up,” I growled out, and he laughed hard as he tried to talk through his laughter to continue teasing me. “Come closer so I can hit you.” I swung at him but he was just out of reach, and I almost fell out of my chair.

  Laughing, Lucas pointed at me. “That’s a hate crime.”

  “You’re a hate crime.”

  “That’s probably also a hate crime.”

  Rolling my eyes, I groaned before I tilted my head back and rubbed my temples. “You’re an idiot.”

  “I knew I should have bet you money that this would happen,” he said, grinning like some all-knowing guru. “I could be a rich man right now.”

  “Please shut up.”

  “Cal, for once in your life, forget about your rules and your stupid timeline, and be flexible.”

  My fingers still pressed to my temples, I glared at him. “You’re reading way too much into this.”

  “I don’t think I am.”

  “We had fun together. We enjoyed each other’s company. That’s it.” I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince, but Lucas’s expression told me that he didn’t believe a word I said.

  He shrugged before saying something that surprised me. “Maybe you’re right.”

  I leaned toward him, cupping my hand to my ear. “I’m sorry, what? Could you repeat that?”

  “I said maybe you’re right. Maybe it was so great with Jules because she doesn’t live here. Maybe you were just caught up in the moment.”

  “That’s it! I’m acting all crazy because I thought it was perfect, but it only seemed that way because Jules doesn’t live here. You, my friend,” I said as I pointed at him, “are a genius. I probably won’t even miss her in a week.”

  As I was speaking, my cell phone vibrated on my desk, and I reached for it to find a text from Jules on the screen.

  Jules: Good morning, or good afternoon, in your case. Time differences are weird. Hope you have a great day. I’m s
howing a $3-million house today to some new clients. Wish me luck! : )

  Hell. One text message from her and all my thoughts flew out the window.

  Lucas gave me a big grin. “Is that her? Dude, your face.”

  “It’s your mom,” I said as I flipped him off.

  “Gross.”

  Staring at my phone, I hesitated, wondering if I should respond to Jules now or later, but found myself unable to resist.

  Dream Lips: Three mil? Chump change. LOL Good luck, babe. You got this.

  I smiled as I pressed Send. A response I wasn’t expecting came within seconds.

  Jules: I sorta miss you.

  Hell. My body instantly relaxed as I read her words. I hadn’t realized until this moment how much I’d wanted Jules to feel that way. Knowing she missed me too made me feel a little less vulnerable. I might have tried to convince myself that I’d be over her in time, but that time was certainly not today.

  Dream Lips: I sorta miss you too.

  “What’s she saying?” Lucas said, straining to peer over my shoulder to see my texts. “What are you saying?”

  “She misses me,” I tried to tell him, but my voice came out funny. I sounded like a damn eighth-grader going through puberty.

  “Who wouldn’t?” he said, giving me a duh look, then nudged my shoulder. “You should do it, by the way.”

  “Do what?” Confused, I frowned at him, and Lucas nodded at my computer.

  “The flowers. You should send her flowers. It’s a nice gesture.”

  Sighing, I shook my head. “A nice gesture for what? What would be the point?”

  Lucas crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a knowing look. “No girl would ever complain about getting flowers from a guy she just met. It’s obvious you like her, even if you keep trying to convince yourself that you don’t.”

  “But I don’t want to give her the wrong idea . . .”

  “And what’s that? That you enjoyed meeting her?”

  Scowling, I shoved his ass off my desk. “What would you think if I sent you flowers?”

  He laughed and shot me a wink. “I’d think that you liked me.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But you do like me,” he said, making his point.

  “Of course I like you. I’m just not sure if I should advertise that fact.”

  Lucas paused. “Advertise it! Definitely advertise it. And I like calla lilies. In white,” he said in a stage whisper before walking away.

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I opened the floral website again and sent a giant bouquet of mixed flowers to Jules’s office. Lucky for me, she’d mentioned the name of her agency, so I found the address within seconds of searching for it.

  Should I be doing this kind of stuff? No, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to. Jules had me breaking every rule, going against my better judgment at every turn. The battle inside me was a struggle, and I didn’t know what was right or wrong anymore.

  • • •

  The rest of the workday flew by in a blurry haze of numbers, research, and the memory of Jules’s green eyes. There was something captivating about the way a woman looked at you when she wanted you. If you felt the same way about her, it was mesmerizing, sexy. If you weren’t interested, it bordered on creepy.

  After I left work, I’d stopped by and spent a couple hours with the kids at the afterschool program, worked out at the gym, and was now sitting in my one-bedroom condo, waiting for my dinner to finish cooking. It was nice that the time difference between Jules and me worked in my favor, leaving me plenty of time to take care of other things and then be free to talk to her.

  I had sent her a text earlier asking her when I could call, and she told me she would call when she was done for the day. So I found myself glancing at the clock and waiting for my phone to ring. Like a girl.

  The timer for my steak buzzed at the same time as my phone rang. It was Jules. My heart gave a little lurch at the sight of her name on my caller ID, but I ignored it as I answered.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi,” she said, sounding as if she was in her car.

  Even with the traffic noise in the background, the sweetness of her voice came through. I hadn’t realized how much I enjoyed the sound of it until I heard it again.

  “Damn, I miss your voice.”

  She breathed into the line. “Me too. It’s ridiculous,” she said with a giggle.

  “How was your day? How were the three-million-dollar clients?” I asked as I cut into my steak.

  She groaned. “Ugh. They’re becoming increasingly difficult. I love them to pieces, but it’s hard to get people to be rational sometimes.”

  I wasn’t sure what she meant exactly, but I wanted to learn more about what she did, day in and day out. “In what way?”

  “When I first meet with clients, I ask them questions and make a list, like what are their must-haves as opposed to the things they want, but could live without. Basically, I find out what their deal-breakers are, like some people will insist on a three-car garage and an infinity pool. And if the property doesn’t have both of those things, they don’t even want to see it.”

  I nodded my head as she talked. “Right. Okay. That makes sense. Go on.”

  “Well, the property I showed them today had everything on their must-have list, but it wasn’t grand enough for them. They never mentioned wanting something grand or showy before, but now it’s a must-have. Which is fine, but they don’t really want to pay more than their budget. And it’s hard to explain to people that what you can get for three million in, say, Beverly Hills isn’t what you’ll get in Malibu. They’re not the same.”

  “So now you have to find them other options in the same price range?”

  “Yeah, but I’m also going to have to show them a couple that are beyond it, just so they can see the difference. Like, hey guys, if you spend half a million more, you can get all this and this. That usually pisses people off, but sometimes it’s the only way to make them understand.”

  “I don’t envy you, babe.”

  Dealing with people like that sounded like a pain in the ass. I worked with difficult clients too sometimes, but not very often. Since I was an expert in my field, most of them listened to my advice. But when push came to shove, the client was the boss, and I’d ultimately do whatever they wanted. It was their money, after all.

  “How was your day?” she asked.

  “Good. The market didn’t tank, so that’s always a plus.”

  “Tell me exactly what you do again. I know you work in finance and you handle people’s money, but when you and the guys were discussing it that night, you were talking in Chinese, so I didn’t understand.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, we were talking about investments. Technically, I’m a financial advisor, but I like to think that I do much more than that for my clients.”

  “How so? Say I was your client. What would you do for me?”

  “We’d start off sort of the same way you start off with your clients, going over their list of wants and needs.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I’d probably start by asking you what your goals were for the future. Like, do you plan on purchasing any property in the next five years? Do you want to travel, and if so, where? Are you going to start a business? Will you want a new car? Are you going to be getting married or adopting a kid? Basically, I’d learn about your long- and short-term goals.”

  “Okay. Then what?”

  “Then I plan for it. I invest your money in different ways and get you set up for things you may not have thought about, like life insurance or a will. It all depends on the needs of the client and what they want from me. But I talk to them all the time, and I’m invested in their success. I want them to succeed so that I succeed.”

  “That all sounds very fancy,” she said, sounding impressed. “And grown-up. And sort of awesome.”

  I laughed. “Thanks. I love it.”

  “It sounds like it.”

  “I
have to build relationships with my clients the same way you do. The only thing that sucks about your job is that you could spend all that time and energy with people and end up without a sale. How do you deal with that?”

  “It does happen, but not usually very often. And what can I do? If it doesn’t work out, it sucks, but I can’t focus on things like that or I’ll go nuts.”

  The background noise disappeared, and I realized she must have shut off her car. “Are you home?”

  “Yeah. Just pulled in.”

  “What are your plans now?”

  I glanced at the clock and found myself almost hating how early it still was there, when it was growing later here. It made me a little envious that she still had her whole night ahead of her when I’d be going to bed soon.

  “I need to work out, eat dinner, and I’ll probably research new places to show them just to plan ahead.”

  I smiled at the thought that she’d continue working from home. Of course she would. We were cut from the same cloth.

  “Do you want me to let you go?” I asked, understanding that even though my night was almost over, hers had just begun.

  “I don’t want to, but yeah, I should probably go,” she said, her voice sounding sad. “Otherwise, I’ll stay on the phone with you all night and accomplish nothing.”

  “Can’t have that. Talk to you tomorrow?”

  “I’d love that.”

  As she sighed into the phone, I could picture her face, and suddenly I remembered something.

  “Jules?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Send me a couple of those pictures of us together. Whichever ones are your favorite.” It wasn’t fair that she could look at us whenever she wanted and I couldn’t.

  “Okay,” she said, her tone suddenly upbeat. “We take the cutest pictures together, by the way, so be warned. They might take over your life.”

  I laughed. “Warning taken.” When I heard her car door slam in the background and she began breathing heavily, like she was carrying things, I said, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. ’Night,” she said, and then she was gone.