Reckless Hearts: A Billionaire Romance (21 page)

"Ughh," I groaned, pushing myself up and just managing to not fall back down again. I still had a few hours before my first lecture for the day. A few hours that I could spend in blissful unconsciousness, blacked out from the world.

No
, the voice cut into my mind sharper than the daylight,
Pull yourself together. This is how it should have gone. Get your act together and get to class.

I wanted to rebel against the mean voice. Instead I took its advice.

That first day without him was the hardest. I made the mistake of sitting close to the window in one lecture, and I kept looking up into the sky. Fine cirrus clouds hung up there like thin sheets of gauze, and I kept wondering if Owen was on a plane, or had just gotten off one in some strange land.

And if he thought of me at all.

Is this withdrawal?

That thought occurred to me again and again throughout the day.

It was like once I'd opened up the floodgates of my emotions and let them wash over me I couldn't get up to the surface. I drowned in them, the surface rippling just out of reach.

I guess I still couldn't quite believe it. The past few weeks were hazy, dream-like. Could I really have taken a header for someone that hard that fast?

So when Jennifer intercepted me after class, grabbing me by the elbow, I welcomed the interruption.

"Hey," she said, the smile on her face faltering but managing to hold when she saw the way I looked. "Everything okay? 'Cause I have to say, you sort of look like an extra out of zombie movie right now."

I hitched the strap of my messenger bag higher on my shoulder. "Comforting."

"Does this have to do with how you've been so scarce this past while?"

We walked together, going from the hall into a high-ceilinged rotunda with marble floors. There we stopped, other students shifting to walk around us.

"I guess," I said, thinking that her zombie analogy wasn't so far off. I wouldn't have blamed Jennifer for giving some excuse, begging off, and not seeing me again.

But she was as kind as she was pretty (and she really was pretty that day with her hair tamed and silky and the knee-length skirt she wore).

I wondered what she must think of me. I know what I thought of myself. I’d pushed her away, just like I told myself I wouldn’t.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to get some studying or writing time in. I have a room at the library booked already, and I need a second body in there. Can you save me from getting booted out?"

"Yeah, I think I can manage that," I said. For the first time that day, I felt a spark of hope. The light coming in through the rotunda's enormous windows stopped cutting into my eyes so deeply.

And for just that moment, my mind occupied with thoughts of studying, I didn't think about Owen.

Then, as if from a hazy old memory, I remembered that party she wanted to throw for me. It really did feel like long ago. And now, the state I was in, I didn’t know if I deserved anything like that anymore. Especially not after pushing her away.

"Great! Let's grab a snack first and then head over," Jennifer said.

In addition to getting kicked out of the study rooms for being by yourself, you could also get removed for being caught with food. Even dry, non-smelly stuff. I always thought it was the librarians power tripping, but I couldn't do anything about it.

And more to my surprise, the first rumblings of hunger shook my stomach. Maybe there was an end to this love hangover after all.

Not longer after that, we sat in our study. It was nice. Familiar. I had some notes laid out on my end of the table, my laptop's screen glowing in front of me.

Jennifer had a similar setup at her end, her Apple casting a soft glow that softened her face.

"You want to talk about it at all?" she said.

She didn't have to specify what "it" she meant. I considered her offer, turning it over in my head.
It might be nice to get out. Besides, I don't have to tell her everything.
I don't know why, but it still felt wrong to me to tell her, or anyone else, just who Owen was.

"There was this guy," I started.

"I knew it! You always went on about how having a relationship in college would just slow you down. But I knew there'd be someone out there who could find the chink in your armor."

I nodded. "Yeah, I guess he knew just where to look. Anyway, there was this guy..."

"What's his name? Or are you still going to tell me I don't know him?"

"Owen," I said.

"Not a bad name. Any last one to go with it?"

"Can I tell the story?" I said, more amused than irritated. It was nice to get down to some plain old girl talk. Jennifer nodded, then pulled an imaginary zipper across her lips.

"It all happened so fast. Way faster than I thought something like that, could. Then it started getting serious. Too serious for him, I guess. He didn't feel the same way, I suppose. He dropped me off last night and that's all she wrote."

Jennifer lifted her hand to her mouth,
Can I say something yet?

I smiled at her and nodded.

"He said that? He said he doesn't feel the same way you do?"

"Not in so many words..." I said, remembering my realization at the door to my building.

"Then how do you know for sure?"

"What else could it be? He told to get out of his car and also that he was getting on a plane. Message seems pretty clear to me," I said. I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair.

"Maybe it scared him. If it happened as fast as you said, some people just aren't ready for it right away."

"Scared? Not Owen," I said. "Guys like him don't get scared. Especially not of something like the way they feel."

Still,
still
, there had been the way he went rigid when I blurted my heart out. The way he didn't look at me. "No way," I said again, wondering who I was trying to convince.

Jennifer didn't buy it, though. "Are you kidding me?"

Someone rapped their knuckles on the glass. We both jerked and then looked. A stern woman with her grey hair back in a tight bun glared at us. Then she held her finger up to her lips.

We smiled and nodded at her. She lingered for another moment, doubtful of our sincerity, but then left to go back to the book-loaded cart behind her.

"Are you kidding me?" Jennifer said, her voice lower. A stage whisper. She also leaned over her Apple.

"No?" I said, not getting her.

"Men are the worst at dealing with their feelings. The quieter they get, the more you know it's getting to them. I would bet the family business that he feels the same way, and that it scared him down to the bone. I think it's always like that, when it's fast. It's that danger I was talking to you about before. And you know what? I think this is the sign that it was the right thing to go after him."

"You're kidding," I said, my voice not as low as it should have been. The librarian, kneeling beside her cart while she re-shelved, shot us another nasty look.

The base of my spine prickled, and I licked suddenly dry lips.

"Nope. Serious as Sunday service. He's probably taking it just as hard as you. You should get in touch with him."

Hope and excitement surged inside of me, running in hot and cold streams through my whole body.
Maybe she's right. Maybe I should...

Don't,
I thought then,
Stop getting your hopes up.
The wave of my hopes crashed against the rocks and shattered.

"No, it's probably for the best. I don't think he'd take my call, anyway."

"You should try. At least then you can say you did. No regrets, you know?" Jennifer said, fighting to keep her voice low. I could tell that she couldn't believe I gave up so quickly. It wasn't quick or easy, though. It was agonizing and slow and also the right decision for me and my life, and probably his, too.

"I think that ship sailed," I said, thinking
more like that plane took off.

"Allie..." she said.

I cut her off, "No. We weren't good for each other. We were like poison." Maybe we weren't good for each other. But we were pretty damn good
with
each other. I ignored that thought.

"Maybe if you both just admitted the way you felt..."

"Not gonna happen. Can we drop it, please?" I said. My headache started returning, the hum of the fluorescents loud and grating. A flash fire of irritation started in my gut, and I didn't want to feel that way towards Jennifer. I didn't want to lose both Owen and her in the span of 24 hours. That, I couldn't stand.

I could barely stand it the way it was.

"Yeah, sure. Sorry to bring up it."

I thought that the stern librarian lady gave us an approving look when we both turned our attention from men to our laptop screens.

It got easier, a little, anyway. The harder I concentrated on my paper, the less I thought of Owen. The less I thought of Jennifer and her doubts. I even went down at the end of our reservation to book the room for another timeslot.

Luckily there was one available. Fate, maybe, that there was. Because I knew Jennifer would beg off to go get some more food or hang out with someone less of a downer than me. But with the room, she stayed.

It wasn't until the end of that day, me back alone in my dorm apartment, that the doubts started again. Jennifer's voice, her insidious ideas, kept crawling into my mind.

That sort of thing always happens when you're alone and at the end of the day, I found. Like all your strength was gone.

Maybe there's still a chance
, I kept thinking, even though the resurgent old Allison Chambers, the one dedicated to school, railed against those thoughts.

First, I tried his office.

The secretary answered, "Miss Chambers? He has instructed me not to take any more of your calls. Have a nice evening."

"Wait!" I said, the phone pressed hard to my ear, making it all hot.

I don't know why she didn't hang up. Curiosity, maybe. She didn't, though. She waited on the other end of the line.

"So he's not there? He's not at his office? Owen isn't in Manhattan?"

I got a shocked feeling from the other end. I knew why right away. I knew his name. That surprised her. Surprised her that he'd given that to me.

"No, he isn't here or in the city. He's away on business. I'm sure you understand," she said, sounding a little rattled, "Please do not call this number again or harassment charges will be filed. Good evening." She hung up before I could interrupt her again.

I should have taken that for a sign, should have let it be. But I didn't. I had to know. I had to prove Jennifer wrong. It was a compulsion.

And to also see if that faint glimmer of hope in me meant anything. The one I didn't dare fully acknowledge for fear that it might run away and leave me empty.

So I called the other number I had. The one for Owen's personal cell.
It should work anywhere in the world
, I knew.

It rang and rang, never going to voicemail. Each ring dimmed that hope in me until it was nearly indistinguishable from the darkness.

Finally, I gave up and hung up.

It's for the best
, I told myself. I hoped that was true.

F
or a while at least, it really did seem to be for the best. The urge to call him nagged at me a few times, but I ignored it.

The days started rolling past, and I slipped into my old groove again. My professors stopped asking me to stay after class to admonish me about my flagging performance.

I felt good about the work I did, about the papers I handed in. And when midterms came around, I knocked those out of the figurative park, too.

I think it happened as a defensive response. Owen didn't leave my thoughts completely, not ever. But if I tried hard enough I could relegate him to the dark and dusty corners where I didn't venture often anyway.

The day also came when Peabody did give me another summons.

This time I didn’t feel nearly as anxious to find myself standing in front of that expanse of desk. Peabody did not invite me to sit, and I didn't presume to.

I still wasn't back in his good graces, if I'd ever been, and that knowledge kept the smart comments confined to my inner monologue instead of our conversation.

"I've received reports that you seem to have regained your former position," he said. There was no evidence of said reports. As before, only a lamp and that funny little quill pen occupied his desk. Not even the pad of paper waited there. I figured somewhere it still sat, the name "Owen" written on the top sheet with nothing thereafter.

"I'm glad. I don't know what happened," I said, "But I've pulled myself out of whatever it was."

"Yes, of course you have," Peabody said. He didn't look at me when he said it. "I take it your mystery man came to his senses and saw that carrying on would do more harm than good to the both of you?"

My stomach clenched at that and for a brief second I wondered if Peabody knew the truth. He didn't of course. It was a dart thrown in a dark room that somehow found its way to the bull’s eye.

"He's not in the picture any more, yes," I said.

"I'm glad to hear it. Now, to the matter I truly wished to discuss. I've yet to hear from our esteemed former guest whether or not he wishes to continue his plan to provide our less fortunate students with a grant."

"Oh?" I said. When I first came in that little spark of hope had flickered back to something like life. I'd wondered if maybe Owen had gotten in touch. Maybe gave Peabody some sort of message intended for me.

That was another call that went unanswered, however. Ringing and ringing until I gave in and hung up.

"Yes. I thought perhaps you might have some insight? Did he appear pleased? Impressed?" Peabody said. He leaned forward, disdaining to put his elbows on that polished surface in front of him, and looked at me for once.

"I couldn't tell, I'm sorry. I think maybe he said he had some business to take care of first."

"Ah. What a shame. If he does contact you, please give him my regards and tell him I'm looking forward to learning his decision."