The Billionaire’s Wife (Part Two)(5)
Author: Ava Claire

I still couldn’t wrap my brain around Jacob ripping his brother a new one, but in the heat of the moment, faced with the fallout of his mother’s secrets, he could have lost it. If I asked myself, ‘why didn’t he tell me the whole story?’ it opened up a whole new can of worms. So I let it go. It happened. Things were said that clearly weren’t meant. The only important question was, what now?

“That’s why I’m here.” I said, fiddling with my napkin. “He wants to se you. I, we, want you to come over for dinner.”

He blinked. “Jacob wants to see me?”

I nodded. Well, those exact words hadn’t been uttered, but that was the general gist of it.

“You’re inviting me over to dinner?” Cole asked, like he was waiting for the catch.

“Absolutely. We’d love to have you.” His coworker breezed past and the two of them exchanged sultry looks. “Feel free to bring your girlfriend.”

“Tracy?” he snorted. “We’re just special friends.” He gave me a look that explained just how special.

“Oh Lord,” I groaned. “Okay, so bring someone, or not. Whatever makes you feel most comfortable.” I swallowed a forkful of Caesar salad. “Are you free tonight?”

“Wow, um…I can be?” He was suddenly nervous, picking at the tablecloth. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course.”

He glanced up, then back down. “I feel like the only way this works is if we start over. Forget what happened when he came here and I told him who I was and he-”  Cole cleared his throat, looking up at me with renewed purpose. “I don’t even want to talk about it. We need a completely clean slate.”

I put a hand on his arm. “Clean slate. You got it. You just make sure you bring an empty stomach.”

Family dinner and a fresh start.

NINE

****

“Leila, have you lost your mind?”

I pretended I didn’t hear Megan, even though she was on speakerphone and me, the delivery guy, and half the building must have heard her screech. I flashed him a tight smile as I signed for the catering order.

“Do you need help setting up-”

“She needs help alright,” Megan answered for me. “In fact, I think you should take all the food back. If there’s no food, maybe she won’t go through with this fantastically bad idea –”

I reached over and put her on mute, handing the paper back to the delivery guy. “Thanks, but I have it covered.”

He didn’t seem too convinced either, but he tapped the rim of his ball cap. “Good luck.”

I waited for him to leave, refusing to let his doubt creep in too. He didn’t have all the details, just the brief meltdown Megan had been in the throes of when I told her about the impromptu dinner. I inhaled the herb and meaty deliciousness that wafted from the bag on the bar. A part of me hoped the involuntary muting would piss her off and she’d hang up, but it was wishful thinking. The call was still connected.

I tapped the un-mute button, ready to apologize, but she clearly didn’t even notice that I put her on silent in the first place.

“…After lunch, I thought we agreed that you are prone to overreacting. Jumping to conclusions and such?”

I pulled out the containers of food, trying to keep my voice level. “What does any of that have to do with a harmless dinner?”

“Please,” she scoffed. “Harmless? This is life-changing information. Jacob has a brother that his mother categorically denied until fairly recently. He kept it to himself, and when he told you, your first reaction is to hunt down his brother and set up some sort of reunion dinner?”

“Reunion denotes that there was some sort of established relationship and they’re being reunited after a period of time. Doesn’t really apply to this situation.”

“Thank you, Dictionary.com.”

“I’m just trying to help,” I snapped. “Jacob’s hurting, Cole’s hurting-”

“And I’m not sure it’s your job to be the glue that fixes it. You can’t force these kinds of things.”

I was saved by a text from Jacob. I snatched up the reprieve. “That’s Jacob–I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Leila-”

I disconnected and silenced the building knots in my stomach, scrolling to my unread messages. Jacob was leaving the office. My fingers trembled as I tapped out that I had a surprise. My world stood still while I waited for his reply.

Jacob: You know how I love your surprises. ?

Warmth ricocheted over me as I put aside my phone and focused on making tonight a night to be remembered.

“Because I’m doing the right thing.” I said aloud, marching toward the kitchen. I swiped a couple of nice plates and serving dishes. I was a blur of movement, not thinking, just moving. The pasta was piled high, the salad was bright and tossed, the bread was buttered and savory. I pulled an unopened bottle of wine from the cabinet and swiped three glasses. Once the table was set, everything perfect and in its place, I was left with the quiet and the quiet gave my nerves the chance to magnify.

What if Megan was right? What if I was just making it worse? What if it wasn’t my place? I frowned, that statement like something sour on my tongue. Making sure Jacob was happy was my place. I put the finishing touches on the spread, lighting some candles for ambiance. Zen, relaxed, good food…and hopefully, good, positive conversation.

I braced myself on the table as I took in the empty plates. Blank slate. It was still hard to wrap my mind around Jacob ripping into his brother, but tonight wasn’t about rehashing things that were done out of anger. It was about healing and moving forward.

The elevator chimed and I rushed to the mirror in the living room, giving my reflection a final look. Curls were pulled into a bun at the top of my head with a few in the front trickling down. Gloss and mascara outlined my features, but nothing too intense. Understated black dress and casual black flats completed the look.

I crossed my legs and waited for him, hoping that Megan was wrong. Hoping that tiny voice inside my head was overreacting. Praying I wasn’t making a mistake.

Jacob stopped in the doorway, a smile brightening his tired face. “You ordered in?” He took stock of the dining room. “Pasta, wine, candles, what’s the-”

My heart seized when he stopped talking, probably counting the plates and realizing that it wasn’t a dinner for two. He peeled off his jacket, his tone a little less excited. Rough around the edges. “Who’s joining us for dinner?”