Beautifully Shattered (The Beautifully Series Book 1) (39 page)

He gives me a quick
peck on my cheek. “They’re incentive for a beautiful brunette to
go to lunch with me.”

I glance down at my
watch. He’s just in time. “Okay, give me a minute to finish
everything up here. Then I’m all yours.”

I let my boss know that
I’m heading to lunch and give a quick wave to Harper as we pass her
office on our way to the elevator. She barely notices us as she taps
her keyboard. It’s a busy day for her. I make a mental note to
bring her back something.

Kohen interlaces our
fingers together as we stroll to a nearby sushi place. He hasn’t
said much since we’ve left Malcara Enterprises. As we take our
seats in the crowded restaurant, I break the silence.

“Are we okay?”

He lets out a long
breath. “I should be asking you that.” He runs his hand roughly
down his face. “I’m so sorry, Adalynn. I can’t believe I did
that. I never intended to hurt you. I promise that I—”

I cover his mouth with
my fingers. “Stop, Kohen. I told you last night, you have nothing
to be sorry for and I meant it. Believe me. I’m fine.” I slide my
fingers from his lips to caress his cheek. “You. Did. Not. Hurt.
Me.”

It takes a while for
him to give me his first real smile since he showed up at my work. I
give him a lingering kiss on the lips and turn my attention to the
menu.

“Great, now feed me.
I’m starving!”

He follows my lead and
picks up the menu. “Your wish is my command.”

After an enjoyable
lunch, I head toward the restroom. I can’t help but notice that
most women keep stealing glances at our table. I doubt that they’re
staring at our empty plates. I love that he is oblivious to everyone
in the restaurant. His sole focus is me, always me. He makes me feel
cherished.

I’m fully aware of
the cheesy smile threatening to split my face in two when I walk into
the bathroom. I ignore the two women checking themselves out in the
mirror and go about my business. They talk about the usual things
ladies discuss in the bathroom.

“Do you like my hair
this color or do you think I should go back to being blonde?”

I ignore their
conversation while I wash my hands.

“He has the most
striking green eyes I’ve ever seen.”

I, of course, think of
the green-eyed man that I know. As I dry my hands, I hear something
else that makes me stop. Turning, I face the one who just mentioned
Trinity.

“I’m sorry, I
couldn’t help but overhear you.” Because you’re louder than a
blow-horn. “You wouldn’t happen to be talking about a man named
Jaxon, would you?”

She immediately sizes
me up. I do the same. I hate that her hair is practically the
identical color as mine. Yes, she should go back to being a blonde.
She does not pull off being a brunette well. Scratch that, she should
keep it. She could stand putting on a few pounds. I’m sure if she
turns too quickly she might snap in two. Would that be a bad thing?
Her stupid skinny jeans and low cut shirt that shows off her ample
breasts, make me want to throw something at her.

My eyes blaze as I
stare at her, unwilling to back down. I need to know I’m paranoid
and that the world doesn’t revolve around Jax. Well, besides my
world that is. Thankfully her friend pities me and turns her
attention from her phone to me.

“I believe his last
name is Chandler, but I’m not sure. Why? Are you his girlfriend or
something?”

Both of them check my
left hand for the ring they won’t find. I laugh, but I’m dying
inside. “Oh no, nothing like that. He’s my brother’s friend.
That’s it. I was just wondering.”

Wow, small world. Out
of all the restaurants in New York, I have to be at the place where
one of Jax’s one night stands shows up. Wonderful. Today just keeps
getting better. As she flicks her hair over her shoulder, I realize
that I’ve seen her before. I squint to make sure. About two months
ago, I saw her leaving Jax’s office. Has he been seeing her all
this time? What about everything that happened between us? Did he
leave me to choose her? Sweat bathes my forehead. I might be sick.

“Oh wow! Do you know
what his favorite food is? I’m planning on surprising him with
dinner tonight.” She holds up a white card, his penthouse access
card, and my heart breaks a little more. “We’ve been together a
while, but his food preference hasn’t come up before.” Her friend
snickers, making my no longer beating heart crack a little more. The
slut continues to talk, unaware of the silent agony she’s putting
me through. “I thought he would love the surprise with how busy
he’s been with work this week.”

Over-share much? I
concentrate on not lashing out at her. I can’t figure out why it
would be such a horrible idea to bash her face into the mirror. Ah,
her friend. Witness. Don’t need that. I swallow the huge lump in my
throat.

“Nope, sorry. We’re
not close. Like I said, he’s my brother’s friend, not mine.”

Without waiting for a
response, I turn on my heels. I can’t even believe how upset I am
over something like this. This is stupid. I’m stupid. I know he
dates. Well, fucks is more like it. Hearing about it in a bathroom
and realizing that he’s been seeing her for a while now, is so much
worse than I’ve ever imagined. I think I might throw up. Thank God
that slut didn’t go into details. I wouldn’t be held responsible
for my actions.

How can he sleep with
her? Is she his girlfriend? I swallow the bile in my throat. No, Jax
doesn’t do girlfriends, I remind myself, but I don’t believe my
own lie. If she wasn’t his girlfriend, why would she have the
access card to his place?

I guess I finally know
why he hasn’t attended our weekly dinners. I should feel relieved
that he isn’t avoiding me, but I don’t. If anything, I feel
worse, much worse. I can’t believe that I thought he wasn’t
coming around because of me. Could I be any more self-absorbed?

I need to scream. I
hate that my heart is crumbling. I thought my heart was shattered,
nothing left to break. I was wrong.

As I walk back to the
seating area, Kohen types on his phone with an anxious expression. It
evaporates when he spots me. Salvaging our lunch date is impossible.

Good thing I’ve
perfected the art of acting. Anyone looking at me will see what I
want them to see. I’m just a girl on a date with a boy. Laughing at
his jokes that I don’t hear. I touch his arm at the right time,
showing we’re intimate. I make sure that this is what he sees.
Nothing else. From a typical outsider, it’s the perfect picture.

From the inside I’m
slowly dying. My entire body is wound so tightly, I can feel every
individual muscle tense. I force my muscles to loosen up so that
Kohen doesn’t notice how stressed I am. My heart was pulled out of
my chest and dumped onto the dirty cold tiled floor of that bathroom.
Somehow my blood continues to pump, keeping me alive so I can torture
myself with images of Jax and the slut. Kohen disappears. Behind my
eyes is the vision of a naked Jax and a leggy brunette who isn’t
me.

I’m suffering on the
inside. Perfect on the outside. It’s a role I play well. A role I
haven’t played in a while. A role that I miss. I miss pretending to
be perfect. I miss not reacting, not allowing anyone to see the real
me, not allowing anything to hurt me. I miss being numb.

Kohen appears in a much
better mood as we leave the restaurant. Me? I’m ready to drown a
particular brunette. Thankfully Kohen doesn’t notice my rotten
mood. As he leans in to kiss me, I step away and force a cough.

“Are you getting
sick?” Concern fills his voice.

“No, I think I
swallowed a bug or something.”

He pulls me into him
and checks my head for a fever just in case. He kisses my forehead.

“Call me later?”

“Of course.”

I watch his cab drive
away. Clutching the doggie bag for Harper tighter than necessary, I
head into work. I try to calm down enough so that nobody notices a
change.
I don’t care. It’s
not a big deal. People fuck all the time.
I wish my body
could stop trembling. Will the pain in my chest ever go away?

I slam my bag on my
desk. I glance around to make sure nobody notices. I’m in luck.
Well, until I see Harper to the right with a raised eyebrow. I shake
my head at her, point to her office and mouth “food.” She mouths
“thanks.” I’ll tell her about lunch when we go running tonight
after work.

Harper waits in my
living room while I change into my workout clothes. I usually don’t
run with a jacket, but the new accessories on my forearms leave me no
choice. All of my long-sleeved workout clothes overflow the hamper.
So I’m stuck wearing a purple razorback tank with a built-in sports
bra and my black running jacket. I change into my black running
shorts and snag my Nikes from my closet. I wash all my make-up off my
face, before heading to the living room.

We walk across the
street to Central Park and stretch. After about five minutes of
jogging in silence, Harper squints at me, a question written all over
her face.

“What?” I snap.

“I was just wondering
how long until you tell me about your pissy mood after lunch.” She
picks up the pace. I easily keep up.

“I don’t know what
you’re talking about,” I say a little defensively.

Harper doesn’t say
anything at first. I don’t know if I’m relieved that she dropped
it, or not. Do I want to talk about it? I know I should.

I try to focus on the
run. The feel of my feet hitting the pavement with each step. I’m
doing everything I usually do. My mind usually shuts off by now.

As we jog, I
concentrate on breathing in air through my nose, out of my mouth. A
slow burn works its way up my calfs. It’s still not enough to shove
the image of Jax and the troll out of my head. I need to push myself
harder. That’s the only way. I need to feel the pain. I need to
overwork myself.

I quicken my pace
again. I’m almost sprinting. Harper doesn’t break stride. She’s
sweating a little more than me and breathing a little harder. I can
tell she isn’t used to running like this. She’s more of a
marathon type, not a sprinter. I want to tell her to go at her own
pace, but my mouth won’t work. I doubt she would, anyways.

I push myself to the
breaking point. It’s the only way I know how to shut it off, to
stop picturing them together.

Again I increase my
pace. I can see Harper roll her eyes at me before she matches my
stride again. We’re both sprinting. My arms hurt, my thighs burn,
but they’re not on fire. I want the fire. I need to keep running
until I can’t anymore. I need the small distraction, if only for a
second.

Harper surprises me by
going even faster. Sweat drenches her yellow tank. I’m not much
better. Sweat drips down my spine and I use my jacket-covered arm to
wipe perspiration off my forehead. My blood pumps so hard I can hear
it in my ears. They start to ring, making any other noise impossible
to hear.

I won’t last much
longer. It’s okay, the images are almost gone. I’ll have my
reprieve soon. Harper huffs and puffs alongside me. A little more is
all I need. I can feel everything starting to slip away. It’s as if
I’m physically leaving my troubles on the pavement with each step.
With each pump of my arms, the pain of my broken heart lessens. In
its place is the burning of my legs.

I unzip my jacket,
needing air or I might pass out. My jacket flaps in the wind. I bring
the corner of my jacket up to my chest to wipe off sweat. Harper
increases her speed. She has a lot more stamina than I realized.
We’re now running as fast as we can. If I don’t stop, tomorrow
will be hell. I don’t, I keep pushing. Finally, everything is gone.
No more Jax. No more leggy troll. No more broken heart. Just
breathing.

I glance at Harper to
see how she’s doing. She’s ready to faint. She’s lathered in
sweat, her face cherry red, and her breathing erratic. I know I look
the same. I slow down. Sense finally kicks in and I realize what I’m
doing. I’m killing myself over a guy. A guy that doesn’t even
want me. I won’t be that girl. I’d rather save the torture I
force upon my body for something real, something that matters. Jax
doesn’t matter. He never really did.

She looks relieved when
I slow our pace again. We’re now back to a fast jog. A little
further, she begins a fast walk. I follow her lead. Two minutes
later, we both stop. Waists bent, hand on our knees, we both struggle
for air. I toss my water bottle on a patch of grass. Harper follows
suit and stretches her hamstrings.

We don’t say anything
to each other. I think she is waiting for me to start the
conversation. Clearly she knows that’s not my regular running
routine, something is on my mind. I’m glad that she gives me time
to come out with it. She understands that I don’t like to feel
backed into a corner. I can’t function that way.