Hate to Love Read online

  I don't think I can get away with pretending I'm not here.

  Opening the door, my breath catches in my throat when I see him again. Shane looks incredible. A more intensive practice schedule and being out on the field seems to have brought out even more of a golden hue to his skin. Somehow his body looks even stronger and more chiseled than before, and even though he's casual in a pair of jeans and sweater, the effect he has on me is devastating.

  "What are you doing here?" I ask.

  "I came to see you," he says. "Aren't you going to let me inside?"

  I feel like he's asked me this same exact question before. Despite my initial hesitation, I step out of the way, letting him inside the house.

  "You look good," I can't help but tell him.

  "So do you. You look beautiful. Are you… I mean did you... I mean… how are you?"

  I've never heard him sound so unsure of himself. There was a time when I would have enjoyed the strain of uncertainty in his voice but now it only makes me uncomfortable.

  "I'm still pregnant, Shane," I tell him, killing the suspense. "I'm planning on being pregnant for quite a while still. I'm keeping the baby."

  He nods.

  "You're not showing at all."

  "How are you here right now?" I ask. "Shouldn't you at practice or playing or something?"

  "I’m here because I want to be," he says. “I would have been here weeks ago, but you asked me to give you time and space.”

  "I did," I say. "So why are you here now?"

  I feel my throat tightening as my chest aches with emotion.

  "The team's playing just a couple hours from here. I can't stay for long, but I couldn't resist coming to see you."

  "Of course, you couldn't. As long as it was convenient for you and didn't damage the team."

  "So, now you're upset with me for doing what you asked me to and respecting your space?"

  I sigh and walk down the hallway into the living room.

  "No," I say.

  Shane follows me.

  "What do you want from me, Julie? You asked me to stay away and give you time to think through everything. And I did. Now you're upset about that? And also upset that I happened to come and see you when it was convenient?"

  “I told you, Shane, I'm not upset. And I don't want anything from you. I don't need anything from you."

  Shane looks over at the TV, then back to me.

  "Suddenly started watching football now?" he asks. "Missed me?"

  He says it almost bitterly, but I don't want to argue with him. That anger is gone.

  "Of course, I miss you. I miss you every day. I started missing you before I left Pennsylvania."

  Shane takes a step toward me.

  "Then, why, Julie? Why won't you come home?"

  "I am home."

  "You know that's not what I mean. Why are you still here? Why won't you come back to Pennsylvania? Because I know you're not here for some job."

  I feel my cheeks burning.

  "How do you know that?" I ask.

  "Gloria told me," Shane says. "She told me you admitted that you didn't have a job lined up here and that as far as she knew, you still weren't working."

  "I'm not even in the same state, and the thin walls of that apartment are still taking away all my privacy," I mutter.

  “It just doesn't make sense," Shane says. "Why would you come back here if you don’t even have a job? And don’t tell me you still need time to think, because you just said you already made a decision. I can take care of you. Both of you."

  "That's the thing, Shane. I don't want to feel like you're taking care of me because you have to. Like it’s some moral obligation. That's not the type of life I want – for either of us. I might miss you, but I don’t want to be some kept woman, knocked up by an NFL star. So, for now, I need to be alone. In a few months, I'm going to have this baby, and I need to know that I can handle that responsibility on my own. I need to know that I can do this and stand on my own two feet.”

  Shane

  Later that evening…

  Julie’s words endlessly repeat in my head the entire flight back to my team. It’s a short flight, but as my mind continues to conjure up images of what happened in Virginia, it feels endless. Coach had given me permission to go and see her when I explained the situation, but only for a few hours. It meant I could fly to the nearest airport, spend a short time with her, and then fly back. Even though it meant more than half a day of traveling for an hour of talking to her, it was worth it. Being away from her for that long was killing me. I didn't know how she would react to me showing up at her house unannounced, or if she would even talk to me. There was a good chance she would open the door, see it was me, and shut it in my face immediately.

  I'm still struggling to understand why she came back here. When Gloria told me she didn’t have a job, it shocked me, but also made me angry. I'm pissed off over the way Julie reacted to the conversation in the apartment. I'm irritated that she lied to me. And I'm mad that she gave me such a bullshit answer and left me to go back home.

  At the same time, I know what makes sense to her, or is best for her, isn’t up to me. She is intimately more involved in this situation than I am. I know my child is there. I know my son or daughter is growing inside of her. But for Julie, it’s her body. At least I can distract myself. I can bury myself in my workouts, or in a game, and not dwell on the pregnancy for a while. Julie doesn't have that option. The baby growing inside of her is a part of her. She will carry that baby for six more months. By the time I'm able to hold my baby, she will have already been taking care of him or her for almost a year. I know this means she needs to make the decisions that are right for her. This doesn't stop it from hurting deep inside my chest every time I remember she's not here with me, and that she doesn’t want me to be a part of this. Not right now, at least.

  I admire how determined Julie is to be independent. She doesn't have to be, and yet she's driven to prove that she can provide for the baby comfortably and safely without relying on anyone else. Suddenly, I realize that I’m not upset with Julie. I’m mad at myself. I've never really thought about being a father, but now that the opportunity is right in front of me, it is more precious than I could have ever imagined. I want to be a good father to my child, but that sentiment alone is not enough. Not anymore. I want to be with Julie. I can't do either with how I’ve acted in the past. I have to change and become the man the two of them deserve. All the work Julie put into improving my reputation and restoring my image was incredibly successful, and I might be even more popular now than before, but it just isn’t as important to me as it once was. It doesn't matter what other people think about me, or how they look at me. All that matters now is Julie. I’m going to do whatever it takes to prove myself worthy of being her partner, and father to our child, while also ensuring she has what she needs to move forward.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Julie

  Two weeks later…

  "Of course, I'm interested!"

  I'm nearly giddy with excitement but doing my best to contain myself and sound professional. As it is, I'm not doing a great job with it. This is a call I've been desperately waiting for, but never thought I would actually get. The woman on the other line talks for a few more seconds, and I concentrate on listening carefully, so I can understand what she's saying through my glee.

  "That definitely works for me," I say. "I'll see you first thing tomorrow morning."

  This all feels so similar to the exchange I had with Mr. Slidell the day he offered me the interview for his firm. Only then, I thought I was interviewing for a PR position when the job opening was for a secretary. Now, I know I'm going in for the interview I want. I end the call and drop my phone to my father's old chair before jumping up and down a few times. It isn't nearly as joyous as it could be, since I'm alone, but it's all I have right now, and I'm going to celebrate.

  Almost as though the thought brought him to me, Joe comes through the front door
and walks into the living room. Without even greeting me, he jumps up beside me and dances around with me for a few seconds. This is one of the reasons I love my big brother so much. He's willing to look ridiculous with me even if he doesn't know why simply because he's glad I'm happy. When we stop, he smiles at me.

  "What's going on?" he asks.

  I'm grinning so hard my cheeks hurt.

  "I just got off the phone with Amelia Barton."

  "Do I know Amelia Barton?" Joe asks.

  "No," I say, shaking my head. "Neither do I."

  "That is a lot of exuberance for getting a phone call from someone you don't know."

  "No, I mean I don't know her yet. But I'm going to. Amelia Barton is the secretary for Edmond Mills."

  I give this information a few seconds to sink in. Joe looks like he's thinking about it, trying to place the name he's heard dozens of times before. Suddenly, his eyes grow wide and I know it clicked.

  "Edmond Mills? As in the owner of the PR firm you've always wanted to work for, Edmond Mills?"

  "That's the one."

  "Wait. You’re talking about Edmond Mills, the owner of the PR firm you've always wanted to work for, and who rejected your application without even bringing you in for an interview, Edmond Mills?"

  "Yes, but apparently now he's seen the error of his ways, because Amelia just called me on personal behalf of Mr. Mills to offer me an interview."

  "Seriously?"

  "Yes! I go in tomorrow morning. By the way she talked about it, though, the interview is pretty much just a formality. She says that Mr. Mills is extremely interested in my work, and looks forward to having the opportunity to discuss with me the contributions I could make to his team."

  I'm trying to use my best prim and proper voice to emulate Amelia, but I'm still too excited to pull it off.

  "That's amazing," Joe says. "Congratulations! I'm so happy things are starting to work out for you."

  "I have to admit I was starting to think they never would. I mean, I know it's only been a couple of months, but…"

  "I know," he says. "I can see how hard this has been for you. But I want you to know I'm amazed by how well you've been handling this entire situation, and I'm really proud of you."

  "Really?" I ask.

  "Of course, Julie. Your life went through a major detour this year, but you're still moving right along. You're handling it with a lot more dignity and strength than I think most people would."

  "I guess I'm just used to things not going the way I plan them to now," I say. "Anyway, I have to figure out what I'm going to wear to this interview with this baby belly."

  I start toward my room, then hesitate.

  "What's wrong" he asks.

  "I have to tell him I'm pregnant," I say. "I can't hide it from them, then suddenly spring it on him in a couple of months and act like I didn't know."

  "No, that probably wouldn't work out for you. But what's the problem?"

  "Do you think it'll change how they look at me? Maybe they won’t be receptive to a single woman who's pregnant working for them. Or maybe they'll think because I'm pregnant I won't be able to dedicate myself to the job. They might not like the idea of having to give me maternity leave in less than six months. Then, after the baby is born, they’ll automatically assume I won't be able to devote as much time and energy to my clients."

  I’m starting to panic, and Joe can see it. He comes toward me and takes me by the shoulders, giving me a gentle shake to break me out of my escalating anxieties.

  "Julie, stop. You're getting yourself all worked up before even setting foot in the office. If he's so interested in your work that he had his secretary call and personally offer you an interview, he might already know about the baby. And if he doesn't, he isn't going to completely melt down about it. Working mothers are the norm these days. You'll talk about it and figure it out. If he really does want you on his team as badly as it seems he does, this isn't going to dissuade him."

  "Thanks, Joe. I needed to hear that. That makes me feel a lot better."

  "I know. It's my job."

  I smile at him, then head back toward my bedroom. I have finally finished unpacking, and I open up my closet to look at my clothes, so I can choose what to wear the next morning. Looking at the rows of neatly hung skirts, slacks, and tops slightly dampens my excitement. Even looking at these outfits reminds me of Shane. These are clothes he bought me as part of what he called my expense account. It was a kind and generous gesture then, but now it's just a reminder how quickly everything changed between us. As soon as I bring in a paycheck, I'll dip into my bonus a little more and replace my wardrobe. If I'm truly going to be independent and stand on my own two feet, I need to do it with my own clothes, and not those bought for me by a man I once loved. Maybe I still do.

  A realization hits me as I look around at what was once my nursery, then my childhood bedroom, and now my adult bedroom – for the second time. My wardrobe isn't my only obstacle to being truly independent and living my own life. But I'll deal with that later. One step at a time, right?

  The next morning…

  Walking into the Mills Firm, I have an unpleasant flashback to the week I moved to Pennsylvania, and the humiliation I faced. As I take my first few steps through the lobby, though, I realized I haven't thought about that in months. I no longer feel the anger toward Mr. Bronson. I'm not even ashamed of what happened. His absurd behavior isn't a reflection on me. If anything, I feel bad for the fact that those types of games are still a part of his life at his age. One day it'll all come back to bite him in the ass.

  I'm also acutely aware that if that never happened, I wouldn't be where I am now. I never would have gotten angry and lost and wandered into the coffee shop. I never would have gotten a job as a barista, which put me in the position to meet Mr. Slidell, and get hired as his secretary. I never would have been forced to face Shane again, and then hired as his rep. I never would have fallen in love with him, slept with him, and now be carrying his child. Though this isn’t what I expected, or anything close to the plan I had for myself, it's my life now, and I'm grateful for it. I could do without the pain, the loneliness, and the uncertainty about my future, but the moments of happiness are more than worth it. I only wish this felt more like a beginning, than an ending. As excited as I am for this opportunity, and proud of myself for accomplishing something I've always wanted, I know taking this job officially brings the Pennsylvania chapter of my life to a close – not that it ever really had a chance to get started.

  My thoughts fade when I see a man, who I assume is Mr. Mills, come around a corner and into the lobby. His face lights up when he sees me – surprising, considering we’ve never met before. When I applied to the firm two years ago, I never even got to the interview stage. Now he's grinning at me like he's reconnecting with a lost friend. No matter the reason behind it, the smile puts me at ease. His round face is cheerful and sincere, and his suit makes me grin. There's something about a rich man wearing a suit that's just a little too tight around the middle that makes him less intimidating.

  Mr. Mills extends his hand toward me and I shake it.

  "Julie, it's so good to meet you. Thanks for coming in."

  "Thank you for having me," I say. "I must say, it was a very nice surprise to get that call."

  "Amelia was going to come and bring you to my office, but I decided I wanted to meet you myself. Come on, we'll go talk for a bit."

  He's acting far more casual than I expected, and I'm not sure if I am unhappy about it or not. I like that he's putting me at ease and making me feel less nervous, but at the same time I almost feel like he brought me in on a whim and might forget all about this tomorrow. That seems to be the type of personality he has. For a moment I think about the strange contrast between the man I'm meeting now and the impression I had of him when I first applied to work at the firm. Then a strange thought strikes me.

  How did he know to call me? How does he know anything about my career, unless he kn
ows I worked with Shane? And if that's the case, why did it take him this long to get in touch with me?

  My head is full of unanswered questions by the time we reach the top of the building, and the elevators open, revealing a reception desk and a massive pair of doors behind it. Mr. Mills guides me past the desk where a woman, presumably Amelia, looks up at me. I wave, and she smiles in return. Mr. Mills opens one of the large doors, and we walk through the doorway into a sprawling private office. Based on the overt jubilance of his personality, I almost expected a bubble maker and gumball machine to be a part of the décor. Instead, this office looks exactly like I expected the office of a powerful and successful man to. The room is a study in dark woods, leather, and green accents. A green glass lamp reminiscent of those found in old libraries is perched on the corner of the elaborate carved-wood desk. On one wall, pristine liquor bottles and decanters reflect against the glass of a built-in bar, and on the other, a high-end leather sofa and chairs are positioned around a sleek coffee table.

  I expect Mr. Mills to go sit behind his desk, but instead he makes his way toward the couch. When I don't follow, he looks over his shoulder and gestures for me to come sit with him.

  "Why don't we sit over here? It'll be much more comfortable for our chat."

  If the large door to his office wasn't wide open, and I couldn't see Amelia, I would have been nervous by the invitation. Not seeming to notice the oddness of his request, Mr. Mills sits on the sofa and holds out his hand in invitation for me to do the same. I take my place, and he smiles a little wider at me.

  "Do you have any questions about the position?" he asks.

  "I am a little curious about how you heard about me. I don't know if you remember, but I applied to work here about two years ago, and you rejected me on application."

  "Did we?" he asks. "Our recruiter must not have recognized the potential right in front of us. I'm sorry about that, and for all the lost time you could have been on my team."

  "So, Mr. Mills, how did you hear about me? If you didn’t even know that I applied here, how are you so confident about my qualifications?"