Page 121 of Love Marks

With an inhale, I reach for the phone and pick it up. My jaw is grinding as I bark out a hello to George

“Wesley. So sorry to bother you.” Ever since I reamed him out in the elevator, he’s been treading lightly around me. As he should. “Just wanted to let you know I sent you the final contract for the London deal and also…the thing from the other week, uh, it’s all fixed. Reversed. Nothing to worry about.”

“Is that all?” My voice is hard as stone.

“No. I mean, yes, there’s nothing else.”

I hang up without a goodbye, sick of hearing his voice.

My cell rings and I glance down at who’s calling my private line. It’s Ben, again. He’s nothing if not persistent and I’m not sure how much more I can avoid him before he comes around again with Luna, guilting me into making another stupid mistake like putting my heart on the line.

I can’t believe the words I almost let leave my mouth. I’d almost told her I loved her. How fucking embarrassing to get rejected moments after confessing your love for someone.

Rationally, I know I shouldn’t blame Ben for how the conversation went. He probably thought I’d be able to win her back somehow. I’m sure he’s figured out by now that my ridiculous attempt at vulnerability and romance was a complete failure.

With a sigh, I answer the call. There’s no point in avoiding it any longer. I’ll have to face him eventually.

“Yep?” My voice makes it clear that I’m in no mood to talk.

“Wes?” Ben’s exasperated voice comes through the phone. “I’ve called you like, ten times. The only reason I know you’re alive is because your new assistant told me.”

“Closer to six,” I correct him.

“Oh? So, you did get my calls, then? You’re just deliberately ignoring me?”

I swirl my chair towards my desk, glancing at the email from George. “Pretty much.”

Ben sighs. “You know what? You’re a fucking dick. I can guess by now that the talk with Quinn didn’t go very well, and instead of, I don’t know, talking to me about it, you ice me out and act like you’re fine?”

“I am fine. I don’t need you to call me every day, okay? I’m a big boy. Besides, things are great. Business has never been better.”

Ben laughs without a trace of humor. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re really fulfilled by that. Idiot. If you want to treat me like shit when I’ve tried to support you through this, go ahead. If you want to give up on the woman you obviously love, be my guest. Just don’t forget to pick up Luna from school on Friday like you said you would, and if you can spare a moment for anyone besides yourself, give mom a call. You aren’t the only one going through something.”

His words hit their intended target, landing in my stomach like lead. I breathe heavily, ragged and raw. It’s why I didn’t answer the phone earlier. He always knows how to hit me where it hurts.

I think he’s hung up on me, but I hear his soft breathing on the other line, like he’s waiting for me to respond. I clear my throat. “I’ll be there on Friday, and I’ll call mom.”

“Great talk. Bye.”

The call ends and I feel worse than ever.

Ben is right, yet again. He’s been nothing but supportive of me and my relationship with Quinn. I owe him an apology, and some sort of explanation, but the thought of trying to explain everything I’m feeling causes a swell in my chest that is too dangerous to allow. I push it down with another ragged breath.

I should call my mom, but I’m too raw right now to handle her getting emotional on me. It’s probably about the divorce going through. I’ve been so focused on avoiding Quinn at all costs, I’ve forgotten about my family.

Shame claws up my throat at the mounting failures around me, the sinking feeling that never seems to go away no matter what I do. No matter how many deals I make.

My phone rings again, another urgent call from some associate. I don’t know who it is, but the energy and fervor I had just minutes ago has dissipated into a familiar emptiness.

The urge for a drink rushes through me, but I breathe through it. I’ve managed to avoid spiraling into a drunken haze again.

Any similarity to my father is something I hate about myself.

I pick up the phone, aggravated that my assistant didn’t tell me who is calling. “Wesley Marks.”

“I heard congratulations are in order.” My father’s voice turns my blood cold. As if this day couldn’t get any worse, somehow thinking of the man has summoned him.

“What do you want?” I bark out.

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