The VIP Doubles Down
Page 88

As she got up to get another beer, her cell phone buzzed. The caller ID came up “Private,” but she figured that chatting with a telemarketer was better than feeling sorry for herself.
“Allie? This is Ben Cavill. Sorry to call you on Sunday, but I just got your e-mail.”
Hope fluttered in Allie’s chest. “I’m glad you called.”
“Good, because I have a client who desperately needs your services. Gavin told me you’re very booked up right now, but your e-mail mentioned that you had availability this week.”
Gavin told him what? Somehow she managed not to say that out loud. “Yes, I had a patient called out of town unexpectedly, so time opened up,” she improvised.
“That’s good news. I’m going to send your credentials to my client. Once he gives me the go-ahead, I’ll update you on his issues and put you in touch.” He paused a moment. “I’ve been looking for a PT of your caliber, so I hope you’ll reserve some time for my patients in the future. In concierge medicine, the remuneration is excellent.” He named an hourly fee that made her eyes go wide. At that rate, she would need only three patients to pay her bills.
“My schedule is starting to open up,” Allie said, “so call me the next time you have a prospective client.”
She got off the phone and did a victory dance around the sofa before she waltzed over to the cat and scratched her under the chin. “Mama’s going to buy us a sirloin steak to celebrate.”
Then she remembered Cavill’s comment about Gavin and narrowed her eyes. It sounded as though Gavin had messed with her livelihood because he wanted her to go to Southampton with him. Granted, he was paying her for the little bit of work she did there. Generously.
But he had no right to keep her from the work she was trained to do, the work that gave her satisfaction and purpose. The work that paid for Pie’s cat food.
A welcome burn of fury boiled up in her. Before she could think, she hit the speed dial for Gavin’s number. It rang three times, and she was about to hang up when his voice came on the line. “Allie?” He sounded torn between disbelief and hope.
“How dare you screw with my work?” she snarled. “You knew I needed PT jobs, but you told Ben Cavill that I was booked up. Was it just so you’d have a little entertainment out in Southampton? I can’t believe you accused me of betraying your trust when you’re the guilty one.”
“Damn it! I was paying you for full-time work, and very well.” His voice was hoarse.
“For this week, but what about next week, when there was nothing left for me to do on the Julian Best bible? Did you think of that?”
“I needed you. I thought if I had more time, I could make you understand how much.”
“You needed me! I used to be stupid enough to think that being needed meant being loved. But I learned the difference from Troy. Neither of you selfish jerks considered my needs.” Angry tears spilled down her cheeks. “Actors and writers, the ultimate narcissists. I’m going to date a plumber next.”
“Dear God, don’t make me laugh. My head will explode.”
“Take a video, because I’d like to watch.”
He gave a pained groan before saying in a subdued tone, “You’re right. I thought if I threw enough money at you, you wouldn’t notice how desperate I was. It was arrogant and selfish.”
That deflated the hot balloon of her anger, but it didn’t change what had happened between them. She told herself not to ask, but . . . “Did you figure out who set up Troy for the audition?”
“No. I decided to drink myself into oblivion instead. I didn’t want to feel the terrible things that were tearing me apart, but even the bourbon couldn’t numb me enough for that.”
She was not going to ask what he was feeling. She’d been through this with Troy. Whatever contrition he expressed wouldn’t make him any more concerned about her feelings the next time he had a problem.
“I’m sorry, Allie,” he said, his tone so miserable it nearly undermined her resolution. “I knew the moment I said it to Ben that I was wrong.”
“Yet you made no effort to fix your error.” Exhaustion washed through her, making her shoulders sag. Was it pride or stubbornness that made the men in her life refuse to repair the damage they did?
Gavin was silent, and she realized she would probably never hear his voice again. “I look forward to reading your next Julian Best novel. It’s going to be great.”
She ended the call.
 
“Allie!” She was gone. Gavin slammed his fist onto the coffee table. That sent a wave of pain through his skull, but he welcomed the hangover as a well-deserved punishment for his many sins. He cradled the phone in his other hand as though Allie were contained in it.
Last night, as he stared at the information that Irene and Troy were acting in the same soap opera, a horrible sense that he had totally, completely, and utterly screwed up had seeped through him like acid. He hadn’t been able to bear it, so he’d left the coffee in his office and gone back to the bottle of bourbon.
Then he’d staggered into his bedroom and seen the dress Allie had left on the bed with the necklace he’d bought for her neatly arranged on top of it. He was going to tell her the jewelry was hers to keep after the ball. He’d picked up the dress and buried his face in it, trying to inhale something of Allie to ward off the sear of his guilt. But the faint scent of her perfume only made the guilt scald even deeper.
He’d thrown the dress across the room and sent the necklace after it before he crawled into the bed that felt too big and empty without her in it. He even missed having the damned cat curled up on one of the pillows.
How had she woven herself into his life so quickly?
After lying awake for an hour with loneliness howling around him, he’d hauled himself into his office to toss and turn on the sofa there.
When he’d seen her name on his phone, every molecule in his body had leaped with the hope that by some miracle she had forgiven him. Instead, she’d discovered what a self-centered ass he truly was.
He winced as he remembered his defense that he was paying her well. What the hell was he thinking? That he should demonstrate just how big a jerk he could be? Stuffing a pillow behind his pain-twisted back, he tried to find a comfortable position, but there was no comfort to be had and no escape from his thoughts.