Chapter 19: Drawn to Mr. King: Chapter 19

“YOU’RE BOOKED IN FOR Monday at ten. No eating or drinking that morning. I’ll meet you at the hospital and be there when you come out of surgery.”

I pace up and down in front of my office windows. It’s a miracle there’s not a hole in the floor where I’ve worn it down these past few weeks.

“There’s no need; I’ll be fine.”

“Jaxon King,” Joanna’s voice takes on a warning tone, “you’re my patient and my friend. I will be there.”

Patient. I’m a goddam patient.

“If you insist,” I mutter as I watch a delivery lorry at street level try to execute a three-point turn in the middle of London’s rush hour traffic. Seven in the morning, and I’m already in the office. That’s what happens when your body has forgotten how to sleep.

“I insist. Okay, now that’s settled, we’ll see how you’re doing afterwards, but you should be able to go home that day. Do you have someone who can come by in the evening and help you out? Check on you?”

“I’ll be—”

“You’ll be fine, I know.” She sighs. “You may need someone to help you, though, that first night. It will be a good idea if someone stays the night. I can—”

“No. I can ask Martin… or Penelope.”

Not Megan.

I haven’t heard from her since she walked out of my apartment on Wednesday night. It took me until three in the morning and too many vodkas to blur the image of her leaving enough that my chest stopped feeling like I was about to have a heart attack.

The way her voice sounded… now you’ve had your break-up fuck.

I suck in a breath and rub my eyes. I fucked her. I was rough, and hard, and cold.

All the things I hate.

The things I never thought I could be with her.

And she let me.

She looked back into my eyes, and she saw me for who I am.

A selfish bastard who will bring her nothing but heartache.

“You’ve told Pen, have you? Jaxon?”

“No, not yet. I haven’t told anyone.”

“But you’re going to?”

I don’t know how to answer her. I’ve thought about not telling anyone. Why do they need to know? I can deal with it by myself. It’s not like Martin or Penelope knowing will change anything. I will still have cancer. Only then, they’ll expect me to talk about it. Well, maybe not Martin. He would probably understand if I didn’t want to talk, but Penelope?

I’d never get away with it.

“I’ll make sure I ask someone to come over,” I say, hoping it’s enough to placate Joanna.

“Mmm,” she murmurs. “Okay. I will see you on Monday morning then. If you need anything before then, call me.”

“I will.”

I won’t.

“Bye, Jaxon.”

“Bye.”

I drop my phone back onto my desk and sit down as Veronica peers around the door.

“You’re in early, Mr King?”

I force a smile. “So are you.”

Veronica looks sheepish. “I was hoping I could take an extended lunch? To meet my daughter.”

“Of course.” My smile turns genuine. “You don’t need to ask, and you certainly don’t need to come in early to make up for it. Go, enjoy yourself. Family is important.”

“Well, if you’re sure? You look like you have lots on?” Her eyes roam over my face, no doubt noticing the dark circles and yellow tinge my tired eyes have.

“It’s fine. I’m just catching up still. I got most of it done yesterday, but I’ve got to take Monday off, so there are things I need to be sorted before the weekend.”

“Monday?” She looks at me as she approaches my desk.

“Yes, I’ve got a personal matter to attend to.”

Her face softens. “Of course. I’ll see that your diary is cleared.”

“Thank you, Veronica.”

Years of working together mean she knows me well enough to know when to ask for more details.

And when not to.

I couldn’t be more grateful to her for that today.

“I’ve got everything you need for your schedule today.” She hands me a bunch of files. “You’ve got the White Fire round-up meeting at three this afternoon, over at Articulate.”

“Tina can handle that.”

“She told me you might say that. She also said that your attendance is compulsory.” Veronica’s mouth curves into a small smile.

I swear she and Tina get a kick out of teaming up against me some days.

“She did, did she? Why am I not surprised?” I shake my head in amusement. I was planning to attend the meeting.

Before Wednesday night happened.

“I’ll tell Tina you’ll share a car,” Veronica chirps, heading back through the door and out to her desk.

A muscle in my jaw twitches.

Looks like I’m going.

“You’re extra miserable today. What’s up?” Tina asks as we ride the lift to the design floor at Articulate.

“Nothing.”

“You still got that headache?”

“Yes, the headache, that’s it.”

She eyes me sideways. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with Megan, would it?”

I readjust my tie, keeping my eyes on my reflection in the back of the lifts steel doors.

“Megan?”

“Don’t be coy with me, Jaxon King. We’ve worked together too long and become friends, I hope?” She fixes her gaze on me. “I’ve seen the look on your face when you’re in a room together.”

“My face always looks like that.”

She cocks an eyebrow at me. “Your face usually looks like you’re solving a world crisis in your head. I’m talking about the way your eyes light up when she speaks.”

“She’s talented. It’s nice to see.”

“You didn’t take her to Calvin’s last week for dinner, then?”

“How do you know that?” I whip my face around and see Tina smirking at me.

“You’re not the only one who’s friends with the owner. I worked on his book too, remember?”

I turn to look back ahead. “I remember. I just don’t know why you’d be talking about what I do in my personal time with him.”

“Relax. He just mentioned you’d been in with a redhead. Didn’t take much detective work to figure out who it could be. Judging by the look on your face today, I’d say things aren’t going well. Want to talk about it?”

I clear my throat. “No, thank you.”

“Okay. The offer’s there just so you know.”

I turn back and give her a small smile. She’s only trying to help. She’s right; she has known me a long time. Hopefully, that’s the only reason she’s picked up on anything, and it’s not obvious to the entire team on the project that Megan and I were dating.

Were.

Not anymore.

The lift doors open, and I stride down the corridor, Tina matching my steps beside me. We head straight towards the conference room.

I can’t help looking at Megan’s desk, but her chair is empty.

“You ready for me to send everyone in?” Phil asks after we’ve set up.

“Yes. Send them in,” I answer, standing next to Tina at the head of the table.

Phil disappears, and a few minutes later, the design team files in. They smile at Tina and me as they move around the table, finding a seat. Most of them seem happy and relaxed. Probably pleased that their involvement in this stage of the project is complete. And they should be. Everyone has worked hard. We’ve got the covers for the first three books completed—Megan’s designs—as well as internal book images and a load of promotional materials. Everything is ready to launch the first three books. We may be back over here in the future, but for now, Articulate’s part in the process is complete. Tina is moving out of her temporary office here today, and it will be my last visit for the foreseeable future.

The last time I will see Megan.

After today, I need to keep away.

I must keep away from her from now on. I can’t afford to be weak and hurt her further.

The air in the room shifts, and I know she’s just walked in.

I look up and follow her with my eyes as she slips past the occupied chairs and finds an empty one at the opposite end of the room, facing me head-on.

She takes her time setting her sketchbook down on the table before smoothing down the floaty fabric of the blue dress she’s wearing and taking her seat. Only then does she look up and straight at me, as though she knows I’ve been watching her the whole time.

She doesn’t smile.

There’s no flash of recognition on her face.

There’s nothing.

She just looks at me as though I’m one item to tick off a long list of tasks she must complete today.

“Jaxon, would you like to start?” Tina looks at me, and I realise the entire room is silent and staring at me.

I swallow, furrowing my brow as I glance down at the desk.

Pull it together.

I plaster a smile on my face as I look up.

“Well, firstly, Tina and I, and the entire team at King Publishing, want to thank each one of you for all your hard work and dedication to this project. What you’ve achieved in such a short space of time is astounding. We leave here today with three finalised book covers.”

Someone lets out a small whoop, and Megan smiles as her colleagues’ eyes dart to her.

“We also have all the internal illustrations and promotional material we need at this stage going forward. The official launch is coming up soon. The author will be giving interviews in the media in the lead-up, as well as book signings and readings. There’s a lot of anticipation for this release, and these are going to be exciting times going forwards. We’ve also got the upcoming book awards evening in a few months’ time, which we hope White Fire will be recognised in.”

“There’s usually a great after-party as well, to which you are all invited,” Tina adds, attracting some more whoops and cheers and excited chatter.

I sneak a glance at Megan, but she’s talking to Frankie, who’s sat next to her. She raises a hand to her lips, and her eyes widen at something he says before she giggles.

She’s forgotten all about Wednesday night already.

Forgotten all about us.

I grit my teeth. It shouldn’t bother me. It’s what I want. It’s for the best, as I’ve told myself a million times. Yet it still stings, realising that maybe forgetting about me will be a hell of a lot easier for her than it will be for me to forget her.

If that’s even possible.

I clear my throat, and the chatter in the room dies down.

“Now. I’m sure you’ve all seen snippets of what your colleagues have been working on. But we want to show you what to expect when it all comes together.”

I take a seat at the table in front of my laptop and click on the presentation.

Tina stands at the front of the room and talks through the images being projected up. Megan’s face falls directly in my eye line above the screen. It means I can appear not to be looking at her, whilst in reality, I’m watching every tiny move her face makes. She lights up when Tina brings up the finished version of her cover for book one. There’s a collective, appreciative gasp around the table as people look at it and congratulate Megan, making comments on how she’s captured it perfectly. Her cheeks flush pink, and she catches my eye for the briefest moment before looking away again.

I turn in my seat and look at her work. It’s of the main character stepping into a magical vortex. It’s mesmerising and intriguing. That one image tells an entire story all by itself. It will capture the imagination of our target audience and draw them in, I’ve no doubt about it.

She’s nailed it.

“You should be proud of yourself,” I say suddenly, directing my comment to Megan as though no one else is with us in the room.

She looks at me, a faint flash of pain in her eyes as she reaches up and tucks a stray curl behind her ear.

“I’m proud of you,” I continue without thinking.

Eyes around the table dart between the two of us as we stare at each other.

“Okay. Carrying on… let’s look at book two.” Tina reaches past me and clicks the laptop key my fingers are hovering over.

She continues the presentation, and everyone’s interest soon returns to her.

Except Megan’s.

We sit and look at each other for the rest of the meeting, unsaid words hanging in the air.

The meeting ends, and people move about, pushing chairs back and heading out of the room until only three of us are left.

“I’ll see you in the car,” Tina whispers as she picks up her bag and walks out.

I watch her go, waiting until she’s out of earshot before I speak.

“I expect you’ll be happy to move on to new projects?” I ask Megan, breaking the growing silence.

She gets up from the desk and picks up her sketchbook, walking towards the door. I’m on my feet now too. She will have to walk right past me to leave.

“Yes. It’s over now. I have no choice but to move on, do I?”

She stops in front of me, her arms crossed, holding her sketchbook over her chest like a shield.

“Megan, I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

“So am I.” She looks back at me.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you. Wednesday night…” I take a breath, hating the self-loathing that creeps over my body at the mention of that night. “You said you had something to tell me?”

Her eyes widen, and she fiddles with her sketchbook, repositioning it higher up her chest.

“Yes, I did.”

“Do you still want to share it with me?” I ask hopefully. I know I shouldn’t ask. But I want to take a piece of her away with me. This is the last thing she wanted to tell me.

Before I pushed her away.

Before I changed the way she looks at me forever.

“I…”

There’s a sudden shriek from outside in the main office. Megan looks at me in confusion and turns, rushing out the door.

I follow her, running out to see what’s going on.

The entire office is standing up by their individual workstations, rubbernecking at the scene unfolding near Megan’s desk. Standing by it is Lydia, Megan’s blond friend. In front of her, down on one knee, is a guy I don’t recognise. Lydia’s staring down at the small, square box he’s holding open in his hands.

“Marry me, Lydia.”

Megan gasps next to me, and her sketchbook drops out of her hands onto the floor.

I pick it up and tuck it under my arm as we join everyone else in staring.

“Tim,” Lydia hisses, “get up!”

“Not until I have your answer. You’re my rainbow on a dull day. Say yes.”

“Get up!” she growls with more force.

I lower my mouth to Megan’s ear. “What’s going on?”

She leans towards me, along with the scent of berries. I inhale, wishing I could reach out and touch her. That scent holds memories.

Memories of her in my arms, lying in bed together.

Painful memories.

“It looks like Tim’s proposing to Lydia,” she whispers back.

“I can see that. She doesn’t look happy about it.” Lydia’s glaring at Tim now, her hands on her hips as he stays rooted to the spot on one knee.

“I can’t believe it.” Megan shakes her head.

“Lydia,” Tim continues, his voice quieter so only those close enough, like myself and Megan, can hear, “marry me. I’ll be an amazing father. I will look after you both.”

“Are they having a baby?” I ask Megan. But she just stares at them, her eyes growing wider by the second.

“Tim,” Lydia says, glancing around, “there is no baby. I’m not pregnant, you idiot!”

“But the test?” He looks confused now, and my heart goes out to the poor guy. Here he is, laying out his heart, and he’s getting knocked back spectacularly in front of an audience.

“The test wasn’t mine,” Lydia tells him.

“What? But then… who?” Tim turns his head towards us, and Lydia’s gaze follows.

Megan sucks in a breath sharply next to me as she and Lydia lock eyes.

A cold sense of dread stabs me in the chest, knocking the air from my lungs as I feel the blood drain from my face.

“Megan?” I turn to her.

Her eyes are wide and panicked, tears about to spill from them as she looks at me.

Oh God.

I grab her wrist and pull her back down the corridor and into the conference room, closing the door behind us and putting her sketchbook down on the table.

“Megan—”

“I was going to tell you.” Her haunted eyes look at me. “Wednesday night, I came to tell you.”

I stare at her, unable to comprehend what she’s saying.

It’s not possible.

“We used protection.”

“I know. I don’t know how it happened either.” Her voice is barely audible.

“I don’t—” I run a hand over my eyes as I squeeze them shut. The familiar tension building in my head. “When?”

“The night in the hotel,” she whispers.

My chest tightens as though someone has a vice clamped around it.

“Jesus Christ, Megan! That was two months ago. You never thought to tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t know, okay? I only found out on Monday. Then you went AWOL, and when I came to see you, you ended it.” Her voice rises as she loses the fight against her tears, and they roll down her cheeks.

“Wednesday we… I was rough.” My voice cracks as I look at her. “Did I hurt you, did I hurt the…?”

My eyes drop to her stomach, but I can’t bring myself to say the word.

Baby.

Our baby.

“What? No,” she cries, grabbing my hand. “You didn’t hurt me, Jaxon. That night was messed up, but it was both of us.”

Was it? Was it both of us?

I’ve been so worried that I overstepped a line.

“You didn’t hurt me, Jaxon,” Megan repeats. “Part of me enjoyed it.”

I remember how wet she was, how quickly she came. How hard her muscles clamped down on me with the strength of her orgasm.

I search her eyes, wanting to believe her.

“I know you would never hurt me, Jaxon. Not physically. It’s not who you are. You could never do that.”

Bile rises in my throat.

Not physically?

But I can tear her heart out and cause her a deeper pain, which will never heal. I can mess up my child’s life if I get ill one day, like my dad.

I look down at our joined hands, my heart hammering in my chest.

She’s pregnant.

With our baby.

Being with Megan, having our own family. It’s a dream come true. We could have a happy life together. Under different circumstances, I would dance on air. But life isn’t fair. You can’t always have it all. You don’t always know how much time you will have.

Sometimes it’s ripped away.

“I’m forty-four, Megan.”

“What are you saying?” She pulls her hand back as though I’ve burnt her and swipes at her eyes, brushing the tears away as more come and replace them.

What am I saying?

Is it better that I let her think this is because of my age? That I’m a selfish bastard, who’s been there, done that and doesn’t want to go through the nappies and sleepless nights again? What’s the alternative? That I pull her into my arms the way that I wish I could and tell her how amazing having a child together will be? How I wonder if they will have her red hair, her artistic flair? How I will love them both with every part of me? Every tiny speck? The way I already do.

I can’t do that.

“I’m a lot older than you, Megan.”

“Hardly that much older. Plenty of men have children in their forties, Jaxon. You’re so healthy and active. You’re fitter than most guys ten years younger than you.” She pauses and steps closer again, lifting a hand to my cheek. “You’re just scared.”

Her eyes are full of warmth and understanding, as though she’s figured out the real problem and it’s a simple fix.

If only that were true.

I lean into her soft skin and allow myself to imagine for one glorious second that I can stay here forever. She strokes her thumb across my cheek, and I wince as I gently take her hand away, holding it between us both, not quite ready to let go for good.

“Why are you no good for me, Jaxon?” she whispers.

I search her eyes, and I swear I feel my heart breaking in my chest. Tearing in two, straight down the centre.

My stomach twists painfully, knowing I am lying to her. But there’s no other way.

Maybe if she hates me, it will be easier.

“I’m just not. I can’t explain it. One day I hope you’ll understand that this is for the best. You need to live your life, Megan.”

“What are you going to be doing? Whilst I live my life?” Her eyes widen as she stumbles backwards, my hand dropping to my side as hers slips free.

I don’t answer her.

“Jaxon!” she cries, her eyes widening in horror.

“You’ll be taken care of, Megan. You and…” I gulp, “the baby will be taken care of. Money isn’t a problem. I can buy you a house, a bigger car, whatever you need.”

“I need you, Jaxon.”

“Megan… I—” My voice cracks.

“I need you to be a father to our baby!” Her eyes are wild as she looks at me, her chest heaving with rapid, shaky breaths. “Did you hear me, Jaxon? A father? I’m having a baby. We may not have planned it. But it happened. We are having a baby. Together.”

All my breath leaves my body as I look at her tear-stained face.

“I’m sorry, Megan. I’m so sorry.”

She makes a sound that’s a cross between a sob and a moan from deep inside her chest and clutches her hand to my mouth as she shakes her head at me, her eyes blinking.

“Jaxon—”

She’s about to plead with me. I can see it in her eyes, but I can’t watch it. I can’t watch the pain I’ve already caused her. It’s too much to bear.

The only thing keeping me standing is the belief that I am doing the right thing.

This has to happen.

She must live her life without me. I can’t risk leaving our baby’s life when they’re older. When they’re old enough to remember, to feel the gut-wrenching grief and fear. I can’t leave Megan the way my dad left my mum. What if she doesn’t recover? It almost broke my mum. If this ends now, she will be stronger without me, and our child will know no differently.

I take a deep, unsteady breath as I look into her eyes.

“I can’t, Megan.”

And with that, I walk out of the room and don’t look back.