Chapter 35

ARIA

I yawn as I stretch my arms over my head. Out of my office window, the sky in between Manhattan’s skyscrapers has turned pink and orange with dusk.

Since returning from Italy, I’ve jumped back into all things work-related. Plus, ever since my Converse campaign started to roll out, a fresh round of cutting articles from gossip publications has taken aim at me.

It’s been insinuated that I’m everything from a gold digger to a fame-hungry wannabe model. I knew it was coming, but it still stings to see headlines attacking my character.

Jett is always supportive and offers to do everything from buy favorable coverage to financially ruin journalists. Ultimately, I decide to just ignore it, but his protectiveness causes my feelings toward him to swell even more.

What’s bothering me more than the gossip is that I still haven’t heard from Manny. I know the dinner at Jett’s apartment didn’t go well per se, but I didn’t think it was worth ghosting me, and I’m completely baffled by his sudden disappearance.

I pick up my phone and absentmindedly scroll through my texts to him, all unanswered. I check in every few days, and it’s been over a month.

“Aria? I didn’t expect you to still be here.”

I look up and see Jett’s new assistant, Calvin, standing in my door. He’s been Jett’s assistant for a few weeks now, and I have to say, he’s been great. He works hard, catches on quick, and is supportive of all of our goals.

I also made sure he has a more lenient schedule than I did and threw in some additional perks as well.

It’s helped me realize that DYAD will be more successful by encouraging employers to nurture and care for their PAs in order to retain the right one. All relationships must involve give and take beyond paychecks.

I smile at Calvin.

“Yeah, I know. Jett is meeting with an investor for dinner, so I decided to catch up on some of the work we put off while in Italy,” I say. “What are you still doing here?”

Calvin smiles and leans against my doorframe. He’s young—I guess mid-twenties—but he’s mature, always tuning in to what others say and don’t say. His emotional intelligence has helped him navigate Jett’s work moods very well.

“I’ve been working on reorganizing the files and emails in my office, and I needed uninterrupted time to do so,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Oh, good. I’m glad you’re settling in and making the position yours,” I say.

“Thank you. I appreciate how much you’ve encouraged me. It makes me feel like I have some control,” he says and adjusts his posture, hiking his laptop bag more securely up his shoulder. “Well, I’ll be heading home now. Have a good night, Aria.”

“Thanks, Calvin. You too.”

I wait until I hear the elevator doors close before turning my attention back to my phone. I dial my father’s number and wait as it predictably rings out.

“The person you are trying to contact is unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone.”

I sigh. “Hey, Dad, it’s me again. I’m not sure why you aren’t returning my calls, but if it’s something I did, I deserve to know. I hope you’re taking your blood pressure medication. I’ll try you again soon.”

As I hang up, I wonder if I should go by his apartment on the way home. I check the clock just as there’s a knock at my office door.

“Hey, Aria, do you have a sec?”

I look up and see Jeffrey Wallace, CFO of Alastair.

“Yes, what’s up?”

“I’m supposed to pick up a signed financial plan from Jett before my trip to Beijing, but he’s not here and neither is Calvin. Did he leave it with you?” Jeffrey checks his watch, and I see how urgent his body language is.

“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s late, so Calvin just went home, and Jett’s having dinner with an investor. Maybe he forgot and left it on his desk. I can go check,” I say as I grab my keys and get up.

“Oh, thank you. His sign-off is essential for this meeting,” he says.

We quickly walk to his office, where even Vivian’s desk is empty, and then I unlock Jett’s door.

Jett’s desk is slightly chaotic, so I start moving papers and files while looking for the financial plan that Jeffrey is referring to. He waits patiently just inside the doorway.

I don’t see it, so I open his right desk drawer and see a folder with a Post-it note on it, indicating it’s exactly what we’re looking for.

“Oh, here it is,” I say as I open it and see Jett’s familiar handwriting. He’s made notations in various places and then signed on the dotted line. “Looks like he did look it over for you.”

I hand Jeffrey the folder, and he lets out an audible sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Aria,” he says as he turns and starts toward the door. “I gotta run—flight to catch. I owe ya!”

“No problem! Have a good meeting,” I say.

As Jeffrey leaves, I go to close Jett’s desk drawer when something catches my eye.

An open checkbook in the drawer shows a carbon copy of a check to Manny Pearson.

Frowning, I pick up the register and see that Jett wrote a check to my dad for $100,000 on the night of our dinner at his apartment.

My heart starts to pound in my chest.

~Jett paid him? For what? Is that why my dad disappeared?~

Suddenly, I can feel my pulse in my head, and a deep knot grips my stomach. I grab the checkbook and leave Jett’s office, closing and locking the door behind me.

***

When I hear the elevator doors open into Jett’s penthouse, my heart is thumping so hard I worry it’s going to burst out of my chest.

Jett turns the corner, and I see his eyes land on me as he smiles. I can’t help but clench my teeth.

“Hey, you, are you okay?” he says as he approaches me.

My arms are crossed, my eyes narrowed on his face. I’m sure I look positively murderous.

“I’m only going to ask you this once, so don’t fucking lie to me,” I say, and Jett’s smile falls; his eyebrows immediately furrow in confusion. “Why did you write this?”

I toss the open check register on the table in front of me, the carbon copy of the payment to my dad clearly visible.

Jett sits down across from me and examines the book. I’m hyper-focused on his face and see the slight shift when he realizes what I’ve discovered. He puts it down and rests his elbows on his knees as he looks at me.

“Aria, let me explain…”

“You mean explain why you wrote my dad a check on the last day I heard from him?” I say.

“I was protecting you,” he says, and I feel my face heat up.

“From my father?! Why? Was he taking too much of my attention away from you?” I ask accusingly, purposely trying to make him angry so I feel better about attacking him.

I see Jett’s jaw tighten. “I am not jealous of Manny,” he says. “He was trying to hurt you, Aria.”

I let out a huff of air as I stand. I’m so angry I can’t stay in my seat for another second.

“You never liked him. You never even tried! Then you…you…you ~paid~ him to ghost me?!” I say, my voice rising. “Where the fuck do you get off?! What gives you the right to make decisions about ~my~ life without even consulting me?!”

Jett stands too and approaches me swiftly yet cautiously.

“Please, you don’t understand. I overheard him on the phone with a ~tabloid~. He was going to sell an interview about you,” he says slowly, choosing his words carefully. “He was going to hurt you, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Wh-what…” I trail off.

My mind is racing as all the pieces fit together. My heart starts to physically hurt as I see the whole picture.

I’m mad at my dad, at Jett, and myself for allowing it all—for not seeing it sooner.

I shake my head. “If that’s true, then why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me worry and cry in your arms for weeks thinking he left or got hurt?!” I’m yelling now, tears streaming down my face.

I turn and look out the window, wrapping my arms around myself.

I hear him approach.

“Aria, I’m sorry. I—I should have told you,” he says. I feel the warmth and weight of his hand on my back, but I shrug it off angrily.

I turn and look at him. I can feel the disgust in my face.

“You still just think you can ~buy~ whatever you want. You claim to love me, yet you can watch me sit in pain because of something ~you~ caused,” I say. “There is no trust here, only control.”

“I would ~never~ hurt you, Aria, I was protecting you,” he says. Pain and anger are written all over his face.

“You mean you were controlling me—controlling my life. Well, I don’t want to be in a relationship like that,” I say, my rage simmering to a quiet anger.

Jett’s expression falls, and I see something I’ve never seen in him before: fear.

“Aria, please—”

“I need some time,” I say as I cross the room and grab the small bag I’ve packed, along with my purse. “I will send someone to pick up the rest of my stuff.

Jett crosses the room in an instant. He cups my cheek and wraps an arm around my waist.

“Please, Aria, I need you, I—I love you,” he pleads. “I love you more than anything. I am ~in love~ with you, Aria. You have to believe me.”

His words hit me in the chest.

I’d imagined what amazing, incredible way Jett would tell me he loved me, but never in a million years did I think it would be while my heart was breaking into pieces because of something he did.

I pull his arms off me, pick up my bag, and step onto the elevator.

I watch the shadow of loss settle over him. My mind takes a mental picture of Jett, heartbroken and angry, watching me through tear-rimmed eyes as the doors between us close.

***

The numbness takes days to lessen.

Unfortunately, the pain and anger only seem to grow.

I feel broken. I feel shattered. The stream of tears from my eyes is endless. Just when I think I can’t cry one more goddamn tear, another bout comes.

The more I sit in my grief, the more I’m not sure I can forgive Jett or trust him.

Katie and Len frequently attempt to pull me out of my funk. For ten days, they send me uplifting messages or bring me food and wine.

They take turns spending the night and having long heart-to-hearts with me. I don’t know whether they make me feel better or worse, but I’m grateful to have them for support.

Jett texts me multiple times, but I ignore him or ask for continued space. I keep working but do so from a pile of blankets on my couch; I can’t imagine walking into that building right now or any time soon.

On Friday night, I log off and close my laptop. Despite the beginning of summer, a cold front has moved in, and it’s been dumping rain all day with no signs of slowing down.

As the tea kettle sizzles on my stovetop, I order Chinese food and prepare to watch reruns of The Office till I’m tired enough to fall asleep.

As I space off, wondering where Jett is or what he might be doing, my phone snaps me back to the present, and I see Len’s photo on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, hon! I just wanted to see if you want to come over, drink too much while watching home renovation shows, and eat pizza?”

I laugh despite my sour mood. “That actually sounds great, but I’m not going anywhere in this storm,” I say.

Len sighs. “I figured you’d say that,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” I lie.

“Right,” he says, clearly not buying it. “Have you heard from Jett?”

“Not today. He texted me yesterday, but…I dunno. I need more time.”

“And I get that, but you’ll have to talk to him sooner or later—whether it’s to make up or for…closure.”

I swallow hard. I hate the idea of not being with Jett again. I am undeniably linked to him. I love him. But I’m also so, so hurt. And I just don’t know what to do about any of it.

“I know. I will. In the meantime, I’ve ordered Chinese food and will be taking a scalding hot shower,” I say.

“Sounds good, love. Call me tomorrow?”

“Will do. Love you,” I say.

“Love you too.”

I hang up, then take that hot shower as promised.

I slip into a fresh pair of pajamas, then wrap up in a thick robe and slippers. Just as I sit down to wait for my food, there’s a knock at my door.

I sigh and shuffle over to open it.

My jaw drops.