Mr Garcia (Mr Series)

I woke up when Sebastian jerked away from me.

I pretended to be asleep so that I didn’t have to hear the lies.

I feel sad for him.

I know that he wants me. Our chemistry together is undeniable, and I know that on some level he cares.

He just can’t do this, even though he’s trying.

I can feel him fighting with himself. The decent thing for me to do would be to take a step back and give him some space.

But knowing all too well how the fucked-up mind works means that he will probably go back to his gentlemen’s club to try and fuck me out of his system. I also know that if he crosses that line, that’s it for us. We will both be the person we regret letting go. The ones that got away.

I exhale, knowing this is a no-win situation.

Stay and fight, I push him away.

Give him the space that he needs, I lose him, anyway.

Maybe this is too hard, and we were never meant to be. That’s the logical answer.

I go to the door and put my ear against it to listen. I can hear the shower running.

Should I go in there and try and talk to him now?

But what would I say?

Hey, can we try and work this out because you’re the first person that has made me feel not dead inside?

I drop my head. It’s not all about me. It has to be about him, too. I can’t force this. I can’t fix him. He has to do this by himself.

My forehead rests on the back of the door as I think. I should just leave it.

If I don’t know what to say, I probably shouldn’t say anything at all.

I need to think on this further. I push myself off the door and get into the shower. Let’s see what the day brings.

Three school visits and two hospital openings are a long time to watch someone to see if they look your way. I can confirm that Sebastian has not. Not even a glance.

And that’s fine. It’s totally fucking fine. I don’t need him to look my way.

He did, however, make riveting conversation and laugh with every other female in the room.

Screw him.

Sneaking out every morning like he’s embarrassed that we slept together.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Actually, I don’t even need to ask myself that. I’ve worked it out.

I’m the queen of self-sabotage.

Nice men who love me, I care for, but don’t want. Assholes who want to pay me for sex and have me at their beck and call, I crave.

No more.

I’m done with men. Fuck them all, I say.

Not literally. There will be no fucking.

No fucking whatsoever.

I’m becoming a nun. I am way too old for this shit.

The car pulls to a halt outside our hotel, and I climb out with Bart. It must be the day for it because he and Jeremy had a fight at lunch, too.

I wasn’t supposed to hear it, but I couldn’t help it seeing as I was sitting with them. Although, I was pretending to be on the phone. Jeremy is pissed because Bart told him he’s going away for the weekend with his wife. Jeremy completely lost his shit and threw his bread roll into his soup. It even splashed on my shirt.

He got up and stormed off, and we haven’t seen him since.

Where the hell he went, I don’t know.

We waited for a long time in the carpark while Bart tried to call him. He didn’t answer. Now, Bart is furious, and I’m scared to speak in fear of saying the wrong thing.

But I am confused. Surely, the fact that Bart even has a wife should be reason enough to be pissed. Why would a weekend away trigger him when he goes home to her every night?

Who knows? Maybe Jeremy has a wife at home, too. Nothing surprises me anymore.

I can’t talk or place judgement. I win the prize for messed up love.

I don’t love Sebastian.

Fuck’s sake.

The whole world has gone to hell on a broomstick.

I take the elevator up to my floor and walk down the large corridor to my room.

We’ve come back to get ready for a function tonight, and it’s the very last thing I feel like doing. I have no idea where Sebastian is, nor do I care.

I open the door to my room and instantly see that the adjoining door between our rooms is open.

Oh, it suits him now.

I narrow my eyes. Don’t even.

Calm, calm. Keep fucking calm.

I’m angry, more than I should be, but I don’t like being treated like crap, and I’m not playing this game of his.

He comes around the doorframe, a glass of scotch in hand, dressed in his black dinner suit. “Hello.”

I roll my lips to hold my snarky tongue. “Hi.”

“Why are you so late getting back?”

I widen my eyes. Why are you such a prick? “We had to wait for someone.”

He gives me a slow, sexy smile, “Well, I’m glad you’re back.”

Ha. Horny are you, fucker?

“I’m tired. I’m going to have a nap.” I gesture to the door. “Do you mind?”

A smirk crosses his face. “Do I mind?”

“Closing the door.”

“This one?” He taps the door with his palm.

Yes, that one, you dumb fuck. What other doors are there? “Please.”

He walks into my room and closes the door behind him. I stare at him flatly.

He sips his scotch and raises his eyebrow.

I cross my arms over my chest. Seriously, just, go away.

“Is there a problem?” he asks calmly.

“You tell me.”

He holds his hands up and shrugs sarcastically.

I smile sweetly, the psycho part of my brain now activated. “I’m tired. Please leave.”

“How could you possibly be tired? You slept like a log all night.”

I glare at him.

You’ll be sleeping like a dead person soon. “Sebastian,” I sigh. “I am not in the mood for you today. If you don’t want to argue, I suggest you leave me alone.”

“What’s turned you so pissy?”

“Oh, my fuck!” I snap in exasperation.

Before I explode, I turn my back to him, go to the fridge, and fill a glass full of wine. This damn man is turning me into an alcoholic. I never usually drink on a school night.

“You’re angry with me?”

I take a sip, still standing with my back to him.

“Is this about last night?”

I spin toward him, all systems firing. “What could I possibly be pissed about, Sebastian?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one who offered…” He cuts himself off.

“Offered my services?” I ask. “Is that what you were going to say?”

“No,” he says too quickly.

“I’m not pissed about last night.” I open the sliding door and walk out to sit on the balcony. He follows me out and sits in the chair beside me.

I stare out over the city as I try to work out what I want to say. I don’t even know.

I’m trying so hard not to be a drama queen, but damn it, I hate feeling like this.

“Why do you do that?” I ask.

“Do what?”

“Sneak out.”

“I don’t want to wake you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

He exhales. “I don’t need—”

“I know,” I cut him off. “You don’t need drama, and you don’t need me, but you like using my body for sex. I get it, Sebastian. You’ve made it more than clear on many occasions.”

“I don’t like your tone.”

“And I don’t like feeling like fucking shit.”

“So don’t.” He shrugs.

I stare at him. “What does that mean?”

“If I make you feel like shit, don’t see me anymore.” He sips his scotch, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Go back to your boyfriend… the football guy.”

My nostrils flare as I struggle with my over-active emotions. He really doesn’t care.

“You know what?” I practically spit, losing the last of my patience. “I wish that I stared at him all day waiting for him to look my way. I wish that I picked up his shirt from the floor and inhaled it just so I could smell him. I wish that I stayed awake all night watching him sleep because I thought he was the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen. And most of all, I wish to God that I felt for him what I do for you, Sebastian, because he deserves me.” I angrily wipe the tears from my eyes, embarrassed that I care for him as much as I do.

His eyes hold mine.

“And I hate that you make me needy and whiny because this isn’t who I am. The shoe is always on the other foot, and I hate that the person I care for doesn’t give a fuck about me.”

His brow creases. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true.”

“What do you want me to do, April?” He stands in an outrage. “Whisk you away for a month in Italy? Follow you around like a puppy? Get on bended knee and propose? I don’t know what preconceived ideas you have on how relationships should be, but I can assure you, I am not about that. And if you’re not happy then don’t put me through your bullshit drama. I won’t fucking put up with it.”

Wow.

I shake my head with a roll of my eyes.

Typical asshole.

He throws his hands up in the air. “What’s it going to be? You want me as I am or not at all? Because that’s all I’ve got to offer.”

I glare at him.

“Fine.” He slams his drink down on the table so hard that it sloshes all over the sides. “Go back to your boyfriend, because unlike me”—he holds his fingers up to air quote me— “he deserves you.”

He storms out and slams the door behind him.

The room falls silent, and I close my eyes in disgust.

Fuck.

The ballroom, now loud and filled with jovial chatter, is host to a charity function for a local hospital.

I’m sitting with Jeremy, and boy, are we fun to be around, each of us now silent and sulky. Bart’s loud laughter can be heard all the way from over at the bar. I look over and see he’s talking to Sebastian, as well as a few other men. Each of them are laughing and having fun without a care in the world.

Fuckers.

I look back at Jeremy, who is forlorn and miserable.

“I have to ask… what do you see in Bart?”

He shrugs. “I wish I knew.”

I glance back to the bar to see Bart is telling an animated story. The men around him are hanging off his every word. Whatever he’s saying is apparently very funny.

“I overheard your fight with him today at lunch.”

Jeremy rolls his eyes and sips his wine. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, although you’ll have to explain it to me because I’m confused as hell.”

He drops his forehead into his palm, his elbow resting on the table. “That makes two of us,” he mutters dryly. “I met Bart at a conference in Atlanta about seven years ago. I was a PA to another lawyer at the time. We were out with a large group and, one by one, they dwindled off and went home. It ended up being just the two of us left in the bar. We drank and laughed, and somehow the conversation turned to our sexualities. I told him that I was gay and that I’d never been with a woman. He told me that he was straight and that his only regret in life was that he hadn’t experimented in college like everyone else. He’d always wondered what it would be like to be with a man, but now that he was older, it was never going to happen. The more we drank, the more we clicked. The chemistry was like nothing I’d ever felt before.

I imagine the scenario as he explains it, I can almost see the two of them alone in a bar.

“He told me he and his wife had fallen out of love, and that they had decided to separate. It was completely amicable, and they were only friends now. He said he loved her like a sister and that it was sad for both of them because they had four young children together. Having a separated family wasn’t anything either of them ever imagined.”

His eyes rise to mine, and I offer him a soft, reassuring smile as I put my hand over his.

“When we were walking back to our hotel, he kissed me.” Jeremy drops his head, as if ashamed.

I squeeze his hand. “And?”

“And it got heated outside my hotel room. I told him that he was married and that he should go home. I didn’t see him again for the rest of the conference. I heard that he’d left at some point because he fell ill. But I knew the real reason was that he was disgusted with himself for making out with a guy.”

Bart’s loud laugh drifts over from the bar again, and my eyes rise to him. I exhale heavily. Sebastian is now smoking a cigar. I watch him lift it to his lips and inhale as he listens to Bart.

Fuckers.

“Six weeks later, Bart turned up at my office. He told me that I was all he could think about, that he was going insane over me, and that he had left his wife because of it.”

Jeremy exhales, clearly frustrated. “We went out for dinner then back to his new apartment. Everything was still in boxes. We ended up having sex.”

I watch him struggle, knowing he’s ashamed.

“It was the best fucking sex I’ve ever had. I’d like to tell you that it was nothing special, but we fell madly in love. From the moment he first touched me, I was done for. We were inseparable, and I moved in eight weeks later.” He stares off into the distance.

“So, you live together now?”

He raises his eyebrow and sips his wine. “Not long after I moved in, he started having trouble with his eldest daughter.”

“Didn’t she like you?”

He scoffs. “Bart would never admit to being with a man. To everyone else, I was his roommate. Nothing more. When his kids would come over, he would treat me like he didn’t even know me. I understand why, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Anyway, his kids were desperate for Bart to get back together with their mother. His eldest daughter Heidi became depressed. It was a terrible time. Bart was worried sick, and I was worried, too. I’d gotten to know his children, and I cared for them as well. They are great kids.”

He drains his drink in one gulp. There’s a lot of pain in this story. I can feel it oozing out of him.

“When Heidi was twelve, she tried to commit suicide.”

My face falls.

“It was… horrendous. Poor Robyn and Bart.”

“Robyn?”

“Bart’s wife.”

“You know her?”

He nods. “Not something I’m proud of.”

Hell, this story is a doozy.

“Heidi nearly died. It was touch and go. She spent two weeks in intensive care. Thankfully, she survived, but when she got out of hospital, all she wanted was for Bart to move home to be with her.”

My heart drops.

“And he did what any father would do. He moved home to be with his daughter.”

“God, Jeremy.” I sigh.

“Bart told me it wouldn’t be for long—that he wanted me to go and work for him so that he could spend his days with me because we couldn’t be apart.”

“Where do you live now?”

“I’m still in our apartment with all our things. He comes over most nights for an hour or so, when he’s at the”—he holds up his fingers to air quote— “gym.”

“Fuck.”

“He kept telling me that he’s still there because of Heidi, and I believed him. I mean, I spend more time with him than anyone. All day, every day, every night, we make love, and one the weekends, we often go away. But a few weeks ago, I went to a function with a friend and Bart didn’t know I was there. He was there with Robyn.” He pauses. “I was watching them from the shadows.”

“And?”

“The way she was looking at him. Their body language.”

“What?”

“They’re sleeping together again. I know it.”

“Hell.” I drag my hand down my face.

Jeremy smiles flatly and holds his champagne glass up. “So, there you have it. My fucked-up love life. I’m in love with a married man who I sleep with most days and swears his undying love for me. One who is going away to New York with his wife next week for his anniversary without his kids. You can figure out why I’m upset.”

“How do you know he’s going away with her? Maybe it’s a mix up.”

“Robyn called me to see if I had any ideas on what she could buy them for their anniversary. Told me all about the romantic weekend away that Bart had organized for her.”

“Fucking hell,” I whisper, wide-eyed. “This is a nightmare.”

“Right?”

“What are you going to do?” I ask softly.

“What I always do,” he sighs. “Give him an ultimatum. Tell him that’s it. He will leave, and I will miss him so much that I will nearly die from a broken heart. In a few weeks, he will tell me how he can’t live without me and beg me to come back. I will believe him, even though I know nothing’s changed.” Jeremy twists the stem of his wineglass and stares at it.

“You deserve better than this,” I tell him.

“I know.” His eyes meet mine. “But have you ever loved someone so much that you would literally die to be with them?”

My eyes rise to Sebastian. He lifts the cigar to his lips and smiles sexily at the woman he’s talking to. “Maybe,” I admit quietly.

Jeremy’s eyes follow my line of sight. “What’s going on with you and Garcia?”

“Nothing.”

Hearing Jeremy’s and Bart’s miserable story has given me a reminder of what my life will be like in six years if I stay.

“Sebastian has issues, and I can’t save him, as much as I wish I could.”

Bart and Sebastian laugh out loud, and Jeremy and I look over to their group.

“Do you want to get out of here?” I ask.

Jeremy pushes his chair out. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere but here.”

My phone rings, waking me. I’m disorientated. It’s dark. I sit up in a rush and glance at my clock. It’s 5:35 a.m.

“Hello,” I answer.

“April, I need you in the function room immediately, “Bart says firmly.

I wince because I’m still half asleep. “What’s wrong?”

“Theodore has escaped from rehab.”

“W-what?” I snap, is this a bad dream?

“Just get down here. We’ve got a fucking disaster of epic proportions going on.”

I push the blankets back in a rush. “Okay, on my way.”

I hang up and walk to the adjoining door. Sebastian didn’t knock last night. In fact, I didn’t even hear him come back. I put my ear to the door.

Silence.

He’s probably already downstairs with Bart.

I quickly shower and make my way down to the function room we are currently using as an office. Already there are Bart, Jeremy, a few security guards, three police officers, and Kellan Chesterfield.

“Hi.” I throw my laptop bag onto the desk and look around. “Where’s Sebastian?” I ask.

“A car is just picking him up now,” Bart says, pulling out a map. “So, Theodore was last seen here.” He points to the map. Everyone leans in to take a look.

I frown. “What do you mean, a car is picking Sebastian up?”

“He didn’t stay here last night. I’ve spoken to him; he’s on his way,” Bart replies distracted.

Jeremy’s eyes meet mine.

Where the fuck did he stay?

“April, get on the phone to the CEO of the facility. I want the security footage.”

“Yes, sir.” I begin to Google the number of the facility.

The doors bust open, and Sebastian marches in flanked by security guards. He’s still wearing his dinner suit from last night. His black bow tie is undone and hanging around his neck. He’s disheveled, and it’s obvious he’s been asleep.

His eyes find mine across the room. He glares at me. I glare right back.

You. Fucking. Asshole.