“I’m sorry.”
“Again, I don’t want apologies.”
“Then what do you want?”
Her eyes softened. “I’ve asked myself that question many times since Friday night. And I’m still not entirely sure of the full answer, but I do know a few things. I want a family. I want a career. And I want love. Real, passionate, unquestioning love. I want the sort of love that lasts. Forever. I know now how hurt you have been. And I appreciate that. But I’ve been hurt, too. And I’m not going to put my heart on the line for someone who simply isn’t capable of returning my feelings. You aren’t the only one with skin in the game.”
Clay held his breath. She was right. So damn right. And he was a fool. “I know that. I do.”
She let out another exasperated sigh. “I care about you, Clay. But I think this is another illustration of how infrequently you and I are on the same page. So perhaps we should focus on work, since that’s the part of our relationship that impacts other people. Let’s try to get along and get through the Seaport project. As near as I can see, that’s our best case scenario.”
It didn’t sound like much of a best case to him, but he didn’t have a retort. He’d stirred up the confusion, and he was the person always arguing for a sensible course of action. Astrid’s idea was practical. Logical. Nobody would get hurt. “I agree. You’re right.”
“Bye, Clay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Astrid opened the door and marched out of his office.
He leaned against the jamb and watched as she walked away. He’d hoped he might feel better after opening up. Instead, he felt as though he was right back where he was before he and Astrid ever went to Los Angeles.
Nine
It had been a hell of a week and it was only Thursday. Astrid couldn’t stop thinking about her conversation with Clay and everything he had been through. She liked him—a lot—but did she really want that much trouble in her life? Her existence with Johnathon had been hard. Years of vying for his attention and affection, month after month of infertility treatments, and ultimately, the realization that the love between them turned into something far less warm and caring than she ever would have wanted. What if that happened again?
At work, she and Clay had returned to their old dynamic, but there was a layer of unease in the air that hadn’t been there before. That was saying a lot—their interactions before LA had been plenty uncomfortable at times. Perhaps it was all in her head and Clay wasn’t thinking about her at all, or about the things she’d lobbed back in his court. She hoped that wasn’t the case and that he’d taken at least some of it to heart. Yes, he had been hurt, badly. But he wasn’t the only one carrying around battle scars. At some point, he was going to have to admit that he might not be protecting his heart. He might be slowly smothering it to death.
For tonight, Astrid would have a distraction from her turmoil over Clay. Tara and Miranda were coming over for dinner. That was fraught with its own complications. Miranda had figured out what happened between Astrid and Clay. Astrid was legitimately surprised she hadn’t received a phone call about it during the week, but she was certain that meant it was going to come up in conversation. With Tara there, Astrid wasn’t sure how it would all shake out.
Tonight would mark the first time the wives had ever met at Astrid’s penthouse apartment in downtown San Diego. All previous gatherings of the three wives had happened at Tara’s or Miranda’s, aside from the times they’d convened at places like Ruby’s to shop for Astrid’s dress, or on much sadder occasions like Johnathon’s funeral or the lawyer’s office for the reading of his will.
That day seemed as though it had happened a decade ago, but it had only been a few months. Astrid had never bargained on becoming business partners with either of them, let alone both, but that had been exactly what happened when Johnathon split his shares of Sterling Enterprises between them. For the most part, she liked Tara and Miranda very much, and she was grateful that he had managed to bring them together after his death. Was that what he had always wanted? For the three of them to be friends? She could see his ego trying to engineer that—three women he’d once loved, united because of him. In her mind, it was an awfully prideful pursuit, but that was Johnathon—he bent the world to suit his needs. Astrid needed to take a page out of Johnathon’s book and start doing the same for herself.
Astrid’s personal chef had come over yesterday to prepare tonight’s meal, which she merely had to heat and serve. On the menu was honey-glazed salmon with roasted vegetables. For dessert, they had chocolate mousse. Astrid didn’t believe in not satisfying her sweet tooth every chance she got. Life was too short.
Tara and Miranda arrived together, Tara with a bottle of wine. She was dressed in all black—silk blouse and tailored trousers, an elegant ensemble that made her look every bit the powerful and in-control woman. “I wasn’t sure what you were serving, but I figured we couldn’t go wrong with a nice chablis.”
Astrid accepted the gift, instantly recognizing the label. “Oh, I love this wine. Johnny took me to the winery every time we went to France. He loved it there.”
“It’s so cute when you call him Johnny.” Miranda looked radiant in a plum-colored dress that showed off her raven hair and her growing baby bump.
Astrid was embarrassed. “It’s an old habit I need to get rid of. No one else called him that.”
Miranda smiled and patted Astrid’s shoulder. “I understand. We all have our special memories of Johnathon. For
