Mr. Denver: The Version You Didn't Hear

Chapter 24

Pulling of some strings to get that jet was not easy, I was desperate especially when I need it fast. I didn’t waste any time and flew myself straight to LA. The second the wheels touched down, I didn’t waste a breath. I was already halfway out of the plane before the door even opened. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just knew I needed to see her. To confirm with my own eyes that she was safe. That she hadn’t… done anything with him.

Eden.

Even the name twisted my gut. Tim greeted me at the door of the Ashton estate, surprisingly composed for someone awake past midnight.

“Jacob, what brings you here?” he asked, smiling like I’d just dropped by for coffee instead of flying halfway across the country in a jealous frenzy.

I forced a smile. “Had a meeting earlier and thought I’d check on Catherine. Hope it’s not a bad time.”

Tim patted my back. “Of course not. You’re practically family. Come anytime.”

He glanced back into the house and lowered his voice. “She just got home. Bit drunk, but she’s safe.” I checked the time. Almost midnight.

“And you’re still up?” I asked.

“Watching Fast and Furious for the seventeenth time,” he replied, pointing at the living room like it was a sacred ritual. I chuckled weakly, distracted.

“If you go upstairs, second room on the right—that’s Catherine’s,” he said. “Be quiet, everyone’s asleep.”

“Thanks, Tim,” I said, nodding and heading up.

I opened the door slowly, bracing myself for anything. I half-expected to find her passed out on top of some guy or worse, him. Instead? She was sprawled sideways across the bed, one leg over the headboard like some sort of yoga-pose-gone-wrong. I blinked.

Unreal.

I sighed in relief and stepped in. She’d fall asleep like a ninja and wake up like an actress on a soap opera, I swear. She stirred when I adjusted her posture, her eyes blinking open as I laid her properly on the mattress.

“Jacob?!” she yelped.

I raised an eyebrow. “Surprise.” She blinked, groaned, and rubbed her temples.

“Why are you here?” she mumbled, her voice low with confusion and the edge of a hangover.

I shrugged, voice tight. “I was around.”

“You were in Toronto this morning. You didn’t mention coming to LA,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“I decided to visit. You weren’t answering my calls.”

“Because I was drinking,” she snapped, tossing her head back against the pillow.

“Who were you with?” She looked at me sharply. “Why should I tell you?”

“I’m your fiancé,” I said as I reached for her hand. “You remember that part?”

“I drank with my brother, Jacob,” she hissed.

I shook my head, not buying it. “You’re lying.”

“I know who I was with!” she burst, fully sitting up now.

“I called and Eden answered, Catherine. Don’t play games with me.” Her expression shifted instantly—confused, furious, and a little insulted.

“What?”

“I heard his voice.”

“My brother was drunk. He probably picked up my phone. You think I’d spend the night drinking with my ex?” she snapped. I didn’t have an answer. I’d built the entire fantasy in my head on one assumption. And now, I looked like a complete fool.

She lay back down, muttering, “Unbelievable.” I exhaled slowly and moved toward the sofa.

“What were you thinking?” I murmured to myself, running a hand down my face.

Her voice caught me off guard. “Yeah… what were you thinking?” I turned.

She was standing by the window now, a silhouette against the moonlit curtains, still in her oversized shirt, hair a little messy, and eyes slightly glassy from the alcohol—but she was awake and amused. She chuckled and suddenly threw herself into my lap.

I caught her, startled.

“Are you jealous, Mr. Denver?” she teased, looping her arms around my neck and leaning close.

“Jealous? No,” I lied badly.

“Really?” She leaned closer, her lips brushing mine. “I think someone flew across the country out of sheer panic.” I opened my mouth to argue, but she shut me up with a kiss.

“Eden did call me,” she said, laughing into my chest. “He asked about our wedding. I told him he was stupid and hung up.” My heart thudded once, hard. I wanted to hold onto her and never let go. But then she said something that shattered the moment.

“Jacob Williams had a farm... E-I-E-I-YOOO,” she sang, slurring the last word like it was a romantic chorus.

I sighed. “Funny, Catherine.” I scooped her up and laid her back in bed.

She blinked at me, her voice soft now. “Where are you going?”

“Sleeping beside you,” I said. “Don’t worry. Not in that way.”

She giggled, curling under the blanket. “Okay.” Within seconds, she was out cold. I stood by the bed for a moment, staring at the ring on the nightstand. Not on her finger. Just sitting there. Cold and abandoned.

Like a quiet warning. I picked it up, rolling it between my fingers, trying not to let the sting get to me.

Please don’t tell me she’s starting to reconsider everything again.