“I thought I did.” I cleared my throat. “Then what are you saying?”
“I can’t do this, Jordan.” She waved her hand back and forth between us again. “I’m not ready. I’m sorry, I thought I was, but I’m not. I can’t be in a relationship with you.”
My heart plummeted, but I tried to remain calm. “What changed?” I asked again. “You seemed happy this weekend.”
“I was—I mean, I thought I was, but then I went home, and I realized that it was a mistake.”
“A mistake,” I repeated, hating that word.
“Yes. I got caught up.”
“In?” I let the word hang, pain lancing through my chest as she kept talking.
“In you. In the possibility of an us.”
I wanted to grab her, shake some sense into her, and get her to stop this craziness. “It was more than a possibility. I thought it was a fact.”
“No.” She shook her head furiously. “I’m not over Max’s death yet. I’m not ready to move on.”
I didn’t want to let her go. I needed to reach her, to make her understand I would be there for her and help her through this. I stretched out my hand to touch her, to let her feel I was right there.
“I know this is hard. I understand—I really do. But, Sandy, my darling girl—”
I didn’t get any farther. She jumped to her feet. “Don’t call me that!”
I blinked at her vehemence.
“I was ‘my girl’ to Max—that was his name!”
I held out my hand. “I’m sorry. It slipped out. Sit down and we’ll talk this out.”
“There is nothing to talk about. I told you I can’t do this.”
“And I have no say in the matter?”
“No, you don’t. You’re ready, I’m not. I don’t know if I ever will be.”
“Don’t say that. You have too much love to give. You’re too wonderful to live the rest of your life alone.”
“I wish people would stop saying that. Stop telling me how to live my life. I do just fine on my own.” She almost snarled in her anger. “Max was ill for so long, I had to do everything on my own. So, you don’t have to worry about me.”
“But I do.”
She brushed off her skirt. “I can’t do this, Jordan. Not now. I’m sorry if I hurt you. I regret that more than anything else. But I can’t be with you when I’m still in love with my husband.”
I had to say it. I stood and met her eyes.
“Your husband is dead.”
Her eyes grew round and filled with tears. “I know that.”
“Yet, you act as if you’re betraying him.”
“I slept with you.”
“Yes, you did. And I slept with you. I thought it was only us in that room, but I guess Max was there as well. Ghosts do that if we let them. Hang around.”
“You’re a horrible man.”
“No, I’m a hurt one. I shouldn’t be surprised by this, but I am. I thought you were on the same page I was, but I was obviously wrong. I misjudged what we had. What we felt.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I wish I could express how deeply sorry I am.”
“I know you are. I can see it. I wish you could step back and let me help. We could work this through together. Slow down and take our time to—”
“No.”
Her voice was firm. She had made up her mind, and I had no choice but to accept her decision.
“Well then, I guess lunch is over. I guess…we’re over.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“So you keep saying.”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“Funny, I never took you for a coward, Sandy.”
“What?” she gasped.
“You are. I think you’re scared of what you feel for me. I think it frightens you so much that you’re using your dead husband as an excuse.”
“Go to hell,” she seethed.
“Oh, I’m already there.”
We glared at each other, our pain bleeding into the air.
She straightened her shoulders and wiped her cheeks. “The office…”
I laughed without humor. “Of course you’d worry about that. Don’t think about it. I won’t cause you any embarrassment. I’m well aware of who would win that fight. I won’t bother you—we’ll just go back to being coworkers.” I snorted with derision. “I think that will be easier for one of us than the other.”
Her muffled sob made me feel horrible. My anger drained away, leaving hurt and pain behind. I gentled my voice.
“Just promise me something, Sandy.”
“What?”
“If you change your mind, come and see me. I promise, I’ll listen.”
Then I bent and kissed her damp cheek.
I wasn’t sure whose tears I tasted.
I hurried away before I could find out.
Saturday, I taped up another box, nodding in grim satisfaction. Packing was going well. I had been at it every night this week and all this morning. I had to stay busy. It was the only way I could deal with the hurt and the pain that hit me in waves. I wasn’t sleeping much, so I was at the office early and coming home late, wishing at times I had never decided to sell the house.
But there wasn’t anything I could do about that now. The fact was, perhaps a new place would be a fresh start in every way now. No memories of Anna or of Sandy would haunt me there.
At least, I told myself that.
I bent to lift another box when the doorbell sounded, and I set it aside to answer the door. A courier waited, handing me a large, flat parcel. My heart fell when I saw it, knowing full well what it was. I signed for it, then carried it to the living room. I set it on the sofa, carefully unwrapped the box and the packing material, and stared at the contents.
It was a print of the painting Sandy had loved at the museum. I had purchased a copy and had it framed and paid extra for fast shipping. I had planned on giving it to her as a surprise, hoping she would want to hang it in my new place and come visit often to see it.
Except now, she wouldn’t be coming to my new place, and I wasn’t certain she would want this gift, even if I gave it to her in the context of friendship. She’d already given me back the shawl I bought her—still in its wrappings. I’d found it on my desk when I returned to the office from a meeting. I had stared at it, unsure what to do, then simply put it in the trunk of my car and left it there. It was too painful to bring inside.
That odd ache was back in my chest when I woke in the mornings, if I was able to sleep at all. Only this one was new and fresh. Deeper in some ways. Anna had no choice but to leave me. Sandy walked away. I knew I needed to stop thinking about her.
Yet, I couldn’t.
We had been cordial and professional the rest of the week after she broke things off with me. As a rule, we didn’t often have much interaction, so if I didn’t see her every day, it wasn’t out of the ordinary. This week, however, I constantly had papers for Bentley to sign, invoices for Maddox, and reports for Aiden to go over. It felt as if I was in the executive area several times a day.
Sandy was polite, courteous, and removed. She always waved me in or let whatever partner I needed know I was waiting. She offered coffee and a blank smile, her voice carefully neutral.
It broke my heart to see her increasing fragility appear before my eyes. She looked wan and tired. Broken. It reminded me of how she looked after Max died, and once again, there was little I could do to help her since it seemed I was the cause of her altered state. She didn’t want my comfort, even though I was desperate to give it to her.
To their credit, none of the boys said a word. They treated me the same, although I saw their worried glances toward Sandy and the confusion in their eyes when they looked at me. I knew I didn’t look very good either.
All of us were suffering in silence.
I huffed out a sigh, wondering if I should give the picture away. The sudden rumble of thunder startled me, and I went to the w
indow, lifting the curtain. The skies had darkened as the hours passed, and I’d been busy packing. A storm was coming, the clouds heavy with rain.
I dropped the curtain, feeling the ripple of uncertainty pass through me. Sandy hated storms. Last weekend, I had held her, soothed her during the worst of the squall. How would she make it through the storm today? What would distract her?
I shook my head. It wasn’t my business—Sandy made that clear. She wasn’t my business.
Except, as the thunder rolled, I didn’t care. I knew she’d be scared, and I hated that. Hated the fact that she would face it alone, the way she had decided she had to face everything. On her own.
I looked at the picture and made a decision. I wasn’t done yet. I had things to say and Sandy was going to hear them.
Determined, I slid the picture back into the box and headed to my car.
I was lucky and found a parking spot two houses down from Sandy’s place. The rain had eased off, now just a gentle beat against my window. The thunder was muted and low, but I knew it would build again. According to the weather channel, it would come and go for the rest of the day.
I took advantage of the break and grabbed the box, carrying it up the steps. I entered the porch, the door squeaking in protest as I opened it, and I set down the picture. I knocked on the inner door. Waited. Knocked again. Then I rang the bell. There was no sound from within. I tried the door handle, but it was locked. With a sigh, I gave up—it was obvious Sandy wasn’t home. Maybe with the storm approaching, she’d decided to go see Colin. Or Reid. At least she wouldn’t be alone. The rain picked up outside, and I decided to leave the picture behind. She would see it when she got home.
I pulled a pen from my pocket and wrote a quick message on the box.
Memories of a wonderful weekend
Think of it with a smile.
Always, Jordan
Maybe it would start a conversation and we could go from there—slowly. She might return it to me. I had no idea, but I hoped she would keep it. I prayed it might spark something in her that made her reach out.
The porch door squeaked again, and I let it slam shut behind me, too tired to worry about it. My head felt heavy as I returned to the car, my footsteps dragging. I slid behind the wheel and let my head fall back, closing my eyes. They burned with unshed emotion.
I had been so sure, so certain of us. That I was ready to move forward, that Sandy was ready. We meshed so well all weekend. Making love to her was akin to being reborn for me. She awakened all my senses, and now it was painful returning to that semi-numbness. Yet without her, I didn’t even want to try. I had no desire to date anyone else, build something with a stranger.
Because in the past few days, I accepted the fact that I was in love with Sandy. And the depth of my love wasn’t something I could turn off or transfer to someone else. She was the key to my future, but I had perhaps pushed too hard, and now that future was lost.
I wiped my eyes and turned the key, waiting patiently for the windows to clear. Realizing I had caught my coat in the car door, I opened it and tugged the wet hem inside, slamming it shut. I pulled away, driving slowly, noting the thunder ramping up, and the rain coming down harder.
I glanced in my rearview mirror and froze. Behind my car, running and waving her arms, was Sandy. I slammed on the brakes.
What the hell was she doing outside during a storm?
I threw open my door, getting out and turning her way. She was barefoot and dressed in casual clothes, which were wet and clinging to her frame. In the brief moments she’d been outside, her hair had plastered to her head. It was obvious she was crying.
“Sandy,” I called out, confused. “What the—”
My words were cut off as she launched herself at me. I caught her to my chest, picking her up off the ground and holding her close. I felt the violent tremors in her body and absorbed her sobs.
I held her tight, unsure of what was happening.
“Don’t let go,” she begged over and again. “Don’t ever let me go.”
I held her closer, relief running through my body.
“Never.”
Sandy
I wrapped my shawl tighter around my shoulders and shivered. The house felt cold today—or maybe it was just me. I had barely slept four hours all week since telling Jordan I couldn’t see him anymore.
I couldn’t get the devastated look on his face out of my mind. The pain in his eyes. The tears that mingled with mine when he kissed me and walked away.
I was certain I had done the right thing. I wasn’t ready.
Except, since breaking it off with Jordan, I couldn’t escape the pain I felt. It was as virulent as when Max died, but different. Fresher, more acute somehow. As if my body was telling me I was suffering needlessly.
He called me a coward. At times, I thought perhaps he was right. It scared me to think of moving on, of having feelings for someone again.
Of falling in love and losing him. Experiencing that pain all over again. Knowing I would have to rebuild my life yet again without the person I loved beside me.
It was better to have walked away now.
I wasn’t ready.
Even if the look of pain on Jordan’s face still haunted me. The hurt in his voice.
I poured the water from the kettle into the cup, letting the tea steep and darken the water. I wrapped my hands around the mug and walked to the living room, switching on the gas fireplace. Outside, the sky was dark, the day foreboding.
I tried not to think of last weekend. Being in Jordan’s arms while the storm raged. Feeling safe and calm while he hummed and lulled me to sleep.
Today, I would have to tough it out on my own.
I set aside the tea, not really wanting it. I curled up on the sofa and slipped on some noise-canceling headphones. I would feel better after a nap—I was certain of it. With the low music playing in my head, my body slowly relaxed, and I drifted into sleep.
The sky was dreary and dull. I was lost, wandering in an area I was unfamiliar with. Cold, I pulled on my shawl, shocked to find the ends torn and frayed. I stumbled, gasping as I fell. A pair of strong arms caught me before I hit the pavement, keeping me from injury.
I turned and looked into the face of the man holding me. He smiled, his green eyes warm.
“All right, my darling?”
“Jordan. You’re here!”
“Where else would I be?”
“But I sent you away—you were furious with me.”
He shook his head. “I was waiting for you. I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”
“I can’t—I told you I can’t.”
He stood, releasing me. “You can. You need to let him go. He’s waiting. We’re both waiting for you, Sandy.”
“What?”
He indicated behind me with the tilt of his chin. I turned and saw another man standing, watching us. I stepped forward. “Max?”
“Hello, my girl.”
“How is this possible?”
“Anything is possible in your dreams.”
“Is that what this is?”
“This is anything you want it to be.”
“I don’t know what to do, Max.”
He smiled sadly. “Yes, you do. You need to be the strong woman I know you are. Let me go and find your happiness again.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“You can. It’s what I wanted. It’s what I always wanted for you. Our chapter is over, Sandy, but you have an entirely new book to write. Grab it. Write it. Live it.”
He began to fade. “I’ll always be there, Sandy. Just let me be where I belong. In the past.”
“Max—no—wait!”
“You don’t have to choose. You can love us both. Now, wake up, my girl. Wake up now and grab your happiness. Open the door, Sandy. Open the door!”
And he was gone.
I sat up, gasping. My headphones were on the floor, and outside, the thunder rolled. I heard the rain pelting ag
ainst the glass, and I ran a shaky hand over my face.
My weird dream played like a movie in my head. It had been so real.
Max’s words echoed in my head. The gentle, loving look on Jordan’s face danced behind my eyes.
I thought of the other dreams I’d had with Max in them. I always felt, in some way, he was reaching out to me. Guiding me.
Was he guiding me to Jordan? Was that possible?
A noise caught my attention, and I stood. It sounded like the porch door shutting. I scrubbed my face and yawned. I was so tired, and the nap hadn’t helped. Slowly, I walked down the hall, assuming a delivery had been left for me. I peeked out the front door, but no one was there. As I suspected, there was a large box off to one side of the porch.
I pulled open the door and looked at the box. There was writing on the side, so I lifted it carefully, carrying it into the house. I read the note from Jordan, tears springing to my eyes. He had been here, no doubt while I was asleep, and brought me something.
I slid the gift from the box, my breath catching, and tears, hot and fast, ran from my eyes. My painting. He’d had a print of it framed for me.
Memories of a lovely weekend.
This painting represented more than a memory.
It was the start of something new and beautiful, and I had thrown it away.
Jordan was right.
I was a coward.
The slam of a car door outside made me lift my head. I hurried to the porch, opening the front door and looking outside. Jordan’s charcoal-gray sedan was just pulling away from the curb.
Without a thought, I was outside, running down the street, praying somehow Jordan would see me. I waved my arms, crying his name as loudly as I could, ignoring the cold rain and the thunder that crashed around me.
Suddenly, Jordan’s car stopped. He stepped outside, staring at me as I barreled toward him.
“Sandy,” he called, “What the—”
I crashed into him, flinging my arms around his neck. I sobbed so hard nothing I was trying to say came out right, but I felt his arms lift me from the ground, holding me close.
Sandy: Vested Interest #7 Page 14
