“What evidence? Apparently nothing I say or do can convince you that I’m not some kind of mercenary asshole.”
Mercenary asshole. How many times had she called him precisely that in the privacy of her thoughts? Far too many times. How dared he act like the injured party? Fury bubbled up and spilled into her voice. “This conversation is over.”
“This conversation never started. You left before we could talk, and each time, you’ve cut me off before I could explain.”
“I cut you off? The last time, I didn’t cut you off, Jake. Leila did.”
A stunned silence followed. Finally, Jake spoke, his voice stiff. “I guess there’s nothing more to say, then. Goodbye, Ariel.”
Ariel dragged herself into work that evening, her head and heart throbbing with pain. The last thing she wanted was honest conversation, and mercifully, it was Noelle’s night off. Other regulars came in though, among them Paul Gordon, who took a seat at her section of the bar. “Hi, Ariel.”
She threw a glance over her shoulder and offered him a smile. “Paul, how are you?”
“Doing well today. Can I get a special?”
“Coming right up,” she promised. She reached for bottles to mix him his drink. “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked as she slid the glass across the table to him.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because you only ask for the special when life is crap. Otherwise, you get a gin and tonic.”
Paul sighed. “You know me better than Amazon and Google. It’s actually scary.”
“Just call me Mother Confessor. What’s up?”
“Just life. It’s so hard to make all the different pieces work at the same time. I think…”
A tingle ran down her spine. She looked up toward the door. Paul continued speaking, but his voice faded into white noise as her entire world zoomed in to focus on the man standing by the entrance.
Jake was simply dressed in a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans, but his presence seemed to rush out at her until he was literally the only thing in the room she could focus on.
He caught her eye and began to walk over to the bar.
Damn it, why couldn’t he just take no for an answer? She was tired of the emotional flip-flopping between joy and despair, the endless wondering if he really wanted her or if he was just a practiced liar who wanted a quick lay between courting his sugar mama.
She wanted her head and her heart to stop hurting.
She wanted to stop hoping. She wanted to move on.
She just wanted him out of her life.
Ariel leaned over the bar and gave Paul her sexiest smile. “I’m free for dinner and breakfast if you’re still interested.”
The deathblow. It had been weeks in coming, and she had finally done what needed to be done.
Paul paused in mid-speech.
Jake froze five feet from the bar. He did not look at Paul. He knew, as she did, that the other man wasn’t really the point. He stared at Ariel, his beautiful dark eyes ablaze with pain. His jaw clenched, and without a word, he turned and walked away.
When the door closed behind him, she knew it had closed forever.
Chapter 16
Out of habit, Ariel glanced at her smartphone.
Nothing.
Two weeks had passed since Jake walked out of the club and out of her life. His e-mails stopped. Their friendship evaporated as if it had never existed. And perhaps it hadn’t. Perhaps it was just an example of how raw physical chemistry was a recipe for disaster.
It should never have been more than a one-night stand.
It had to end.
It was all logical, but logic didn’t make the pain go away. Ariel drew in a deep breath and expelled it in a shaky shudder. Time. All she needed was time. She would get better. She would stop thinking of him. She would find someone else.
Less raw but still tender, she went for a walk along the beach on her day off. The setting sun cast the bodies of the people strolling on the beach into silhouette. In the distance, four men played beach volleyball, their features indistinguishable.
She paused to watch, the memory of Jake a bittersweet ache. Where was he now? No doubt closer to Olympic glory, his sexual interlude with the “bartender” set firmly in the past.
“Hello there,” a lovely accented voice said from beside her.
Startled, Ariel glanced at the beautiful Indian woman and her tall, male companion, a good-looking man who looked subtly Central-Asian or Middle-Eastern.
The woman extended her hand. “You looked familiar. I’m Leila Desai.”
“Ariel Falconer. We met at the nursing home several weeks ago.”
“Ah, where Jake’s mother lives. Are you here to watch Jake play too?”
Ariel glanced at the silhouettes of the four men on the beach. “He’s here?”
Leila nodded at the beach volleyball game. “He moved to L.A. permanently about two weeks ago. Didn’t you know?”
Ariel shook her head.
“Oh.” Leila looked confused. “I’m sorry. I assumed he would have told you. After all, he moved here to be with you.”
“He what?”
“Well, his mother is here, too, but I figured you were the primary reason. He didn’t deny it when I asked.”
Ariel shook her head. “I don’t understand. You were dating him.”
“Oh no.” Leila laughed. “We did go out together a few times, but he was just keeping the seat warm. This is Kemal Atan. We are engaged, sort of.”
“Sort of?”
Kemal spoke up. “Our parents were close friends and made the arrangements when we were born without consulting either of us. We’re working ourselves around to the old-fashioned idea of an arranged marriage.”
“Fortunately, he’s quite crazy about me.” Leila slanted a glance up at Kemal, who laughed and leaned down to kiss her lightly on the lips.
“But Jake?”
“Oh, we’re friends. I like beach volleyball, and Jake likes beach volleyball. It’s a good basis for friendship. Plus, keeping him around kept other people away. He made me feel safe.”
Safe. Jake had made Ariel feel safe too. She frowned. “So, it was never about money.”
Leila rolled her eyes. “Oh, with Jake, it was always about money.”
Ariel stiffened.
“Jake has a weird and annoying hang-up about money,” Leila continued. “He won’t take it from friends. I don’t know if you heard, but he quit pro volleyball.”
Ariel’s jaw dropped. “He what?”
“He couldn’t afford the time to train the way he needed to if he wanted to play in the Olympics. His mother’s care is quite expensive. So, after agonizing over it for weeks, he finally called it quits. Obviously, he still plays for fun though.” Leila nodded toward the four men on the beach.
“When did he quit?”
“Shortly before moving to L.A., about two weeks ago.”
Ariel went cold. Jake had given up on his Olympic dreams about the same time he had come to see her for the last time. He had come to tell her, and she had pushed him away.
Leila continued. “I knew he needed financial assistance to keep training. I offered him a gift. He said no. I offered him a loan. He said no. He tried to get corporate sponsors, but they said no.” She sighed dramatically. “With all the ‘nos’ flying around like broomsticks in a Quidditch game, it really was just a matter of time before he was pressured into quitting.”
“He said no to your money? But why?”
Leila shrugged. “He didn’t really explain, although he implied that money had cost him important friendships and even love.” Leila’s eyes narrowed. “I did wonder if he referred to you. After all, it would explain why you two haven’t gotten together in spite of your tangible physical chemistry, but he said you were a bartender, so I figured you couldn’t possibly be involved in his ‘money’ problem.”
“No, I suppose not,” Ariel murmured. She stared out at the volleyball game in the distance. “Do you know w
here he lives?”
“Not far from here, actually. He’s usually visits his mother at the nursing home every morning.”
“Thank you,” Ariel said.
Leila gestured at the game in progress. “Aren’t you going to come watch the game, too?”
“No, not right now. I don’t think Jake will want to see me. Please don’t tell him that we talked.”
Leila gave Ariel an assessing stare, but nodded. “All right, I suppose it really isn’t my business.” She linked her arm through Kemal’s and strolled toward the beach volleyball game.
Ariel stared at their backs and swallowed hard through the lump in her throat. Oh, God. What had she done?
Chapter 17
Jake knocked lightly on the door of his mother’s suite before turning the handle. “Hello, Mom.”
She smiled brightly. “Hello, John.” She called him by his father’s name. “Are you here for our stroll around the park?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. It’s the highlight of my day.” He offered his arm to her.
With an almost girlish giggle, his mother slid her arm through his, and they walked out together to the courtyard. “I want to show you my flower patch. Over here.” She led him to a cluster of pink flowers. “I planted these petunias and these pansies yesterday.”
“You planted flowers?” He stared at her and bit back the obvious objection of “but you hate gardening” before it escaped his lips. The mother he had known would have never gotten her fingers dirty, but here she was, bending on arthritic knees to pluck weeds out of the soil. Obviously, he didn’t know her as well as he thought he had.
She had found something new to fill her life.
He would too.
The big, gaping hole in his life that used to be beach volleyball hurt as much as the hole Ariel Falconer had left behind. In theory, the losses shouldn’t even have been on the same scale, but they were. He didn’t understand it, and couldn’t spare the energy to understand it. After all, neither beach volleyball nor Ariel Falconer mattered anymore.
Every time he saw something he would have wanted to share with Ariel—an image that tickled his mind, touched his heart, or teased out a smile—he turned and looked the other way. In the meantime, routine and deadlines got him through each day. He spent an hour each morning with his mother, and then returned to his apartment to work on his IT projects. At the end of the day, he headed out to the beach in search of people willing to play a game or two of beach volleyball. It kept his body active and burned off enough energy for him to sleep at night in spite of the burning ache in his chest. Besides, it was cheaper than going to the bar and drinking himself into forgetfulness.
Perhaps the cure was another one-night stand.
Right. His chuckle was ironic and bitter.
Footsteps sounded on the path behind him, but he did not turn around. The residents of the nursing home kept the footpaths around the inner courtyard busy all times of the day. The footsteps, however, stopped behind him. A familiar voice spoke. “Hi, Jake.”
His brain jolted. His heart pounded in a crazy frantic rhythm to send more blood up to his head. He drew in a deep, slow breath and then exhaled in a similarly deliberate motion, before pushing to his feet and turning to face her. “Hello, Ariel.”
Her presence smacked him in the face—a shocking splash of color, scents, and sounds, as if his world had suddenly come alive again. The inexplicable chemistry was all still there; the shocking awareness of her every gesture; the weird sensitivity to her emotions and moods. Yup, still the same old crazy mental shit. He gritted his teeth. She’s all wrong for me.
She smiled at his mother. “How are you, Olivia?”
“Very well.” The old woman smiled. “Are you his girlfriend?”
Ariel glanced at Jake. “No, I’m not.”
Damn right. You made sure of that. “She’s just a friend.” Jake looked at Ariel. “Did you come to visit your friend’s mother?”
“I heard you came here every morning. I wanted to see you.”
“What for?” He glanced at his mother, but she looked quite contented weeding her flower bed.
“To apologize, for that very childish display back at Escapades two weeks ago.”
“You wanted to make a point, and you did. I’m sorry I pushed you that far. You made it clear that things were over, but I couldn’t let it go.”
“But you finally did.”
“Yeah.” His smile was wry. “Even a thick-headed idiot will learn eventually. You were right. There’s a reason one-night stands are called one-night stands; I should have just stuck to the ‘no complications’ rule.” He glanced down at his hands. No, don’t do it. Damn it, yes, I have to— “Is it too much to hope that we can be friends again?”
She stared at him. “You want to be?”
“Just friendship, Ariel. No complications, I swear. The occasional e-mail. The occasional text. Sometimes, I…” His throat worked as he swallowed. “I see stuff I want to share with you, and just sending an e-mail…helps.”
“Helps what?”
“Just…” Helps me find something wonderful in my otherwise lousy days. He spread his hands. “Nothing. It’s nothing.” He looked at her. “Is it okay? Just e-mails. Nothing more.”
She looked stricken, but he couldn’t imagine why. Her lips moved and finally, she got the words out. “Yeah, of course. That would be fine.”
Progress. He had just made amazing progress, and he was right back where he’d started—sending e-mails, promising “no complications” when the only thing he wanted to do was to take her into his arms and complicate the hell out of both their lives. Frustration curled his hands into fists, but Jake managed a tight grin in spite of the stab of pain in his heart. “Great. So, how’s work?”
“And that’s all we did the rest of the morning,” Ariel complained. “We talked about me.”
Noelle tapped her fingers on the bar. “You know, most women wouldn’t consider that a problem.”
“But I don’t want to talk about me. Everything’s going fine with me, and mostly because he showed me how much I loved my job. But things aren’t going fine with him, and he doesn’t talk about it. He doesn’t even allude to it.”
“At the risk of sounding obvious, maybe you should just ask him?”
“He’ll probably think I’m insulting his manhood.”
“Yep.” Noelle nodded vigorously in agreement.
Ariel flung her arms into the air. “Why won’t he just tell me?”
“Because his problems involve money. He’s learned not to talk about money around you.”
“I know he’s not asking me for any.”
“Maybe not, but between the two of you, you’ve wrecked your friendship twice in two months over the whole money issue.” Noelle made air-quotes with her fingers. “He’s not stupid enough to risk a third time. Just let it go…” She sang out the words to the famous Disney tune. “You’re friends again. Isn’t it enough?”
Unfortunately, Ariel thought, it wasn’t enough. Not anymore. “He’s taken all the risks so far, hasn’t he?”
Noelle nodded.
“Maybe it’s time for me to take them.”
Noelle’s eyebrows drew together. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet.” Ariel’s jaw tensed. “I don’t even know if he’ll accept my help, but he’s getting a shot at his damned dream if I have anything to say about it.”
Even if I lose him in the process.
The following Saturday morning, Ariel found Jake on the beach, predictably in a game of beach volleyball. He outshone both his partner and his opponents, but what struck Ariel most was not his skill but the subtle reflection of loss and regret on his face. When he flashed a rare smile, the light did not reach his eyes.
Giving up professional beach volleyball had broken something in him.
She settled on the sand to watch the game to its obvious conclusion and approached him as he stepped off the court. “Hi, Jake.”
> “Hey.” He leaned toward her in the beginning motion of a hug, but checked the movement as if suddenly recalling their “no complications” agreement. “What are you doing here?”
“Checking out your game. You’re in great shape.”
“Thanks.” He glanced around and waved at various people who waved back at him.
“Looks like you’re a regular. How often do you play?”
“I’m out here almost every day, but I play about four or five times a week, including most weekends.”
“Any more games today?”
He shrugged. “Depends on whether anyone else wants to. It’s not that organized.”
“Is it okay if I hang out for a bit? Perhaps when you’re done, we could have something to eat together.”
He stared at her, and for a moment, she wondered if he was going to protest by citing the “no complications” rule, but he nodded. “Sure, that sounds great. In fact, why don’t we go now? Any later and we’d be fighting a serious lunch crowd.”
She jerked her chin at the blanket spread over the sand. “I brought a picnic lunch for us. I thought you might prefer hanging out at the beach.”
His startled gaze flashed back to her face. “Yeah, I would,” he said slowly.
“I’ve got sandwiches, a pasta salad, fresh fruit, crackers, and cheese.” She laid the neat packages of food on the blanket. “I’ve also got water and white wine. Any preference?”
“Just the water, thanks.” He sat on a corner of the blanket and reached for a sandwich. “How’s work going?”
“Escapades is still open and still making money. It’s fun running the club from behind the bar, but you already know that. How’s your work?”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second. “I’m doing well. I’ve got more projects than I can handle; the waiting list is growing, which is great for job stability. Of course, I set my own hours, which means I get to visit Mom in the morning and play beach volleyball in the evening.”
“Why didn’t you tell me when you quit pro volleyball?”
Flawed: A Love Letters Novel Page 11
