Just Jilted

by Lila James

  “Adrian?” Marcus asked.

  I realized that I’d been glued to Liz’s doorframe for nearly five minutes. I forced myself to move forward. I shot a glare at Liz, who shrugged helplessly.

  “What are you doing here?” I managed in a squawk.

  Damn it! I had a whole rehearsed speech prepped for whenever I saw him again. It consisted of how fabulous my life was and how I dodged a bullet by not marrying him. Now I could barely put a coherent sentence together.

  “Stewart let him in,” Liz said defensively, getting to her feet. Stewart remained seated, looking back and forth between Marcus and me with great interest, as if he were watching the climactic scene of a movie. “I told him you don’t have anything to say to him.”

  I gave her a grateful look, and she gestured for Stewart to get to his feet as she headed toward her bedroom. He did so reluctantly, never taking his eyes off Marcus or me.

  “No, you two don’t have to leave. I’m sure Marcus can say whatever he came here to say and be on his way.”

  “I’d like to talk to you alone,” Marcus said.

  “You can say what you have to say with Liz and Stewart here,” I insisted.

  “Adrian, its fine. We’ll be in the other room,” Liz said, dragging Stewart behind her as she headed for her room.

  “Adrian said we could stay,” Stewart protested, walking backward as he watched Marcus and me.

  “Stewart,” Liz said, leading the reluctant Stewart out of the living room and closing her bedroom door behind them, even though I knew they would have their ears pressed against the door.

  I dragged my eyes back to Marcus’s familiar, handsome (jilting-at-the-altar, supermodel-dating) face.

  “What?” I demanded. Even though I was trying to appear as hostile as possible, I secretly hoped that he’d soon be on his knees, begging me to take him back.

  “I got the invite to your father’s wedding,” he said.

  “What?”

  Dad had invited my jilting ex-fiancé to his wedding?

  “Oh.” Marcus frowned. “I thought you knew. I just wanted to—”

  “Did you get an invite in the mail?” I asked, horrified. Was this some twisted plan Dad had devised to get Marcus and me back together?

  “No. E-mail. A fancy one. It looked like one of those mass e-mails. Maybe he forgot to delete me. I don’t know.”

  “Oh,” I said, my anger only slightly abated.

  “Um, please thank your dad for the invite. But if you don’t want me to be there, I won’t go. I completely understand.”

  “You came all the way here just to tell me that?” I asked in disbelief. “There are phones. And e-mail, of course.”

  “I know, I know. But you told me never to call you again, remember?” he said, attempting to smile. “And I was afraid you’d ignore my e-mail.”

  “You’re right,” I replied, looking away from him as a flash of pain crossed his face. “You could have just talked to Dad. Of course I don’t want you to come.”

  “Right,” Marcus said, his jaw tightening at my coldness. “But I didn’t come here just to tell you that. Your small bureau—the one we used to have by the couch? I took it by mistake. I’m driving Gerry’s car. It’s been in his trunk for weeks, and I keep meaning to stop by.”

  “Oh,” I said again, deflated. “You really could have just called.”

  “I know, Adrian. But I was in the neighborhood, and I’m here now. Besides, I tried your cell. Left a message.”

  “I was out,” I said absently. “I went to the movies and this art gallery in SoHo with Douglas.”

  “Douglas?”

  “My boyfriend,” I said, and a dark rush of pleasure filled me as Marcus tensed. In reality, Douglas and I hadn’t yet officially graduated to that status, but Marcus didn’t need to know that. “How’s Gisele?”

  “Gabrielle. Her name’s Gabrielle.”

  “How is she?”

  “She’s fine,” he said tautly. “I’ll bring up the bureau. Then I’ll be on my way.”

  “Good,” I said. Deciding to add more salt to the wound, I added, “I’m heading back over to Douglas’s pretty soon.”

  “I see,” Marcus said. “I must say, Adrian … you move fast.”

  “I move fast?” I asked, infuriated by his hypocrisy. “You’re the one who immediately started sleeping with a Brazilian supermodel the moment we broke up!”

  “She’s not a Brazilian supermodel,” Marcus said, looking both annoyed and mildly amused. “She’s an attorney. And she’s from Argentina.”

  “I don’t care,” I lied, battling my fury over the fact that he hadn’t denied sleeping with her and the knowledge that the gorgeous creature was successful as well. “And this was all your choice, remember? You have no right to deride me for moving on with my life, you selfish jackass!”

  “How about I help you with that bureau?” Stewart asked as he and Liz emerged from her room, not looking at all ashamed at their blatant eavesdropping.

  But Marcus and I barely noticed them; we were still glaring at each other.

  “That would be great,” Marcus finally said, striding past me toward the door. I tensed as he brushed past me. He smelled like a combination of pine and lemon. A great smell. I used to sniff his neck in the mornings—which was a bit weird, in retrospect—before he went to work to relish that smell, which seemed to be his natural scent. Once Stewart and Marcus left, Liz squeezed my hand.

  “I’m so sorry, Adrian. I came out and he was sitting on the couch with Stewart, and I had no idea what was going on.”

  “It’s OK.”

  “I should have kicked him out.”

  “Really,” I insisted, giving her what I hoped was a bright smile. “It’s OK.”

  Marcus and Stewart returned with the bureau ten minutes later, depositing it in the living room. Marcus bid Stewart and Liz polite goodbyes, pausing by me as he reached the door.

  “Adrian. I just wanted to say—”

  But Marcus stopped himself, looking down at me for a long moment. Finally, he reached out to embrace me. I remained stiff in his arms, because if I acquiesced in the slightest, I would burst into tears. After what felt like the longest hug in the universe, he stepped back.

  “Bye, Adrian,” he said, giving me another long look before he slipped out of the apartment.

  As soon as I was certain he was out of earshot, I burst into tears. Liz rushed over to me.

  “That jerk. Coming over here, after what he did. Thanks for letting him in, genius,” she said, looking back at Stewart.

  “Oh, come on. What was I supposed to do? He just wanted to drop off a bureau. I’ve never had a problem with the guy.”

  “You should. He jilted my best friend at the altar. That means you have a problem with him. We are Team Adrian.”

  “We’re on teams now?” Stewart groaned.

  “Everyone takes sides after a breakup. That’s just the way things are,” Liz said.

  “Liz, forget it,” I said, wiping away my tears. “You guys did nothing wrong. I think I’m going to bed.”

  “It’s seven thirty,” Liz protested.

  “So it is,” I muttered, heading to my room.

  Of course, I didn’t go to sleep right away. My reaction to Marcus’s physical presence was not good. Not good at all. Apparently, I was not as far along on the road to recovery as I thought. In fact, it seemed as if I was right back where I started. Damn him for showing up here. Damn him for still looking so good and smelling like lemon and pine.

  I gave Dad an earful the next day. He was contrite and confessed that he used the delightful “Send All” feature on his e-mail when he sent the invite for his wedding reception, conveniently forgetting he still had Marcus’s e-mail address in his address book. He did promise to redact the invite, but it was too late. The damage was done.

  All weekend, I obsessed over Marcus and barely gave anything else a thought. My mind reeled with unanswered questions. Why did he come here? Did he miss me? Was
he regretting what he did? Did he want to get back together? Did I want to get back together with him if he did? I was disturbed to realize I couldn’t answer that question.

  When Monday rolled around and I headed to the coffee shop to meet with Jackson, I was still deep in thought over the whole Marcus incident. I could barely concentrate on what we were discussing.

  “Earth to Adrian Lexley. Earth to Adrian Lexley.”

  “Sorry,” I said, shaking my head. I’d drifted off into yet another reverie, trying to analyze the meaning of Marcus’s obvious jealousy of Douglas. “What were you saying?”

  “I just said that elves are falling from the sky and gnomes are racing to collect them for the goblins. You nodded and said that’s a great idea,” Jackson said, bemused.

  “Oh. Sorry about that. Guess I’m a bit distracted.”

  “About what?” he asked. “And don’t say none of your business. As your colleague, I have the right to know what’s got you so preoccupied.”

  “Just silly stuff. Sorry. I promise to pay attention. What are the goblins going to do with the elves?”

  “I’m not letting you off the hook so easily. Spill, Lexley.”

  “Want to share what you did with Just Katerina all weekend?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

  “Sure. But it was mostly spent in bed.”

  “My ex-fiancé stopped by over the weekend and it just completely rattled me,” I blurted, not wanting to hear about Jackson and Just Katerina in bed.

  I proceeded to tell him how Dad accidentally invited Marcus to his wedding, how flustered Marcus seemed in my presence, as well as his jealousy of Douglas. I left out the onslaught of emotions that filled me upon seeing Marcus again and how I burst into tears. Instead, I emphasized how great I felt and how I was totally falling for Douglas, even though in reality I hadn’t given him a thought since I’d seen Marcus.

  After I finished rambling, I felt a bit embarrassed about how much I’d revealed.

  Jackson studied me for a long moment.

  “A question. And please answer honestly.”

  “OK,” I answered uneasily.

  “If Marcus said he wanted you back, not necessarily to get engaged and married again, but just to go back to the way things were prior to the engagement … would you?”

  There it was again. The million-dollar question I’d tortured myself with all weekend. The question had even run through my mind before Marcus’s appearance at Liz’s apartment. And I still didn’t know the answer. I wanted it to be no. A firm and complete no. But I had longed for things to be just the way they were between Marcus and me before the wedding and engagement had complicated everything. Jackson, however, did not need to know about my uncertainty.

  “That’s not important. I’m completely into my new boyfriend. That ship has sailed.”

  “Right. Poor Douglas.”

  “What do you mean, poor Douglas?”

  “When’s the guy going to see that you’re just using him to get over your ex?”

  “First of all, you don’t know anything about our relationship,” I began.

  “No. Please. As much as I enjoy your tirades, we really should get down to work. And you were the one who insisted on working with me, remember?”

  “I’m starting to regret it,” I grumbled, removing a notepad from my bag.

  Jackson only grinned, and we proceeded to go over bullet points from our interview with Daniel and Emma, as well as more material for the bulk of the article. I told Jackson that I wanted to interview Liz and Stewart as one of the couples for our article. I thought Jackson would be somewhat miffed to have yet another couple to interview, but he looked pleasantly surprised.

  “Great. Are they happy together? Just making sure,” he added when I raised my eyebrows.

  “Yes.” I decided to omit the leather-chap wearing incident and the fact that Liz seemed restless and compared Stewart to eighties pop stars. “They’ve been together for years.”

  “Cool,” Jackson replied, gesturing for the check.

  “We’re done already?”

  “Unless you have something else to add, I think we’ve covered everything. I promised Katerina I’d meet her for lunch.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying not to care that he seemed so eager to get away from me to meet Just Katerina. “Have fun. I’m probably going to drop by Douglas’s office.”

  “Have fun with Mr. Rebound. I mean, Douglas.”

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” I said sweetly.

  Jackson and I left the coffee shop at the same time. He squeezed my arm in farewell before turning and heading down the street. I touched my arm, watching him as he hailed a cab, a tad unnerved by his brief touch. His touch always seemed to knock me a little off balance. Because it’s always unexpected, I rationalized.

  I decided against bugging Douglas at work. That would be way too needy, and I didn’t want to scare him away. So I headed back to the office to do some work on the article. To my surprise, there was an e-mail sitting in my inbox from Marcus. I stared at the unopened e-mail for a full five minutes, dreading what was inside. Would there be a plea for me to come back to him? A declaration of love? I took a breath and clicked on the e-mail.

  Adrian—

  I just wanted to apologize for my behavior the other day. I had no right to be so rude, and I did show up out of nowhere. In all honesty, I’ve missed you, and I really did want to see you. I truly understand why you don’t want me to be at your father’s wedding, and I hope that we can be friends at some point in the future. So … I’m sorry. I hope you’re doing well.

  Best,

  Marcus

  There was that damn best again. And why was he checking in on me when he was the one who decided he just couldn’t marry me? Wasn’t he sleeping with that supermodel attorney mere weeks after jilting me? How dare he assume that I’d scramble for the crumbs of friendship from someone I once loved so deeply, who apparently hadn’t felt the same way in return? Did he enjoy twisting the knife in the wound?

  At that moment I knew that if I didn’t put the brakes on now, I would forever be the broken-hearted woman who had bolted from the church nearly two months ago rather than the strong woman who’d done everything in her power to move on.

  Marcus was the equivalent of an addictive habit I would have to kick. He was my metaphorical cigarette if I were a smoker, my glass of wine if I were an alcoholic. If I let the source of my addiction hang around, how was I ever going to kick the habit? I was ashamed to admit to myself that if Marcus had requested in his e-mail to consider getting back together, I most definitely would have. Considered it, at least. And that would not be a good idea. Once you’ve broken up, that’s it. What’s broken cannot be put back together.

  With great difficulty I composed the following terse e-mail:

  Marcus,

  I was clear in asking you not to contact me again. You are the one who ended our relationship, and I think it’s best if things remained that way. Thank you for the apology, as well as for agreeing to not attend my father’s wedding, but I think it’s best we leave things as they are.

  Best,

  Adrian

  I leaned back, reading over the e-mail. I took a deep breath and pressed “Send,” closing my eyes.

  “Wow,” Jean’s quiet voice said from behind me. “That was really impressive.”

  “Jean!” I turned in my chair to find Jean staring at my computer screen. “That was private.”

  “I know, I know,” Jean said, at least having the decency to look shamefaced. “I just happened to be walking by.”

  “I would appreciate it if you didn’t look at my private e-mails. And stop looking at me like that. I’m fine. Marcus is the one who keeps contacting me. I’m dating someone and I’m happy with him.”

  “You’re dating Jackson Taylor?”

  “No! God, no. His name is Douglas. He’s British and charming and sexy.”

  “Oh,” Jean said, looking bored. “A rebound. Good.
I was going to suggest that for you anyway.”

  “I thought he was a rebound at first. But my relationship with Douglas is getting more serious, thank you very much. We’re getting to know each other, and I like him a lot.”

  “For someone who is ‘fine,’ you’re extremely irritable,” Jean replied, raising his eyebrows as he sauntered off.

  I tried not to check my e-mail to see if Marcus had replied for the rest of the day, but of course I did. And he didn’t respond. I told myself I was pleased, but a lingering doubt crept through me. Was I too harsh?

  But then I remembered the expression on his face in the church, the Amazon linking her arm through his, his continual use of the word best, and I decided that I’d been too polite. Jerk.

  I headed home with the intent of indulging in my new comfort meal of wine and Doritos, and then I would embark on my post-breakup steps all over again. Exercise, keeping busy, et cetera. It really was just like battling an addiction. Once I felt that temptation, it was time to embark on the old ten-step program.

  As I approached Liz’s building, I slowed down. Liz was standing outside, engaged in what looked like a heated argument with a man I didn’t recognize. Liz started to turn away to head back into the building, but the man reached out and stopped her. I started to step forward to intervene, but to my shock, the man leaned down and kissed her.

  It was a passionately intense kiss. To my horror, Liz responded. She reached up to clasp her arms around his neck, pressing him closer. I took a step back to remain out of sight. I watched as the mystery man led her away from her building to the street, hailing a cab. Still holding hands, they disappeared into the cab and it vanished from view.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The Cheating Game

  I stood there for a full ten minutes, watching the spot where Liz had made out with her undercover boyfriend in disbelief. I felt a surge of emotions … incredulity, astonishment, pity for Stewart, and betrayal. Now, I knew that technically Stewart was the betrayed one, but Liz had been keeping this from me: her supposed best friend. And how long had it been going on? Who was that guy? At least it explained her strange behavior over the past few weeks, as well as her increasing distance toward Stewart. But I’d known Liz for over ten years, and she was the last person in the world who would cheat.