Just Jilted

by Lila James

  “Sure.”

  “If there’s anything I learned from this experience—other than the fact that triple-bacon cheeseburgers with loads of cheddar is not an ideal meal for breakfast—it’s how short and precious life is. It’s too short to not hold the ones we care about and love as close to us as humanly possible. Nothing should get in the way of that. That’s all I want to say on that matter.” He nodded towards the hospital tray. “Can you hand me the sports page?”

  Dad gave me an impish grin. Janet came in, and so I leaned forward to kiss Dad on the forehead, telling him I would come back later. I had a lot of thinking to do. His little speech weighed heavily on my mind.

  I met up with Mom in the waiting room to tell her that I was heading out.

  “Oh, you should probably know that Jackson stopped by late last night,” she said, avoiding my eyes.

  “What?” I squawked, a rush of hope filling me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I just remembered. He asked about your father, then about you, and I told him you’d left to get some sleep. He mentioned going to your place to check on you, but I sort of kind of told him that Marcus had taken you back to his place. OK, see you later,” Mom said, starting to head away.

  I reached out and grasped Mom’s arm, dread growing in my stomach.

  “You told Jackson I spent the night with Marcus?” I whispered.

  “Um, yes,” Mom replied. “Are you sure there isn’t anything going on between you two? He didn’t look so happy when I told him you were with Marcus.”

  “He didn’t?” I asked hopefully. “How did he look? Angry?”

  “I was nervous for Marcus for a moment,” Mom admitted. “It looked like he wanted to hit him or something. I even considered calling Marcus to warn him, but then I realized Jackson doesn’t know where Marcus lives.”

  That had to mean Jackson was jealous. It had to. And if he was jealous, there had to be some feelings involved. “So what did he say?”

  “You two are together!” Mom screeched, looking both delighted and annoyed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “We’re not together. I just want to know what he said.”

  “After I told him about you and Marcus, he got all quiet and looked angry. Then he seemed to calm himself down, gave me one of those charming smiles, and he just left.”

  I nodded, feeling deflated. That was nothing to really go on, other than the obvious jealousy. I had to talk to him.

  “Thanks. See you later,” I said, heading out.

  I immediately called Jackson’s cell phone as I left the hospital. No answer. I left a brief but (I hoped) casual message, asking him to call me as soon as he got it.

  Jean had been sympathetic and allowed me to take a few days off from work until Dad was out of the hospital. And I would like to say that I followed a normal and productive routine for the rest of the day, but I didn’t. I waited all day for Jackson to call with my cell phone ringer on the highest volume notch, and on vibrate as well. No such luck.

  As I returned to the hospital that evening, I tried Jackson on his cell again. No answer. I decided that leaving one more message wouldn’t hurt. I hung out with Dad and Janet for a bit (Mom had already left) and obsessively checked my phone. No call. I decided to throw caution to the wind and try him again. This time it didn’t ring at all; it went right to voice mail.

  Now I was starting to panic. Jackson was the type of person who always answered his cell phone, usually on the first ring, unless something was wrong. Back in my apartment I paced restlessly, trying to push away various images of a murdered or hurt Jackson lying in a sewer somewhere. Finally, I called Emma.

  “Adrian,” she said quietly as she answered the phone, sending my heart into a tailspin. Something was wrong.

  “Where’s Jackson?” I asked, skipping the niceties.

  “He didn’t tell you. Of course,” she muttered.

  “Didn’t tell me what?” I demanded.

  “He changed his flight to leave a few weeks earlier. We couldn’t talk him out of it. He left earlier today. He’s back in Virginia,” Emma said with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry.”

  “When is he coming back?” I asked, straining to find some semblance of hope.

  “He’s pretty much settled down there. What he doesn’t have there, he’s going to have shipped,” Emma said. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, Adrian: Jackson isn’t coming back. He’s gone.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Risk

  I went through a gamut of emotions when I got off the phone with Emma: anger, hurt, grief, regret, more anger, even more grief. The fact that Jackson left so abruptly was a good sign he didn’t care too much about me, despite his obvious anger about my spending the night with Marcus. Maybe it wasn’t even jealousy. It was probably just his ego being hurt by the fact that I’d (seemingly) chosen Marcus’s company over his.

  Yes, that’s it, I told myself as I paced the length of my apartment well into the night. He didn’t really care for me at all, he was just being friendly, and when it was clear that everything was all right, he thought it was OK to leave. But none of this made me feel any better because I was still in love with him. A wave of anguish swept over me at the thought of never seeing him again, and tears pricked at my eyes. Even the jilting hadn’t caused this much heartache.

  I didn’t sleep much that night, tears coursing down my cheeks as thoughts of Jackson raced through my mind.

  As I groggily headed over to the hospital the next morning, I did everything in my power to stop thinking about Jackson and the fact that I’d never see him again, but it was next to impossible. My emotions must have shown on my face when I arrived at the hospital because Mom slowly stood up as I headed through the waiting room.

  “Your dad’s going to be fine, Adrian.”

  “I know.”

  Mom studied me for a long moment and nodded. She opted not to press further—instead, she just followed me back to Dad’s room.

  Dad was already getting prepped to leave when we arrived at his room. Janet was at his side with a small packed bag. Mom and Janet coolly greeted each other, and I embraced Dad.

  “I’m out of here, kiddo,” he said. “Come visit us soon?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Robert,” Mom said, looking away from Janet and Robert’s clasped hands. “I’m taking off now.”

  “Marilyn,” Dad said, just as Mom started to head out. She stopped and turned around. “Thanks for coming by. I appreciate it.”

  “Of course,” Mom replied. She looked at Janet. “Take care of him.”

  Janet nodded, and Mom left the room. I wondered if that was Mom’s way of saying her final goodbye, of finally coming to terms with the fact that Dad was officially remarried and had truly moved on. I bid Dad and Janet goodbye and hurried to catch up with Mom.

  “I’m glad you came,” I said, as we headed toward the exit.

  “I was married to the man for twenty-five years,” Mom sniffed, annoyed. “I still care for him—of course I would come. Adrian? What’s wrong?”

  I’d frozen in my tracks because I thought I saw Jackson. A man with a similar build had come in through the front entrance, and for a split second, I allowed myself to hope it was him. But when the man turned his head and helped a pregnant woman in, I saw that it was most certainly not him. The disappointment was more than crushing.

  “Nothing. Just thought I saw someone.”

  “This is about Jackson, isn’t it?” Mom asked.

  “No. Yes. No. Yes, it is. I don’t want to talk about it,” I said stubbornly as we left the hospital.

  “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything to him. What happened?”

  “I just said I didn’t want to talk about it,” I grumbled. “He’s gone. He left New York for good. He was leaving anyway, but he left a whole lot earlier for some reason.”

  “Oh no. I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t think he’d be that upset. Maybe this is all for t
he best. I mean, you were just engaged to Marcus, and—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Mom murmured, stopping midstride to embrace me. “If I had any inkling that you genuinely cared for him, I wouldn’t have said anything. I could always tell he was interested in you. He could never take his eyes off you when you were in the same room together, even when he was dating that awful one-name woman.”

  “He obviously doesn’t,” I said, though I had to smile at Mom’s reference to Just Katerina. “You were right. This is probably for the best. I’ll call you later.”

  I needed some time to think, so I opted to get off the subway a couple of stops away from my apartment and just walk. If I could get over Marcus, I could definitely get over Jackson, especially considering the fact that we didn’t have an actual relationship. I could take the same steps I’d taken to get over Marcus—minus the rebound stuff, minus the falling in love with someone else part. Because at that moment the whole falling-in-love part was a lot more painful than falling out of love.

  Liz came over later that day, unannounced. I’d tried to get caught up on some work for the magazine at home but to no avail. All I could think about was Jackson, Jackson, Jackson. Why hadn’t he at least called? Why hadn’t he returned my calls? Were we over before we even began? Did he not want me to be a part of his life at all? What had I done to deserve being treated like I hadn’t even existed in his life?

  Liz gasped when I opened the door for her. “Oh my God, you told me your dad was fine.”

  “He is fine. The misery on my face is all due to Jackson.”

  I filled Liz in on all the latest happenings with Jackson, including my wine-induced declaration of love. Liz’s lips compressed when I told her this part of the story, and I could tell she was trying hard not to laugh. She sobered up considerably when I told her about Jackson’s flight back to Virginia.

  “Well, it’s obvious what you have to do,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Go after him.”

  “Go after him? To Virginia?” I echoed in disbelief.

  “No, to Mars,” Liz said, rolling her eyes. “Yes, to Virginia. He obviously has no idea you love him. He thinks you’re still involved with Marcus. As far as he knows, you spent a passion-filled night with your ex-fiancé. And you were really drunk when you told him you loved him. And if he has feelings for you, which I suspect he does—”

  “He doesn’t.”

  “I think he does. And he doesn’t want to risk rejection if he thinks you’re still in love with Marcus.”

  “Liz, he won’t even return my calls or texts. I can’t go after him like a crazy stalker just to tell him I love him. Again. He’ll think I’m insane.”

  “So what’s the alternative?” Liz demanded, getting to her feet. “Never telling him how you feel? Never seeing him again?”

  I closed my eyes at the painful words. I didn’t want to think about never seeing him again. But how could I go after him without looking crazy? Women who pursue men have always been compared to Glenn Close’s character in Fatal Attraction. And she ends up shot to death in the bathtub at the end of the movie. Sigh.

  But exceptions could always be made. And Liz did have a point: the only alternative was never seeing Jackson again, never getting the chance to tell him that I was most definitely over Marcus and most definitely in love with him.

  “You’re thinking about it. Good. Forget all those stupid rules. You love him, so tell him. Go for it,” Liz urged.

  “You should give motivational speeches,” I said, giving her a small smile. “Why do you want me to go after him so badly?”

  “Because I’ve watched you mope over Marcus for too long, and I’ve been waiting for you to come to your senses and see the man who’s been right for you all along. I just want you to be happy,” Liz said, reaching out and squeezing my hand. “You have nothing to lose. To have it all, you have to risk it all.”

  “Yeah, I remember saying that once.” I gave Liz a shaky grin. “Guess I should take my own advice.”

  Before I could change my mind, I called Emma. She picked up right away.

  “How are you?” she asked. “Danny and I were just talking about you—”

  “Emma,” I interrupted her. “I’m going after him. I know this sounds kind of stalker-ish of me, but I need to know where he is.”

  There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line, and for a moment I wondered if Emma had hung up and possibly called the police to warn them of a possible stalker. And then I heard a delighted squeal. I heard a click and Daniel’s voice came on the line.

  “Go get my stubborn brother and bring him back home,” Daniel said brightly. “The guy’s crazy about you. We’ll tell you all you need to know.”

  *

  Early the next morning, I was on a flight to Virginia. On such short notice it was hugely expensive, but I was able to use my airline credit for the unused trip to Greece. All I could think about was how utterly crazy this was, but Liz was right—the alternative was too devastating.

  Emma and Daniel had given me Jackson’s address and told me he should be home most of the time because he was working on his new book. Daniel told me they had advised him to be home because they were sending him a “package” and he needed to be there to sign for it.

  I was terrified as I thought about all of the things that could go wrong. What if he panicked and took out a restraining order against me? I voiced this worry aloud to Emma on my cell phone as I headed to the airport, and she laughed.

  “Jackson has talked about you nonstop since he first met you. I haven’t seen him act like this over anyone—including Katerina—in ages. He adores you. He’s scared, and he’s just too stubborn to admit it.”

  On the plane, I sat with my head pressed against the window, mulling over what I would say. Could I just pretend I happened to be in Virginia and bumped into him? No. There would be no more putting up fronts. Complete and total honesty. And if he rejected me, he rejected me. As painful as it would be, life would go on.

  I arrived at Norfolk International Airport and booked a room at the airport hotel. Directions in hand, I drove through the coastal city of Virginia Beach to Jackson’s apartment. It was a fancy apartment building situated not too far from the beach. I parked, took a deep breath, and approached his building.

  When I reached his apartment, I just stood there, feeling a rising panic. I could go home. I could just go back to the airport and pretend that none of this ever happened. My feelings would fade in time. They had to.

  But I inwardly resolved that I had to tell Jackson I loved him when I was completely and totally sober. And then I could hightail it back to New York as fast as I could.

  I forced myself to raise my hand to the door and knock. I had come this far, so there was no turning back now. My heart was thumping so loudly that I wondered if everyone in the building could hear. There was no answer, so I knocked again.

  The door swung open, but it wasn’t Jackson who opened it. It was a beautiful woman with angular features and hazel eyes. She was scantily clad in a loose see-through robe that was wrapped around her slender figure. She lazily looked me up and down, leaning against the doorframe.

  “Yes?” she asked, sounding more bored than curious.

  “Um, I’m—is this the right apartment? I’m l-looking for Jackson Taylor,” I stammered.

  “This is the right apartment,” the woman said coolly. “I’m Karen Taylor. His wife.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The Next Great Love

  As I stumbled down the hall away from Jackson’s apartment, fighting back tears, I decided that I would never again chase after another man. In fact, I decided that I would never fall in love again. Things just didn’t seem to work out for me in the love department.

  As soon as I was back in my hotel room, I locked the door and flung myself onto the bed.

  Had Jackson been married this whole time? I assumed he was di
vorced, but if she was still referring to herself as his wife, could they just be separated? Why hadn’t he mentioned this? Why hadn’t Emma and Daniel mentioned this? Did they not know? If anything, this showed me how much about Jackson was still a mystery, and I felt idiotic for letting myself fall for someone I knew so little about. I had to get back to New York, and I had to get him out of my system ASAP. I felt like a fool for coming all the way down to Virginia to tell a married man I was in love with him. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  I had a return flight for early the next morning, but the thought of being in the same state for any amount of time with Mr. and Mrs. Jackson Taylor was too much for me to bear. I got on the phone with the airline to change my flight to hop on the next one out of there. I was still on hold with the airline when I heard a knock at the door.

  I temporarily froze. No one outside of Manhattan knew I was here, or so I thought. I went to the door, peering through the peephole. My heart plummeted in my chest. (I was going to have to get my heart checked after all this emotional turmoil.) A frazzled-looking Jackson stood there, staring directly at me through the peephole.

  I stumbled away from the door. Door peepholes made me nervous. It always seemed like the person on the other side of the door could see me as well and we were just staring at each other through this minuscule hole.

  “Adrian, I know you’re in there. Let me in.”

  “Go away!” I shouted, remembering the scantily clad Mrs. Jackson Taylor. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come down here.”

  “Open the door. Please.”

  “Go. Away.”

  There was a pause, and for a moment I thought he’d left. But then I heard a click and watched in horror as Jackson unlocked the door with a key card and stepped inside the room.

  “How did you do that?”

  “Magic,” Jackson said, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. “I got a key card from the front desk. I told them a really convincing story. Now will you please let me explain?”

  “No. I’m leaving,” I said in a huff, moving around him to get the hell out of there, but Jackson closed the door with his foot and blocked the door with his body.