There was suddenly a long, awkward pause on the other side of my closet door, and then Jamie said, "What about you?"
I dropped the dress hanger down against my waist and glanced strangely toward the door. "What did you say?" I asked, popping my head out.
But he wouldn't look back at me. He kind of just stared straight ahead, and when I followed his gaze, there was nothing there except an old framed oil painting of Paris in the 1920s that he'd seen a million times. "I'm just saying," he replied, his tone bordering on chilly. "It's a highly unusual job. Nothing like the agency has ever seen before. And maybe it should be handled by a professional."
I stepped back into the bedroom and shot Jamie an offended look. "But my associates are professionals."
He tucked his hands behind his head. "But none of them have been doing this as long as you."
I wasn't exactly sure where he was going with this, but I didn't like the direction regardless. I sat on the bed, gripping the padded hanger in my hands. "But I don't do it anymore. You know that. I haven't done it for a year."
Jamie continued to avoid my stare. I finally got fed up and reached out to grab his chin and turn it toward me. "Hey," I said adamantly. "What's the matter?"
He shrugged evasively again. "Nothing. I'm just saying that if there were ever a time for you to come out of 'retirement,' I would think an assignment like this would be tempting."
I stammered, feeling helpless and insulted at the same time. Jamie had never acted this way before. He'd always said he was fine with my desk job. And his actions never suggested otherwise. But for some reason, this particular assignment was getting to him, and I wasn't sure why.
"Are you saying you want me to move into some stranger's house, pretend to be their nanny for three weeks to see if some horny, middle-aged man who can't keep his hands to himself tries to get it on with me? Is that what you want?"
"Is that what you want?" he shot back immediately, and I cowered slightly. His reaction surprised me. Not just the swiftness of it, but the traces of hostility that were lingering in its tracks.
"No!" I shouted as I shot up from the bed. "What are you talking about? Why would you even think that? I have no desire to get back into that side of this business."
Jamie looked up at me intensely. This time his gaze was penetrating, and I suddenly wished he'd go back to staring at the wall. "Even after what happened this morning?" he challenged.
I felt my fingers twitching against the hanger in my hands as I swallowed hard. "What about this morning?" I knew exactly what he was getting at, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of confirming it. If he really wanted to go down this road, he would have to be the one to lead the way.
"That's six courtroom losses in a row," he pointed out, as if he were simply stating the score of a hockey game he cared nothing about.
"So?"
"So," he echoed, "I just thought maybe you'd be feeling a little . . . I don't know, helpless. Unfilled. Empty."
"Empty," I repeated, as if I were hearing the word for the first time, wondering what kind of meaning Jamie was attempting to infuse it with.
"Yeah," he insisted. "I mean, you spend two years fulfilling this crazy quest of yours. You know, to expose cheaters, find the truth, enlighten people. And then suddenly you have to take a backseat and watch other people do it. Sure, at first it's fine. You feel like you're still an active part of the process. But then a year goes by, you start looking for other ways to get involved, and they don't pan out. So where does that leave you? And how are you going to remedy it?"
I was speechless. His words struck an unnerving chord inside me. Not necessarily because they were right on target, but because they weren't entirely off target. Regardless, I wasn't about to move into some stranger's house and take care of her kids as I waited for her husband to try to sleep with me. And Jamie had to understand that. Or if he didn't, I had to make him.
I took a deep breath and reached out to grab his hand. "Jamie," I said softly, "that part of my life is over. Yes, I may have felt a little down because of the expert witness thing. But that doesn't mean I'm itching to go back to almost sleeping with married men. I made a promise to you, and I'm going to keep it." I paused and decided to rephrase. "I want to keep it. That's why I hired five very capable associates to replace me."
His eyes flickered up at me and held my gaze. "But what if the client doesn't want one of your associates? What if the client wants you?"
I stared at him, somewhat stunned. "I would say no."
His eyebrows rose. "Really?"
"Really," I assured him in a calculated whisper.
Jamie's face was very stern. I had never seen him look so serious before. And then, as if someone had flicked a switch inside him, it suddenly just softened. The intensity in his eyes faded away, his tightly pressed lips parted slightly, and all the muscles in his face relaxed. Then he nodded as a soft smile broke through. "Okay," he whispered back. "I'm sorry. I guess sometimes I just need to make sure that it's what you really want. That I'm not holding you back."
I wanted to laugh. "Holding me back?" I sputtered. "Are you kidding? If it weren't for you, I'd probably be in some seedy hotel bar in Milwaukee or something right now. Trust me, baby, you have only pushed me forward."
This response seemed to please him immensely, and his small smile grew into a dopey grin. "I'm happy to hear you say that."
I leaned forward and kissed him deeply, trying to extract any remaining shred of doubt from his body with the power of my lips.
"Now," I said, a clear change of focus in my voice, "where are we going tonight?"
But he just smiled and shook his head smugly. "Still not telling."
I threw my free hand up in the air. "Well, how am I supposed to decide what to wear?" I held up the Diane von Fürstenberg dress in front of me. "How about this?"
He promptly vetoed it. "Way too formal."
I turned the hanger around and gazed longingly at my new dress. "It's not that formal. It's supposed to be a casual dress."
"Just wear something comfortable."
"Fine," I muttered as I disappeared back into the closet.
"And Jen?" Jamie's voice followed behind me a few seconds later.
I popped my head back out. "Yeah?"
"What do you think about giving up the expert witness gig for a while?" The question was serious, but his voice danced so playfully along the words, it almost sounded like a joke.
Either way, I knew what my answer had to be. "I think it's a very good idea."
Thirty minutes later, Jamie had already vetoed four different outfits, claiming that each was "not comfortable enough," until I felt like asking if I should just wear a pair of sweatpants and an oatmeal peel-off face mask. He had finally approved a pair of low-rise khaki pants and a black fitted V-necked sweater, and we headed to the garage, where Jamie's car was parked in the space next to mine. I had tied my hair into a tight ponytail so that he could put the top down. Jamie had bought his convertible Jaguar before we met, and I constantly teased him about owning a car so prestigious that it had its own special pronunciation guide: Jag-yoo-ar. But then I guess I wasn't one to talk. I drove a Lexus. But at least it was a hybrid. And at least the commercials didn't call it a Lex-you-us.
"Okay," I said as soon as we were out of the garage and the top was down. "Now are you going to tell me where we're going?"
Jamie laughed and shook his head as he flipped on his left turn signal and turned onto Wilshire Boulevard. "What's the matter? Your magic men-reading superpower not able to penetrate the wall of steel I've put up in my brain?"
"Ha," I replied sarcastically, wishing I had never divulged that particular secret to him. One year later and he still gives me shit about it.
But as it turned out, the two men who seemed to be completely immune to my keen men-reading abilities were Jamie . . . and my father. Ironically, the only two men in the world I would give anything to read.
Like right now, for instance.
"Very funny," I quipped. "It just so happens my abilities don't work in the car. Something about the asphalt on the road. I don't really want to bore you with the science of it all. It's quite complicated."
Jamie flashed me that award-winning smirk of his. "I see."
But as he skillfully navigated the streets of West L.A., I was trying desperately to narrow down our destination. With every turn he took, my mind was systematically eliminating possible locations. For instance, as soon as he passed Barrington Avenue, I knew that we weren't going to our favorite sushi restaurant. And the minute he turned right onto Sepulveda, I knew that it couldn't possibly be our favorite jazz club in West Hollywood. And when he finally turned left onto Pico, I was thoroughly confused. My only thought was that he was taking some mysterious alternate route to throw me off my keen sense of direction.
It wasn't until we reached the intersection of Pico and Overland that it dawned on me where he was heading. And once I figured it out, my mouth crept into a knowing smile and I looked over at him in amazement.
"No . . ." I shook my head in disbelief. "You are not seriously taking me there again."
He grinned. "Ah, so you've finally figured it out," he remarked as he pressed down on the accelerator and sped out of the intersection.
"Yes," I said, watching the familiar landmarks pass by. "But I'm just not sure why we're going there."
Jamie slowed the car and turned left into a parking lot. It was a parking lot I hadn't stepped foot in for over a year. And not because of bad memories associated with it. This parking lot actually held some of the best memories of my life.
It was where Jamie had first kissed me.
And directly adjacent to it was the golf course where we'd had our very first date. The fact that he had taken me to a golf course for a first date had actually surprised me. It was different and fun and even the slightest bit bold. I believe the original rationale behind the location selection was the idea that he'd be able to impress me with his golf skills. But that's not exactly how the story ended up going.
It wasn't like any date I had ever been on. Although that's not saying a great deal since I hadn't really dated much in my adult life. Particularly not after starting my fidelity inspection business. But I couldn't imagine a date being any better.
I remember the conversation being so fluid and natural. As if we'd been having conversations together all of our lives. Granted, I had made a living out of making sure that conversations flowed smoothly, but with Jamie, there was no effort necessary. I didn't even have to try. It just flowed.
I remember the dinner he bought me: hot dogs and Cokes at the golf course snack stand. Ironically, it was one of the best meals I'd had in a long time. And then he kissed me—right here in this parking lot—and every nerve ending in my body simply exploded. Of course, I hadn't seen it at the time, but it was pretty obvious looking back now that the night was going to change my life.
And it certainly did.
"We're here," Jamie explained as he steered the car into a parking spot and pulled up on the emergency brake, "because we haven't been here since the night of our first date."
"Yes," I agreed. "And if I remember correctly, that was a very painful night for you. I think I whupped your ass by about thirteen strokes. I would think this was the last place you'd want to return to."
Jamie bowed his head in shame. "Not one of my finer moments, I admit. But that's not what I remember most about this place."
He smiled tenderly at me, and I could feel my face blush. It still amazed me that he was able to do that. Make me blush with only a look. Even after a whole year of blushing. You would think that my body would have run out of whatever chemical it required to turn my cheeks red a long time ago, but it hadn't. I just kept on blushing.
"But this time," he began as he got out of the car and popped the trunk using the keyless remote, "I came prepared."
I peered inside and saw that he had brought both of our golf clubs and shoes. I let out a boisterous laugh. I hadn't used those shoes since he'd bought them for me the last time we were here. After it was discovered that golfing in espadrilles with wedge heels wasn't all it's cracked up to be. "Good thinking," I said to him. "How long did you have to rummage through my closet to find those?"
He shrugged. "Only about an hour."
Everything was exactly as I remembered it. I felt as though I had stepped back in time. Rewound an entire year and was now reliving the night all over again. We still managed to share a laugh at Jamie's sub-par golf skills, the conversation still flowed naturally without skipping a beat, and I could still feel small traces of that same exhilaration I had felt when I was here with him for the first time. The kind of exhilaration that comes with something new and unknown. Except now I was able to be myself. There were no more secrets between us. No fake jobs, no fake names, no fake alibis.
It was just me and him. And that's what made tonight an even better version than the one I remembered.
After the fourth hole of the nine-hole course, Jamie parked the golf cart in front of the snack stand and I just had to shake my head and laugh at him. I was really enjoying this whole rerun episode from our life. "Let me guess," I said. "Hot dogs and Coke?"
He smiled and held out his hand to help me out of the cart. "Men-reading skills back?"
"Lucky guess."
Jamie walked up to the snack stand to order the food, and I took a seat on the same wooden bench we had occupied on the night of our first date. It was the strangest sense of déjà vu I'd ever had. As I waited for him to bring over the food, I tried hard to remember what it was like to be here with him a year ago, when all I could think about was making sure he never found out the truth.
I was grateful when I realized that I couldn't really remember what that felt like. I couldn't put myself back into the mind of the girl I used to be. The one who trusted no one and wanted nothing to do with love. Because in her experience, it always ended with pain. I knew now how far I had come from being that girl.
And that made me smile.
Jamie came over with the hot dogs and Cokes and sat next to me. "Ketchup only," he recited as he handed me the paper tray.
"Well, that's one thing that's different," I remarked.
He tilted his head to the side. "What do you mean?"
I pulled off my leather golf glove and took a bite out of my hot dog. "I mean," I began, chewing and swallowing, "last time we were here, you didn't know what I put on my hot dog, and now you do. But other than that, it's exactly the same night. Nothing is different."
Jamie shook his head. "What are you talking about? Everything is different!"
"Yeah, I mean, obviously we're different," I conceded as I popped the top of my Coke. "We see each other every day. We practically live together. But I mean this . . ." I motioned to our surroundings. "This night is exactly the same. Don't get me wrong, it's wonderful. I love how everything's the same. It even feels the same. Which is crazy!"
I took another bite of my hot dog and looked over at him. It was then that I realized he hadn't even touched his yet. He was just sitting there, staring at me with this far-off pensive look on his face as his "dinner" lay uneaten on the bench next to him.
"What?" I asked, instinctively reaching up and wiping away any stray crumbs or ketchup blobs from the corners of my mouth.
He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. It felt like forever before he spoke again. And I wondered what was preoccupying his thoughts. I hoped it wasn't the same thing we had talked about in my bedroom earlier.
"I know something that might make tonight different," he finally said.
I took another bite of my hot dog. "What's that?" I mumbled through a mouthful of bread and kosher beef. "If they had switched to Pepsi?"
And then I saw Jamie push himself toward the edge of the bench and over the side until he was kneeling on the cold, hard cement of the cart path. I watched in slow motion as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small na
vy blue velvet box. When he flipped open the lid and revealed a flash of sparkling diamonds, everything around me suddenly went fuzzy, and I felt my hand reach out to steady myself on the splintered wood.
"This," he said.
5
unlucky number seven
The piece of hot dog in my mouth wasn't chewed nearly enough, but I forced myself to swallow it anyway, wincing as it pushed its way down my throat.
Of course, I've thought about getting married before. Plenty of times. Maybe not as much as some girls my age do, but enough. You can't spend an entire year with someone and not have the thought at least cross your mind. Even if it's just a fleeting notion—there one second and gone the next—just passing through on its way to a more welcoming, make-yourself-at-home kind of place.
And that's how it always was for me. The thought would enter, I would acknowledge it, and just as quickly as it had come, I would excuse it as an idea that was still light-years away from turning into a reality. A futuristic concept, even. Like flying cars or a pill that stops the aging process. Never something that I would fully entertain at this moment in my life.
But now there it was, standing—no, kneeling—right in front of me, forcing me to entertain it.
I had no doubt that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Jamie. I couldn't imagine spending it with anyone else. But did people really get married after knowing each other only one year?
My mind fluttered to Sophie. She and Eric had gotten engaged after only eight months. But that was Sophie. Sophie lived for that kind of stuff. I think she's seen Father of the Bride like fifty-two times. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if she was watching it this instant. And taking diligent notes.
"I know you've seen a lot of marriages fall apart," Jamie began. "Including your own parents'. I know that what you do doesn't exactly lend itself to optimism when it comes to relationships. And I know that it's hard for you to believe in happily-ever-after endings. But I also know that I love you like I've never loved anyone before. And if you'll let me, I want to be the one to show you what a loving, trusting, faithful relationship is supposed to be like."
The Good Girl's Guide to Bad Men Page 6
