Jaded

by Tess Thompson

  It was like a giant shovel plunged through his chest and scooped him of every organ. He sat there, emptied and staring. “We’re getting married in a few days.”

  “No, we’re not.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Something he’d never seen her do. She was always so composed, so proper.

  “Yes, we are. Everyone’s coming.” The words dribbled from his mouth, slow and dumb.

  “Listen to what I’m saying. I’m leaving you. I’m calling off the wedding. I’m in love with someone else.”

  “Who?” Finally, something out of his mouth that kept up with the conversation.

  “Marcus. We didn’t mean it to happen, but it just did.”

  “Marcus? Karen’s Marcus?”

  “Yes.” She cried harder. “We tried to stop, but we can’t. We love each other. He’s leaving her. I’m leaving you. We’re going to be together.”

  “Karen’s your best friend.”

  “No, she’s not. She’s my second-best friend.”

  He stared at her, numb, still empty of all his organs, but now his bones had dissolved too. He concentrated on not toppling all the way to the ground. “How long?”

  “A couple months.”

  His muscles took over then. He exploded and rose to his feet and screamed a barrage of expletives and accusations at her. But at the end, it came to one question. “How could you do this to us?”

  “I’m sorry.” On her feet now, she moved across the room. “I left the keys on the kitchen counter. I’ll send for my things.”

  And that was that. She just left. The door slammed. Frigid quiet settled over the apartment. He picked up her glass and hurled it against the wall.

  He thought of Maggie next. He pictured her on the beach the summer before she died. Long, red braid glistening with salt beads after their surf. Dressed in wetsuits, the two of them watched Jackson surf one last wave as the sun rose behind them. Maggie had chosen Jackson, not him. Natalie loved someone else. They always loved someone besides him. Natalie was gone too. They always left.

  He downed the scotch and tossed that glass against the wall too.

  “Zane?”

  Now, in the lobby of his former love’s office, he turned at the sound of his name. Natalie stood there. Dressed in a conservative blue dress with her brown hair in a ponytail, she looked more like a Catholic schoolgirl than a woman approaching thirty. She looked good, damn her.

  “I was in the neighborhood,” he said.

  She smiled and hugged her torso with her arms. “It’s good to see you.”

  “You have time for coffee?”

  “I’m on a deadline for a brief, but I can talk in a conference room for a minute.”

  He followed her through a set of heavy doors to a hallway and then into a conference room with a long table. Conference rooms were always the same. He’d forgotten how they made it hard to breathe.

  She sat in a chair on one end of the table and crossed her legs. “How have you been?”

  “I’m pretty good. My dad’s sick. Alzheimer’s. Besides that, I’m good.”

  “I heard about your dad. I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.” He wanted to ask her how she knew, but there wasn’t time. “I’m in love with someone. I want it to work this time. I wondered if you could tell me what I did wrong.”

  “Oh. Well, nothing really. It was about me, not you.”

  The old anger crawled into his gut. Trite. “You’ve got to have something better than that.”

  “It’s the truth. I wasn’t ready, Zane. I didn’t know how to tell you, so I did it the easy way. I mean, it felt easier, like I was justified because I’d fallen so madly in love with someone else. The heart wants what it wants type of thing. But the truth is, I was too young to get married. Especially to you.”

  “To me?” That reliable old dull knife plunged into the enduring wound.

  “Your personality’s so strong and I was weak. I disappeared when I was with you.”

  “Did I do that to you?”

  “No, that’s just it. I’m the problem. You didn’t need affirmation from anyone else about what you wanted or who you were. I was unable to decipher what was your idea, and what was my idea, or what I even wanted. I’d become complacent and acquiescent. I’d lost myself in your strong personality. I needed to find my own way before I could, or would, ever be ready for someone like you.”

  He leaned against the wall below the bank of windows. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

  “It wasn’t you. Don’t you see that? It was me. I had to grow up and discover who I was before I had any business marrying you or anyone.”

  “But especially me.”

  “Especially anyone.” She folded and unfolded her hands on her lap. “I did the right thing. You were ready for a grownup and I wasn’t one.”

  “I thought it was because Manbun Guy was gentle and buddha-like. So, I was right.”

  “To a degree, yes. He’s the opposite of you, that’s for sure. Mostly he was my mechanism to run. I’m sorry I hurt you, but I know if we’d gotten married, I would’ve found a way to wreck it eventually. You cannot love someone properly until you know and love yourself.”

  He smiled. “You’ve been reading a lot of self-help books.”

  She smiled back. “Yes. A lot of therapy sessions too. I can’t let you leave here without knowing that you did nothing wrong. You were good to me in every way.”

  “I didn’t tell you enough how I felt. I wasn’t vulnerable.” He cringed at how lame that sounded. This being vulnerable thing wasn’t for the weak.

  “I knew. You’re as steady as the ocean. But even the tide can’t move something that isn’t pliable. I wasn’t ready. That’s all.”

  “Thank you.” His shoulders relaxed. He had an image of those vests the medical technicians put over your shoulders during x-rays. After they removed them, he always felt weightless and unburdened.

  “You seem good,” he said. “You’re good, right?”

  “I’m getting closer to good,” she said. “You?”

  “Same.”

  Zane kept Honor close to his side as they made their way out of a Santa Monica restaurant toward their hotel. The bodyguard followed just feet behind them. Just before dusk, the air was still and close. A dense smog layer mingled with the last rays of sun to create a vibrant pink and orange sunset. He’d forgotten how this city made him feel like a layer of dirt covered his clothes and skin. During the years he’d lived here, he’d almost convinced himself that he loved the bustle of the city, the possibility of greatness around every corner. At the end of long days, however, the grime of the city seemed to have seeped into his pores. A reminder that urban life had consequences.

  What would he start with, if he were to describe his time here to Honor? The way his senses had dulled? His hatred of the daily grind? How would he describe those days? They blended together now. He couldn’t distinguish one from the other. One endless day after day of crawling traffic on the freeway. A stuffy office where they trapped him in a cubicle unless he was out pushing for sales. Punishing workouts in the evenings to mold something, anything, to his will, even if it was only the muscles of his body.

  As they strolled toward the beach and pier, the crowds thickened. They came upon the boardwalk and stood holding hands just outside the action. Cyclists and people on roller blades whizzed by. A man on a unicycle performed tricks for a small crowd.

  “Should we walk to the pier?” he asked.

  She agreed with a nod and they headed down the boardwalk in that direction. Joggers and walkers passed them from behind. Everyone was in a hurry.

  They approached a small boy and his mother. The boy held a red balloon by its string. Without warning, his chubby fingers, perhaps tired, let go. The balloon floated up and toward the sea. He cried out and staggered from the cement path to the sand. On his short legs, he tried to run in the soft sand but tripped. Up again in an instant, he trudged toward the shore after his balloon. His mot
her called after him and ran with surprising quickness through the sand toward him. She reached him in no time and scooped him into her arms. The little boy buried his head in her neck and sobbed.

  Don’t cry. The balloon was gone. There was no getting it back. But there would be another balloon—a better one.

  Don’t chase after something that’s already gone. Don’t chase after what never belonged to you in the first place.

  How much time had he wasted on ideas or people he shouldn’t have? When he met Natalie, he thought a purpose to his life had finally presented itself. Finally, his Maggie had come. The one made for him. A woman who loved only him. Natalie was kind, pretty and gentle. Easy to get along with. They never disagreed or felt strife. Natalie is so nice. That’s what everyone said about her, even Kyle who had no use for niceness. All of which had appealed to Zane’s need for stability. She would not leave. Not sweet Natalie.

  But under all that niceness lurked a great need to discover who she was and what she wanted. In order to be free, she had to put herself before others. She had to rip apart her life and hurt everyone she loved to save herself. He understood that now. None of it had anything to do with him or his worth or even anything he did wrong. Natalie had a journey separate from him.

  Zane looked out to the sea. The red balloon had morphed to a speck on the skyline. Soon it would be gone from view, absorbed like the sun into the sea. Gone but not forgotten. A mistake the little boy would remember next time he held a balloon. Tie it around your wrist.

  Sophie had been right. Forcing himself to see Natalie had released him with the swiftness of the balloon’s escape.

  His own journey had started the day Natalie left. Without her courage, they’d be stuck now in a life they both hated having nice dinner parties and stable jobs and a conservatively decorated apartment that hid the emptiness of their lives.

  He stole a glance at the woman who walked beside him now. Honor had fixed her hair into a twist at the base of her neck. She wore a summer dress that hung easy over her curves and swirled around her sexy legs. No heels tonight, which made her no taller than his chest. Yet, inside that small frame was a fighter as fierce as the colors of the sunset before them. She wasn’t nice. Or simple. She didn’t come with an instruction manual. There were layers upon layers of Honor. Some men would shrink from her, scared of what he might find. He was almost one of them, but he would never make that mistake again. It was a privilege to peel her layers, one by one, until he reached the center where her heart beat loud and furious and full of life.

  They reached the beginning of the pier. Purple lights on the Ferris wheel reflected upon the water. The sky was a solid streak of tangerine. Popped corn and fried food mixed with the scents of marine life. He squeezed Honor’s hand. “You ever ridden the Ferris wheel?”

  “No. I always meant to,” she said. “You?”

  “I’m afraid of heights.”

  “For real?” She tilted her head, obviously trying to figure out if he was teasing her.

  “Not like phobic or anything. I just prefer not to,” he said.

  “You’re afraid of heights. A chink in the armor. I had no idea.” She grinned. “I can’t decide how to use this information.”

  “It’s not nice to make fun of a person’s fears.” He smiled as he crossed his arms over his chest and pretended to be hurt by wiping a fake tear from one eye. “It ruins any chance for vulnerability.”

  “We could do it together. Conquer your fears,” she said.

  “It does sound better with you.”

  “I’ll hold your hand the whole time,” she said.

  “Now you’re challenging my masculinity. Let’s do it. Let’s take the ride.”

  “Are you sure?” Her voice rose an octave, like she was talking to a child.

  “You’re not scared?” he asked.

  “I’m not scared of much. Definitely not a little old Ferris wheel.”

  He grimaced and narrowed his eyes as he took in the entirety of the monstrosity people found fun. “That thing is held together by manmade screws. Manmade, which means they could have flaws.”

  “No way. Look at it. Totally secure.”

  “This is on you if I freak out and start screaming,” he said.

  “I’ll be sure to take video on my phone.”

  She squealed as he hauled her into his arms and over his shoulder. “You’re going in the ocean.” He stepped onto the sand and headed toward the water.

  “No, please don’t.” She laughed and screamed at the same time as he ran across the sand. “I’ll be good.”

  “Promise, no video.”

  “I promise,” she said, still laughing and breathing hard.

  “You keep breathing like that and I’m taking you back to the hotel. It’s giving me ideas.”

  “Ferris wheel first. Then I’ll give you a reward.”

  He set her down and tugged on her arm. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

  They were at the very top of the wheel when the ride stopped. Their cart swayed in the breeze. Lights of the city twinkled at them from one side. The dark sea stretched out in a black mass on the other.

  “Why did we stop?” Honor asked.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe the ride’s over already.”

  “It’s solar powered, you know. Maybe they ran out of energy. We could be stuck up here all night. Until the sun comes up.”

  “You’re not funny.”

  “I’m kinda funny.” Honor placed her hand on his thigh. “You ever make out on top of the world?”

  “Every kiss with you puts me at the top of the world.”

  “You’ve gone from poet to greeting card writer,” she said.

  “I’m a man of many talents.”

  “I’ve been thinking,” she said. “I want to move back to my house when we get home. Brody said he’d pay for a security team to watch my house. I’ve decided to take him up on it. I want to go home. I want to be there with you.”

  “As long as you let me stay there too,” he said.

  “What? Otherwise you forbid it?” She raised her eyebrows, challenging him.

  “You know I wouldn’t do that. But yeah, kinda. That’s the spirit anyway.”

  “You’re a little bit sexy when you’re all alpha-dog,” Honor said. “But you know I’ll do as I please.”

  He sighed. “I’m quite aware of that, Ms. Sullivan.”

  Their container pitched forward. His palms dampened with sweat. “We’re really high. Do you realize that?” What had he been thinking? “I knew this was risky. Why did we do this?”

  “Let’s talk about something to take your mind off it,” she said. “Just until the ride is over. What did you do while I was in my meeting? I forgot to ask.”

  Throughout dinner, they’d chatted about Honor’s meetings and Zane had shared a few stories about his time in Los Angeles. He hadn’t mentioned his visit with Natalie, unsure how to approach the topic.

  Best to jump right in? Why not? “I went to see Natalie.”

  She stiffened next to him. “You did? Why?” Flat tone. Defensive tone. It took so little to spook her.

  “I wanted to find out why she left me, so I didn’t make the same mistakes with you. But it didn’t go as expected.” He explained what she’d said to him, how she’d taken the blame—that she had to do what she did to save herself. “I’m free. I don’t know how else to say it.”

  She softened next to him. Her head came to rest on his shoulder. “Free, other than being stuck on the top of the world with me?”

  “Yes, other than that,” he said. “I’d rather be here with you, scared as I am, than anywhere else in the world.”

  “Me too.” She said it just above a whisper. “Me too.”

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “I’m starting to regret that last glass of water at the restaurant.”

  Her laugh rang out in the night air. “I agree. There needs to be a bathroom at the top of the world.”

/>   As if the wheel heard them, it began to move.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Honor

  * * *

  A WEEK AFTER their trip to Los Angeles, Honor and Zane drove out to see Maggie and Jackson’s newly completed remodel of their dream house. Other than work, they’d spent the past week at her house talking and making love, cooking and barbecuing. With the security guard outside her front door, she could almost forget about Gorham.

  As they made the turn off the country road into the driveway, Honor turned to Zane from the passenger seat.

  “So, for real, these guys wanted this house when they were kids?”

  They drove through the gates as he answered, “Yeah, the two of them used to bike up here and peer through the gates when they were like ten years old and vow that they would someday own it and have a whole bunch of kids.”

  Ten years old. She’d been testifying against her abuser at that age.

  “I used to make fun of them for it, but I was secretly jealous,” he said. “Maggie was always all about Jackson.”

  Honor studied his profile. “Was it awful?”

  “What’s that?”

  “To be in love with your best friend’s girl?”

  The car bounced in a pothole. “How’d you know that?”

  “It slips into your voice sometimes when you talk about her.” Honor’s stomach tensed, waiting for him to tell her it was all in the past. When he didn’t say anything, she turned slightly in the seat to get a better look at his face. “You’re not still in love with her, are you?”

  “What? Oh, God, no. Don’t ever think that. I’m in love with you. It wasn’t so much Maggie anyway. It was more my baggage. My poor me baggage. Jackson has a great family. Jackson has money. Jackson has an amazing girl who loves him. I’m embarrassed to think about how I was.”

  “You promise you don’t love her?”

  “I promise. Maggie is to me how Brody is to you.”

  She smiled and placed her hand on his thigh. “I feel better now. I’m the jealous type, you know.”