by Amber Scott
Claire tapped her fingernail to the desk, willing Beverly to reply.
Julia and Mitchell Byron loved the Garrisons, and Claire’s engagement to one was just about the only topic they were able to civilly discuss at dinner. Choosing to date, and then get engaged to Oliver, had seemed a little like a gift to her parents. A truce agreement between two warring countries. What a relief!
If she wanted to see this through, she could not think about the storm—more like category five hurricane—that ending it with Oliver would bring on.
If she ended it. After they’d hashed out the latest—last time they would fight over his fantasy, she’d become torn. Oliver agreed that some things were left to the imagination and that marriage was a trade off. Spending the rest of his life with her was better than the what ifs.
Progress. Right?
Fantasy aside, Oliver would be a great husband, a solid match. He was everything she imagined a husband would be. Solid, dependable. No fireworks and swooning. Safe. If only her heart would get over Jace.
For now, she only had to entertain the possibility of living a dream. Once that dream was realized, she would begin dismantling the life she’d spent the last four years building.
Beverly’s reply flashed onto the screen, a lime green smiling face next to her all-caps reply: WE NEED SOME INSIDE HELP. A SPY ...
Claire’s stomach tightened as she waited for the next line. WHO CAN WE GET TO HELP US WHO KNOWS HIM?
Her mouth fell open and she slowly shook her head, as though Beverly could see her. She quickly typed back: No one. BAD idea. Really really *BAD* idea. What else????????
The cursor flashed in time with her pulse. Her palms sweated as her mind turned Beverly’s less-than-brilliant idea over and over. Help? Who? No. Bad, very bad idea. The only person she could ever think to ask something like this was part of the original problem.
Beverly typed: MILLIE. Weren’t you two friends once?
Yeah, and Millie had dropped Claire flat within the day they’d come back from the wedding. For all Claire knew, Millie might have had a serious thing for Jace. Plus, she was a friend of the family now, which hurtled Claire’s imagination into all sorts of new directions.
Millie running after Jace. Millie disliking Claire. Millie knowing what Jace and Claire shared that night. What if Millie had been spying already? Claire didn’t trust Millie. Period.
Claire typed: NO. Millie won’t work. Bad blood. What else?
“Come on, Beverly,” she said to the little pop-up window. “There’s got to be something else we can do.”
There was no one else who might care about Claire enough to help. Except Tyler.
She could not, would not ask Tyler Fletcher for help in the seduction of and thereby sweeping off-his-feet plan that she had made for his twin brother. It would break his heart.
It would ruin any chance she might still have with Jace. She didn’t know why or how she knew this, but she knew, deep down. She had so little time left, if they didn’t find a way to Jace soon—
Oliver’s popped his head through her door, making her jump in her seat and nearly cover her screen with both hands.
“Hey, I gotta stay late. How about some Chinese food?” he asked, winking.
Was Chinese code for sex? No. They’d had some last week. Chinese food. They hadn’t had sex in two months. Claire smiled and nodded. “Mmm-hmm. Sounds good.”
Oliver scowled a bit. “You okay?”
“Oh yeah, great. Just great. Busy,” she said, shrugging one shoulder and gesturing to her screen.
“Alright. Order your usual?”
A flash in her peripheral—the chat window—told her Beverly had replied. “Perfect. Thanks.”
“Meet me in the conference room in thirty minutes then,” he said and smooched a kiss in the air.
Claire nodded, air-smooched back, and just about sagged when he closed the door. She was too anxious to sag. Fingers crossed, her eyes went straight to the words on her screen.
What if we contact the mom, maybe use the wedding as an excuse, just to get his phone number or where he works????? I dunno. I’m tapped. (Sad smiley face.)—P.
Helen! Of course, Helen. Why hadn’t she thought of her before? Duh, Claire, duh.
Claire happily typed back: Tapped, but brilliant. *muah*
~~
Chapter Twelve
March 15th.
And counting.
At first, the plan had seemed simple. She would get hold of Jace, secure a lunch or dinner date—meeting—and the temptation games would begin.
A glass of wine at a hotel bar, her sexiest dress, hair up, dinner at a hotel restaurant, and then a little oh-my-gosh-have-you-seen-their-rooms comment or something, would work.
Claire could flirt. That much she knew. And she even trusted herself to be able to go only as far as to make their attraction obvious. She didn’t want to hurt his girlfriend. She hated the idea of hurting anyone who loved Jace. But if it took extremes to make Jace see they had something still between them, well, last chances could create desperate measures.
On the coffee shop paper napkin, and even later on the computer screen, the plan looked achievable and smart. Super. But they never counted on how difficult it was to get a freaking phone number these days.
Helen was her last hope.
Claire knew it. But that didn’t stop her from gnashing it over and about in her brain, trying to come up with the right thing to say to Jace’s mom for three days. Three. She knew she was burning precious time, but that only seemed to make it harder for her mind to work. Invite her to the wedding that might never happen. Fine. Good.
Then what?
Oh, by the way, can I have Jace’s number?
Or maybe everyone’s number?
What if Helen asked why? “I feel like I should call. Etiquette says. I want to catch up with everyone first.” Okay. That’d work.
Three days of avoiding this told her she was really avoiding failure. Rejection.
Better to know than to wonder, though. So, with shaking fingers, Claire picked up her office receiver a third time and took a steadying breath. She went over the lines in her head, written in front of her should she choke on the ball of nerves building in her throat. She dialed. The number was the same from six years ago, and how she remembered that little fact now was beyond her.
She hit the last number. Beep. The line rang. She breathed again, and put a smile on her face. She’d read somewhere that if you smile on the phone, people will know you’re sincere. She was lying her ass off, but she was sincere. Her intentions were, anyway. A small part of her worried that Tyler might answer, but her rational self said that it was highly unlikely. None of Helen’s children were old enough to be living at home still, and the Fletchers didn’t seem like parents who’d raise children unable to spread their wings. Plus, if he answered, she could always just hang—
“Hello?”
“Hello, is Helen available?” Claire said, impressed with how cool she—and even her words —sounded.
“Can I tell her who’s calling?”
Oh, crap. It was Jace! The ball in her throat seemed to implode—all of a sudden numbing Claire’s working speaking parts and functioning brain.
“It’s—this—I’m calling for—” she said, trying not to cough. Jace. Just ask if it’s him! her brain shouted to her mouth. But her mouth still fumbled for feeling.
She paused to swallow, unconsciously spreading her fingers out on her desk before her. The smile on her face stayed locked in place. “Jace? Is that you?”
Silence.
“Claire?”
She could practically hear Jace scowl in the one word. “Yeah. Hi. How are you?” she said on a puff of nervous laughter.
“I’m good. Hold on, my mom’s right here.”
“No wait,” Claire said, knocking a stack of papers to the floor. “Jace?”
“Hello?”
“I wasn’t actually calling for your mother,” Claire blurted, scrambli
ng to right another stack before it toppled as well.
“Well, I suppose that’s good, as she’s been dead ten years now.”
Claire straightened, ignoring the teetering stack as it tipped over. “Mrs. Fletcher?”
“Yes. Claire?” The older woman’s voice held a note of warning.
“Yes. Hi. Hello. How are you?”
“I’ll be a lot better if you call me Helen.”
“Sorry,” Claire said. She put her hand to her forehead, knocking her glasses. Quickly, she shoved away the unnecessary things and held them in a fist. “I thought Jace was still on the line.”
“Oh.”
Oh crap! “I mean, I thought ... never mind. How are you?”
A low chuckle met her ears. “I’m good, thank you. And yourself?”
“Super. I was calling you to find out if you’ll be able to make the wedding. My wedding planner is anxious for me to finalize the seating, and so—”
“Oh, dear, of course. How terribly rude of me not to call you the moment I found out. Let’s see here. Well, first I should ask who of us you were actually inviting.”
Claire winced. She had no idea. “Everyone.” What else could she say? That all she really wanted was to have Jace back on the phone so she could hear his voice. Try to see him again?
“Oh my. Well, I’m afraid I only have partial answers, then. Tyler said he couldn’t make it.” Did her voice sound strained just now? “Ashley and Lawrence will be there—unless she delivers the baby beforehand, which I really think means no on their part. Ashley is not so good at potentially letting people down, and she usually overextends herself, although having a baby will certainly curb that habit. Now then, that leaves Davis and Cody, whom you haven’t met yet, and they said they’d love to come. Cody is seven now, and he will just love a wedding. Dancing, cake. And I will be there. And my husband. So that just leaves ...”
“Jace.” Claire twisted the phone cord in her knuckles. There really was no reason to get so unnerved by what Jace might have decided. If all went well, there would be no wedding at all. But Claire found herself holding her breath anyway.
“Jace,” Helen called, the phone line sounding muffled. “Honey, it’s Claire on the phone. She’s calling about her wedding. She wants to know if you’ll be there.” A pause. Rustling. “Here, Claire.”
Another pause and a muffled, “Don’t look at me like that. It’s just a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ ”
Rustling.
Claire let out one breath and gulped another in. This was not going how she imagined, even the worst-case scenario. This felt like a huge bet-your-life gamble. She needed to talk to him. And not about the wedding. About old times, about the last six years, about dancing and wine and anything else. Hell, politics even.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” Claire said, a bit too happily. “How are you? I tried to stop you when you were handing the phone to your mother, but I don’t think you heard me.”
“I heard you.”
Ouch. “Oh.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Claire,” Jace said softly into the receiver.
A sharp pang ran through her heart. “Oh.” Her eyes began to sting.
“Tyler had a really hard time hearing about you the other day.”
Claire swallowed, but the lump in her throat only grew. “Oh.” She looked around her office as though something might inspire her as she felt her last grasp of hope slipping loose. “I wasn’t actually calling about the wedding.”
“You weren’t?” Was that surprise? Pleasant surprise, maybe?
“No, I was actually calling so I could get your number. I couldn’t think of another reason to tell your mom, and then once she got on the phone, I just ... I just ...” She just what? Choked? Shoved her foot in her mouth?
“Why do you want my number?” Jace asked softly.
“To call you. To ask you if you might want to go to dinner or lunch or something like that.” She couldn’t stop now, not when this might be her only shot, clumsy or not. “It was so great seeing you that I thought we could do it again. You know, catch up.”
She was answered with near silence. The only sound was a gentle whoosh of air on the other end. Claire shut her eyes, oblivious to her pounding heart and sweating palms. She worried at her lip and waited.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, either,” Jace said, his voice tight. “I’m not sure how to say this, but Tyler really liked you. I think he might have loved you, and I can’t hurt him like that.”
Claire shook her head. What could she say to that? Screw Tyler? “I understand. I didn’t realize. I mean, I did, I just ... Truly, I never meant to hurt him.” Or Jace. “It was just so nice seeing you, and I thought, well, I thought I could have one more day. Like before. But, I was only thinking of me.” She blinked back tears. “Of how much I’ve missed you.”
The words were a relief once she spoke them, yet she wished she could rewind them, too. She was making a fool of herself, again, over him. And to what end?
“I have to go.”
“Sure. Of course.” Her mind screamed “no!”.
Another pause. Claire wondered if he’d hung up. She was about to say, “Jace?”
“Do you have a pen?”
A leap of hope bounced through her chest. “Yes,” she nearly shouted, scrambling for one. She wrote the number, repeated it back, and couldn’t help the wide smile from forming.
Hope. Small but real.
And with a meaningful-sounding “Take care,” Jace hung up.
Claire set down the receiver and immediately rewrote the number in clear, even handwriting. A bit of pride filled her up. She’d done it. She’d faced her fears, and she’d gotten a scrap of potential, something to work with. She had absolutely no idea how she would execute anything after the rejection she’d just been given, but she would find an angle.
She went to her keyboard to madly fill in her co-conspirator while she had the next five minutes available until Oliver came knocking. She was late for Italian takeout.
* * * *
Jace felt for the little yellow Post-it note in his pocket, folded up against his cell phone. The number Claire called from. He might be up for the Worst Brother Award in this lifetime after all he’d done. He’d have to figure that one out. In the meantime, he refused to be the worst boyfriend.
Claire’s call proved two things: one, that smack in the middle of his mom’s kitchen, Jace could still feel like a sixteen-year-old with a crush; and two, he could not put off ending it with Bels any longer.
He called Ashley, canceled tonight’s Lamaze class fill-in for Lawrence, and drove.
The ten-mile drive to Bels’s house in Ahwatukee Foothills ended well before he was ready for it to be. For a moment, he sat in his car and replayed the emotions churning inside him. Maybe to be sure. Maybe to sift through the heartache and guilt and want to find some trace of love for his girlfriend still there.
But there wasn’t. And when Bels peered through her living room blinds and sent Jace a sweet smile and wave, dread kicked him hard.
He was never good at this. He should be after the last two. Two vibrant, smart, and wonderful women who wound up with broken hearts because his wasn’t available. Now there would be three.
It seemed unfair. Cruel. Like he’d pissed someone off upstairs. Maybe he had. Maybe this was his penance for betraying his brother and best friend.
Either way, he got out of the car and waved back, but didn’t smile. Somehow, that would be a lie. Bels finally deserved the truth. Jace could only hope there wouldn’t be too much crying. Or thrown, breakable objects. As he stepped into the evening shadows of Bels’s front porch, the light there switched on and the front door opened.
She was already in her pajamas. Good.
“Hey you,” she said, tilting her head. Wariness colored her gaze.
“Hi, Bels. Can I come in?”
“Of course you can, silly,” she said. But her words didn’t sound lighthear
ted.
“What’s the matter?”Jace asked, tucking both hands deep inside his jeans pockets. Why did doing the right thing have to feel so wrong? “We ... need to talk.”
~~
Chapter Thirteen
“Don’t do it,” AJ warned from the kitchen.
Millie ignored him, turning up the volume on the TV. A foot scrubber that attached to a shower floor? Sold! She’d take two, thank you. “Don’t be jealous.”
AJ came around the bar, bowl of cereal in hand. “What happens to the ten-foot egg things stashed in the bathroom?”
Pressing her lips together, Millie kept typing. Two more clicks, and the shower thingies would be hers. “If you saw my feet right now, you’d understand.”
“You have gorgeous feet,” he said, plopping down next to her and faking a grab for the laptop.
“Don’t even think about it.” She moved the laptop out of reach and moved to the chair. He smelled too damn good. All earthy and spicy. How was she supposed to shop in those kinds of conditions? “My feet are pretty, thanks to genius inventions like this.”
She might hate the Arizona heat, but wearing flip-flops in springtime definitely floated her boat. Besides, if she didn’t buy something, the pressure building inside might erupt into an emotional storm neither of them needed. Firefox froze up. Millie narrowed her eyes on AJ, who looked all innocence. He couldn’t skew their signal. Could he?
It wouldn’t shock her. He disappeared into any apartment bedroom and came out with files inches thick on their targets. He had a direct line to heaven, had Karma Court on speed dial. How difficult could a measly satellite signal be by comparison? He winked, crunching his cereal.
The latest stack of his retrieved files sat on the coffee table, strewn. Three, to be exact. Jace’s. Claire’s. Belinda’s. She needed a break. She needed to buy something. AJ snaked the remote and turned the TV off. “Good news and bad news.”
“No, thank you.” She entered the last of her credit card info and selected two-day shipping.
