by S. E. Harmon
“Julian’s got a new leather messenger bag,” I groused, even as I kicked off my flats.
“Well, Julian needs a new leather jacket to match.”
“Please stop referring to yourself in third person. It’s creepy.”
He pointed a finger in my direction. “Julian says get going.”
And because only serial killers and deranged people referred to themselves in third person, I got going.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I left the meeting around six. I had a lot to think about as I drove, wondering what I would say when I spoke to Jackson. Obviously, an apology was a good place to start. Picturing his face on the Ferris wheel after I told him that he meant nothing to me made my stomach churn. But what then? I still wasn’t sure I could give him what he wanted. So would I just be opening up a wound for no reason? Maybe it would kinder to leave things as they were, even if they were going to eventually give me an ulcer.
Instead of doing anything remotely productive, I took a shower and got in pajamas. I made some tea and curled up on the couch, watching an episode of an old cop drama that I loved. I was starting to marginally feel better when the phone rang. My father’s picture flashed on the screen, and I answered.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, peanut. How’re you doing?”
“Fine.” I paused the TV with the remote. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’m making the rounds. I wanted to thank you guys for coming down and all the wonderful gifts. I love my French press.”
I hadn’t gotten him a French press. Damn that Art. “You’re welcome,” I said sweetly, not bothering to tell him that I had gotten him the watch. What did it matter as long as he enjoyed them? And if I could tweak Art’s nose while doing it, all the better.
“It was so great seeing everybody together again,” he prattled on. “We’re going to have to do it again next year. Maybe for Thanksgiving this time.”
“Maybe.” It certainly sounded better than watching Jules fuss over every appetizer that Martha Stewart ever made.
“You’ll bring Jackson?”
“Probably not,” I said shortly. “We broke up.” I didn’t bother to tell him that what I’d had with Jackson was fake. Apparently, it had been all too real, and I’d been the only one dense enough not to know it.
“That’s a shame. It really seemed like you two were in it for the long haul.”
“We were only together for a couple months. That’s not quite long enough to declare your undying love for one another.”
“I knew I loved your mother before I even knew what love was.”
“Well, we can’t all be that lucky, I guess.” I rubbed my finger on the edge of my throw, the nubby whorls like soft velvet against my fingertips.
“I pulled her over for doing forty-five in a thirty, you know. The woman was a bloody speed demon. She was driving a blue Pontiac firebird convertible. She had a scarf wrapped around her hair and these big Liz Taylor shades. When she took off those shades, I saw the most expressive brown eyes I’d ever seen. Could see every thought in her head.”
I smiled at the nostalgia in his voice. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d told me the story, but I loved it so much that I didn’t mind. “And what was she thinking?”
“That I looked damn good in a uniform.”
“Dad!”
“Well, I did,” he insisted. “But fine. If you must have the real story, she was thinking I was pretty much an asshole for pulling her over. Then she told me as much.”
“I’m glad that didn’t deter you.”
He scoffed. “’Course not. I wrote my number down on scrap of paper. I handed it to her and told her that she should give me a call sometime.”
“I’m assuming that worked.”
“She scowled at me and said she’d take the ticket.”
I laughed. “That was mom. She was one of a kind.”
“She was a special woman,” he agreed. “And I miss her every day.”
Do you? I wasn’t going to say anything to ruin this moment, but in the back of my head, saw him grinning and cha-cha-ing with Irene. It was a different vibe than the one I was getting now, and it was hard to reconcile the two.
He sighed, as if he could read my thoughts on the airwaves. “You might as well go ahead and say it.”
“I’m glad you found someone else.”
“But?”
“But nothing.” I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see me. “You love who you love, and then you just…move on.”
“Is that what it seems like I did to you?” His voice was quiet. “That I just…moved on?”
“No! I just…” I blew out a breath. “We shouldn’t talk about this.”
“You mean like we always do? Maybe that’s part of the problem.” He was quiet a moment, like he was gathering his thoughts, before he spoke again. “AJ, your mother’s death took me to a very dark place. At one point, I felt like…like I was going through the motions. The person that I’d counted on for most of my life was gone. It wasn’t a matter of being two and now just being one. I wasn’t missing having a wife. I missed her. She was more than just my wife. She was my best friend. My confidante. My future.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “And what the hell do you do when your future dies? I didn’t know…I didn’t know if I could keep going. Or even if I wanted to.”
The thought of losing him was something I didn’t even want to think about, and made my chest tight and achy. “I never knew,” I whispered.
“I never wanted you guys to know. I wanted to be strong for you, and show you that we could find a way to pick up the pieces. We couldn’t do that with the same pieces, honey. We have to keep adding new pieces to make us stronger.” His voice was matter-of-fact. “If your mother was still alive, we’d still be together. I know that. Irene knows that. It’s part of the reason we do so well together, because she understands and accepts that I have a history. If you say you love me, really love me, then you love all the pieces that make me who I am. A huge part of who I am is that I once loved an incredible lady named Noelle. And part of me always will.”
“Thank you…” My voice faltered, and I had to clear my throat to go on. “Thank you for telling me that. I needed to hear it.”
“Well, you need to hear this, too. I don’t know what was really going on between you and Jackson, but there was something real there. Even though I’m pretty sure that half the answers you guys told me were pure fabrication.”
I swallowed guiltily. “I just didn’t want Lane to set me up with someone. And I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for me, so I asked Jackson to come with me. It was pretend at first, but then it wasn’t…and now?” I shook my head. “Now everything is so screwed up.”
“Avery, that man cares about you.”
“You think so?”
He sighed. “Just for my general knowledge, are you going to keep asking me stupid questions?”
“You’re a parent,” I informed him. “You’re supposed to say there are no stupid questions.”
“Parents who say that clearly don’t interact with many people. There are stupid people out there who ask even stupider questions. And that was definitely one.”
“You think so?”
“Yes. It was stupid.”
“Not that,” I said with an exasperated noise. Crazy old coot. “Do you really think he cares for me?”
“Would I lie to you?”
“Not even if I wanted you to,” I said grimly. “Don’t think I forgot about the time I asked you how I looked in my prom dress.”
“It had ruffles, AJ,” he said with not an ounce of remorse. “I couldn’t do that to you. Now focus. The way Jackson looked at you…it was special. And it doesn’t come around very often.”
I bit my lip. I had no choice but to believe what he was saying. John Winters didn’t make up stories to make people feel better. He told it like it was and let the chips fall where they may. Even when you were seventeen in a gown that was mo
re ruffles than dress and your prom date was outside on the front stoop.
“I hear you,” I finally said.
“You’d better. If you take nothing else from my life, know that when you find that person…once, twice, however many times in a lifetime, you’ve got to go for it. Every time.” He paused for effect before continuing. “So whatever happened between the two of you after you left? Make it right.”
“How?” I sighed heavily. “The things I said…”
“Go see him.” His voice was determined. “And say different things this time.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
I sat in his driveway for a good ten minutes, trying to figure out what I was going to say.
Because this was important, he was everything, and if I didn’t get it right …my mouth firmed. If I messed up, I would come back and try again. As many times as I needed to. As many times as it took. I finally screwed up enough courage to walk up his driveway and knock on the door. I knocked softly at first, and then harder.
He finally opened the door, barefoot in jeans and a white tank, and suddenly the breath was vacuum-sucked from my chest. He was beautiful, of course, but it wasn’t that. He was just so…damn familiar that I couldn’t manage a word. I wanted him to wrap his arms around me, hug me in that special Jackson way, where we were just the right height for him to rest his chin on my head. I wanted to kiss him, to feel his lips against mine, and have him kiss me back like there was no one else in the world.
From the looks of his impassive face, it didn’t look like that would be happening any time soon. I bit my lip. I had a number of ways that I’d come up with to greet him, a number of things I should say. In the end, I could only manage one word. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He braced one hand on the doorjamb. “What’re you doing here?”
“I had to talk to you. Needed to talk to you.” Okay, a little less stalker like. I finally settled on, “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”
“That’s what phones are for.”
“You won’t answer my calls.”
“Yeah, well.” He seemed to be looking through me, not at me. “There’s a reason for that.”
“Oh.” And the air was sucked from my body anew. Fuck. That hurt. I deserved it, but since when did knowing that help heal the pain? “Well, like I said, I am sorry.”
“For what?”
Damn. That was all I’d bothered to come up with on the way over. In my vision of my rom com, he sighed, “Avery,” and I whispered, “Jackson.” Then we fell into one another’s arms. At least, that was how it was supposed to go. Clearly, I was going to have to work a little harder for my happy ever after. Fucking Lifetime.
I took a deep breath. Well, that was fine. He deserved that much. “I’m sorry that I hurt you. I shouldn’t have reduced everything we shared to sex. Just sex. That was stupid and hurtful.” I bit my lip. “I’m not very good at this. Relationships. Trusting.”
When I didn’t go on, he spoke again, his voice softer this time. “That all you came to say?”
“Pretty much.”
“I’m not going to hold a grudge about it. You just said what you were feeling. So, you’re forgiven.” When I didn’t move, still rooted to that spot, he raised an eyebrow. “That it?”
“Yeah. It is. Yeah.” I realized I was this close to stuttering. It was clear that Jackson wanted me gone. I’d never been any good at taking hints. “I guess I’ll just get out of your hair.”
I stalled, turning around as slowly as I possibly could. He just stood there, stupid muscular arms folded over his stupid muscular chest. Realizing I was now in actual slow-mo, I finally gave up and headed for my car.
I gritted my teeth, hearing the soft click of his door closing behind me, and by the time I reached my car door, I was pissed. At myself. I had come over here with some half-assed apology when I had full-assed screwed up. I stalked back to the door and rapped on the glass panel smartly. Then a tad less smartly so I wouldn’t have to apologize for breaking his fancy pants glass door, too.
He opened the door, brow furrowed adorably. “Did you forget something?”
“I’m sorry that I reduced our relationship to nothing more than casual sex. I just…freaked out. I felt like I had to protect myself, and I lashed out at you. The time we spent together was…incredible. I’ve never felt so in tune with another person in my life.”
“Avery—”
“Just…let me finish.” God knew that if I didn’t do it now, I never would. “I’m pretty sure that…you’re him.” I couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore, and I finished my speech to the space slightly beyond his left ear. “It didn’t work out with anyone else because it wasn’t supposed to. You’re it for me.”
“Avery…”
“I love you.” What a fucking relief. Just to say it out loud. “I love you,” I said again, enjoying it even more the second time. “You don’t have to forgive me, but you at least deserve the truth. Now you can close the door.” I spun on my heel.
“AJ.” His voice stopped me in my tracks, and when I turned, he was on the bottom step. “If you walk away from me one more time, I’m going to be forced to do something unthinkable.”
Some part of me wanted to know what that was, but I knew better than to ask. “It’s not like I want to!” I burst out. “I just…I don’t know what else to do.”
“Well, it’s not like I have all the answers either.” He ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly, standing it on end in blond spikes. “But I do know that you don’t walk away from what we have. Not from this. We can talk, we can fight, we can yell…whatever we need to do to make it work, but you don’t walk away. Not again.”
As far as promises went, it was an easy one to make. “I won’t.”
He came closer, closing the distance between us until there was nothing but air, and barely that. Warm hazel eyes roved over my face as he tilted up my chin. I didn’t know what he found in my expression, but he suddenly chuckled ruefully, his mouth quirking. “It’s the eyes, you know. I doubt a man alive could resist those big, brown eyes.”
For the first time in my life, I was glad they weren’t another color. “I do what I can.”
“I was mad enough to draw this thing out, you know. But apparently, two minutes in your presence turns my resolve into absolute mush. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
“So why didn’t you come by?”
“Because you needed to figure out what you wanted. Because I didn’t want to push you. And most importantly? Because you drive me absolutely crazy.”
“I’m…sorry?”
“I didn’t say that was a bad thing. In fact, it’s the very best fucking thing.” He sighed, reaching out and tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear. “I love you, crazy girl.”
There was a strange burn behind my eyes that I blinked them away. “Can I have my hug now?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He shook his head, reaching for me. And there it was—that hug. Those strong arms wrapped around me, his scent surrounding me, his chin firmly tucked on my hair. God, I’d missed him. I thought I’d do a lot of unspeakable things for a hug like this. A man like this. When he spoke, his voice was muffled by my hair. “I thought waiting for you would just about kill me, but I knew you were worth the wait.”
My throat was choked and tight. “Why does this feel so right?”
“Because it is.” His voice was a husky whisper almost overpowered by the wind, but I heard him just fine. “Because it is.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Six months later
“AJ!”
I hustled through the back of the store, my eyes trained on the service exit. I didn’t know how Julian had figured out my intentions to leave early, and I didn’t care. There would be time later to suss out the rat who’d dimed me out and fit him for concrete boots.
Julian’s strident voice boomed again, echoing through the empty service dock. “AJ, I know you hear me!”
I tucke
d my purse under my arm and started a slow half jog that would’ve been more effective sans four-inch spiked heels. But I’d had another meeting with Torchwood Technologies earlier, and it couldn’t be helped. Their crotchety old dinosaur of a CEO came from an era when business women dressed like they didn’t have to breathe or need feeling in their feet…all things that contributed to my current predicament of trying to escape work early in an A-line skirt and inappropriate footwear.
I turned a corner and ran smack dab into Brian, one of our techs. We windmilled arms for a minute before he caught his balance first. He reached out to steady me, eyes wide behind his glasses with surprise. “Hey, boss, sorry about that. You okay?”
“Fine, thanks.” I patted him on the shoulder and kept speed walking. “Thanks for the save.”
“No problem.” When I was almost at the corner, he asked, “Hey, do you know what happened to the new shipment of Macbooks?”
“They’ll be here on Thursday,” I informed him over my shoulder. “But you should ask Julian to be sure. Ask him real good. Restrain him if you have to.”
“Okay. Where is he right now?”
“Right behind me,” I said, sweetly. I gave him a salute as I hit the green button next to the service door and the garage door started to rise with a creak and a groan. “He’s going to try to get around you, but don’t let him go.”
“Okaaaay,” Brian said, scratching a hand through his ginger curls and finding a pencil. He pulled it out and stared at it, and I wondered if he’d already forgotten his very important mission.
I was halfway out the door when I heard, “Julian! I need to talk to you about the Macbook shipment.”
“Not now.”
“But AJ said—”
“AJ?” Julian’s irritated voice grew louder. “Where’s AJ? And will you let go of me—”
I hit the red button on the outside of the service door and booked it for the parking lot. For once, I wasn’t offering to close up late. I wasn’t doing any last-minute repairs, and I wasn’t going to go over our third quarter reports. In short? I wasn’t doing anything that was going to stop me from getting home before six.
