In the space of a heartbeat, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Jasper's bemusement turned to wariness, his features hardening, a muscle in his jaw flexing while we stared each other down. Perhaps, during my long hours of pacing and waiting, I'd convinced myself there must be another explanation for Asia. I must have inwardly decided the whole thing was a fluke, not real, or a figment of my imagination, because when I realized it wasn't, when Jasper's silence said louder than words that he indeed had a wife, it shattered me all over again.
And it made me twice as angry.
“Well?” I demanded.
For a full minute, Jasper didn't say anything at all. He ran his hand through his hair, breaking his frozen posture, and tilted his head back to exhale at the ceiling.
“Jasper, you better say something, because I'm about to--”
“Just give me a minute, Finley.”
“Why should I? I certainly had no warning when she showed up here, looking for you.” After a moment, I added, “And she'll be back to see you at ten o'clock in the morning.”
That got his attention. He snapped a startled look my way. “What?”
“You heard me. I told her to come back tomorrow, because I didn't know what else to do. Why the hell didn't you tell me you got married when you went away to college?” Affronted by the lapse, I glared at Jasper accusingly.
Shoving both hands into his front pockets, he stepped to the edge of a plush chair and leaned his hip against the side. “Did she tell you about it?”
“No. But that's the only time I can think of that you could have done it. That's the only time we've been separated long enough for me not to know something was up.” We'd spent every waking hour together before and after his year away at college. If he would have gotten married between one day and the next, I would have known about it.
“Yeah, yeah, that's when it happened. Look, it's not what you think--”
“Then tell me. Tell me why you kept it a secret, and please for the love of all things good and right, tell me that you're not still married to her and sleeping with me.”
He tongued the underside of his teeth, staring at me in a way that let me know he was still married. Married to another woman, yet promising me the moon.
Frustrated and hurt beyond reason, I lifted my hands in a are you freaking kidding me? gesture, then stomped away to the kitchen.
“Finley, wait.”
I didn't wait. I went straight to the refrigerator and pulled out an ice cold bottle of water. Twisting off the cap, I drank half with the door still open and cool air rushing against my body. Pushing the fridge door closed with my knee, I glared across the kitchen, which was still doused in shadow. The only light came through a window over the sink, an ethereal glow I dispelled when I snapped on a switch to flood the room with bright fluorescents. Jasper squinted at the sudden change, like I did.
“You have a wife,” I declared, as if saying it out loud might make it more believable.
“Not really. I mean, I married her, but we're not together.”
“That would be a feat, huh? Married to one woman while living with another? If we hadn't been sleeping in the same bed for the last year, I might even think you're living a double life, taking turns between us.”
“Now you know that's not true. I haven't seen Asia since I left college.”
“Then why is she here, and why is she still your wife?” I just didn't understand. Finishing the water, wishing it was wine or even something stronger, I tossed the bottle in the trash and leaned against the edge of the tiled countertop.
“I suspect she's here for a divorce.” Jasper tipped a shoulder against the archway, hands still in his pockets.
For the life of me, I hated it when he leaned like that. It was one of my favorite things he did. It made me weak when I needed to be strong. There was something very James Dean Casual about the posture, a natural invitation to come closer.
“Are you still in love with her? Please, explain. Because none of this makes sense.”
“I'm trying to explain. I met her on my third day, not long after orientation. We had a few classes together, and one night about two months later, we both got smashingly drunk at a frat party. I liked her quite a bit by then, and she liked me, and apparently we thought it would be hilarious and living in the moment to get married the next morning. We drank all night, straight up until someone drove us to the judge and we did it. We got married. And we laughed the whole way through, like there could never be any consequences or—I don't know. It almost didn't seem real at the time. It was impulsive and stupid and two days after that, when the reality of what we'd done sank in, we decided to make a go of it. So we got an apartment off campus and lived together for three months.” Jasper paused, gaze dropping to the floor.
I wasn't sure whether knowing all the details was helpful or not. Every revelation answered my burning questions, but it also set my imagination into overdrive. I pictured him living with that girl, sleeping with her, making her breakfast before work and classes. It stung, and it shouldn't. We hadn't even thought of being a couple back then, and I'd known all along that while he was gone, he would live it up and have a good time. Instead of blast him with more questions, I waited Jasper out. There was more to the story, I could tell by the way he spent long minutes thinking about how to pick up the sordid tale.
“It was me, not her. I couldn't make it work. I tried like hell, because she's a great girl, but I ended up cutting the semester short and left with no warning. I didn't even say goodbye. I felt guilty and bad. She was madly in love with me and I was in love with someone else.” He met my gaze then and held it.
“How could you have married her if you were in love with someone else? I mean, did this other girl to go college, too? I didn't realize you were such a heartbreaker, Jasper Lowe.” Disappointment rang through my voice. I couldn't help but accuse him, because my own heart wasn't in the best shape right now, either.
He stared at me and said nothing.
Frowning, I cocked my chin, an open invitation for him to continue. When it hit me that Jasper was talking about me, that I was the girl he'd been in love with, I closed my eyes and cursed under my breath. Last year, when Jasper and I had finally moved from friends to lovers, he'd admitted that he'd been in love with me for a long time. Because I never knew, and never reciprocated his feelings, he had always dated other girls and gotten involved.
Now I wondered if he'd been moving through relationships because he couldn't get over me. To make up for the lack of the real love of his life.
“I couldn't have guessed. She didn't seem too terribly upset, but then I guess she wouldn't in front of a stranger,” I finally said.
“Asia's too classy to say anything or point fingers. She knew I had a best friend who was a girl, but she didn't know it was you.”
“I can't believe you just left her with no warning. That's not something you do. That's not part of who I know Jasper Lowe to be,” I added, still surprised he hadn't taken the high road and just confessed the truth to Asia.
“I tried a few times. I did. But she made such an attempt to make it work, and I knew it would devastate her if I said I'd been in love with someone else for a long time. I'm not proud of it, Finley. Not at all. But it was just easier at the time to pack a bag and go.”
“You had to know I'd find out at some point.”
“Yeah, I knew. I also know how gun shy you are about commitment and relationships, though, and when you and I happened, I didn't see it coming. I had no time to prepare. We just were, all of a sudden, and I decided I'd let you get settled into being an 'us' before I dropped this on you. Never in a million years would I have thought she would travel across country to see me.” Jasper straightened from his lean, hands still shoved into his pockets.
What could I say to that? Jasper was one-hundred percent right. He'd listened to me opine for years about my aversion to monogamy and long term relationships. His choice that night we first slept together would have been t
o stop the momentum and confess he was married, or let it go until we were on stable footing.
“I can see your point. But the other thing in all this? You never told me when you got back from college. You acted like nothing was wrong. At least I would have known before this that you were married, and it might have played out differently,” I said. That he'd neglected to tell me before we were lovers didn't sit well, even now that I knew the story. If Jasper and I hadn't made pacts about trust and honesty, I wouldn't care as much as I did.
“Yeah, I know. I should have, and I'm sorry I didn't. I'll meet with her tomorrow and if it's a divorce she's after, then I'll get it done and that'll be that. All right?” He watched me as if he wasn't sure whether I would stay or go after all this.
It was a good question, one I couldn't answer myself. I felt torn and conflicted, and still untrusting even after the explanations. “Earlier today, I wanted to run. Put as much distance between you and me as I could. Even to the point of going home. But I know that running never helps anything, it just prolongs the ultimate outcome. So I'm staying here—and sleeping on the couch. Don't argue, don't offer to sleep there instead. Okay?”
The corner of his eye twitched at the mention of going home. He knew it was serious for me to mention leaving Las Vegas. When I crossed the kitchen and drew even with him, he side-stepped enough to block my path. I glanced aside to his shoulder, then up into his eyes. His were somber and serious, his face drawn and tired. A lingering scent of his cologne tickled my senses.
I wanted to wrap my arms around his waist and find solace in the comfort of his embrace. Or drag him to the couch and slouch all over his body, like we used to even before we got together. I couldn't, and I wouldn't. Not after this.
Our shoulders brushed as I stepped past.
He didn't try to stop me when I continued toward the living room. Feeling little better about the whole thing, I toed off my shoes and flopped onto the cushions of the sofa. I could tell he watched me, but I resisted looking back. Sorting through my feelings over the ordeal would take time, and the more I allowed Jasper near, the easier it would be to give in.
*
It's strange how comfortable we become in our happy routines. Sleeping apart from Jasper proved to be awkward and distressing. On top of the current turmoil, I now had to try and relax enough to sleep. Although I'd called out of work for my evening shift, I couldn't continue to do so tomorrow, and the day after that, which meant I needed to re-energize. I tried ten different positions on the couch, tried the rug in front of the fireplace, and tilted myself back in the lone recliner.
Nothing. My mind wouldn't shut off.
During the night, out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Jasper had the same problem. His shadow showed up everywhere: leaning against the archway, the back of the couch, the edge of the kitchen table. Perhaps half the reason I couldn't sleep was because I knew he was watching me. Waiting, I thought, for me to give in and come to bed. Or maybe hoping I would invite him to join me in the uncomfortable origami shapes I kept folding myself into.
When dawn slithered beneath the edges of the venetian blinds, I'd only succeeded in exhausting myself with all the moving around and switching from one piece of furniture to the next. Jasper lurked in periphery, a constant presence the entire night.
I met his eyes, finally, when I decided it was useless to pretend to rest any longer.
“This isn't going to work,” I said as I surged up off the sofa.
He said nothing.
Passing him by for the bedroom, and the master bath, I longed to pause and put my arms around his shoulders. To hug and hold him and try to feel a little better.
I didn't allow myself the luxury.
Instead, I showered, blow dried my hair, and changed into a plain pair of blue jeans. What was the point of 'dressing up' to meet his ex-wife? I didn't need to impress anyone, and it would make me feel like I was being someone other than myself to put on business-type attire. Jasper was used to seeing me in jeans or greasy overalls, and occasionally the dressier outfits for work. To change that now would be conspicuous.
Dragging on a worn tee shirt, I shoved my feet into socks and boots and scraped my hair back into a sensible ponytail. I didn't bother with make-up, either, because I wore make-up about as much as I wore dresses—which was never.
Jasper and I ghosted through the house without speaking. He showered after me, taking ten minutes longer despite that he didn't have armpits and legs to shave. I noticed he didn't bother shaving his face and didn't dress any different than usual.
We returned the car I'd worked on yesterday to its owner and closed the garage after the client was gone. For once, I was glad we were caught up on our mechanic work.
As the hour inched closer to ten, I noticed Jasper suffering a case of nerves. He fidgeted with a magazine, then raked his bangs back from his forehead, then opened and closed the refrigerator eight different times. He never took anything from within, as if he'd forgotten what he came for.
As he paced, I tried to look at Jasper from another woman's perspective. Tried to put myself in Asia's shoes. The scar that cut one of Jasper's eyebrows in two gave him more character, rather than detracted from his looks. He had angular features, a strong jaw, and blue eyes that had a knack for making you think he knew all your deepest secrets. His body was a temple of lean, honed strength. Broad shoulders tapered into narrow hips and, at six-foot-four, his legs were muscled and long. One of my favorite things was the way the veins stood out on his biceps, disappearing under the skin beyond his elbow. Sometimes I traced the more prominent veins with a finger, or my tongue.
Jasper, I thought, might appeal to a large range of women. He was disarming with his laid back charm and easy going, boyish smiles. Like a chameleon, he could change looks, and therefore transform himself, simply by an outfit switch and the use of a comb and styling gel. I'd seen him do it, had been witness to the transformation several times. All cleaned up, Jasper could easily walk among the upper echelon of society, blending in perfectly with all the monied men and women of extensive wealth and standing. Like me, though, that was not his preferred state of being. He shunned tuxedos and suits except for work at the casino, where his job as an Usher demanded it.
That was just one of the few things Jasper and I had in common. Our love for comfortable-causal-easygoing went as far back as I could remember.
Was this the Jasper Asia met in college? Or had Jasper dressed in a more preppy role? Had he worn collared shirts and argyle and carried an over the shoulder bag equivalent to a purse?
I shuddered at the images flashing through my mind.
No, just...no.
I'll admit to being affected when I see Jasper in fine suits, with his smooth jaw and styled hair. I won't deny the spike in interest and lust. But it wasn't the Jasper I'd fallen in love with, the real Jasper, in my expert estimation.
“Finley.”
I jerked in surprise, ripped out of my reverie by Jasper's curt use of my name. Glancing at him near the door, I said, “What?”
I hadn't said any of that aloud, had I?
He quirked his lips, as if in disapproval of my mental vacancy. “She's here.”
Chapter Four
“Well, don't just stand there, open the door.” I stopped near the window. All I could see through the blinds was a blip of yellow, indicating a taxi had parked at the curb. Since we hadn't opened the blinds all the way, that was the extent of my view. Asia was probably making her way to the door while Jasper ran a hand through his hair and looked increasingly uncomfortable.
Maybe I should have excused myself and let the two get through these first awkward moments alone. Yet I had niggling discomfort leftover from the entire event, and wanted to see for myself what went down. My shaky trust in Jasper disconcerted me, too, but there wasn't anything I could do about it right then.
The doorbell rang.
I gave Jasper an exasperated what are you waiting for look.
He took a dee
p breath, then opened the door.
Immediately, I noticed his gaze dropped...down. As if he'd suddenly become fascinated with her hips or her thighs. What the hell was the girl wearing, anyway? Standing to the side, out of sight for now, I couldn't see the outfit for myself.
This was not the way I'd hoped the meeting would start. Jasper seemed stricken, or fixated, and as each silent second ticked by, I grew angrier and more annoyed. Not usually known for my patience or shyness, I stepped forward and faced Asia, a curt greeting sitting on the end of my tongue.
Then my gaze dropped, too, and just like that, I understood Jasper's shock.
Next to Asia, big blue eyes staring upward, wobbled a little girl who had to be more than a year, but less than two. A toddler somewhere between fourteen and twenty months, though I was no expert about babies. Asia had the girl by the hand, allowing the toddler to balance against her leg. Right away I started doing math equations. Adding months and years and probabilities. A knot of angst and surprise made my stomach hurt. I could only imagine what Jasper must be feeling.
“...so I had to take a cab. And I forgot my watch, so I hope I'm not late. There was a traffic snarl,” Asia was saying. She reached for the the little girls' other hand, extra support so the toddler didn't fall over.
I couldn't look away from the little girl. She had light brown hair with a little pink bow at the top and chubby, rosy cheeks.
“Excuse me?” Jasper said, tearing his eyes off the toddler. He glanced at me first, then to Asia. I could sense the distress in him as easily as I could see it in his eyes.
If this was his child, he hadn't known anything about her.
“I said...oh. I'm sorry. This is my daughter, Kaia.” Asia, dressed in an immaculate suit jacket and pencil skirt of black, bent and scooped the toddler up into her arms. “I couldn't get a sitter,” she added, as if she felt the need to explain the baby's presence.
I thought it a strange way to introduce a father to a daughter.
Asia's expression shifted from nervousness to something more like cynical bitterness. She said, “I can see you're stricken for words, so let me put your mind at ease, Jasper. Kaia's not yours.”
I'll Do Anything Page 4
