by Isabel Jolie
“Are you serious right now?”
“Are you?” I counter, outrage spurring me on. Only a man would expect the world to fucking revolve around him.
“Yeah, I am serious. I don’t know what to think. You knew I needed you tonight. It’s been on your calendar for ages.”
“Jesus, Jackson. You can go to a work function by yourself. Just lie and tell the old ladies you have a girlfriend. Then they won’t set you up. It’s not that big of a deal.”
He snaps, “Got it. No problem.” The line goes dead.
Christian taps on the frame of my office door. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” No.
He grins. “You look shell-shocked. Like someone just tore you a new one. I’m pretty sure I’ve worn the same look a few times when my wife lit into me. You ready to head back to the conference room?”
It’s a little after 2:00 a.m. when we all call it a night. I jump into a cab, waving goodnight to other colleagues also grabbing cabs. We’re in a good place on the concepts, and we agree to meet back at the office at 10:00 a.m.
I pull out my phone and read the one text from Jackson.
Jackson: Found someone else to go. Hope work goes well.
My chest aches as if he plowed a knife through it. Why? We aren’t dating. He said he needed a date to this. Of course, he found someone to go. He probably has a little black book full of interested and available women. He and I agreed to sexual exclusivity, so at least he isn’t going to sleep with his date tonight. There’s that. Unless he decides to move on and tell me tomorrow. Friends with benefits. No reason to be jealous.
At 2:30 a.m., the elevator to my floor opens. I push open my apartment door, and one giant mound of fur wiggles and waggles in her happy welcome home dance. I don’t bother washing my face or taking off clothes. I call Chewie up to the bed to sleep with me, and within moments, I’m out.
Chapter 20
Anna
Waves crash. Then a siren sounds. I slam my hand down to shut off my backup alarm. The two-alarm system sucks as far as day starters go. But after yesterday’s marathon, sounds of the ocean might lull me deeper into dreamland instead of waking me.
I listen to the soothing sounds of waves crashing for a few minutes. Awake but resistant. I grab my phone. No new texts.
Steaming coffee in hand, I stand scribbling a note on the outside of my door for the dog walker. She’s already texted confirmation she’s coming today. But I’m writing a thank you note since she added me into her rotation last minute.
Jackson’s apartment door opens, and I stop writing.
A young woman in her twenties steps into the hall, wearing one of Jackson’s frayed UVA baseball hats. It’s one of the ones that hangs on the inside of his closet door. I’ve debated secretly borrowing it but decided he might notice it missing. It’s worn and looks like a favorite.
She glances down the hall as she meanders to the elevator, texting someone on her phone while walking.
Tears spring to my eyes. My chest aches. It’s like someone punched me so hard I can’t breathe for a moment.
The elevator door opens, and the woman holds the door, glancing my way. “You getting on?”
I shake my head and turn back to my notepad hanging outside my door, pretending to be finishing up my note. I can’t get on the elevator with her.
He found a date, and she didn’t have any problem staying over. Clearly. They also plan on seeing each other again, given she’s wearing his hat. His baseball hat from undergrad. One night, and she’s wearing his twelve-year-old baseball hat that hangs like valued art in his bedroom.
My commute to work is a blur. The office lights are off when I enter. I flip switches, and the hallway lights up. All the offices remain dark.
“Hey, there you are. Brought you a bagel,” Delilah shouts from her cubicle as I pass.
I keep marching to my office but yell back, “Thanks. Give it to someone else. I’ve already had one.” Lie. No appetite. Tears fall down my cheeks, an irrational reaction. Jackson can do what he wants. That’s our arrangement. That’s the arrangement I want. I don’t need someone in my life who doesn’t support me, someone who doesn’t see my work as important.
Bagel and coffee in hand, Delilah opens my office door without knocking. She gasps. “What happened? Why are you crying?”
I sniffle and hunt for a tissue to stem the tide of snot flowing from my nose. “I’m an idiot. That’s all.”
“You’re an idiot?” She pauses, angling her head. “Does this have to do with work?”
I mumble out a “no” then blow into the tissue. I need to pull myself together. John and Christian will be here soon.
“Does this have to do with a certain well-dressed executive who’s met us out after work a few times?”
I nod as I reach for a new tissue.
She closes my office door and sits on the edge of my sofa. “What happened?”
“I can’t talk about it right now. I need to pull myself together.”
“Have you been seeing each other? For real?”
I snort into my tissue. “No, and that’s why I’m an idiot. We were doing the friends with benefits thing. I told myself I could handle it. That neither of us wanted a relationship. But we agreed to not have sex with anyone else.”
Delilah nods and mutters a slow “Riiight.” She leans over and in a stealth move places the wrapped bagel on my desk.
“This morning, another woman came out of his apartment.” A new burst of tears flows. Jeez. What is this? I’ve never been one to cry over guys. “And she was wearing his clothes.”
“That scumbag! You deserve better than that,” Delilah exclaims. She watches me as she sips her coffee. “Did you have any idea he was cheating on you?”
I scoot onto my desk and cross my legs, sitting directly on top of piles of papers. Not exactly professional, but professional Anna hasn’t arrived at work yet. “I don’t think he’s been cheating. He was pissed because I canceled on him last night. I guess he just had a really good time last night with my replacement.” And you can’t cheat when you’re not dating, but I don’t have the energy to say it out loud. At least as long as he tells me about her the next time I see him, he hasn’t done anything wrong. I breathe in, and my lungs expand. Deep breathing helps control the emotions. Right then, my phone pings.
Jackson: You at the office?
I flip my phone over so I can’t see the text. “I’m gonna go splash some water on my face. I’ll see you in the conference room. And, D?” I pause until she stops staring at her phone. “Thanks for the bagel.”
She jumps up to hug me, and I put my arms out, blocking her. “No. No hugs. I’ve got to pull it together.” Hugs will make me cry harder. Past experience taught me. Two funerals under my belt. I can’t avoid everything that brings on tears, but I learned from my past. I know how to rein in emotion and move forward.
Chapter 21
Jackson
“Nope, not a word.” I stare out the window, frustration seeping through my pores and a sense of helplessness strangling me. My sister, Joanna, sits across from me at brunch on Sunday. By chance, she’d been in New York on Friday when Anna bailed. She was supposed to stay with a friend, but since I had a guest room with a bed and her friend had a sofa, she’d ended up staying overnight with me. She’s heading back to DC this afternoon.
My sister eyes me over her Diet Coke. “She hasn’t responded to any of your texts?”
“Nope.” I know better than to keep texting and calling. I did that back in the day when we had our big fight. Some people will eventually text back or return a phone call. Not Anna. She’ll go days and days. “Dammit.” I stare out the window. “I can’t believe I fell for this shit twice.”
Joanna studies me. “There could be an explanation.”
I roll my eyes and snap, “Yeah? An explanation? She texted me an hour before we were supposed to be there to say she had to work late. I never received any kind of text the next day. Nothing. It�
��s all bullshit, anyway. We weren’t in a relationship.”
“It seems to me like you were.”
I run my hand through my hair. “No, no relationship. We talked about it. I told her I don’t have the time or desire for a relationship. But here’s the thing. The first time I stay over, she’s MIA the next day. Blows me off. Don’t you think that’s a little coincidental?”
Joanna’s eyes bug out a bit, and she gapes at me as if I’m the crazy one. “You told the woman you’ve been sleeping with for over a month you don’t have the time or desire for a relationship?”
I sigh. “She doesn’t want a relationship either. Clearly.” I emphasize the word clearly and grit my teeth.
“Why doesn’t she want a relationship?”
I don’t want to talk about this, but I’m also about to explode. Angry at Anna. Angry at myself. It was one thing to get burned by someone once. But twice? By the same person? “She had a bad relationship. She’s never shared all the details, but it was bad. She has this idea that it’s too easy to slip into a relationship and too hard to get out of one when things aren’t going well. She wants to focus on her career.” I pause and add, “And I get it. But,” I slam my palms down on the table, “here’s the thing. Four years ago, we got in a massive fight because I wanted her to move to Atlanta.” I leave out the shit with Chase. “Here, she’s been adamant about me not staying over. The moment I do, she’s MIA. It’s the same shit as at Carolina. She’s got relationship issues.”
Joanna spreads jelly on her toast. “That could be. Did you do something to make her turn away from you? Is it possible she’s mad at you for something?”
I run my hand through my hair for the umpteenth time today. This is such déjà vu. How many times did I dissect our fight, wondering if I pushed her to Chase, if I was out of line?
“I stayed the night. Thursday was the first time I stayed the entire night at her place. I thought she was fine. She must have freaked out the next day. That’s when she blew me off.”
Joanna gives me a curious look. “Are you sure you don’t want a relationship with her?”
My annoyance with my sister grows because she isn’t paying attention to what I’m saying. “No, I’ve told you I don’t have time for a relationship. That’s why Anna and I were supposed to be great together. Two people who don’t want a relationship. Casual sex. The friends with benefits scenario. Living right down the hall from each other. Convenient. Fun.”
Joanna puts her hand up. “Hey, got it. Still my brother. No need to overshare.” I half smile, and she questions me. “I don’t understand why you say you don’t want a relationship, though. You’re, like, thirty years old. Don’t you want something serious one day? Get married? Have a family?”
“Jo, I work insane hours. You don’t get it. To make partner, I’ve got to put in the hours.”
“Jackson,” she says, exasperation painting her words. “You don’t get it. Life is short. You are going to get named partner eventually. But if you spend years without living your life, is it worth it? We watched Dad put in insane hours too. Remember what he said when Mom was sick?”
Mom’s stage four breast cancer diagnosis left us reeling, shocked it could happen to our rock. It had been touch and go for a while, but she survived.
I hadn’t been around for a lot of Mom’s sickness because I’d been working. But it had gotten bad. Our healthy, vibrant mother transformed into a frail, sick skeleton almost overnight. She’d survived, though. To look at her now, you’d never know how feeble she had once been or how close we came to losing her.
“You may not remember it. Maybe he didn’t tell you, but he told me if he had to do it all again, he would have been there for her more. He got teary-eyed and said he wished he’d been around for us kids more too.”
“He was building his business. A successful business. He was providing for his family.”
“Yeah, but you know what? Realizing he might lose Mom forced him to think about life. And he realized that at the end of the day, the business didn’t mean nearly as much to him as Mom...or us. He sold his company right around then. He missed so much of our lives. Birthday parties, games, and for what?”
Dad hadn’t said any of this to me. But then again, I haven’t been around much. We don’t speak much on the phone either. He and I don’t have a phone kind of relationship.
Joanna continues. “They say that on a person’s deathbed, no one ever says he wishes he’d spent more time at the office.”
“On some level, I know you’re right.” Mom’s always telling me I work too hard. Reminding me there’s more to life than work. But at a law firm, so much comes down to billable hours, and I’m so close to making partner, I can taste it.
“Tell me about this Anna.”
I stare over my coffee mug at my sister. What can I say? And does it matter now?
“What does she look like?”
“Hmmm...about five foot six. Long, dark, curly hair. Not tight curls, loose curls like waves. Straight if she blow dries it. Golden-brown eyes. She’s funky and creative. I’m not sure she can decide if she wants to be a painter or a photographer or a graphic designer. She’s always working on something, creating something.” I pause, careful in my words so my sister sees her as I see her. “Big, beautiful smile. She’s the kind of person who makes everyone around her feel good. Everyone, and I mean even random dog walkers around here love her. She lives in my building, so I see it all the time. Random people greet her on the sidewalk.”
Joanna’s eyes widen with surprise.
“What?”
“Well, first of all, you definitely like her. You sound like you’re in love. You are a fool if you keep this no relationship, friends with benefits shit going. And two, I may know why she hasn’t texted you back.”
I sit back in the booth, waiting to hear my sister’s theory. I wave my hand for her to go on. I’ll fight her on the whole love bit later. Or maybe I won’t. I want to hear why she thinks Anna hasn’t texted me back. Why she’s fucking ghosting me.
“By chance, does she live on your floor?”
“Yeah, other end of the hall.”
“When I came out of your apartment Saturday morning, it must have been Anna that was standing at the end of the hall. Did you tell her I was staying with you this weekend?”
Chapter 22
Anna
“Call me.”
The yellow Post-it note covers the notes I’ve left for my dog walker. Set in the middle of the board. As if it owns the board. Fuck him.
I unlock my door and push it open. Chewie wiggles and waggles and shakes. I drop to the floor and bury my face into her side. My girl.
I’ve had a lot of messages from Jackson on my cell, but I haven’t had the time or desire to listen to them. I’m in avoidance mode. He needs to tell me about his overnight lady friend, but I’m not up for hearing it. Not yet. I’ll be damned if I am going to cry when he tells me. And if he chooses to keep it a secret, then I’m not in a place to deal with that either.
John, Christian, and I flew out early this morning for the presentation in Atlanta. The meeting went well. My heart felt like someone took a sledgehammer to it, but at the same time, impressing the hell out of the agency founders felt pretty damn good. John told me to take extra time off since I worked nonstop over the weekend. My team too.
I sit down on the floor and scratch Chewie all over, giving her all the love such a good doggie deserves. Light tapping sounds on my door. Chewie jumps up and lunges at the door while barking with a resounding furor. Crap. It has to be Jackson. Anyone else would have to call up.
On impulse, I snatch the handle of my bag and run into my bedroom. I hear the door open and Jackson’s deep voice. “Hey, there, girl. Is your Mommy not home yet? You want me to take you for a walk?”
He’s taking her for a walk?
I remain hidden in my bedroom. Frozen in place. I hear the sound of the door closing and feel the absence of Chewie. I remain squatting by the side
of the bed. I’m not ready to face him.
I pull my phone out and text my brother.
Me: Are you around?
It’s Monday evening. Stranger things have happened.
Bobby: Yeah. About to order pizza. You want to come over?
Me: Y. Be there soon.
I find a small tote bag from the top of my closet and throw in some clothes. I’d rather crash at Bobby’s than be on high alert for the door unlocking and Jackson coming in.
I sit on the floor of my room, hidden by my bed. Like a kid hiding from her parents.
“Anna, where are you?”
I lift up on the floor and peer over the bed. “Bobby? Over here.”
“What’re you doing?”
“Hiding.”
“What’d you do now?”
“Nothing.”
He punches my leg.
“Ow. Stop it.”
“What’d you do?”
“Nothing. I went to the library.”
“And now you’re hiding?”
“Mom’s mad. I didn’t tell her where I was going.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’d find something else for me to do. Mom and Dad only want me to get married. It’s you they want to go to college. Haven’t you noticed?”
“They want you to go to college...and they want you to marry Evan. Can’t you do both?”
“Bobby! I want to go to college. I don’t want to marry Evan. Don’t I get a choice?”
“Of course, you do. They just think you want to marry him. Just tell them.”
Tell them. Yeah, that worked out well.
A long tongue licks my face. Chewie. Jackson must have let her back in while I was off in Memory Lane. I sit up on my knees and peer over the bed. The apartment’s empty.
I stand, grab my bag and Chewie’s leash, and head out to my brother’s apartment.
