“He didn’t tell me why you were here. Though you just did. What job?”
“It’s nothing.”
“You’re looking at a job in D.C.?”
“None of your business.”
“What about Jenny?”
“None of your business.”
Jeffrey braced a hand against the wall. “You’re zoned out staring at engagement rings here, Mitch.”
“I’m not staring at anything. I’m just zoned out.” Mitch paused. “I’m thinking about the job.”
“So, that’s it. You just leave her? Thanks for the memories.”
“It was always going to be like that.” Just not yet. Not yet.
“You’re a moron, you know that?”
Mitch clamped his jaw against an angry outburst. What the hell was Jeffrey doing here anyway? “Why are you here?”
Jeffrey’s tone abruptly changed. “I heard the verdict came in on your shoulder.”
“Twenty to life,” said Mitch, knowing he sounded bitter.
“Man, I’m sure sorry about that.”
Jeffrey and Mitch’s friendship definitely didn’t lend itself to talking about their feelings.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“It sucks.”
“I’ll live.”
“Mitch.” There was clear compassion in Jeffrey’s tone. He was in a better position than most people to understand what Mitch was going through.
“You know,” Mitch gave in. “Half the time, I think, yeah, I’ve had a good run, better than most, longer than most. I am thirty, and it ain’t gonna last forever. Other times, I want to put my fist through a wall.”
“Might want to use the left.”
Mitch coughed out a cold laugh. “Good advice.”
Jeffrey slid his glance away. “You know I’m here for you, right?”
“Thanks.” They didn’t need to belabor the point. But Mitch appreciated the offer.
Jeffrey cleared his throat. “So, when does the job start?”
“I haven’t said yes.”
“Are you going to say yes?”
Good question. Mitch shrugged. “I guess it’s more about the timing.” So, how long did he need? Two weeks? Two months? The TCC Board had made it clear all along they would understand and make arrangements if he needed to make a career change. But how could he possibly pick an end date for the relationship?
“And more about Jenny?” Jeffrey guessed.
“It’s complicated,” Mitch allowed, tired of pussyfooting around.
“Make it simple.”
“I can’t.”
“You know, man. If you don’t want her.”
Mitch felt his blood pressure spike, and his hands curled into fists. He struggled not to snarl at Jeffrey. “You can’t have her.”
“Dude. Did you just see what you did there?”
“Showed some good taste?”
“Your head flies off at the mere thought that some other guy might look at her.”
“Not every other guy.” Just guys like Jeffrey who would most certainly hurt her. Mostly. And, yeah, okay, all the other guys, too.
“Yes,” Jeffrey articulated slowly. “Every other guy. And I’ve already made my position crystal clear when it comes to Jenny. So you have less reason to worry about me than most guys. But look at you.”
Mitch couldn’t argue. For a long moment, he found himself imagining her expression if he was to give her that ring in the window. And then what? Marry her?
Part of him wanted to go for it, but a more rational part worried this was all happening too fast. It couldn’t be real.
“Let’s go grab a beer,” Jeffrey suggested.
“Only if we change the subject.”
“No problem.”
“The lounge is on five.”
“Let’s leave the hotel. There are some great places down Pennsylvania Ave.”
Mitch shrugged. What did it matter? Liquor was probably as good a way as any to switch up his thought patterns. And he didn’t really care where he drank it.
A uniformed doorman let them out, and they turned right, going against the majority of pedestrian traffic along the wide sidewalk. It was four in the afternoon, late enough that the business crowd was swelling the streets, while last-minute shoppers rushed through their errands. The street was a maze of cars, minivans, buses and high-end automobiles ferrying VIPs from meetings to dinners to corporate and political functions.
“See, if it was me,” said Jeffrey, pulling on a glass shop door. “I’d wow her with something along these lines.”
Confused, Mitch glanced at the sign. Too late, he realized Jeffrey had just ushered him into the showroom at Tiffany’s.
“Very funny.” Mitch gave a mock laugh, while a salesman quickly approached them, obviously appraising the quality of their suits and watches as he did.
“Good afternoon, sir,” the man greeted heartily.
“Just looking,” Mitch quickly put in.
“Something in a solitaire,” said Jeffrey. “The last one he liked had a couple of small emeralds.”
The man beamed. “I’m Roger Stromberg. At your service. Please, let me show you our Esteme collection.”
He motioned them toward one side of the store, and Jeffrey immediately fell in behind.
“I’m outta here,” Mitch declared.
Jeffrey clapped a firm hand on his back. “Wouldn’t try it if I was you. You’ve got a bum shoulder, and I’m a better tackle.”
“This joke’s gone on long enough.”
“He’s got cold feet,” Jeffrey loudly explained to the salesman, dropping his large frame into one of two padded chairs in front of a display case.
“I understand.” The suited salesman gave a sage nod. “Thing to remember in this circumstance is that picking out a ring doesn’t commit you to anything. We’re happy to keep it on hold for a period of time. Or we’ll simply use today to make sure you understand your options. Then if, at a later date, you want to make a quick decision, you’re all set.
“These ones here—” he pulled three rings from the display and set them in their cases on top of the glass “—are all flawless, D and E.” He glanced up. “Do you mind if I ask your price range?”
“Not an object,” said Jeffrey.
Mitch gave up and took a seat. “I sure hope you’re the guy popping the question,” he said to Jeffrey. “Because I’m just a spectator on this.”
Jeffrey and the salesman exchanged a significant glance, but Mitch just chuckled to himself. Jeffrey wasn’t going to goad him into anything so rash as choosing a ring.
Twelve
Jenny was going to be a single mother.
She couldn’t believe it. She could barely bring herself to acknowledge it, never mind say it out loud. She’d checked the test wand four times this morning. Twice in the bathroom, again halfway down the stairs, then she’d pulled it out of the trash once, just to be sure.
The line was blue.
She was pregnant.
Thank goodness Mitch was out of town. She’d landed right smack-dab in her mother’s predicament. Difference was, she wasn’t going to repeat her mother’s mistake.
She absolutely would not let a man marry her because she was pregnant and then start hating her. Still, in her weaker moments, she’d caught herself thinking about telling Mitch, imagined him breaking into a wide smile, telling her he was happy, assuring her they were going to make it work. But then she’d exit Wonderland and pull herself together.
Reality was hitting her fast and hard. Since arriving at the office, she’d twice had to dash to the bathroom to vomit. And she was facing the stark fact that she was going to have a baby all by herself.
Just like her mother, she’d have to hold down a job, juggle day care and PTA meetings, make budgetary ends meet and try to comfort a lonely little boy or girl who desperately wanted siblings.
Working her way compulsively around the office, she shoved the sparkling clean coffeepot back into the freshly p
olished machine that sat on a compact, shiny countertop in the corner of the office. Then she centered the wicker basket of assorted teas that she’d lined up alphabetically by variety: blueberry, chamomile, Earl Grey, ginger, Irish breakfast, jasmine green, lemon, mint. They had only one peppermint left, and all the other packets were in even numbers. She briefly considered brewing and drinking it, but her stomach had rebelled.
Again, she said a silent thanks that Mitch was in D.C. If he’d been in the office, today would have been an even bigger disaster.
She rewiped the shelf that held the sugar packets, checked the coffee can to make sure it was at least half-full, centered the stainless steel faucet above the sink and refolded the dishcloth.
The desk phone rang, but she ignored it.
The last three numbers on the readout had been Emily’s. Jenny had purposely escaped from the house this morning before Emily and Cole saw her. She knew if she didn’t answer the office phone, Emily would show up at lunchtime. But she’d face that in an hour.
She glanced at the clock on the wall, noting it read 11:02. She automatically checked her watch, making sure the times synced up. Then she crossed to her desk and sat down, folding her hands on the pristine wooden top, trying to figure out what on earth to do next.
The red message light was flashing on the face of the phone. She didn’t want to listen to Emily’s voice and feel the guilt that came with ignoring her best friend. But there was an off chance it was a TCC member who needed something. And she couldn’t ignore what might be an important matter. There were three weddings coming up this month.
Her throat closed up, and she was forced to swallow the lump. Three radiant, blissful brides would say their vows under the Leadership, Justice and Peace plaque, something that would never happen for Jenny. True love was obviously not in the cards for her. Fate had single motherhood in mind instead.
Blinking the moisture from her eyes, she determinedly lifted the telephone handset, pressing the button for voice mail. She entered the password and heard the computer-generated voice inform her there were two new messages.
The first one was from Emily, short and to the point, obviously worried and telling her to call back just as soon as possible. The second was from a member. Thankfully, it was for general information, and it could wait a few hours. Then she punched in Mitch’s number and his pass-code, learning there was another message on his account.
She tapped her pen on the pad of message paper as a hearty male voice spoke. “It was great to get your message yesterday,” it said. “I know you didn’t ask me to call, but I didn’t want to waste any time in offering my thanks and my congratulations. The entire D.C. office is looking forward to working with you, Mitch. As I said in the interview, we’re flexible on timing. But I will courier over the employment documents in the next few days. As I’m sure you can appreciate, working this close to the White House staff, there’s a fairly rigorous security procedure, and we should get that started. Call me when you get back to Royal. If I’m not in the office, Melanie will give you my private line. It was really great to meet you. We’ll talk soon.”
There was a click, and the line went silent. Jenny sat frozen, the phone still at her ear while the computerized voice listed the voice mail options.
“End of new messages,” the computer voice said.
Jenny couldn’t believe it. Mitch had gone to a job interview? He’d rushed out of town yesterday to find himself a new job?
She gave a slightly hysterical laugh. So much for going steady. He was obviously leaving Royal. And he was definitely leaving her.
Any small, lingering hope that she might have had for their future evaporated in the blink of an eye.
“Press star to disconnect,” instructed the computerized voice.
Jenny’s stomach rolled. Her gaze flew back to the clock on the wall. Mitch was probably on his way home right now. If he didn’t make it to the office this afternoon, he’d definitely be here tomorrow morning.
What was she going to do? How was she going to face him? How could she possibly even hope to pretend everything was normal?
What if she had morning sickness tomorrow? Worse, what if she was sick every morning for the rest of the week, or the rest of the month? She’d never keep the pregnancy a secret.
She came shakily to her feet just as Emily burst through the door.
“Why aren’t you answering?” Emily demanded, swinging the door shut and barreling forward. Then she halted midstride.
“Oh, no.” Her hands reached out, and she came forward again, rounding the desk and pulling Jenny firmly into her arms. “You are, aren’t you?”
Jenny nodded, twin tears leaking out. “The test this morning was positive.”
“Oh, honey.” Emily smoothed her hands down Jenny’s back. “Why did you leave without me? Never mind. It doesn’t matter. It’s going to be okay. I promise you, it’s going to be okay.”
But it wasn’t going to be okay. It was going to be very, very far from okay for a very long time.
“I have to get out of here,” said Jenny, her voice shaking.
“Of course you do.” Emily drew back to look at her. “We’ll go to Cole’s house. Or are you hungry? Should we go to the diner?”
Jenny’s stomach lurched at the thought of greasy fries and heavy milkshakes.
“Uh-oh,” Emily repeated. “Is it bad?”
“Pretty bad. But, oh.” Jenny closed her eyes and waited for the nausea to pass. “I really have to get out of here. Not just out of the office. Out of Royal altogether. I have to leave before Mitch gets back.”
Emily nodded. “You’re worried about how to tell him. I understand.”
“I’m not telling him at all.”
“Well, no,” Emily said gently. “It doesn’t even have to be today.”
Jenny grasped her friend’s upper arms. “Emily. Listen to me. Mitch told me a thousand different ways that he wasn’t in this for the long haul. He’s nowhere near ready to commit. He went to D.C. for a job interview. And he accepted a position. He’s leaving Royal. He’s leaving me.”
“But—”
“But, nothing. He doesn’t want me. He sure doesn’t want a baby. And I am not—I am not going to have my child raised by an unwilling father.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “You can’t keep it a secret. He has friends in Royal. Cole will—”
“Not forever,” Jenny conceded, knowing she’d have to eventually tell Mitch he was a father. “But I can keep it a secret for now.” At least, she could if she wasn’t around him. If she could figure out how to get away, a plausible excuse to get out of Royal until Mitch left permanently for D.C.
She braced her hand on the edge of the desk. “I need a plan. A good excuse to leave. Then he’ll come back, resign from TCC, leave for his new job in D.C., and then I’ll decide what to do and when to do it.”
Emily bit her bottom lip. “I don’t know, Jenny.”
“It’s the only way.” Her throat closed over again, and her voice broke. “I can’t trap him. I won’t trap him, Em.”
Emily wrapped a firm arm around Jenny’s shoulders. “Then I’ll help you. Of course I’ll help you. You can go up to the cottage at Lake Angel, for a week, or two, or three. As long as you need. Tell Mitch it was an emergency. Leave him a message.”
Jenny was nodding. “I could do that. I could tell him someone is sick.” Her hand went to her stomach. “I’m definitely sick. And I can say I’m at a friend’s house. I’ll be at yours. It’s not even a lie.”
Emily gave a sad smile. “It’s not even a lie.”
Jenny sniffed, sitting down. “Are you sure your folks won’t mind?”
“Not a bit. They won’t be at the lake for months. The cottage is the perfect place for you to regroup.”
Jenny turned her chair and started to type. She could barely make her fingers form the words that would take her away from Mitch forever. She was suddenly bone tired. She wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for
a month. She didn’t want to face Mitch or anyone else.
As Mitch powered his Corvette away from the small airport on the outskirts of Royal, his hand strayed from the gearshift to pat the small square package tucked away in his suit jacket pocket, while his mind settled comfortably into thoughts of Jenny. If someone had told him forty-eight hours ago that he’d be buying an engagement ring, he’d have told them they were out of their mind.
But things changed, people learned. They learned things about themselves, and they figured out things about others that had been staring them in the face for months. What Mitch had learned was that he wanted Jenny, now and forever. He loved her. And he wasn’t about to let one more day go by without telling her so.
He swung off the interstate and took the three corners to River Road. He’d driven this route a thousand times, knew every curve, every bump, every blind spot. But he’d never driven it faster, never wished it were shorter. And by the time he pulled into the TCC parking lot, he was having a very stern talk with himself to calm down and curb his enthusiasm.
He couldn’t tell Jenny he loved her next to the coffeemaker. And he sure couldn’t propose to her at the office. He pushed the shifter into First, set the park brake and turned off the key.
He had to take her out on a date tonight, somewhere exotic and wildly romantic. Maybe they’d go to the beach again. There had to be dozens of fine restaurants overlooking Galveston Bay. He wanted something with candlelight and white linen, a private little alcove where he could say all the things he needed to say.
He took the TCC stairs two at a time, striding through the front foyer, heading directly to the second floor, down the short hallway and into the outer office.
“Jenny?” he breathed, before he realized she wasn’t there.
He quickly moved to his own office, entering through the open door, expecting to see her inside, straightening his papers, watering his plants, putting his mail into those neat little piles, like she did every day.
He drew another blank and frowned.
Maybe she was in the conference room, or the ladies’ room. He told himself to wait it out, but his feet took him back across the outer office, down the hallway and into the conference room.
An After-Hours Affair Page 16
