by Susan Ward
Dreamy and complex. Brilliant and sad and full of hurt. Jack’s girl in every way.
I somehow manage to muster a smile as she nears us. Len drops a kiss on her head and then climbs into our car.
I pull her into my arms and give her a fierce hug. A part of me wants to shake her and tell her to run. And a part of me wants to never let her go.
I brush back the straying golden-blond hair from her face and struggle to meet her brilliant blue gaze. “I love you. See ya soon.”
Chrissie smiles. “See ya soon, Linda.”
The emotion is so intense it nearly strangles me, but I am quickly forgotten by her as she waves goodbye to that hideous friend of hers, Rene, and then hurries off to waiting Alan.
I move fast and climb into the passenger seat. It’s a relief to be leaving her.
Len starts the car and I do another fast wave to everyone as we pull from the gravel driveway. I snap my seatbelt in place and then notice the shiny platinum bracelet on the floorboard. Chrissie’s Tiffany bracelet. She forgot it.
I hold it up, turning to Len, and then stop myself. It’s better for me that I leave here now and don’t go back to return it. I’ll make sure Chrissie gets it once we reach Manhattan.
I stare out the window at the passing scenery, the lush green color of spring in upstate New York. It’s beautiful here this time of year, but my mind begins to flood with pictures of California and the ocean and then, naturally, pictures of Jack.
“You’re an amazing woman, love. Have I ever told you that?”
I look over at Len in surprise. Jeez, Len speaks, and for once I can’t will myself to say anything in return.
“I don’t know how you do it,” he continues. “How you can be so caring to everyone always. You should hate that girl for all she cost you.”
“I don’t blame Chrissie. It wasn’t her fault. She cost me nothing.”
His lips do a slight tightening as he shakes his head.
“She cost you your happiness and got you stuck with me.”
I laugh. Always a wisecrack. “I’m not stuck with you, Len. I wanted to marry you. I’m glad I did.”
“I love you, Linda.”
“I love you, too.”
“We’re managing all right together, aren’t we, love?”
I shift my gaze away. “We’re doing just fine.”
Sadness moves through my veins. I turn the bracelet in my hands. In shame, I admit to myself I did hate Chrissie before. It practically made me gag to be in the same room with her once I discovered she was Jack’s girl.
Then all the other shit at The Farm. The day in the car when Chrissie told me she blamed herself for her brother’s death ten years ago. Her burying the pain and numbing herself by burning her body. Me finally knowing the incredible anguish this girl had lived in and silently locked inside her for a very long time. This girl who I had never met before three weeks ago and has had such a brutal influence on my life for ten years.
The truth neither Jack nor I knew. The reasons behind her extremely difficult years that cost us everything, so much more ugly and real and horrible than either of us ever suspected it to be.
My heart clenches. Poor Jack. I want to be with him when he learns of this. He’ll need me. Len will understand. Jack is a part of me Len understands and somehow manages to live with. The only problem is that I don’t know how to get ahead of events so I can be there with Jack when he gets hit in the face by this.
“It will be all right, Linda. Jack won’t blame you. He loves you. We all do. It’s not your fault.”
Dear, sweet Len. He’s been a wonderful friend and I don’t think I could have made it through those years after giving up Jack without him. I feel that familiar prick of resentment for Chrissie, only this time I don’t want it.
I don’t blame the girl. Not even a little. I shouldn’t still feel the prick.
I will my emotions back into calm and stare out the window. Several hours later, the lights of the city come into view, and the trip to Manhattan has been nothing more than a blur. We pull into the underground garage at our high-rise Central Park West Apartment building. I laugh. We all own a home here now—Jack, Alan, us—a stone’s throw from each other. It’s amazing how small the world can be at times. Too small this month, I think.
I open my door and climb out of the car. We step into the elevator and Len hits the button for our floor. Chug, chug, chug. This is certainly nice digs for a girl from Reseda. How the hell did I get here?
I brush the wayward black hairs back from my face. I’m too tired to think. The doors open and I step out before Len and make my way to our door.
Inside the apartment, I toss Chrissie’s bracelet on the table in the foyer.
I enter the living room and my heart drops to the floor.
“Where the hell are they?” Jack exclaims, crossing quickly to me. Jesus Christ, he’s half out of his mind with anger and worry. “I can’t believe you didn’t call me, Linda. Where is Chrissie?”
My mind is a blank. Him being here, looking like this, the long, emotion-charged hours at The Farm. It’s just too much.
“Where is Chrissie?” Jack repeats more forcefully, taking my arms in the hold of his hands.
I look at him and fear and anguish shoots through my body.
“She’s on her way back to the city with Manny. I think they’ll probably go to his place.”
Jack whirls away. “Damn you, Linda.”
Oh God, has Chrissie at last done something to take from me the little of Jack she let me keep? And has she finally ended my affair with Jack completely?
~~The End~~
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Continue the Affair without End Series with One Forever Kiss, releasing Summer 2015.
Enjoy one of my current contemporary romance releases:
The Girl on the Half Shell
The Girl of Tokens and Tears
The Girl of Diamonds and Rust
The Girl in the Comfortable Quiet(Releasing June 2015)
The Signature
Rewind
One Last Kiss
One More Kiss
One Long Kiss
One Forever Kiss (Releasing Summer 2015)
Or enjoy one of my historical romance releases:
When the Perfect Comes
Face to Face
Love’s Patient Fury
Love me Forever: Releasing Summer of 2015
If you’ve enjoyed the Affair Without End Series, continue the story with The Half Shell Series.
EXCERPT
The Girl on the Half Shell
The room is so quiet it is deafening.
I find Alan on his bed, casually reclined against a stack of pillows, dressed only in flannel pajama bottoms, and reading—of all things—the Wall Street Journal. There is a fire lit, the silver candlesticks flicker with flame, the bedcovers invitingly turned down as if in preparation for some sort of romantic scene. But he is focused on the Journal.
He doesn’t look at me and I feel stupid hovering by his door, so I start to wander around the bedroom, trying to still my frantic pulse. It’s a good thing that it’s an interesting room, otherwise my deliberate study would seem silly.
Even Alan’s bedroom is something I find weird and demands a certain amount of mental analysis. It looks like something from a nineteenth century English manor, elegant to the point of being almost a touch prissy. There’s an antique mahogany king-sized bed facing the fireplace; floral wingback chairs with pillows positioned before the hearth; and high-tech conveniences camouflaged in antique furniture. There’s a Monet on the wall; tall, polished sterling silver candlesticks; crystal; and fine, leather-bound, first edition books of classic literature. I sink down before a small, mahogany table where I find a stack of newspaper: Barons; t
he New York Times; the Washington Post; and the Daily Telegraph.
The warmth of the fire surrounds me like a caress, but I am quaking like a leaf. I wasn’t sure what Alan expected after he walked out of the kitchen. It would have been logical to assume that I would leave. But he knew I’d follow him. I don’t know why he’s ignoring me now. I look at the lit candlesticks—he wanted me to follow him.
I bite my lower lip and stare at my knotted fingers. I stayed alone in the kitchen for what seemed like ages, and now that I’ve done exactly what he expected me to do, nothing.
I struggle for something to say to break the silence. “You do have seven bedrooms. I counted them twice. But there are seven only if I include yours.”
He folds the Journal, tosses it on the table and fixes those penetrating, mesmerizing eyes on me. “Is this the room you want?” he asks, his voice gentle. “I meant it when I said you could have any room. It doesn’t have to be my room for you to stay.”
Does he not want me in his room? A ragged breath forces its way from deep in my lungs. “Do you want me to go?” I murmur.
“Of course not. I want you here.” His voice is husky and his eyes are wandering in a leisurely hold that is tender and oddly comforting.
PREVIW THE GIRL IN THE COMFORTABLE QUIET
I can’t stop shaking. God, I wish my body would be still. But nothing in my life could have prepared me for this. Maybe there are some shocks so severe that they reverberate through you, and you can’t do anything except wait until they quiet on their own.
I stare down into my wine. This is definitely one of those shocks.
Rene sinks to sit on her knees across the coffee table. She just stares and I can see this has leveled her as much as me. She doesn’t know what to say. It is as if this crisis is so enormous she’s afraid to speak. A Rene first.
My eyes fix on her, stricken and wounded. “I can’t believe this. How could it be true? Shouldn’t I have known? How could I not know? I’m married to the man.”
Rene flushes, something flashes in her eyes and then she looks away.
Oh my God.
“You knew!” I accuse harshly. “You knew and you didn’t tell me. How could you do that, Rene? How could you do that to me?”
“No, no, no. I didn’t know, Chrissie. I swear. I had suspicions and you were so certain about Neil. I ended up thinking I was wrong. Crazy. I thought I was wrong so I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? What kind of friend are you?”
She eases forward in a posture simultaneously aggressive and defensive. “I did try to tell you, Chrissie. When we lived together in Berkeley. I told you I didn’t like Neil. I told you there was something about him I didn’t like. You just didn’t hear me.”
Flashing snippets of old memories soar through my head. Oh God, she did tell me. I just didn’t understand. I refused to see what Rene could see, but deep down, I think I always knew.
I jump to my feet and run to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. Everything is running loose and frantic in me and I can’t bear to look at Rene, not for another moment. I haven’t gotten a single thing in my life right. Every decision I’ve made hasn’t been right or left turns. It’s been right or wrong turns, and the wrong path is the one I invariably take.
I let Alan go, over and over again, and he’s the only man I’ve ever truly loved. That is the truth. Why do I hide from it?
I married Neil and I shouldn’t have. That is the truth and I hid from that as well. That nagging voice deep inside me told me not to do it, I ignored it, and I refused to listen. My life is in shambles, I have no one to blame but me, and I don’t know how to fix any of it
PREVIW BROKEN CROWN
I shut off the shower deciding not to call Chrissie. I dress for an excursion on my bike. Traveling the rural splendor of the United States on a Harley is one of the few things left in my life I still enjoy. The decision this time has nothing to do with savoring the scenery. The days it will take to travel from New York to California will give me a chance to back out if sanity decides to return. The call ahead of time will do neither of us any good if I decide not to see her.
I sink down onto my bed to make two phone calls. I tell my assistant to clear my calendar for the next month. I hang up as she bellows every reason why that isn’t possible. Then I call the garage to get my bike ready.
I tuck into a backpack only what I need for the journey to Los Angeles. I almost leave the bedroom when I recall the lump in my sheets. Tucking the bracelet into my pocket, I reach out a hand and shake the body in my bed. “You need to get dressed and get the hell out of here, love. I’m going to California. If you’re a whore, I’d like to pay you first. If you’re a nice girl, leave me your number.”
The brown-eyed beauty sits up, pulling with her the blankets to cover her naked flesh. Morning after modesty, another farce since my memory isn’t so dim that I forgot what we did last night. Those pouting red lips smile.
Ah, Boston bred. The girl isn’t ruffled by any of it.
Smoothly charming, she says, “I’ll bill you. Though it’s often considered a blurry difference, I’m not a whore. I’m your attorney. One of your divorce attorneys. I brought the finalized settlement contracts, and though you missed our meeting, I waited ten hours in this apartment for you to return to sign them since your ex-wife has an irritating proclivity to change her mind. I thought it best we jump on the offer and settle it fast since you didn’t have a pre-nuptial agreement. When I tried to explain, you jumped on me. I thought what the hell, it’s been a slow day and I’m earning five hundred bucks an hour for this. Why shouldn’t my job have an occasional perk? You have been interesting. I’ve never been laid by a man who holds an infinity band while he fucks me. I think it’s better I don’t tell you the things you mumbled. I’ll only warn you that you should be relieved it’s covered under attorney/client privilege since my meter ticks until you sign those documents. The contracts are on the dresser. Please sign them so I can shower, dress and go. It’s Saturday, in case you don’t know what day it is, and I play racquetball at six. That I didn’t expect you to know. It was a subtle attempt to speed you up in the signing.”
I laugh softly. My attorney is charming. I go to the dresser and do a quick study of the contracts. “Thank you for not boring me with whatever I mumbled and thank you for promising to bill me so it’s privileged. You can, however, bore me by letting me know how much this is costing me.”
Panties and bra in place, my attorney scrambles from my bed, gathering her clothes then snatches the signed contracts from my hand.
“Me, I cost you seventy-two hundred for this meeting. You’re ex-wife cost you one-hundred-sixteen million two hundred-twenty-seven thousand, a combination of cash, future cash, and an interesting assortment of personal property. You did, however, manage to retain the Malibu house, that against my advice you battled her over, the bill from me five-hundred thousand over the value of it.”
I clutch her chin a little roughly and give her a hard kiss. “You, love, were a bargain.”
I leave her, half dressed, staring at me from my bathroom doorway. It sounded theatrical even to me. Chrissie would have given me such shit for those theatrics, but the girl seemed to be expecting something like that so I played along.
Thank you for reading. You might enjoy a sneak peek into Chrissie and Alan’s future, with Rewind A Perfect Forever Novella.
He doesn’t laugh. Instead, his gaze sharpens on my face. “I am being nice, Kaley. I came to you. I got tired of waiting.”
What? Did I just hear what I think I heard?
Before I can respond, he says, “How’s your afternoon looking? Do you have time to take off and come see something with me?”
My afternoon? There is something. I’m sure of that, but I suddenly can’t remember a single thing.
“What do you have in mind?”
“I want to show you where I’ve been living. What I’ve been doin
g. I think you’ll find it interesting.”
Interesting? Why would I find it interesting?
“So, do you think you can cut out for a few hours?” he asks, watching me expectantly.
I focus my gaze on the table, wondering if I should go, wondering why I debate this, and what the heck I have on the calendar that I can’t remember. God this is weird, familiar and distant at once, and I haven’t a clue what I should do here.
I stare at his hand, so close to mine, on the table. Whoever thought it would be so uncomfortable not to touch a guy? It doesn’t feel natural, this space we hold between us, spiced with the kind of talk people have who know each other intimately. What would he do if I touched him…?
His fingers cover mine and he gives me a friendly squeeze. The feel of him runs through my body with remembered sweetness.
Suddenly, nothing in my life is as important as spending the afternoon with Bobby and for the first time, in a very long time, I don’t feel like a disjointed collection of uncomfortably fitting parts. I feel at ease inside me being with Bobby.
I stop trying to access my mental calendar. I smile up at Bobby. “I’ve got as much time as you need.”
Bobby chuckles and his hand slips back from me. He rises and tosses some bills on the table. “Just a few hours, Kaley. I’ll have you back before the end of the day.”
I rise from my chair and think not if I figure out fast how not to blow this.
Or enjoy the first novel in the Perfect Forever Novels: The Signature. Available Now. Please enjoy the following excerpt from The Signature:
She became aware all at once how utterly delightful it felt to be here with him, alone on the quay, with the erotic nearness of his body.
