“I think faking a girlfriend would be more fun.” I grin, joking around.
Delilah rolls her eyes. “So, how was your Sunday?”
I rub my hands up and down my face, trying to joggle Nick Norwood from my thoughts. It’s Monday morning. The weekend flashes before me. Delilah and I saw a band together Saturday night. Then, Sunday. Hazel eyes.
“Small world story. An ex from college moved into my apartment building.”
“Is that good or bad?” She’s twirling a loose piece of hair that escaped from her messy bun.
I play with the pad on my laptop to pull up my email. Good or bad? What a good question. When I don’t respond, she stops searching for split ends and watches me, waiting for an answer. I doodle on the corner of the desk calendar with a pencil as I explain. “It’s not good or bad. Things didn’t end well with us. I get the feeling he can’t stand me, which doesn’t really make sense.”
“What happened with you guys?”
I sigh. I’ve spent a lot of time strolling through Memory Lane since hanging up with Olivia yesterday. “Nothing. And, I don’t know. Everything. We met my last semester of school. I was interviewing, working. He was preparing for the bar, interviewing. But, for a few months there, it was like, well, it was pretty amazing.”
Delilah bites her lip, smiling. “Yeah?”
I nod. “Yeah. And then, I guess reality hit. Tough talks. He wanted me to move to Atlanta. But he didn’t ask. He pissed me off, is what he did. I didn’t return his calls for a few days. Then suddenly he wouldn’t even talk to me. Look at me.” An email about a project catches my attention, and I skim through it.
“And then what happened?”
I return my attention to Delilah. “That’s it. Graduation happened. I moved to New York. He moved to Atlanta. Yesterday was the first time I’d seen him in four years.”
“And what was it like?”
Shocking as hell. He’s still gorgeous. My stomach still flutters around him. I bite the inside of my lip and remember his short answers. How he seemed to want to get away from me as quickly as possible. “He’s still an asshole.”
Delilah sighs and drops her head back against the wall. Then she throws the back of her hand across her forehead, all drama. “Why must they all be assholes?” she singsongs.
Yes, indeed. Why, oh, why?
Chapter 4
Anna
The week flew by. The Pink Panther soundtrack played in my head each morning of my stealth routine. It turns out I could’ve had a career in the CIA. I’m good at tiptoeing around. I’d catch glimpses of him on the sidewalk and whip around to head the opposite direction. Completely mature behavior.
Now it’s Saturday morning. A whole week spent in avoidance mode. Yet here I am, heading to the park to meet Chase and Angela. I never asked, but my gut tells me Jackson will be joining us. I just kind of know.
My hair in a ponytail, I’m sporting my favorite Saturday ripped jeans and a faded old Hard Rock Cafe guitar tank. My stomach flips and flops. Which is silly. There’s absolutely no reason to be nervous about seeing him.
Chewie stops and starts the whole way, alternating between lunging and halting. She’s all about the smells. One day, I’m going to train her to be a well-behaved dog.
My outfit isn’t a match for the frat boy image I remember Jackson cultivating in law school. And it definitely isn’t a match for the corporate executive I’d seen Sunday. Why was he wearing a suit on the weekend?
Yeah, my twenty-six-year-old self won’t appeal to Legal Eagle Jackson at all. Four years ago, we were college students. Pseudo-adulting. I thought I’d never see him again. I stalked him on Facebook once or twice after drinking too much, but he has a private page. All I could see was a single photo of him on a mountaintop somewhere. Thank god I’d never been on FB drunk and sent a friend request.
Over the years, I thought about asking Chase for Jackson updates. They had been roommates, and when we stopped seeing each other, I made it a point to not bring Chase into the middle of it. Although I had wanted to. So many times. I’d wanted to ask Chase if Jackson was mad at me. Ask him what was going on. Did he not want anything to do with me because we were moving to different cities? Or did he stop responding to me because I wouldn’t change my plans to accommodate his?
That period of time at school was over in a flash. The last manic few weeks of school. Then, in New York, it never made sense to bring it up. Why dwell on a fling? Even if at the time I would have never used the word fling to describe Jackson and me. But do flings ever feel like just a fling when they are happening?
“Anna!” rings out near the upcoming 77th Street entrance. Al and the weatherman nailed it today. It’s another blue sky, brisk fall day. Pedestrians crowd the sidewalk. A concrete wall borders the park and lines the right side, a barrier between the street and the park. Yellow and red have replaced the green leaves on the maple trees dotting the street. I search along the wall, past the vendors lined up along it to sell jewelry and caricatures, looking for the source of the shouts. I locate Angela. She’s jumping up and down to get my attention, her blown-out, flat black hair barely moving as she jumps.
I wave my greeting and quicken my stride, giving her a warm hug when I get to her. I don’t see Jackson, but I’m pretty sure he’s nearby. My skin tingles, sensing his presence. The same as in college. The same as last weekend.
I follow Angela, and as we round the corner, I spot Jackson and Chase standing inside the park entrance. My eyes immediately go to Jackson.
Wearing a faded gray UVA t-shirt, ripped jeans, a baseball cap, and Asics, he doesn’t look like a high-powered attorney. Today, he looks like the guy I knew four years ago.
His brown hair sticks out from the sides of his baseball cap, curling up along the rim. He’s gonna need a haircut soon. I wonder if it’s long enough for him to mess it up when he runs his hand through it, an old habit I used to love. His hazel eyes are dark, at least from a distance with the sun behind him.
Damn, he’s still crazy attractive.
He doesn’t wave, just watches me as I approach. He gives a slight nod in greeting. His lips remain in a straight line.
I’m aware I’m staring at him, but I can’t help it. I hope it seems normal since I’m walking up to him. I hope he won’t read anything into it. He checks out my dog and bends to pet her. “What’s her name?”
“Chewbacca. I call her Chewie.”
“You named a girl Chewbacca?” he asks, squinting up at me, somewhat amused. Finally, his lips leave flat line mode.
“Yeah. She has long, brown, curly-ish hair. Don’t you see it? I’d always said if I got a chocolate shaggy dog, I’d name it Chewbacca. When I found her, and she was a girl, I figured the name still fits. She’s kind of a beast. She grew into her name. The pet shop told me she’d only be about thirty pounds.”
“You went to a pet shop to buy your dog?” Disdain lines his words. I understand the condescension. Guilt wracked me when I first picked her up. But I was passing by, and this pet shop had the puppies out in a fenced-in area. She looked up at me, wagged a fluffball tail, tripped over her giant paws, and that was all she wrote. My mom had passed away. My emotions were sky-high. Done. I walked out with her.
“Hey, guys,” Chase interrupts our exchange, “let’s head this way. We can find somewhere to sit on the grass over here. Angela has blankets, and I have the Frisbee. You girls can hang out while we’re playing.”
Following the three of them, Chewie and I bring up the rear. Only Chewie keeps trying to catch up with them, and I keep pulling her back. Chewie requires a chest harness because I’d break her neck otherwise.
When we get to the grassy area Chase has picked out, Jackson turns and bends down to pet Chewie again. Chewie raises her head to him with adoring eyes and wags her tail like crazy. Jackson laughs.
Angela watches the two of them as she smooths out an enormous blanket. “Well, Jackson, she seems to like you. Guess that gives you the all-clear.”
Angela laughs. “Don’t get defensive. I meant dogs are great judges of character. And she likes you.”
I play with the grass near my hand, weeding through the clovers for one with four leaves, choosing to ignore his questioning expression. I haven’t said word one to Angela about him, so he might as well drop it. His unspoken criticism of me buying a dog from a pet shop still hangs in my mind. I want to defend myself. “I would have adopted from a shelter. But I was walking by. She was sitting there, furry with big, giant paws. It was love at first sight. I couldn’t leave her.”
He’s still scratching behind Chewie’s ears. “I’m not judging. Although I can’t see how such an enormous dog makes sense in an apartment.” I get the sense he’d like to argue more, but instead drops it and grabs a Frisbee. Good thing, too. What am I gonna do? Exchange my dog because he doesn’t approve?
Once the guys start playing, Chewie pulls on her leash to join them. I have to sit up and clutch her harness to keep her by me. “Stay” isn’t a word she’s mastered yet.
Jackson calls, “Hey, let her go. We’ll throw with her.”
Choosing to relax on the blanket rather than berate my child, I leave her leash on but let her go. She sprints straight toward Jackson. Traitor.
Angela leans back, face to the sun. Central Park in fall. There’s no better place when the weather’s right. And today, it’s stellar. Manhattanites are out in full force. We’ve claimed a nice area in a grass-covered field, quite a distance from the jogging path. The field is surrounded by trees, and in the distance, skyscrapers hover. Above, the sun shines warm, and the blue sky envelops us.
My heart races, and a light sweat beads on my forehead. I lean back like Angela, playing it cool. I inhale, filling my lungs to capacity, breathing in the crisp fall air.
Without opening her eyes, Angela asks, “So, what’s the story with Jackson? Chase hasn’t said much about him.”
I watch them playing. Their game has evolved into more about the dog fetching than any kind of true Frisbee game. “Hmmm. They were roommates both years of b-school for Chase, and for Jackson’s last two years of law.”
She opens her eyes. “Did you know Jackson well?”
“Kind of. We dated. Briefly.” I leave it at that. There’s no need to share more.
“Chase said he was a player. Did things not go well with you guys? Chase was a little worried he may have been a jerk to you.”
“No, actually, things were good. But we met our last semester. Bad timing, I guess. We had jobs in different cities.” Things didn’t end well, but I’ve never understood why. He asked me to move to Atlanta. No, he told me to move to Atlanta. That pissed me off. But then, from there, I’m not sure what happened. And if it didn’t make sense then to try to figure it out, it doesn’t make sense now.
“Well, now you both live in the same city. Same apartments. Any chance now? He keeps looking over here.”
I glance over at Jackson, but his back is to me as he jumps to catch a Frisbee. He almost gets knocked out by Chewie flying through the air in pursuit of the same flying disc.
“No. No chance.” She raises her eyebrows, silently asking for more. “He kind of reminds me of my ex. When I started seeing the controlling side of Jackson, I pushed away. Of course, the timing wasn’t right, and nothing would have happened with us, anyway. But, no, I have no desire to repeat my mistakes. And now, he’s kind of an ass. No, no chance.” I shake my head, firm in my answer.
Angela rolls on her side and holds her head in her hand. “Tell me about this ex. Was it serious?”
“Yeah. Four years.”
Her eyes pop open, and her eyebrows raise. “Four years! High school boyfriend?”
Yes, too many years. I sigh. “Junior and senior year of high school. Then freshman and sophomore years of college.”
“What was his name?”
“Evan.”
“First love, first everything?” she asks with a cute, teasing, tell-me-more smile.
“Yeah.”
“Didn’t go well?” she prods.
I sip my coffee before responding. “You could say that.” Saying it didn’t go well felt like an understatement. My first relationship had been a lonely prison. Escaping didn’t tear my family apart, but it created a divide. No part of me felt like dwelling on the painful piece of my past. Not on a beautiful day like this. Not when it was so far behind me. And not with Jackson within hearing distance.
I change the subject to her upcoming birthday party. Her parents are renting out a small Italian restaurant in the West Village.
“I’ve been asking Chase, but he’s been such a guy. What should I wear? Is this casual?”
Angela smiles, closing her eyes again as she basks in the sun. “Wear a cocktail dress.” Then she frowns. “No jeans, okay?” She opens her eyes and stares at me, wanting to ensure sure she has my attention.
I laugh. “Fine. Fine. No jeans. Message received. That’s why I asked.” I widen my eyes at her in mock irritation. “I’m allowed to wear jeans to work. I love jeans. But I do get dressed up from time to time.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll believe it when I see it. You could wear jeans, I guess. But it’s dressy. My parents are going all-out for this party. It’s my twenty-fifth birthday. They like to make a big deal of the fives and zeroes. We have the whole restaurant to ourselves, so you’ll be around my family and friends. I guess it doesn’t really matter what you wear.”
“I own some dresses. I’ll look presentable, promise.”
“My cousin David is going to be there.”
She’s mentioned this cousin before. “What’s on the menu?” I continue watching the guys toss the Frisbee, avoiding her gaze. I couldn’t care less what she’s serving, but I’m not interested in being set up on a date with her cousin. Jackson’s back is to me, and I can’t help but notice his strong calves and his nicely shaped ass. Judging from his biceps and the shape of his shoulders, he’s gained muscle since grad school.
Angela ignores my menu question. “You’re gonna like David. You two will hit it off.”
“Please, no…” I trail off as Jackson and Chase walk up and join us on the blanket.
Chase laughs. “Angela, give it up. You and the matchmaking.”
Angela groans, throwing up her hands in exasperation. “She and David are gonna hit it off. And if not him, I have others on my list. Anna never dates, and she should. She’s like the bloody Virgin Mary over here.”
“I’m not that bad,” I protest as Jackson mutters, “I doubt that’s true.”
What the hell?
Jackson tenses a bit as Angela glares at him. Seeming to catch himself, he rushes to cover his gaffe. “Yeah, I don’t blame you on the blind date thing. I’m not a fan either.”
Angela’s eyes narrow further.
Man, I love this girl. She packs an unexpected punch. Chase has definitely found a good one.
“What do you mean by you doubt that’s true?” Angela sits straight up. Her posture is aggressive, as if she might pull a weapon out from underneath the blanket and charge.
Oh, boy. Here goes. I love how Angela jumps in for her friends with a take-no-prisoners New York attitude. But Jackson’s a lawyer. Fighting with him is beyond exhausting. She has no idea what she’s getting into. And something tells me I’d be the subject getting battered in this fight. A fight I don’t understand.
“Sorry, wrong thing to say.” Jackson holds his hands up in surrender.
“Jeez! And it’s not a blind date if I’m just introducing them,” Angela snaps. Catching Chase’s warning eye, she changes the subject. “So, Jackson, are you getting settled now?”
Before Jackson can respond, Chase jumps in. “Anna, I’ve told Jackson you have lots of people you can introduce him to. Between us both, we can help him branch out and get settled here.”
I
nod, trying to think of who I know in the corporate executive world. I can’t really see the suit from yesterday blending in with any of my advertising friends. Other than Chase and a few other UNC alumni I hang out with, contrary to what Chase seems to believe, I don’t have a great many friends. I mean, I love dancing and bars and am familiar with bartenders and folks at the places I frequent. But I can’t see lawyer Jackson blending in at any of my haunts. He seems more of a fancy dinner sort of guy. Like a younger Harvey Specter from Suits.
Jackson seems to read my mind. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m not going to have a lot of time. I work long days and have a lot of client lunches and dinners. Not much time to meet a lot of new people and go out. If I had a lot of free time, I doubt I would have agreed to move to this city.”
The last part of his sentence is stated with tons of disdain. I do recall him saying something along the lines of, “No way in hell would I live in New York.”
“Give it time. It will grow on you. You’ve just got to find your favorite escape places,” I tell him.
His forehead wrinkles. “Escape?”
“Yeah, you know. Central Park. Along the river. Places to get off the streets. Jogging trails. A bit of nature.”
He tilts his head. “Are you a runner now? You didn’t used to run. Or at least you refused to go running with me.”
“I didn’t refuse. I was just busy.”
He ignores my defense. “If I remember correctly, you rode your bike to intramural soccer practice. And you point-blank told me you found running boring. At least, I think boring was the word you used. Do you run now?”
I laugh. “Noooo. But I walk Chewie. A lot. She’s a big girl.” And she is. She may weigh only sixty-five pounds, but add in her hair, and she’s the size of a miniature horse. Barely a year old, she’s still a puppy. Boundless energy.
Jackson nods. Angela leans back into Chase’s chest, using him as an armrest.
Jackson and I have our own corners of the oversized blanket, and Chewie comes and sits between us, bridging the divide. It feels normal. I find myself staring at him, taking him in. His forearm muscles ripple as he scratches Chewie. She rolls over on her back, asking for a tummy rub in the most unladylike way, legs spread wide. I roll my eyes at my shameless dog as Jackson obliges.
When The Stars Align Page 3