“I suppose I deserve that.”
“I’m not saying that to hurt you, Jen. I’m saying it because I’m scared it’s true.”
“I know I gave you reason to believe that.” She exhales. “But none of this happened because I can’t love both of you. It happened because Sawyer didn’t believe I could.”
“And you didn’t try to convince her otherwise,” I accuse, my pride getting the better of me.
“I did, actually. So did Colt. But neither of us got through to her. Between feeling abandoned by one parent and coddled by the other, it seems we gave her the impression it wasn’t possible to love multiple people.” She closes her eyes and sighs, defeated.
Her words hit me like I’ve been doused in cold water, and I stand there, stunned. I always assumed that she didn’t even try to reason with Sawyer. That she didn’t do anything to fight for us. To have done all of that to no avail must have broken her as well, and I’m overcome with guilt for believing I was the only one who felt broken.
She starts when she opens her eyes and finds me staring at her, speechless. “That surprises you?”
“Yeah.” I exhale. “That makes it sound like you did fight for us.”
“I did,” she whispers.
“And if you did fight for us then, I mean, you are in love with me?”
“I never said I wasn’t.” She meets my eyes then, tears streaming down her cheeks. Only she’s not looking at me with sadness, but with hope. I feel it, too, but I need to hear her say it. I need that to make it real.
“You never said you were, either.”
“I thought that would make leaving harder.” She chokes back a sob. “I thought keeping that to myself would make it easier for you to forget me. To move on.”
“I can’t forget you, Jen.” I step to her and thread my fingers in her silky hair, forcing her to look at me. “You fixed the broken pieces in me. You helped me feel again. You’re part of me now. I can never forget that.”
“Even if I left?”
“Especially if you left.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” She sniffs. “I broke your heart.”
“That’s exactly why it makes sense.” I see her confusion and continue. “Why do you think it took me so long to move on from Katie?”
“You loved her, and she was taken away from you.”
“That’s true. But I didn’t just love her. She was part of me. She smoothed out all my rough edges and set me on the path to become who I am. The same way you filled all the cracks left from her death and helped me feel whole again. When someone has that big an impact on you, they become part of you. So, whether you’re here or not, you will always be part of me.”
“Even though I broke your heart?” She searches my face.
“Maybe it doesn’t have to stay broken.” I stroke her cheek with my thumb. Slowly, tentatively, I pull her to me and place my lips on hers, holding my breath as I wait for her response. The tension leave her body as she exhales against my lips, and I deepen the kiss, knowing she’ll recognize my passion for what it is, an admission that she still has my heart, if she wants it.
I taste the salt of her tears on her lips and pull gently back, wiping them away as they leak out of her eyes. “Why are you crying?”
“How can you still want me after what I’ve done?” She sniffs.
“You make me whole.” I kiss her softly. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she sobs, the tears streaming down her face once again. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before.”
“It’s okay.” I pull her into me and wrap my arms around her. “I understand why you didn’t. But do you understand you're already part of me? And I want to be with you, no matter what it takes.”
“I want to be with you, too,” she whispers into my chest. “But how do we do this? Where do we start? I just took a job in another city, and in a few weeks, I’ll be homeless, and…” She trails off, overwhelmed.
“You will never be homeless.” I stroke her cheek. “We can handle whatever comes next. Let’s start by telling the kids their plan worked.”
“And after that?” she asks.
“After that, we fix your housing problem.”
“How?”
“I’ve got an idea.” I kiss her soundly, then take her to what I hope will be her new home. Mine.
Epilogue
***Jason***
I make my way over to the bar, looking for another beer to sip on as I wait for the opportunity to make a polite exit. I've heard it’s rude to leave before they cut the cake, but the second that’s done, I’m out of here. With any luck that will be soon, because I’d rather leave early than cause a scene.
I catch the bartender’s eye and he slides me another bottle, as if he can sense my sanity requires it.
“Not a fan of weddings?” he asks.
“That obvious?” I take a slow sip and scan the crowd, making sure a certain set of hazel eyes isn’t focused on me. I’m determined to avoid any confrontation, but if it’s going to happen, I want to see it coming.
“You haven’t strayed too far from the bar, but you’re nursing your drinks. The two don’t go together, especially at a wedding.”
Raising the bottle I give him a mock salute.
I still have trouble believing the turn of events that brought me here, face to face with the future I can’t have and the past I can’t escape. I’m sure there’s a lawyer joke in there somewhere, but right now I can’t find the irony in my business partner’s new wife having a business relationship with my ex, thrusting me into contact with the woman I once planned to marry, at a wedding no less.
I sip my beer, trying to keep my scowl at bay.
I’m not usually the resident asshole. There was a time I would have been considered the romantic. There was a time I would have enjoyed coming to weddings. Now they’re a painful reminder of the life I was supposed to have. The one with a happy ending.
Exhaling deeply, I shut my eyes, a quick breather before I go back on alert. I’ve managed to avoid Harper all day, sort of, but only because I’m hyper conscious of where she is. I've been keeping a constant lookout for her to make sure she doesn’t catch me off guard, and as a result, I’ve hardly been able to enjoy the festivities.
“I’d like to get all the single ladies out on the dance floor,” the band’s front man interrupts my painful walk down memory lane.
I let my attention drift back to the wedding and watch several ladies make their way to the dance floor, which is actually the flagstone patio of Chris and Lisa’s house, a contemporary vision that overlooks the city. Architecturally, its stunning, built by our good friend Anthony who has really made a name for himself in the industry. But before Lisa moved in it was a little cold, and Chris rarely entertained here, preferring his solitude. Now that she’s here, it feels like a home, warm and inviting. She really is good for him.
The ladies all make their way to the front of the patio where Lisa is holding her bouquet. She makes a show of pretending to throw the flowers behind her as the tradition goes, but at the last second, she pulls her arms down, bouquet in hand, and walks to her best friend Jen, Anthony’s girlfriend. Then she steps out of the way to reveal Anthony on bended knee. He takes the microphone from the band leader.
“Jen, we’ve only been together a few months, but in that time you brought me back to life and helped me find a happiness I thought I’d lost forever.” Their two kids emerge from the crowd to stand alongside them. The boy, Wes, puts his hand on his dad’s shoulder.
“Having you and Sawyer in our lives has felt right from the start, so I’d like to make it official. Will you marry me, and make us a family?”
Jen, whom I don’t know well but doesn’t strike me as the silent type, just stands there, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, until her daughter, Sawyer, nudges her and she seems to snap out of it. “Yes!” she cries.
Despite my foul mood, I can’t help but smile as I watch them come together, because Anthony is
another friend who deserves every bit of happiness. He lost his first wife tragically over a decade ago, and, though he’s always been a great dad, he’d been living a partial existence until Jen came along and taught him how to feel again. Now the guy I remember is back, and it’s all because of her.
That gives me a measure of hope, because if Anthony can get past a broken heart and find love again, maybe I can too. Although, the object of his heartbreak isn’t currently sidling up to him at the bar, as mine is. Dammit, I got distracted watching that proposal and she made her move. Sneaky bitch.
“Beautiful ceremony, don’t you think?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I grunt, taking a sip of my beer.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Chris look so happy. I guess I’ve just never seen him with the right person, and clearly Lisa is the right person.”
“Uh huh,” I nod curtly, careful not to look at her.
“And Lisa makes a stunning bride.”
“She does.”
“I’m so happy for them.” She's trying to catch my eye, but I’m determined not to look at her.
“Me too.” I’m perilously close to losing it with this stupid small talk, but for Chris and Lisa’s sake, I’m trying to stay in check.
“Look.” Harper steps into my line of sight and pins me with one of her penetrating stares, the kind only attorneys can give. “Lisa and I are sort of a package deal. I’m not giving her up just because Chris is your friend, just like I don’t expect you to give Chris up because I come with Lisa.”
“Your only interest in Lisa is financial. She makes you money,” I retort, careful to keep my gaze trained on the dance floor and not the woman next to me.
“We have a mutually beneficial financial arrangement, yes. But I like her, and I’m friends with her. That won’t change because of you.”
“What’s your point?” I take another sip.
“If you’re friends with Chris and I’m friends with Lisa, we’re bound to run into each other from time to time. We can at least be civil when it happens. I’m willing to forgive you and move on.”
“Forgive me? Are you serious?” I hiss through gritted teeth. “You’re the one who broke my trust, and you think I’m the one who needs to be forgiven?”
“I’m the one who was wrongfully accused of breaking your trust. If you hadn’t been so blinded by your perceived slight, maybe you’d have been able to look at the evidence without bias. But yes, I’m willing to forgive that.”
“I saw the evidence, Harper, it’s why we broke up in the first place, remember?” I hiss.
“Tell me, at any point when you were looking at the evidence, did you happen to look at the date of publication?”
I’m not expecting that, and I’m momentarily at a loss for words. “Why would I need to look at that? You think I wouldn’t recognize my own sex life depicted on the pages of your trashy book?”
“If you check the date, I think maybe you’ll recognize our sex life wasn’t the inspiration.”
“If it wasn’t ours, whose was it then?” I challenge.
“That’s something you never learned about my writing Jason,” she says tersely, “it comes from the imagination. Enjoy your evening.”
She stalks off and locates Jen to congratulate her on her engagement, leaving me to wonder what the hell she’s trying to tell me with that little remark, and why I care.
***
I hope you enjoyed Jen and Antony's story. For Jason and Harper's check out the next book in the Mile High Romance series, Willfully Malicious Intent. It's available on my website www.mlenardromance.com. Also, if you liked this book please leave a review.
Books in this series
Not So Friendly Intent
Purely Novel Intent
Totally Inevitable Intent
Willfully Malicious Intent
Thoroughly Innocent Intent
Strictly Forbidden Intent
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Acknowledgments: Thanks to my editor, Jessica Meigs, and my critique partner William Cowie. Cover design by Sweet N Spicy Designs.
Read on for a sneak peek at the short story, The Long Route.
Chapter 27
The Long Route
Charlie
The stunning brunette jogs by right on time, her long ponytail swishing with each step. As she passes me, I catch a whiff of something floral. Roses maybe? Lavender? Whatever it is it reminds me of summer, and the flowers that grew just outside my bedroom window.
Having it open was a compromise I made with my mother, who insisted I get fresh air if I wasn’t going to play outside with my brother. As a kid I didn’t really care what was growing out there, but I liked the smells that came in with the breeze, faint, just the way they are when my runner dashes by and the scent floats past.
Of course, it’s not only this girl’s scent that has me intrigued. It’s the lean legs poking out from her tiny running shorts. They’re the perfect mix of grace and power, and as a fellow runner I appreciate that combination.
Running was another compromise. Dad would have preferred I play a sport to stay active, football or soccer like my brother, but my hand-eye coordination is somewhat
lacking, and no one wants a guy who misses the ball on their team. It worked out in the end because I enjoy running, and still do it to this day, although I prefer early mornings instead of early evening. I suppose if I switched to an early evening schedule that would give me a reason to approach this woman, or at the very least signal to her that we have something in common, but I’m afraid that might change the interaction we have now, and I like what we have now.
Each day she passes by with barely more than a glance in my direction, although after that glance she bashfully averts her eyes. Sometimes she’ll glance over a second time, a little longer, and we’ll lock eyes. It’s brief, just long enough to acknowledge that we see each other, but it feels more significant than that. Like we’re the only two people in the park. But she keeps running, and I keep letting her go without trying to talk to her.
***
I sling my bag over my shoulder and jog toward the south quad, hoping I’m not too late. Class ran over because the professor was a little late, which normally wouldn’t bother me since I love class, but this time it interfered with my only window to see my runner. Since I don’t know anything else about her, like her name or where she lives, getting to the bench before she passes it is the only way I can be sure to see her.
She’s nowhere in sight by the time I get there, and I drop my bag on the bench in frustration. I don’t know how or why this whole ‘look but don’t touch’ thing we have going on gets me so excited, but I can’t get enough of it. Maybe the game speaks to my introverted personality, which she must have as well, because we both seem determined to be approached instead of doing the approaching. Ah well, maybe we’ll get another round tomorrow.
I reach for my bag and start to turn back towards my apartment, colliding with another body mid-spin. On instinct my arms shoot out to steady whoever I bumped into, and I find myself face to face with my runner.
“Whoa there. Sorry. Are you okay?”
“Didn’t you hear me coming?” She rests her hands on her hips, brow arched, though not in an irritated way. Inquisitive maybe. Or assessing. It makes me feel like I’m being scolded, and I’ve never been one to need scolding. It’s kind of exhilarating.
I pull my earbuds from my ears. “Didn’t you see me standing here?” I answer her question with one of my own, hoping my smile tells her I’m only kidding.
“I expected you to sit down. This is your usual spot, right?”
“You noticed?” I’m sure it’s not very suave to keep smiling like a loon, but her admission makes my day.
She rolls her pretty brown eyes. “Of course I noticed. I also noticed you watching me during my run the past few weeks.” Her voice rises a bit, almost like she’s hinting at something. It suddenly occurs to me that my
attention may have been unwanted. What if she was only paying attention to me because she was wary, not interested.
“Oh… I uh.” I push my glasses higher. “I mean…yes I watched you – you’re very beautiful – but I would never have approached you. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Well that’s a shame.”
“Excuse me?”
“I sort of wanted you to approach me.” She kicks at the ground with her tennis shoe.
“You did?”
“Why do you think I ran into you? You didn’t leave me any other choice, although that might have been a bad one.” She rubs her arm. “You’re sturdier than a brick wall.”
I glance down at myself. At nearly six-two I am pretty solid. Wait – she ran into me on purpose?
“Are you hurt?” I start to reach for her arm then pull back, unsure if my grip might hurt her more.
“Nothing permanent.” She smiles timidly and glances at the ground before meeting my gaze again, some of her earlier bravado giving way to uncertainty. It’s cute.
Flirtatious even.
“So, it’s okay that I like watching you run?” The corner of my mouth pulls up as I watch her fidget.
“Oh no.” Her brown doe eyes blink innocently, although her soft lips fight a smirk. “It’s rude to watch, unless you’re planning to ask me out?”
Yep, flirting. I’m rusty, but I can do this. “I can’t ask you out if I don’t know your name.”
“Brynn.” She bites her lip as she offers me her hand.
“Charlie.” I take it, her delicate grip sending a bolt of electricity up my arm. That’s unexpected, but not unwelcome. I think I’m smiling like a loon again. Chris would be mortified to call me his brother.
“So Charlie.” She bounces on the balls of her feet to keep her muscles warmed up. “When do I get to see you again?”
“What’s wrong with now?” I ask boldly. That would make Chris proud.
Totally Inevitable Intent Page 24