Just Jilted

by Lila James

  When I got back to the apartment, I stood outside Liz’s bedroom door for a full twenty minutes. I missed my best friend, and I desperately needed to confess my transgression, even though I knew she would call me out for my hypocrisy. I raised my hand to knock on her door when I heard her clear her throat behind me.

  I whirled around. Liz stood there, clutching her purse and several shopping bags. Hmm. She must have been on one of the early post-breakup steps I’d followed after my “wedding”: Retail Therapy. She did not look at all thrilled to see me standing there. Before I could speak, Liz held up her hand.

  “It’s good you’re moving out—we need some time apart. I just can’t talk to you right now. I’m sorry.”

  And with that, Liz went into her room and closed the door on my face. I stared at the door in shock. Jilted by my fiancé and dumped by my best friend. Things were going swimmingly.

  I was in such a grumpy mood the next day that I considered not going to Emma and Daniel’s dinner party. But then Jackson would think the kiss had shaken me so much that I couldn’t face him, something that would do wonders for his already tremendous ego.

  So I met Douglas at his place later that day, and we took a long cab ride out to Queens. In the cab, Douglas reached for my hand. He gazed at me for such a long time that I began to shift uncomfortably in my seat. Could he sense my guilt?

  “What?” I asked, bracing myself for the worst.

  “Nothing,” Douglas said, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb. “I just feel lucky to have the most beautiful woman in New York City.”

  “Sweet,” our eavesdropping cab driver cooed. “Are you two married?”

  Oh God. I had to put a stop to this. I looked at Douglas, on the verge of spilling everything. But I had to try something first.

  “Come here,” I whispered, leaning in for a kiss. Douglas kissed me. It was pleasant, but nothing compared to Jackson’s kiss. Damn it.

  “What was that for?” Douglas asked, looking pleasantly surprised as I pulled back.

  I reached up to touch his cheek. “For being you.”

  “Please invite me to the wedding,” the nosy cab driver interjected.

  I knew that I couldn’t confess my little infidelity in front of the cab driver, who was mentally picking out china patterns for us. Again, I decided to wait.

  The cabbie dropped us off in front of Emma and Daniel’s home ten minutes later after suggesting several names for our future children. Douglas was still chuckling over our romantic cab driver as we approached the front door. But I was preoccupied, fully aware that Jackson was inside. I could already hear voices from within the house as we reached the door.

  “You OK?” Douglas asked. “Haven’t you been here before? Why do you look so terrified?”

  “Must have been something I ate. My stomach’s still kind of queasy from last night,” I said, giving him the brightest smile I could muster. Emma swung open the door before I could knock.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Adrian! And this is … ?”

  “I’m her boyfriend, Douglas,” Douglas said, taking her hand.

  “An Englishman? Oh, be still my heart,” Emma said, fanning herself. “I hate to step on your toes, Adrian, but if I weren’t married …”

  “I can hear you, Mrs. Taylor,” Daniel said with a grin, approaching the door and gesturing for us to come inside.

  He embraced me and introduced himself to Douglas. As Emma took my purse, I attempted to make small talk by asking about Samantha, who was at her sitter’s. Emma urged us to head into the living room. I led Douglas inside, my heart racing. There were several other people already there. I recognized Lori and Trey, one of the couples Jackson and I interviewed, and I raised my hand in greeting. I searched for Jackson and spotted him as he emerged from the kitchen with a bottle of wine, engaged in a heated debate with the man following him.

  His eyes were dancing as he threw his head back and laughed at something his companion said. His eyes met mine, and my heart rate increased.

  But Jackson simply smiled and held up his hand in a casual salute. Katerina emerged from the kitchen with a woman, also laughing heartily. When she reached his side, he put the bottle of wine down and looped his arms around her shoulders, leaning down to drop a passionate kiss on her lips. A few of the people around them cheered, and someone urged them to “get a room.”

  I forced myself to tear my eyes away. It really was as if I had imagined that kiss between us, and now we were just polite strangers.

  “Adrian?” Douglas asked, placing his hand on my arm.

  “Let me introduce you to the people I know,” I said, forcing a bright smile and linking my arm through his. I made myself lead him toward Jackson and his companions.

  “Hi, Jackson. Katerina,” I said, surprised at how casual my voice sounded despite my inner turmoil. I really should have won an Oscar for my performance.

  “Adrian,” Katerina said, her mouth already twitching in dislike. The woman could really hold a grudge.

  “You must be Douglas. How are you, man?” Jackson asked, barely looking at me.

  “Fantastic.” Douglas shook his outstretched hand. I stared at Jackson, willing him to look in my direction, but he looked down at Katerina instead, whispering something in her ear.

  “We’re going to take our seats,” he said, still not looking at me. “See ya. It was nice to meet you, Douglas.”

  And they were gone. I stood there, completely floored. I thought he would just pretend our kiss had never happened, not that I didn’t exist. I barely paid attention to the other people we introduced ourselves to, and I caught Emma’s observant gaze on me several times.

  Douglas and I took our seats at the table, on the far opposite end of the table from Jackson and Katerina. The meal was delicious, and I tried my best to enjoy myself. I joined in on the conversations around me every once in a while, but all I could hear at the other end of the table was Jackson’s voice. He was the life of the party, telling lively story after lively story. Every so often, Katerina would lean over and nuzzle his ear or kiss him on the cheek. It was as if she were going out of her way to mark her territory. Not that Jackson seemed to mind. In fact, he would sometimes return the gesture. It was sickening. I barely touched my food while watching their overly abundant public displays of affection.

  “So, Adrian,” Daniel called from the opposite end of the table. “How is the article coming along? My brother treating you OK?”

  Every single eye (expect for Jackson’s, I noted furiously) was now trained on me.

  “We kissed!” I wanted to scream. “It was a Top Three Lifetime Kiss! Maybe even a number one! I could barely breathe! And now he won’t even look at me!”

  But of course I didn’t say that. Even though it would have been quite entertaining.

  “Great. Everything’s great,” I said with forced brightness.

  “We should be done by the end of next week. Just one more week of having to tolerate each other,” Jackson said, smiling at Daniel.

  “Let’s all have a toast to Adrian,” Daniel said with a grin. “For tolerating my brother for so long.”

  “Here, here!” Jackson said, still not looking at me, and everyone raised their glasses for a toast. Emma, I noticed, kept her discerning gaze on me for the duration of the toast.

  The remainder of the dinner party went by quickly, and pretty soon everyone was on their feet, saying their goodbyes. As Douglas chatted up the couple who sat next to us, I continued to watch Jackson out of the corner of my eye. He was standing apart from everyone else with his arm around Katerina’s waist. He leaned down to whisper something in her ear, and she laughed huskily.

  “Hey, Adrian,” Emma said, stepping into my field of vision, blocking the sight of Jackson. “How about we get your purse?”

  “Um, s-sure,” I stammered, giving Jackson one last look and trailing Emma to the back room. As soon as we were inside, she closed the door behind her and faced me, her expression serious.

>   “What happened between you and Jackson?” she asked.

  I looked down. Had Jackson said something?

  “Nothing,” I lied, unable to look her in the eye.

  “Adrian. I know Jackson, and I can read him like a book. He’s going out of his way to ignore you. Did you sleep together?”

  I gasped, shaking my head. “No! Emma, look, I really like you, but I don’t feel comfortable talking about this.”

  “I know I’m being nosy. But I care a lot about Jackson. And all I can say is that he’s not a jerk. God, he’d kill me for telling you this, but he’s been hurt. Badly. So he’s protective of his feelings. He likes you, Adrian. I’m pretty sure of it. But for whatever reason, he’s not letting himself.”

  I stared at Emma in disbelief. Jackson had not shown any signs of being interested in me other than the kiss, which he obviously felt disgusted over. I shook my head.

  “I don’t think that’s true. He’s doing a great job of showing me he likes me by making out with Just Katerina.”

  “Just Katerina? That’s the nickname Danny and I have for her, too!” Emma said, grinning. “What’s with the one name? Who does she think she is? Madonna? All kidding aside … I think Jackson really cares about you.”

  “You two making out in there?” Daniel interrupted from the other side of the door. “Because if you are, there’s about a dozen guys out here who would love to see the show!”

  “Gosh, I married a classy guy,” Emma said, winking at me as she headed to the door to swing it open. “Just think about what I said.”

  I nodded. Emma swung open the door. Daniel and Douglas stood there, grinning like idiots.

  “You missed out! She’s a great kisser,” Emma joked, linking her arm through Daniel’s. “Let’s go say goodbye to everyone.”

  Douglas approached me, reaching out to take my hand. Kind, sweet, sexy, innocent Douglas. I searched his face, wishing he gave Top Three Lifetime Kisses.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” I echoed. I decided to try again, reaching up to kiss him. He responded, kissing me back passionately. But the kiss still paled in comparison to Jackson’s.

  “You two should close the door next time.”

  We broke apart. Jackson stood by the doorway, looking past me at Douglas. He gave Douglas a smile, completely ignoring me as he grabbed Katerina’s purse.

  “Carry on,” he said abruptly, closing the door behind him.

  “He gave us permission,” Douglas said, starting to lean in for another kiss.

  “We should go,” I said, deflated by Jackson’s blatant indifference. As much as I liked Emma, she was way off when it came to decoding men’s feelings.

  When Douglas and I emerged from the bedroom, I could see that Jackson and Katerina had already gone. We said our goodbyes to Daniel and Emma, who gave me a meaningful look before we left.

  The entire way back to Manhattan, I tried to listen as Douglas told me an engaging story about the couple he’d chatted with at the party. But all I could think about was Jackson: Jackson all over Katerina, Jackson’s look of disgust after he kissed me, Jackson avoiding my eyes the entire time at dinner.

  “Adrian?” Douglas asked.

  “Mm?” I answered, still lost in my thoughts.

  “Home sweet home,” he said. I straightened in my seat. The cab had arrived at Douglas’s apartment building. “Coming up?”

  But I knew I couldn’t come up. I stared at him for a long moment, knowing what I had to do. It wasn’t fair for me to pretend I was invested in him when all I could think about was Jackson. It was time for brutal honesty.

  “Meter’s running,” our cab driver snapped.

  “Douglas.” My eyes filled with tears. “We have to talk.”

  Douglas seemed to read all that I was going to say in my expression. He closed his eyes.

  “Bollocks,” he muttered.

  “Meter!” the cab driver repeated, twisting around in his seat and glaring at us. He was the polar opposite of the romantic cab driver who’d driven us into Queens. “We all know the drill. ‘It’s not you, it’s me. I hope we can still be friends.’ Now, are you going to have that conversation here in my cab or outside?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  It’s Not You, It’s Me

  We got out of the cab at the insistent urging of our cab driver, who had either gone through many breakups himself or had witnessed too many of them in his cab.

  As the cab sped off, Douglas sat down on the curb, looking down at his knees. I felt terribly, terribly guilty, but I knew I couldn’t continue feigning a relationship with him. Not when Jackson was starting to occupy every corner of my mind.

  “It’s that guy, isn’t it?” Douglas asked, looking up at me.

  “What guy?” I asked, biding for time.

  “That Jason or Jackson guy.”

  I flushed. Dear God, was I that obvious? Had everyone at the dinner party, including Jackson, noticed me staring at him?

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  I honestly wasn’t sure what my feelings were for Jackson. I did know that I was attracted to him, despite the fact that he was egotistical, condescending, and quite obviously a player. He could easily cheat on Just Katerina and ignore me with incredible ease. Maybe he did that all the time, I thought as my stomach tightened. Douglas snorted, bringing me back to the present.

  “All this time I was worried about you still being hung up on your ex. I hadn’t even thought about that writer guy,” he said, getting to his feet.

  “It’s not like that. Maybe I just wasn’t ready to get involved with anyone. Maybe it was too soon. I don’t know. I’m sorry. You’re so great. Amazing. It’s not—”

  “‘You, it’s me,’” Douglas concluded, shaking his head. “The cab driver was right, wasn’t he?”

  I said nothing. But it was me, not him. There was a reason that line was used so much in breakups. Marcus had even used that line on me, in some form. I was the one who couldn’t stop obsessing over a man I didn’t really know. I was the one who already had a great guy. Yes, I had to work to create sparks that should have been there naturally, but there was nothing wrong with Douglas. It was all me.

  “I guess this is it,” Douglas said now, turning to look at his apartment building. “Goodbye. Thanks for the memories.”

  “Douglas,” I said, but he was already heading to his building. He stopped in his tracks, turning and taking my arm, leading me to the corner.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, terrified. Was he going to throw me into oncoming traffic?

  “I may be angry, but I’m still a gentleman. Let me at least see you to a bloody cab.”

  “You don’t have to,” I said, but Douglas waved off my protest.

  He flagged down a cab and opened the door for me. I turned, embracing him before he could walk away. He stood frozen in my embrace for a moment before placing a reluctant kiss to my forehead.

  “Goodbye, Adrian.” And then he was gone.

  I sat in the cab on the way back to Liz’s apartment in a daze. Jackson was right about Douglas: he had just been a rebound after all. And despite my guilt, I felt as if a huge burden had been lifted from my shoulders. Douglas was definitely attractive and charming—we just weren’t right.

  Liz was holed up in her room as usual when I came home, and I once again battled with the urge to knock on her door and make nice before deciding against it. Liz had made it clear she needed time away from me, and my pride had already suffered enough. Besides, I was moving out next week. She’d miss me enough to break down and call me. At least, I hoped she would.

  The rest of the weekend I struggled with my guilt over ending my relationship with Douglas. I tried to rationalize that it was all for the best, that the end of my Rebound Relationship had brought me further along in getting over Marcus completely. But I had barely thought about Marcus much lately, especially since I’d kissed Jackson. I didn’t want to go through the whole process of surgically removing one man f
rom my heart only to repeat the process with another (unavailable) man.

  I resolved to keep professional distance between Jackson and me. Once we did our final interview and completed the final draft of the article before turning it in, I’d never have to see him again or think about his lips on mine or Just Katerina or Emma’s attempted words of reassurance. I would be happily single, without jilting fiancés or rebounds or arrogant but handsome coworkers. Life would go on. But the thought brought me little comfort.

  Monday arrived, the day of our interview with Mom and the Zygote. For the interview, I’d arranged with Jackson—via e-mail, of course, as I couldn’t bring myself to call him—to meet Mom and the Zygote at his apartment in Chelsea. I was curious to see where the Zygote lived and how he lived.

  Mom answered the door. I could immediately tell something was wrong. For one thing, she was dressed—for lack of a better word—tramp-ishly. She was clad in a tight purple mesh top and low-rise jeans that even I was too old to wear, and she wore way too much makeup. She also had a pinched expression on her face. It was the same expression I’d seen right after one of her and Dad’s epic fights during their marriage.

  “Mom, are you all right?”

  “Come in, come in. Where’s Jackson?” she asked, ignoring my question.

  “He’s on his way. I’m a little bit early,” I said. “Are you OK?”

  “If it isn’t the lovely Adrian,” Laurence said before Mom could reply, coming down the hallway and kissing me on both cheeks. He looked completely relaxed. The polar opposite of Mom. But something was definitely going on.

  “Hello, all,” Jackson’s booming, cheerful voice announced from behind me. I stiffened, urging myself to stay cool.

  Jackson entered, a satchel draped over his arm. He gave me a courteous smile and moved past me to embrace Mom and give Laurence (whose eyes lit up at his presence) a man hug.

  Laurence led us into the living room, and I stopped trying to figure out what was bothering Mom to focus on ignoring Jackson’s disarming presence.

  For a zygote, Laurence had an enviable apartment. It was huge and sprawling, decked out with a parlor (!), kitchen, living room, three bedrooms that I could see, and a spectacular view of the city. He obviously did well for himself. It made the studio I’d fallen in love with look like a low-end roach motel.