“A friend from New York.” How much did he hear? I lick my lips, dreading explaining about Marvin. Jack’s trust is like lace, filled with sharp edges and holes. Barely there. Delicate.
“How good of a friend?” he grinds out, his chest rising as he crosses his arms.
I flinch. There’s a sharpness to his tone that makes my skin crawl. Not that he would hurt me, but it’s as if he’s already judged me. I study his granite face, the careful way he’s holding himself, so still and frozen. He’s . . . angry.
I glance around. Everyone from the play has gone. Laura and Timmy must have left while I finished up my call.
“Jack . . .” I stand, my dress swishing around my legs. “Let’s go back to my house—”
“No,” he says coldly. “Let’s do this here. Explain that conversation to me.” He widens his stance. “Especially the part where you said, ‘Would you get a cut if Jack signed with Blue Stone through me?’ You were talking about me, and I know exactly who Blue Stone is.”
I could have handled the anger he’s feeling from hearing a one-sided conversation, but it’s the icy look in his eyes that tells me he’s not going to listen.
My heart dips. “Not here.” I want to be home, around my things. I need to sit down with him and explain about how I used to work at Blue Stone.
His chest rises. “I am not going back to your house after hearing what I just heard. Who is Marvin? Lay it out for me,” he barks.
I inhale a breath, my stomach in knots. I study his face, not recognizing him. “You’re reading into part of a one-sided conversation, one you didn’t hear all of. And don’t use that tone with me.”
“God damn it, Elena,” he says, stepping back from me as I jump down to the floor. “Don’t you dare do this to me. I trusted you.”
“You never trusted me.” I stop in front of him, adrenaline rushing, anger and fear of his insecurities riding me hard.
How can he judge me so fast?
Based on one comment?
And why did he sneak up behind me?
He shakes his head. “I did.”
“No, you didn’t! You’ve been waiting for a shoe to drop since you came back from seeing Sophia!”
“With good reason if you’re talking to Blue Stone.” His breathing increases as he seems to break and let go of himself. He scrubs at his face and pales, the enormity of something hitting him hard. “Shit, you . . . you played me so good. Sophia told me there was something, but I never dreamed—”
“You let her talk about me?” I suck in a breath. “That’s why you came back so strange. All it takes is a real conversation, Jack, something we don’t really have, and maybe we could have solved this. And as soon as this play is over, do you think we’ll ever see each other again? Have you even thought about it? We don’t talk about the future. We don’t make plans. Besides, since you had me investigated by Lawrence, surely you knew that I used to work at Blue Stone. I told you the night we met that I edited romance books!” I’m yelling, and I hate it.
He rakes a hand through his hair, his voice low, calm, and steely. “Stop stalling. Just tell me who he is, Elena.”
Dread fills me. I suspect it’s not going to matter what I say. “My old boss. He calls me all the time and offers me a job.”
His face flattens more. “And a book deal to sweeten it? How much money will you get?”
I close my eyes, emotion clawing at my throat.
He’s putting me in a category in his head, right up there with Sophia. Liar. User. Manipulator.
It slices right through me. He’ll never trust anyone. Ever.
He’ll never—
My hands tighten around my purse as I drape it over my dress.
“I want the whole truth. What do you plan to do with what you know about me? You know it all, don’t you? Stories about Harvey I never told anyone. How . . . unsure I get. My shoulder. Are you even on the pill?”
That slices into me deep like a knife, and I bite my lip, tears threatening, and I didn’t think he could hurt me any more, but he’s crushing me. Anger battles back, fighting as my throat tightens.
“I don’t owe you an answer to those questions,” I whisper. He already has my heart. And my pride holds me in her tight grasp, because why should I respond to such things when he should know how I am with him, he should know I . . .
He falls back on a chair, his head bent, shoulders hunched.
Tears come roaring back, and I can’t stop them this time when they fall down my face.
“Don’t cry, Elena, please. I can’t handle . . .” His voice is ragged, tired. Done.
I hang on to my purse, needing an anchor to hold me upright and away from him, because everything inside is battling to take him in my arms and beg him to see me.
“I love you,” I say, the words broken. “I knew you’d sweep me away—and in the end, you’d crush me. I stayed right with you all the way because I couldn’t bear to not be part of your world!”
He doesn’t move a muscle. “Sophia said she loved me too.”
I let out a harsh laugh. “Right. Silly me. All girls say that. But I’m not just any girl, Jack. I’m the girl. The one. The one we joked about at Milano’s that night we met. Deep down, I think you know—”
“I don’t know anything anymore.” He stands, a vulnerable, scared look on his face. His hands shake, and he sticks them in his jeans. He gulps in air. “I need . . . to get my stuff at your house.”
His laptop. His clothes he changed out of before we came. A funny mug he brought to drink coffee from with me in the mornings. A thriller he put on my coffee table.
He turns, then pauses and says, almost as an afterthought, “Do you need a ride?”
Is he serious? I can barely breathe and he’s . . .
I force control into my voice, but the edges tremble. “I’ll walk the two blocks. It’s a nice night. Please go ahead. The door is unlocked.”
His jaw pops as he throws a look at me. The scared look is gone, replaced by a blank face except for a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I brought you. I can take you home.”
I gaze at a point over his shoulder. “I don’t want to be there when you walk out, Jack.”
He hesitates for a second, then pivots and stalks away, shoulders swaying as he moves out of the gym exit and into the hallway. I bite my tongue to keep from calling him back to beg him to just believe in me.
I hear a door shut from the stage and turn to see Giselle there, horror on her face. “Elena, I’m so sorry I heard . . . I was grabbing some of the props, and then you two started talking . . . and . . .”
“It’s okay,” I push out, but I’m not okay.
I’m not. I’m not.
She drops her purse and runs to me and wraps her arms around me as I burst out crying anew. Her hand brushes at my hair. “You’re shaking all over, Elle. Let it out, sweetheart; no one is here but me.”
All I see in my head is his back. Walking away.
I love him. I love him.
And he’s throwing it all away.
He’s dismissing us without even trying.
He’s letting go of us.
Emotion pummels me, and I weep on her shoulder for a long time, the finality of his words playing over and over in my mind.
She stares down at me. “What can I do?”
I close my eyes. “Nothing.”
“I can kick him in the nuts.”
I laugh hoarsely, not meaning to, but the image of Giselle attacking Jack . . .
She takes my hand, lacing our fingers together like we used to when we whispered secrets to each other when we were little. She wipes my face. “Come on, Elle. Let’s get you home.”
Home.
I nod, and we leave the gym, the stillness of the dark hall a reflection of my heart. We get in her car and sit there for a few moments, both of us staring straight ahead, absorbing. I feel numb. Tired. I picture him walking through my house, gathering his small amount of belongings, and leaving.
God. I took too many chan
ces. I accepted each day as it came, hoping that I’d get a little more.
Love is messy, and it takes two people to work at it, two willing people.
Jack will never let his heart go. Emptiness gnaws at me as I think about tomorrow. And the next day. Emotion builds again, and I clench my hands, keeping it at bay.
Giselle holds my hand.
“I think he’d be gone by now,” I say after a long exhale.
She cranks the car, and we drive to the house and head inside. His car is gone, of course. Topher meets us in the kitchen, eyes on me, worried. “What’s going on? Jack came in, then left. He looked . . . messed up.”
Giselle explains in a halting voice, from the conversation with Marvin to the one with Jack, and I head to the cupboard and get out the Pappy, pouring us all a drink.
I hand Giselle her glass, my hands shaky. I inhale a deep breath and look at Giselle . . . “Where’s your ring?” I ask, shoving Jack down deep and focusing on my sister.
She starts and blinks. “Elena, let’s talk about you and how you’re going to get through this play—”
“What happened?” I say, frowning.
She swallows a sip. “I ended the engagement with Preston today.”
“What did he do?”
“Um, sexting with his secretary at the law office. Found them on his phone yesterday. Very descriptive. Boob pics. The usual sordid shit.” She swallows her drink.
Giselle never curses.
“That sonofabitch,” I mutter.
“Asshole.” Topher shakes his head.
Her blue eyes find mine. “I suspected something for a while. Those Saturdays at work. Late evenings.”
“What is wrong with men?” I pour myself another shot. “Except for Topher. We love you.”
“Good to know,” he says, his gaze still watching me carefully.
She grimaces, staring into her glass. “Will you ever forgive me, Elena? I’m sick over it still. Dating him was stupid. Thank God I never slept with him. I think he put a ring on it just so I’d do it.”
I cough as my drink goes down. “What the hell? You’re still a virgin? At twenty-three? I just figured at some point . . .” I gape at her. She barely dated in high school. She never brought guys home from college.
She snorts. “You should see your face.”
I shake my head at her. “You’re an innocent! You have no experience with jerks like him. No wonder you fell under his spell! Oh my God. I will kill him.”
She sighs, that anxiousness still on her face, and I know what she wants. She needs to hear it from me because she never has.
I sigh too. “I forgive you, Giselle. I did a long time ago. He is a mere speck, and you are my blood, and I love you fiercely, and nothing comes between family. It’s all I have, and it means everything to me. This house, this small town, our memories. Do you know how lucky we are? Some families can’t even stand to be in the same room with each other—they give up, but I won’t. I won’t. You are my sister forever.” I feel tears itching to get out again. “Plus, you loved him. And I didn’t, because I know what love really is. I love Jack.” Those last words are whispered.
She bites her lip and hugs me. Pulling away, she says, “I’m sorry. And Jack is just scared. That day they came to clean up, he never stopped looking at you. You walked in the kitchen, and he followed. You went outside—he did. He watched you like you were the sun to his moon. The way you two say your lines . . .”
“That’s pretend,” I say. “For the play. Which is really going to suck.” I inhale a deep breath. How will I get through it?
“No, it wasn’t, Elena. He loves you.”
My lashes flutter. “Yeah, then where is he now?”
Chapter 30
JACK
I don’t recognize myself. What is this god-awful despair pricking at my chest? This sick feeling in my gut? Nausea rises and bubbles in my stomach, and I jerk the wheel of the Porsche off the interstate and onto the shoulder. Deep breaths rise from my chest.
I open the car door and run for the grass on the other side of the road, bend over, and vomit. Elena. Elena. How could you? How could you rip apart that tiny faith I hadn’t realized I needed so badly, that fragile conviction and hope that you were different from all the rest? My head spins, and I clench my hands and lean against the car. She said he was a friend. She asked him what his cut would be.
It’s my phone ringing in the car that brings me back.
Inhaling deep, I manage to get back in the car and pick it up.
“What the hell was that voice mail, Jack?”
Lawrence. I called him as soon as I got in the car. I don’t even know what I said, still reeling from walking out of Elena’s house.
“Elena used to work for Blue Stone. She was there when Sophia was there. Why didn’t you know?” My voice is like gravel, dragged through rocks, slapped against boulders. “You didn’t do your job.”
“That never popped up.” There’s a silence on the phone. “I told you to get her to sign that NDA.”
Remorse settles on my shoulders.
He continues. “You should have listened to me, and we wouldn’t be here.”
My head falls back against the headrest. Exhaustion hits. Hearing her say those words to Marvin, her refusal to explain herself, her declaration of love, so soon after Sophia’s . . .
“I don’t need you telling me I told you so, Lawrence.”
He pauses. “Okay, let me talk to her and see exactly where she is with this.”
My teeth grind. “She won’t tell you anything.”
“Then you talk to her.”
“I can’t. I just fucking can’t. She makes me want to . . .” I close my eyes.
Because if she cries . . . if she looks at me with those big eyes . . . I just might—
“Fine. I can cut to the chase and find out what her plans are.”
“She knows everything,” I mutter. “How we handled Sophia, Aiden helping . . .” Shit, I hadn’t even thought of that.
“The shoulder surgery?”
“Yes.”
“Jack, fuck, why?”
Because I . . .
Because I . . .
I slam my fist against the steering wheel. “Just handle it. I can’t talk to her.”
Because I might lose it.
Can’t even fathom the emotion clawing at my chest.
Even when Sophia announced her book, there was never this feeling of . . . despair.
“I need the space.”
“Space? You can’t quit that play.”
“Never said I was.” My voice shakes, wrestling for control.
How the hell am I going to face her again?
It’s nearly eleven by the time I finally get home to the apartment. That knot in my gut still hasn’t receded. I can’t focus, barely getting my key in the door.
Devon meets me at the door, obviously ready for bed, his feet bare, a pair of pajama pants on.
“Lawrence called me. You look like shit.”
I brush past him and head to the kitchen. “Where’s the vodka? The good stuff.”
“Freezer.” He’s followed me, frowning. “Are you okay?”
“No. But I will be.” I pull out the Grey Goose, pour half a glass, and take a long drink. I fill it up. “Real soon.”
“Tell me exactly what happened.” He takes a seat at the counter.
“It’s the usual. Girl meets boy. Knows who he is from the get-go, maybe. Spends time with him. Knows his secrets. Betrays him.”
“Really? Did she actually say that? Because I know you. You shut down when shit happens. You don’t talk and you—”
“She didn’t explain it.”
Devon heaves out a breath, hard eyes on my face. “But it’s Elena. Think—”
“No thinking,” I grind out, then take another gulp. I slam the glass back down on the counter. “Are you going to drink with me or not?”
He searches my face, and I know what he sees. Haggard face. Stooped shou
lders. Fucking deceived. Again.
He gives me a sharp nod. “Pour it. Tomorrow we talk.”
The next morning, Devon walks in my bedroom and yanks on the blinds. Sunlight blares in the window.
“Get up, asshole. You missed your workout at the stadium, and Aiden’s been calling wanting to know why.”
Grunting, I sit up in bed. “Tell him to fuck off.”
Devon stares at me, sweeping his gaze over the empty bottle of vodka on the nightstand. “Been years since you got trashed, Jack. Not you.”
I ignore him and scrub my face, weaving as I stand up. I move toward the shower. “What time is it?”
“Noon.”
I start, my past dancing in front of me, the booze I consumed in my early twenties. It was nearly three o’clock in the morning before I passed out in the bed, replaying Elena’s conversation in my head a thousand times. “Don’t tell Aiden shit. I’ll call him tomorrow or something.” That’s the last thing I need, my backup knowing about Elena.
“Okay. Lawrence came by earlier. He drove to Daisy this morning and was there when she opened the library.”
Unease lands, snaking inside me.
“And?”
“He asked her to sign the NDA.”
Anxiousness builds, my heart pounding. “What did she say?”
“More like what she did. She ripped it up and threw it in his face. Topher tossed him out of the library.”
My head throbs, and I squint. “Did she now?” I picture her in her little skirt, hair up, face red with anger like last night, eyes blazing. “Figures.”
“Hmm. She isn’t an NDA girl, Jack. She’s the one you keep.” He lingers at the door. “I called her.”
“Why?” I snap.
“Because I don’t think she’s—”
“What did she say?” And I hate the words, because they sound weak, and my chest hurts. I rub at it.
“She’s as tight lipped as you are. The girl is a vault, Jack. I don’t buy for a minute that she’s talking to anyone about you. She isn’t like that, and if you’d just stop—”
I feel dizzy. “I let go with her, Devon. I . . . I . . .”
“You fell in love.”
My entire body shudders. Love? Love.
I don’t even know what that is. I know that it’s dangerous.
Not My Romeo Page 27