by Beth Orsoff
I glanced at my watch. Where was that goddamn pizza already? They said forty to fifty minutes, and it had already been an hour. All I had in the house to eat was a wilted bag of salad and some stale tortilla chips. Note to self: Go to the grocery store!
“So how long have you been at Morris Mitchell?” I asked. “I’m assuming a while since your name’s on the door.” I already knew the answer—I’d Googled him and found an interview he’d given on some sports blog. But work was always a safe subject. Maybe if I kept him talking, he’d forget about my “Promise me you won’t lie to me, Jake.”
I winced just thinking about it. I mean, yes, generally speaking, I’d prefer someone tell me the truth. But it wasn’t like I’d been honest with him. He still believed we met at the wedding and not at Lux the night before. Although that was just because I’d never be able to face him if he knew the truth. I hadn’t lied about anything else and didn’t intend to. And all I’d really meant to say was please tell me if you’re sleeping with anyone else. I was going to make him use a condom either way, but if he was screwing another woman, I’d rather know in advance.
He kept talking and I kept drinking. And before I knew it, the bottle was empty. “Wow, how did that happen?”
“It’s a mystery,” he said, then took the empty wineglass from my hand and set it down on the coffee table. “Would you like a beer?”
“No, I’m good.” I was already feeling woozy. “Do you want to go upstairs?” The pizza still hadn’t arrived, but I was afraid if we waited any longer, I’d fall asleep.
He swallowed hard. “Upstairs?”
I assumed he would understand the implication, but what did I know? I’d never done this before. “To my bedroom. I think we’d be more comfortable than on the couch, don’t you?”
He grasped both of my hands and my whole body tingled. Then he mumbled something that sounded a lot like, “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” before he said, “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
I yanked my hands away. “What do you mean, it’s not a good idea? If you didn’t want to sleep with me, then why did you come over here?”
I didn’t have a lot of experience with one-night stands, or any, really, but I’d done my share of dating, and I was pretty sure the universal thinking was that when a woman invited you back to her house, the odds were you were going to get laid.
“Samantha, I most definitely want to sleep with you. Don’t think for a second that’s why I’m hesitating.”
“Then what? Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No.”
“A wife?”
“Of course not!”
I don’t know why he was so offended. Most of my clients had either cheated on their spouses or had been cheated on. Dating wasn’t much different. “Then why is this a bad idea? Am I not pretty enough for you? Do you only sleep with models and actresses?” LA was filled with them, and the men who salivated over them. It was hard for ordinary girls like me to compete. Especially since I actually had a job and couldn’t spend three hours a day at the gym.
“Don’t put yourself down. You’re a beautiful woman, Samantha. You’re just not…”
“Not what?”
“A one-night stand. I’m sorry, but you’re just not.”
Maybe it was all the wine, but I thought that was the funniest thing I’d ever heard.
Chapter 32
Jake
A beautiful woman invites me back to her house, gets drunk, and suggests we go up to her bedroom, and I turn her down. There is definitely something wrong with me. But he knew it was the right call. She wasn’t some stranger he’d picked up in a bar. She was the sister of his best friend’s sister-in-law, which meant they were practically family. If he screwed her over, he’d never hear the end of it.
But why did she have to be so damn sexy? And the fact that she had no clue how attractive she was only made her sexier. The brains were a bonus too. She was the whole package. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him? He should take her upstairs right now and fuck her. It was what they both wanted.
It was all that “tell me the truth, Jake,” talk. She was so vulnerable. He didn’t want to take advantage of her. But was it taking advantage if she wanted it too? Although she’d drunk most of the bottle of wine. He doubted she’d be inviting him up to her bedroom if she were sober. But she’d invited him to her house when she was sober. That counted for something, right? Why was he overthinking this? He was turning into a goddamn woman!
This is ridiculous. Just take her to bed and worry about the consequences later. You’re a man, for fuck’s sake. Act like it.
Chapter 33
Samantha
I’d just wiped the tears from my eyes when he leaned over and kissed me. His lips were so soft and his tongue was so velvety I could’ve jumped him right there on the sofa. When we stopped to breathe, I was afraid to speak, afraid I’d break the spell. He broke it for us.
“You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. Let’s go upstairs.”
Even in my drunken state, I was curious what had caused him to change his mind—did I kiss like a one-night stand and he’d revised his opinion of me? But I decided I could wait until after we’d had sex for an answer.
I grabbed his hand and led him to the staircase. I knew I had condoms in my nightstand—I’d bought a whole box for the last guy and he’d only lasted one night—but were they still good? Did condoms expire? I couldn’t think of a reason why they would, but water bottles had expiration dates, and I’d never understood that either.
We were almost to the top of the steps when I heard the squeal of tires in my driveway. We both stopped and turned around. Two beams of light flashed into my living room, then a car door slammed shut.
“It must be the pizza,” I said. About time they showed up—almost an hour late! I was never ordering from that place again.
“I’ll get it,” Jake said and jogged down the staircase. But before he could unlock the front door, it opened from the outside.
Chapter 34
Jake
“Who the hell are you?” the woman shouted.
He hadn’t even formulated an answer when Samantha ran down the steps. “Whitney, what are you doing here?”
Ah, Samantha’s sister. She looked different than she had at the wedding. Her hair was disheveled, and she had makeup smudges under her eyes. She appeared as if she’d been crying. Jake stepped aside so she could come in, but she remained in the doorway staring at Samantha.
“You’re drunk,” she finally said, then glared at Jake as if he had personally poured the alcohol down her sister’s throat.
“No, I’m not,” Samantha said with a slight slur. “Just buzzed.”
Whitney nodded toward Jake. “And who is this?”
He held his hand out. “Jake Jensen. I’m a friend of your sister’s.”
Whitney eyed him up and down. “A friend, huh?”
“Yes,” Samantha said. “Now tell me what you’re doing here. I thought you weren’t coming back until Sunday. Where’s Michael?”
At the mention of her new husband’s name, she started to cry. That couldn’t be good. “I think I should leave you two alone.” He didn’t want to be in the middle of the drama.
“Don’t go!” Samantha said, followed by Whitney’s, “Yes, you should.”
Jake kissed Samantha on the cheek. “Your sister’s right.”
Whitney glared at him through wet eyes. “How do you know I’m her sister?”
“He was at your wedding, dumbass.”
Whitney eyeballed him, then said, “Wait a minute. I know who you are. You’re that guy from—”
“The wedding,” Samantha shouted. “You met him at your wedding.”
They stared at each other for a moment, silently communicating to one another in a language Jake didn’t understand. Then Whitney turned back to him. “That’s right. Sorry I didn’t recognize you. There were a lot of peopl
e there that day. I’m Whitney Haller. Or Whitney Solomon. Or”—the tears started flowing again—“I’m not sure anymore.”
Definitely time for him to leave.
“Maybe you should go,” Samantha said.
“Whatever you want,” Jake replied. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Would he call her tomorrow? He usually wasn’t so specific. He normally ended dates with a vague “let’s talk soon.” He wasn’t himself with Samantha, but he wasn’t entirely sure that was a bad thing.
Chapter 35
Samantha
I pulled Whitney into the kitchen, sat her down on a barstool, and handed her one of Jake’s beers. “Talk.”
“Michael hates me,” she said as the tears streamed down her cheeks.
It took a while to pry the whole story out of her. Apparently while we’d been having sunny days in Los Angeles, it had been raining nonstop in Hawaii.
“Do you know what there is to do on Kauai in the rain?” she cried.
I shook my head.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“You were on your honeymoon, Whit. Couldn’t you just hole up in the room?”
“We did. For the first three days, that’s all we did. But after a while, I got kind of bored. I wanted to go somewhere and talk to people. To do something. Anything.”
“And Michael didn’t?”
She shook her head and the tears started flowing again. “All he wanted to do was read his stupid books.”
Lying around all day and reading books sounded like a great vacation to me, but Whitney went stir crazy if she didn’t have constant entertainment. “Why didn’t you just do something without him? Surely there must’ve been a tour you could take.”
“I did, finally. And the guide was really nice and invited me to a party that night so I could meet some of the locals. But Michael didn’t want to go. He just wanted to have dinner at the hotel, then go back to the room. So I went to the party without him.”
Oh boy.
“It’s not like I did anything with anyone. I’m not a cheater! I just met some really nice people and had fun. Michael would’ve had fun too if he’d come.”
“And he was mad that you went without him?”
“Yes. He said if I couldn’t even stick by him on our honeymoon, then what hope was there for our marriage.”
He had a point. “And what did you say?”
“I told him he was an ass. Then we didn’t speak at all the next day, and I decided to fly home early.”
“You left him in Hawaii?” I tried to keep the incredulity out of my voice but couldn’t. Who walks out on their spouse on the honeymoon?
“No, he came home too. I think he went to his sister’s house.”
“You don’t know?”
She shook her head. “I offered to drive him from the airport, but he said he’d rather take a cab.” The tears began anew. “I really screwed up, Sam.”
I hugged her tight and let her cry.
“I know I packed all my stuff already,” she said between sniffles, “but do you think maybe I could have my old room back? Just for a little while.”
Actually Jenna and I had packed up her room, but I didn’t think it was the right time to remind her of that. “Of course. For as long as you want. But you’re not going to need it. You and Michael are going to work this out. You’ll see.” I placed the odds at fifty-fifty.
She pulled a wad of tissues from the box on the counter and blew her nose. “Go ahead and say it. You told me not to marry him and I wouldn’t listen. Just say, ‘I told you so.’”
Tempting but… “You married him for a reason, Whit. I don’t think that reason’s changed.”
“Yeah, but that was before I knew how boring he was.” We both laughed.
“So you’re a people person and he’s a bookworm. Opposites attract, right? Look at you and me.”
“I’m not married to you!”
“Yes, but we’ve been living together our whole lives.”
“You’re family. It doesn’t count.”
“Michael’s your family now too. You chose him. I’m not saying you shouldn’t get a divorce if that’s what you really want. But you just had a fight. No one gets divorced over one fight. Trust me on this.” My clients contemplated leaving their spouses for months, sometimes years, before they actually pulled the plug. Although all of them had been married for longer than a week.
“I can’t believe you’re trying to convince me to stay with him. I thought you of all people would support me on this.”
“I support whatever decision you make. I always have and I always will. And if I thought that you really wanted out of this marriage, I’d be filing the forms already. But I don’t think that’s what you really want. Am I wrong?”
She shook her head. “No. But why does he have to be such an ass?”
“Because he has a penis.”
We both laughed again and she dried her tears. “Sorry I ruined your evening.”
“You didn’t ruin anything. In fact, you probably saved me from making a huge mistake.” My buzz was wearing off, and my head was already starting to ache. What was I thinking? I wasn’t sure I could handle meaningless sex with anyone, but I definitely couldn’t with Jake. I’d be devastated if we slept together and he never called me again. Better to steer clear of him and save myself the heartache.
I grabbed the bottle of aspirin from the kitchen cabinet and shook out four pills.
“About that Jake guy,” Whitney said as I handed her two tablets. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
I poured us each a tall glass of water. “I know. Jenna told me. But he thinks we met at the wedding, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“He doesn’t remember you from the club?” She seemed incredulous.
“It’s a long story.”
Chapter 36
Jake
“I think you dodged a bullet with that one,” Mark said as Jake swerved the golf cart.
“I assume you’re not referring to the squirrel,” Jake replied, nodding to the animal he’d narrowly avoided turning into roadkill.
Mark laughed, but Jake didn’t. He’d actually called Samantha on Saturday as he’d promised he would. He wanted to pick up where they’d left off the night before—on their way to her bed—but she’d begged off. Then he’d suggested Sunday, but she told him her sister was having a tough time and she needed to be there for her. She offered to call him when things calmed down, but he knew that was a lie. He’d used the same brush-off line himself on many occasions.
“You know they’re both crazy,” Mark said.
Jake slowed the golf cart to a stop and they both stepped out. “Whitney’s an actress; drama goes with the territory.” That’s why he’d stopped dating actresses.
“Walking out on your honeymoon is more than drama. It’s fucking nuts.”
Samantha hadn’t offered an explanation and he hadn’t asked. But Mark had shared the whole story this morning without prompting. He’d heard it firsthand from Michael, who was now living with him and Rita.
Jake reached for his clubs. “What’s Michael going to do?”
Mark pulled a nine iron out of his bag. “I know what I’d do if I were him. I’d get the hell out of Dodge.”
“Why are you so riled up about this? You’re not the one who’s married to her.”
“Because her husband’s taken over my den!”
Jake laughed. “Your den? I thought it was the guest room.” That’s how Rita had always referred to it when Jake slept there after too many Jack and sodas.
“Well, it’s the only place in the house where I can get any peace! Or it was. Now it’s Uncle Mike’s room and the kids are all over it.”
Jake laughed again even though he actually felt sorry for Mark. If ever there was a husband who needed a man cave, it was him, even if that cave did have curtains on the windows and throw pillows on the bed. “You can always come to my place if you need a break.” Jake’s se
cond bedroom really was a den, with both an Xbox and a PlayStation.
“Don’t think I won’t,” Mark said, teeing up. He swung, and they both watched as his ball sailed through the air before suddenly sinking into a water trap near the ninth hole. “Son of a bitch!”
The poor guy couldn’t catch a break.
Jake patted Mark’s shoulder as he made his way to the green. “Just because you lost your man cave, I’ll give you the stroke.”
“How about you let Michael move in with you and I’ll forego the entire hole?”
“Hah!” Jake placed his ball on the tee.
“Dude, I’m serious.”
More like out of his mind. Jake swung and watched his ball fly through the sky, then land on the green twenty feet from the cup. This was the best game he’d played in months. Maybe Selena was right. Maybe abstaining the night before did improve one’s concentration. Although he would rather have had sex with Samantha last night than win this match this morning.
“Just think about it,” Mark continued.
He turned back to his friend. “I don’t need a roommate.”
“But it’s only temporary,” Mark said.
“Then he should find a temporary apartment.”
“That’s what I told Rita, but you know her. And Michael’s her baby brother.”
“Which is exactly why he shouldn’t be living with me.” Rita thought he slept with a new woman every night. No doubt she’d worry that he’d corrupt her innocent baby brother. Although he hadn’t acted so innocent at the bachelor party.
“Are you kidding? You’re the perfect person for Michael to live with.” Mark swung again. This time the ball landed in the rough. “Rita told Michael he needs to make Whitney jealous.”
“Well, living with me isn’t going to accomplish that.” No one had ever accused Jake of being gay.
“Sure it will. Whitney will come over and see all those beautiful women hanging around your apartment, and she’ll realize Michael might look elsewhere. Just think about it,” he said again as the two of them strode back to the golf cart.