by Lisa Jackson
“So you must be doing well.”
She let out a blast of laughter. “We’re lucky when we break even. And we ‘directors’ work for free. I do freelance proofreading for law firms, so it’ll be interesting to see how much sleep I get between now and September.”
“Wow. That takes a lot of . . .” Insanity, he thought. “. . . dedication.”
“It’s fun, when it’s not crazy and overwhelming and tiring. And you know me—I love summer.”
Yes, he remembered stifling hot days that she breezed through in sundresses and sandals. He’d come home from his first suit-and-tie job and want to collapse, but Meredith would still be daisy fresh. Even at night all the concrete in the city would hold its heat like a massive oven, yet Meredith would float down the sidewalks oblivious to the fact that everyone else was baking and wilting. All that pep had been annoying at first, and then, later, endearing and even essential. She was his backup power supply.
That could explain why he’d been in such a funk after she’d left him. Or maybe any heartbreak made you feel like something from The Walking Dead that needed to be shot.
But he was glad Meredith’s work situation wasn’t quite as dire as Gina had painted it. In fact, she seemed busy and happy.
“And what about your other life?” he asked.
Her brow pinched, and she looked amused. “I have another life? Why did I not know this until now?”
“I mean guys. Are there . . .” He struggled for a way to put it. “. . . wedding bells in your future?”
She tossed her head back and laughed. “I love it. It’s like I’m being interviewed by People.”
He was tempted to retract the question . . . except he really wanted to know the answer.
“No—no wedding bells,” she answered. “I haven’t seen anyone seriously in a long time. Seriously, meaning longer than three months. Since London, really.”
He couldn’t help doing the math. She’d been back from London for a while. And she evidently hadn’t been there all that long. So not many men in her life besides him could have met the three-month rule of seriousness.
“In London I went out with a barrister. Liam. He was serious.” She laughed. “A serious jerk, in retrospect. He was always broke, drank too much, never remembered plans we’d made, and I’m pretty sure he cheated on me at least once. He said all the right things, though.”
“Every woman’s dream, then.”
She shot him a look. “Okay, I was an idiot. I knew it wasn’t going to work.”
“Then why was he an over-three-monther?”
“Oh, you know how it is with dating. You’re always refighting the last war.”
So . . . she was talking about the guy she had dated after him. Which meant that she’d considered him, Sam, to be the war. And Liam, the anti-Sam, was the tank she’d been using to crush the bad memories. He could understand, because in a way, every woman he’d dated for the past seven years had been an anti-Meredith. He’d purposefully sought out professional, self-sufficient women who didn’t seem subject to whims and whispers. Seven years was an exhausting amount of time to be on the rebound, though. His goal was to be settled and happy at age thirty, and if all went well, it looked as if he was going to squeak in right under the wire.
Meredith leaned back in her chair, smiling. “This was fun. And think how much more of the city we saw than we would have if we’d just found that other restaurant.”
When he’d first seen Meredith at the airport, he’d assumed things between them would be awkward and stilted. He’d used up all his frequent-flyer points to avoid contact for as long as possible. But now that they were face-to-face, and the conversation hadn’t faltered as he’d expected, he felt foolish for having worried.
“You never minded calling an audible,” he said, remembering. “If one movie was sold out, you were always just as happy to see something else.”
“Of course. Because I probably would have gone to see it anyway.” She arched a brow in mock disapproval. “Whereas you, if I recall correctly, said you only saw four movies a year, or something insane like that.”
“I saw more movies that summer than I’ve seen before or since.”
“Really?” She looked disappointed.
“Why? Does it matter?”
She shrugged. “Well, you always hope that something of yourself rubs off on people you”—she reached forward and took a long sip of lemonade—“people you’ve known. But, hey, we weren’t together that long, right? A summer and some change.”
He could have broken it down into hours and minutes for her, but he held his tongue. Or tried to. “I probably do see more movies these days, now that you mention it.”
She smiled. “Please, you don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”
“No, no. I made it a point to go to see almost all the Academy Award nominees last year. Gina likes to watch the Oscars.”
Meredith blinked, and for a second the conversation teetered, and they both shifted uncomfortably, as if he’d belched or spluttered a half-masticated kernel of cheesy corn across the table.
“Maybe we should be getting back,” she said.
He made a show of checking his watch, but was so distracted he didn’t even see what time it was. “Of course.” He wanted to kick himself for mentioning Gina.
Then he scolded himself for wanting to kick himself. Why shouldn’t he bring her up? He was on the trip with Gina, not Meredith. He and Gina were practically engaged. Why should he be on tenterhooks about bringing up his almost-fiancée? Why should he care about sparing Meredith’s feelings at all? The woman had never, ever apologized for dumping him. If nothing else, you’d think that she’d at least acknowledge that she’d left him holding the bag for the lease of the apartment.
Although, to be fair, Janie had given him a check to cover three months’ rent. It was nobody’s fault but his own that he’d mashed the check through the shredder at work.
They paid—separate checks, since Meredith insisted—and headed back to the hotel. Halfway there, he stopped, remembering. “We were going to grab food for Gina and Janie.”
“Oh, right.” She nodded. “We can stop again before we get there.”
They continued back. Near the hotel, they found a restaurant that agreed to give them two orders for takeout. “Although it’s so close to dinner now, maybe there’s no point,” Sam said. “I’m planning a special dinner for two with Gina tonight.”
Meredith eyed him, and he felt a little silly for bringing it up. As if he was trying to prove something. I’ve gone on to have a rich and rewarding relationship with someone else. Ridiculous.
“At least she’ll know you were thinking about her,” she said.
“Of course I was.” His tone sounded defensive. Because he’d probably gone a full hour at the restaurant barely thinking of Gina at all. What kind of almost-fiancé did that make him?
Meredith’s eyes widened at his change in tone. After a moment’s hesitation she said, “Anyway, I’m glad I bumped into you—”
It can’t happen again, he almost blurted out. I’m a practically engaged man. I shouldn’t have stopped when I saw you. I shouldn’t have even noticed the sunlight on your hair. . . .
“—and not Seth, for instance,” she finished, making him feel like a fool for assuming there had been an emotional underpinning to her comment. “Instead of a tasty meal, I might have gotten another lecture on wheatgrass juice. Or a questionnaire on who among the group he’s likeliest to get lucky with.”
He frowned. “Has Seth been hitting on you?”
“I think he hits on anything that moves.” As Sam was trying to come to terms with how revolting he found the idea of Seth and Meredith together, someone interrupted them.
“Hey, you guys!”
They both swiveled and saw a woman from the tour coming up behind them. “Fancy seeing you two here.”
Sam wracked his brain to remember her name. He got all the women a little confused, to tell the truth. He�
��d probably nail down their names just as the vacation was ending. This one was . . . Ann?
“Hi, Fran,” Meredith said.
The newcomer darted glances between them. “Sneaking off for a quiet lunch together?”
“No!” they answered in unison.
“We were just out sightseeing—”
“Separately,” Sam interjected.
“Totally separately,” Meredith added quickly. “And then we bumped into each other—coincidentally—and then decided to—”
“To get some food for Janie and Gina,” Sam finished for her.
Meredith nodded. “So we’re grabbing some takeout for Janie and Gina.”
Fran’s thoughtful gaze panned between their two faces. “Wow—altruism.” She lifted her camera and snapped photos of the food behind the counter. Instinctively, Sam and Meredith edged away from each other.
Fran took a picture of them in profile, both with their eyes focused on the food preparation and carefully avoiding looking at each other. It was a relief when the guy behind the counter finally handed them their plastic sacks. Paying was another diversion.
As she was leaving, Meredith frowned in thought. “I should probably find a pharmacy and grab some kind of painkillers for Janie too. Just in case her foot isn’t better.”
“It is,” Fran said flatly. “She’s been in Gina’s room all afternoon, nursing it in the Jacuzzi tub.”
Sam and Meredith exchanged anxious glances.
“I guess it makes sense that they’d want to hang out. Two old friends.” Fran’s sly smile spoke volumes. “And since you two disappeared for so long . . .”
CHAPTER 4
“Of all people,” Janie groaned.
“We just bumped into each other,” Meredith said with a dismissive shrug, even though a flush overtook her when she remembered sitting across from him. For a moment, it had felt as if . . . But of course that was ridiculous. They’d had lunch. Shared a couple of cheesy corncobs. Hardly a romantic reunion. “Anyway, I thought you were in bed, resting your foot.”
“I was, but it got better. And then I couldn’t go hotel hunting, because that’s what you were doing.”
A pinprick of guilt jabbed Meredith’s conscience. “Our target price was too low. There didn’t seem to be any point.”
Janie sighed. “Oh well. There’s always tomorrow. At least while you disappeared with Sam, I visited with Gina and got to sample how the other half lives.”
“Sam and I didn’t disappear. It’s not like we assumed a cloak of invisibility. I’m pretty sure that the whole time we were walking around together, anyone could have seen us.”
“Yes. That’s the problem. Anyone could, and blabbermouth Fran did.” Janie opened the to-go box Meredith had brought her, eyeing it suspiciously. “What is this?”
“Pork, rice . . . and maybe some other stuff? It smelled good when Sam and I were standing in the restaurant.”
The mention of Sam made Janie grimace. “I should never have left you alone. . . .”
“For Pete’s sake.” Meredith tossed herself facedown on her bed. “We just bumped into each other. It was no big deal. Happens to people all the time. We could have met again by chance in New York City. It’s amazing that we never have, actually.”
“A miracle and a blessing, I’d call it.”
Meredith sat up again. “Why?”
Her sister blinked at her, a forkful of food halfway to her mouth. “Why what?”
“Why would you call it a blessing that I never ran into Sam? What difference would it have made to you?”
“To me? None at all. We’re talking about you. I would think you’d want to avoid him. He broke your heart, remember?”
“I left him.”
“Because you felt it was a hopeless, dead-end relationship. You were unhappy. You were thinking happily-ever-after, and he was applying to graduate school in California and God knows where else. He wasn’t including you in his plans, so he was clearly either thinking of dumping you or he was so arrogant that he didn’t feel you needed to be consulted.”
Because the summer had seemed so blissful, Meredith sometimes forgot all the frustrations of those autumn months that followed. But, looking back on it now, she wondered if her perspective hadn’t been a bit skewed. Being unhappy for a few weeks at age twenty-two had felt like the end of the world. Maybe their rough patch would have been one of those blips that all relationships went through . . . if she hadn’t ended the relationship.
“And don’t forget the pregnancy,” Janie said.
“It wasn’t really, though. I was just late, and I was so angsty and keyed up. . . .”
“Still, he let you down.”
“He was a twenty-three-year-old guy. I don’t think he got it.”
“Exactly. You’re two different sensibilities. Anyway”—Janie’s brow darkened—“what are you saying? That you wish you two had met earlier and rekindled your defunct romance?”
“No, of course not.” Meredith pulled her shoulders back, determined to be positive. “If anything, Sam’s being here is good. I’ve always wondered if he and I just met at the wrong time—right after college, so much going on in our lives, wanting to pursue different dreams.... It’s not like I’ve been pining for him—you know that—but he’s just one of those guys I’ve wondered about. The one that got away.”
“The one you got away from,” Janie corrected.
The one you got me away from, Meredith almost retorted. But how dumb was that? She’d been an adult, and Janie had just been trying to give her the best counsel she could, based on what Meredith was telling her. Maybe, with the benefit of hindsight, Meredith wouldn’t have bitched so much about minor spats to her sister. Seven years later, she might be inclined to keep her own counsel and not obsess over the small things.
But she wasn’t going to blame Janie for her own screw-ups. She’d been twenty-two, and she’d made mistakes, and Sam hadn’t behaved like her dream guy. So it ended. These things happened. They were adults now. Real adults. Sort of.
Meredith crossed her arms over her chest. “Anyway, you don’t have to worry. Sam was full of talk about some romantic dinner he and Gina have scheduled for tonight.”
“Oh, I know all about his plans.”
Something in her tone made Meredith wary. “You do? How?”
Taking her time, Janie finished a bite, swallowed, and set the to-go box aside. “This is totally on the QT . . . but when I was up in Gina and Sam’s room today—” She stopped, clucking her tongue. “Honestly, you should see that place. It’s like the Plaza compared to our leaky tomb. Their tub is bigger than some swimming pools I’ve seen.” She frowned. “Which reminds me, I should have told you to look for a hotel with a pool. But maybe that would make the search even harder.”
Impatient with the distraction, Meredith prompted, “You were saying you discovered something when you were in Gina and Sam’s room?”
“Oh—right!” Janie scooted to the edge of her mattress. “So I was in Gina’s suite because she offered to let me soak my ankle in her Jacuzzi tub. And while we were sitting around, she mentioned the dinner. And how transparent Sam has been concerning what this whole trip’s about.”
Meredith wondered if there were dots she should be connecting. “What’s it about?”
Her sister paused for effect. “Sam’s going to pop the question.”
Too much cheese. That had to be the cause of the sudden gnashing in her stomach. Meredith tried to keep her expression placid, though she doubted she succeeded. “Gina thinks this?”
“Thinks it? She knows it. She even showed me the ring.”
Meredith hugged her middle. Definitely need to avoid dairy the rest of the trip.
Definitely needed to avoid Sam.
“Guy’s been carrying it around in his pocket since they left New York, according to Gina. She noticed the bulge in his jacket first thing yesterday morning. Then he transferred it to his hotel safe. He thinks he’s being pretty cagey, I guess.
Gina caught him locking something in the safe. Naturally, after he left, she looked in it first thing. The schmuck set the lock combination to the same numbers as his bank card PIN.”
“He doesn’t know that she knows about the ring.”
“Of course not—although I’m a little surprised that he can be on the verge of getting engaged to her and not realize that she has X-ray vision when it comes to detecting bling.”
Well. That was that.
Meredith straightened, giving herself a mental kick in the pants. What was wrong with her? That had been that for seven years. Even while she was out with Sam today, she’d been under no illusion that they were anything but two people catching up on old times. Maybe she had felt a little nostalgia for the old days, a little wistful about all the time that had gone by. They weren’t rekindling anything.
“I bet he’s going to ask her tonight at dinner. Probably plans to drop the ring in her champagne flute or something completely unoriginal.” Janie tapped her fingers on the bare nightstand. “I wonder if I should call her and explain that you and Sam really did just bump into each other.”
“No.” That was just too ridiculous. “If she doesn’t trust him enough to take his word . . .”
She doesn’t deserve him.
“You’re right,” Janie said. “Let them navigate love’s rocky road on their own.”
Janie leaned back, munching the takeout contentedly again, while Meredith flipped through the guidebook she had read so often she could practically recite it. She could just imagine the two of them—Gina all decked out in the best, slinkiest dress she’d brought, and Sam in a snappy suit. They would come back from their big romantic dinner, tipsy on champagne and love and hopes for the future, and return to their honeymoon suite with the huge Jacuzzi.
Her stomach gnawed at her anew. Way too much cheese.
“When we’re looking for hotels tomorrow,” she told Janie, “maybe we’ll have better luck if we up our price limit. We need to get out of here.”