by Carrie Lomax
His friend’s words sank into his gut like a sword. “Do you regret getting married?”
“Not for a second. I love my kids and I loved my husband. I wasn’t the one who ended it.” She hesitated. “I do regret getting pregnant and married so young. I had a partial scholarship to Columbia. I made it through a year, but the second semester my grades were terrible and I had to drop out. I wonder what would’ve been if I’d stayed in it.” Olivia shrugged, as if to shake off the heartache.
“But I’m going to stay true to myself. I know me a little better than I did as a teenager. You’re older than you were when you showed up in my unit looking like a kicked puppy.” She squeezed his hand and let go. “Janie’s in California. I don’t think she wanted to take this job, but if they win, it’ll launch her career. Don’t go messing with her.”
“Where’s she going after that?”
Olivia hesitated. “I’m not sure I should tell you. She’s moved in with someone she knew in college. A law student at Georgetown. Crystal, I think her name is.”
Oh, fuck no.
Crystal, who’d gotten Janelle involved in that crackpot sugar baby scheme. Who knew what trouble her friend would get her into? She had a budding career now. He couldn’t let her ruin it before she even got going, just because he’d been too terrified to grab hold of his good fortune. She was everything he’d said he wanted and more. He didn’t want a clean break. He wanted to be with her.
Janie had needed him to make a commitment—he knew she would’ve accepted the tiniest of baby steps forward—and he’d dug in his heels, stubborn ass that he was. The way he always did.
No more.
Trent had lost enough. All the pieces in his heart had shattered over, and over again, but Janie was the glue he needed to start fixing it for good. He’d get her back. He just needed to figure out how.
* * *
Janelle rolled her carry-on suitcase over the crooked hardwood floors into her room. The bedroom was small but bright, with her couch on one side and boxes of dishes, clothes and books on the other. The other end of the room held her table, which also served as a desk. In between lay the cheerful rug, onto which she dropped her suitcase. Then she dropped her tight, tired body onto the couch. She hadn’t opened it once since moving into Crystal’s spare room.
“Hey, how’d it go?” Her friend tapped the frame before poking her head in.
“Horrible. There’s a reason this company’s been shedding clients. They’re a dysfunctional mess. If they don’t land this client, they’re staring at bankruptcy. So, they bring in a twenty-five-year-old consultant to tell them how to do things they should already know how to do.” Janelle rubbed her eyes and yawned.
Crystal grimaced. “That’s rough. Why don’t you get cleaned up and come out to lunch with me? We have a surprise visitor. One you might want to see, now you’re over with Trent Sizzling Hotness Mason.”
Janelle snorted. “I’d rather sleep, honestly.”
“You sure? It’s someone you might like.”
“Okay, Crys, I’ll bite. Who’s crashing on your couch this weekend?” Crystal was plugged into a vast network of international couch surfers, which was one reason she’d had trouble finding a roommate for the summer. At least once a week, Janelle stepped over bodies in sleeping bags on the floor.
“It’s Ben. Apparently, the engagement is off with the Texas blonde. And no, he isn’t crashing here. Not unless you want him to.” Crystal winked suggestively.
Janelle’s body stilled like a clockwork toy winding down. “I don’t know if I want to see him.”
“You missed him for years. Why not?” Crystal crossed her arms, cool and inquisitive.
“Because…”
“Janelle, you’ve changed. So has he. Come and say hello. I won’t leave you alone with him. You can have a conversation and see where things go.”
Nothing in her heart stirred. She’d shaken free of Ben’s hold on her. But since the one her heart ached for wasn’t an option, maybe she ought to explore it. Just see what happened, as Crystal suggested. “Okay. Give me fifteen minutes to clean up.”
* * *
Janie was easy to spot. Her polka-dot blue dress was both modest and sexy, a line she walked so well. She wore her dark hair up in a ponytail, her eyes concealed behind sunglasses, and her lips were painted his favorite shade of dark pink.
He was so busy checking her out, Trent almost tripped over a shorter, brown-haired girl walking a few steps ahead of Janelle nearly stopped in her tracks.
“Ohmigod. It’s you, isn’t it?”
Trent’s muscles tightened. Behind the human road block, Janie stopped mid-step. A guy bumped into her, knocking her forward. He put one arm around her waist to steady her. Trent’s vision hazed red.
“Trent Mason? From the video?” The brown-haired woman’s question snapped his attention back like a rubber band.
“You know about it?”
“I’m Crystal. I love your video.”
His esophagus lurched. Getting sick in the middle of a D.C. sidewalk was a distinct possibility. This was a disaster.
“Aren’t you the one with the sugar daddy?” he snarled.
Crystal’s mouth curved into a grin. “Not anymore. He started making noises about leaving his wife, so I ended it.”
Okay. His attention was already back on Janelle.
“Trent, what are you doing here?” Janie’s tone was the opposite of friendly. She’d pushed her sunglasses on top of her head, and her eyes were jewel-like in the bright sun. Her pink mouth was parted, showing even teeth. Not in a smile.
“Is this guy bothering you?” The man at her side edged closer, his arm around her back.
“No, it’s okay, Ben.”
Ben. No. Her ex was here?
“Janie.” Great plan, Mace. Dump your girlfriend and then get all worked up when she goes back to the guy who loved her.
“Crystal. Ben. This is Trent. We…worked together. Temporarily.”
Ben didn’t leave her side. He was modestly good-looking, clearly intimidated by the prospect of facing down a larger man, but glued to Janelle’s side despite the distinct possibility Trent was going to break his face.
His polo shirt, khakis and clean-shaven chin telegraphed upwardly-mobile stability. The kind of guy Janelle deserved. The kind of man he’d never be, but wanted to be so badly it made his teeth ache.
“I need to see you, Janie. Alone.” Trent ground out.
Janelle pursed her lips. “Then call and ask. Don’t ambush me on the way to brunch.”
“We’re late. We’ll lose our reservation.” Ben took her elbow, possessive, and Janelle moved forward. She glanced back over her shoulder as they passed, then lowered her sunglasses and kept walking.
“Can I get your phone number?” The brown-haired chick stared up at him. She wasn’t as pretty as Janie, but she exuded confidence. It was sexy, in its way.
“What?”
“Hi. Crystal over here. Remember me? I know you and Janelle are over. She’s my roommate for the summer. I’m completely, one-hundred-percent available, no strings attached, for all your rebound needs. Can’t happen at my place, though, cause, you know.” She jerked her head in the direction of her friends. “Here’s my card. Call anytime. Literally any time. I love your work. Bye.”
So, that was Crystal. She didn’t seem like the sugar baby type, but she sure had an instinct for trouble. Maybe there was a way to point her at Ben and get both problems out of the way.
* * *
“I’ll have a Bloody Mary.”
Janelle observed the steadiness of her hands as she passed the menu to the waiter. It was this bizarre sense of disconnection that had powered her through the past week, between moving out of the studio overnight while Trent was in New York, barely unpacking in Crystal’s apartment, and then flying to California for three days. But her armor was cracking. What she needed wasn’t alcohol. It wasn’t Ben. She’d known within two seconds of greeting him in Crystal’
s lobby that the love she’d clung to for years had been a mirage.
What she needed was Trent. But she couldn’t have him. Appearing out of nowhere changed nothing, no matter how hard her heart pounded at the sight of his muscular frame.
“Are you okay?”
Ben’s hand on her arm was warm and gentle. As was his gaze. Not long ago, she’d have given anything in the world to have him touch her like this. Now she wanted to slap his hands away.
Which made her pathological. Emotionally unavailable men were her kink. Clearly.
“I’ll be fine.” Her drink arrived as Crystal burst into the restaurant and scanned the room. By the time she reached their table, it was half gone. Crystal ordered a mimosa, and Janelle ordered another Bloody Mary with an extra shot.
“You’re really not okay,” Ben observed.
“Trent won’t follow us here. I went out of my way to make sure he didn’t see which restaurant I went into.” Crystal tucked her hair behind her ear, avoiding Janelle’s direct gaze.
“Thanks.” You hit on Trent, didn’t you? Is that why Ben’s here? To get me out of the way? Her friend was such an opportunist. Yet she was living with Crystal for the rest of the summer. Making a stink about her suspicions wasn’t a bright idea, unless she wanted to go back to Florida. She’d come this far, and there was no way Janelle was backing away from what she’d built here. For the first time in her life, her career had momentum.
However much she wished Trent hadn’t let her believe they had a chance, she’d prepared for this outcome. If it had happened earlier—before he’d moved in—she’d have been better prepared to handle the loss. The remnants of her Bloody Mary gurgled in the bottom of her glass. She downed the shot the instant it hit the table.
Why was this her life? What was wrong with her?
Ben reached across the table and took her hand, rubbing his thumb across the back. His hazel eyes were warm with concern beneath furrowed brows. Janelle fought the urge to pull her hand away. She’d wanted him, once upon a time. She could find desire for him again.
Maybe.
But watching Trent move on with his life? Janelle didn’t have the strength. She wouldn’t be able to stem the tsunami of jealous rage. Not where Trent was concerned.
Janelle closed her eyes and ordered something random off the menu, along with another Bloody Mary. The dreadful state of her stomach couldn’t be muted with alcohol or absorbed with food.
Stop being ridiculous. There was no reason to suspect Crystal of anything. Her phone beeped. Janelle answered automatically, in case it was a client.
“Janie, come outside and talk.”
Janelle sobbed once as the sound of Trent’s voice grated over her nerves. Crystal and Ben glanced at one another, then began patting her back from either side of the round table.
“Why?” Why are you doing this to me? Why can’t you love me? Why can’t I stop feeling this way about you? Why won’t you go away, if you won’t give me what I need?
“I have a few things to say in person. Will you come outside?”
Janelle hung up and chugged her beer, gagging. Her head swam. The alcohol was hitting all at once. She got out of her chair and staggered backward, tripping over it. The chair fell over and hit the one behind it. “I’ll be right back.”
The ladies room was cold and anonymous, with tall doors from ceiling to floor. Barricaded inside, Janelle vomited into the toilet. Her skin cooled, bumps rising in the air conditioning. She stayed there for a long time, her head pressed against the tile.
“Hey Janelle? Are you in here?”
“Yeah.” Her voice echoed hollowly. Janelle’s body hurt. Her head hurt. Most of all, her heart ached within her chest.
“Ben got rid of Trent. He came inside, but Ben threatened him with a restraining order if he comes near you again.” Crystal kept her tone matter-of-fact.
Janelle couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. She was exhausted, stupidly drunk, it wasn’t even noon, and the man she no longer loved was acting as a human roadblock to the one she did, but didn’t want her. Not on any meaningful level. Every time she tried to untangle this knot, she only succeeded at pulling it tighter.
“I hate it when Ben solves my problems for me,” Janelle whispered, but Crystal didn’t hear her over the stall door. Relief coursed through her. She hadn’t been the only one to make mistakes in their relationship. Ben had tried to fix everything, and she’d let him because adulthood had been terrifyingly complex. Avoidance hadn’t saved her from having to deal with it, though. It had only set her back.
Aly was right: she and Ben had been too young. Now, she’d grown up. Ben hadn’t changed, though. No wonder Janelle couldn’t find the attraction she’d once felt for him.
“I gave Trent my number and told him to call me if he wants to talk to you. I’m happy to be the intermediary until this blows over.”
I bet you are, Crys.
“Thanks.” Janelle blew her nose and splashed water on her face. Crystal held out her arms, and she stepped into the warm hug knowing she’d never be able to face leaving the restaurant bathroom without Crystal’s support. Thank goodness she’d remembered to wear her sunglasses.
* * *
Trent contemplated the little rectangle of ivory paper framed by his thumb and forefinger. A name. A phone number. An email address.
No response from Janelle. A week since the scene at the restaurant, when he’d needed to know if she was all right and Ben Cockblocker had gotten in his face threatening to call police. As if he’d ever hurt Janelle. Physically.
Crystal wasn’t unattractive. He could hit that. A straightforward way to cut the yo-yo string on his relationship with Janelle. But then, what would he do with all the feelings she’d stirred up and refused to go away simply because she was absent?
He called once a day to leave a message he was pretty sure she deleted without listening to. Please call me. You said to call and ask if I wanted to talk to you.
The voicemail message played in his ear. Trent said his piece and disconnected. Don’t make me give up.
“Boss?”
“Yeah, Chaitu?”
“Russ from the New York account is on the line.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Trent picked up the office phone. Midway into the conversation, his mobile phone beeped.
I don’t want to see you.
Disappointment slashed through him, cut with a surge of excitement. She’d responded!
“Are you there, Mason?” Russ’s annoyance was plain.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“Do you charge extra for paying attention or something?” he demanded. New Yorkers. They were a breed apart. Trent forced himself to focus on the conversation.
I’m sorry for what I said in the car, he texted back after he’d gotten off the phone with his client.
A minute passed. I am, too. I shouldn’t have said you were broken.
Trent swallowed. It’s true.
It had been, anyway. It wasn’t now. He was finally pulling himself up, and forcing himself to see what had been right in front of his face all along. Penny didn’t need him. He hadn’t done as well by her as he’d wanted to, but thanks to Janelle’s visit, he’d seen her life through fresh eyes. Penny was nicely set up. She didn’t need to be the beneficiary of a company he’d never wanted to run. He was free, and at the same time, adrift.
The phone beeped again. It hurt when you said you couldn’t be with me because of my work. I know it was an issue with Penny. I didn’t understand it would be an issue with me, as well. I do now.
Shit. Owning up to his problems hadn’t made fixing them any easier. Why the hell had he said that? He didn’t see Janelle’s career as an impediment to a relationship. He’d reached for the familiar, and everything he knew about romantic relationships was poisonous. Fighting through this was hard, maybe harder because text messages were so short and impersonal. He typed words and deleted them, but was interrupted by another text message from Janie.
Be well.
Two gentle words to say good bye. Trent didn’t hesitate. His thumb slid over the keypad of his phone. Janelle didn’t pick up.
Trent hung up. “Fuck.”
Then, he did pause. There was no way to make this look good. This time, his call was answered on the third ring. “Crystal?”
A pause. “This is she.”
18
“Don’t get all silent on me, now.” Olivia hooked her arm into Trent’s and pulled him into the room. It buzzed with industry types. The same government flacks in poorly cut suits and slick sales people who’d populated the conference in Las Vegas.
“You’re sure she’s here?”
“She said she’d come.” Olivia steered him in the direction of the bar. “Have a drink. Relax. She’ll be here.”
Half an hour and a beer passed. Olivia worked the room, confident in speaking with anyone. Janie did it well too. And was doing it, now, not twenty feet away. The first sight of her in weeks made Trent’s body ice over. As it thawed, his abdomen clenched hard and blood sluiced south to his dick.
Janie wore a black dress with a clingy cardigan and the high heels that made her look tall. She chatted with two men and a woman of Indian descent. She didn’t glance up.
“Trent. Go talk to her.” Olivia was back, her dark eyes encouraging.
“You first.”
“Coward.” She elbowed him.
He was. Despite this, Trent moved, his body gravitating toward Janie over his mind’s objections. Which, to be frank, weren’t that strong. All of him wanted to bask in Janie’s presence. Being without her had been like going through open heart surgery without anesthetic. Like it was pumping outside his body.
He’s been a real shithead, thinking he could protect his broken heart when all he’d ever done after losing his parents, and then Penny, had been to sweep the bits into a box and shove it down in a dark corner. Janie had been gluing the pieces back together from the minute he’d met her. She’d lanced wounds that had festered for years, simply by listening and never taking no for an answer.