Jarek stills, as if he's thinking about what he's just shared. He rubs his thumb along the rim of his plate, his gaze on his half-eaten pizza. “The day she told me that, she grabbed a knife from a drawer and came at me with it. She said she should have taken care of this a long time ago—that she'd had the option plenty of times, but she just hadn't had the strength...and now she did. It's a really fucked up thing when that's what you remember most about your mother.
“I managed to get her off me, and that's the day I ran off.”
I reach across the table and set my hand on his. “Jarek, I'm so sorry. You never said anything?”
“What would I have said? That my mom couldn't even stand looking at me because every time she did, I just reminded her of what had happened? Don't feel bad for me. I don't need anyone pitying me. I'm just telling you because when I walked into Kirk and Janet's and saw him attacking you like that, it just reminded me of back then...that day. It was like I was there all over again, screaming at Mom to get off me. Begging her to stop calling me a bastard.”
A solitary tear shifts in his eye before falling. He quickly wipes it away, as if his act will prevent me from seeing it. “I know what I did was wrong that day.”
Hope wells within me. Is this it? Am I about to get my apology? Is he finally going to admit that what he did to me was wrong?
“I knew I shouldn't have broken into your family’s house. I knew I shouldn't have stolen that shit. I can't even really tell you why I did it. I honestly think I was just so pissed since you guys had everything, and I didn't have anything.” I feel foolish for assuming he would have been thinking about our night together. “And then, when the police picked me up, I thought, ‘Here we go. Now I've really gone and fucked shit up.’ I kind of wanted them to throw me away. I didn't feel like I belonged anywhere else. And then I met your dad, and everything changed. In just a few weeks, I went from thinking I was nobody to having a family—a better family than I ever could have hoped for. A better family than I deserved.”
Then why did you leave?
He shakes his head. “Sorry. I guess you don't need to hear my sorry-ass story now. I'm just...I owe your father everything in the world, and I'm glad I was able to be there last night, if only to help save Janet from that asshole she married.”
I'm in shock from all he's revealed. “I'm so sorry,” I say. “You didn't deserve to be treated like that. No one deserves that. Not from a parent.” Suddenly I feel like my mom isn't nearly as bad as I make her out to be.
He tries to smile, but I can tell it's a struggle. He stares at me for a moment, as if considering something, before saying, “What do you say we go out tonight?"
“Go out?”
“Yeah. A date. Ever heard of it?” His words are lighter, more at ease. I wonder if he's trying to lighten the mood. If that's the case, he's only doing it for himself, because the very thought of going on a date with him makes the muscles in my chest constrict. As appreciative as I am for what he did at Janet's and as sorry as I am for what happened to him when he was younger, neither will make me forgive him for what I carry with me. Because that can't just go away. Still, I want to go on this date. I want to be with him, and the more I try to convince myself I'm trying to tease him along for the sake of revenge, the more I'm lying to myself, because I don't want that. I don't even believe it's possible to hurt him the way he's hurt me.
Maybe things can be different. I want to believe I can put all this behind me—maybe the part of him that has changed was the part that left me so long ago. I don't entirely believe that, but I'm holding out a speck of hope, because I like him. He's not just an asshole, as I hoped he'd be. There's so much of him that's the same—the Jarek I fell in love with. But isn't that what I should be afraid of?
“What did you have in mind?” I ask.
He smirks. “If I just told you, that wouldn't be much of a surprise. Would it?”
“A surprise?” I say, and now I feel playful and light again. As much as I want to enjoy the moment with reckless abandon, I can't distance myself from the sense of caution that lingers within me.
“Yes, a surprise. You remember those?”
“Vaguely.”
“Seriously, though. I want to take you out.”
If this has been a game all along, then I've lost.
“I'd really like that.”
Jarek told me to look my best, but I'm horrified I won't wear the right outfit. I don't have anything that would be appropriate for something extravagant.
I put on the best dress I have, one I bought for some of our functions and fundraisers at work. I usually wouldn't wear it because it hangs a little lower than I'm comfortable with, but tonight, I want to draw attention to the girls...for Jarek's benefit.
I spend some time before the mirror, perfecting my makeup. Though I usually wear makeup to work, I invest my time in applying foundation and a lipstick that is fairly close to my natural tone. Tonight I want to up the game a little bit, so I apply mascara, rouge, and some other essentials that I usually ignore. I'm not Kelsey, so I refuse to cake it on, but I'm trying to look a little nicer than usual—trying to stand out just a bit more. As I fix my lipstick, I gaze at my hair, locked in white curlers, with amusement. The amount of work involved in looking nice is incredible. I can only imagine how much effort the drop-dead gorgeous Stephanie invests in her appearance every morning before work.
Once I'm finished, I assess myself in the mirror. Jarek texts to let me know he's five minutes away. Eagerness fills my belly. This is really happening. This moment I've dreamt about so many times...this moment I thought would never come to pass.
For tonight, I'm vanquishing my fears—those creeping nuisances of thoughts—so that I can just have a good time. I deserve that.
When he arrives, I greet him at the curb in his Mercedes. He steps out and opens the door for me. He's in another gorgeous suit, of course. I expected no less.
“’Evening,” he says kindly as he lets me in, his gaze shifting to my chest, and judging by the expression I catch through my peripheral, I made a good decision.
As we head to this secret destination, I'm wildly curious about what awaits us. I imagine we'll be stuck in some stuffy restaurant with the sort of people Jarek is accustomed to. That's the way it would be with him, but if I have to endure that sort of night, I'm fine with it, as long as I'm with him. Childish impulses rise within me, making me want to skip about.
As Jarek approaches a stoplight, he reaches over, opens the glove-box, and retrieves a black scarf. “I'm afraid,” he says, “I'm going to have to ask you to put this on.”
I eye it curiously, then him.
“I told you, it's a surprise.”
It reminds me of the night I made him wear the blindfold. Perhaps this is his revenge. Regardless, I'm delighted by the game of it, and quickly put it on so that I'm trapped in darkness.
“It's just killing you, isn't it?” he says, though judging by his tone, he's more excited about revealing his surprise than I am about receiving it.
As we come to a stop, I hear him get out and open my door. His touch comforts me as he guides me out. “Careful,” I say. “I'm a mess in heels.”
He's a perfect gentleman as he helps me out. I reach up to remove the scarf, but he snatches my wrist. “No, no,” he says. “Wait for it.” He guides me along what feels like concrete.
Where are we going?
He gently brings me to a stop and I feel him untying the blindfold. As it slides down my face, I see moonlight glistening in water. I gasp.
It's Lake Dreyfus.
Two high floodlights illuminate a table with two chairs set up before the shore, where I see my rock. At another table a few yards away, closer to a cluster of trees beside the lake, a man in a suit juggles his time between aluminum covered containers and various boxes. I glance at Jarek, baffled.
“What's the point of having all this money if I can't do something extravagant?”
It's more than extravaga
nt. It's sincere, thoughtful...amazing. This was my spot—our spot. This was where we came so many times to talk about life...the place where he soothed me when Jacob Wilder broke my heart, the place where he found me after Daddy passed, because he was the only one who knew me well enough to know this was where I'd come. And now here we are again, and it stirs tears in my eyes.
I fight them back, because I'm not just happy, I'm elated. I don't know that anyone could ever do anything sweeter for me, because no one could know me this well.
We walk across a path of stones that leads to the table. He pulls out a chair for me. “Madam,” he says facetiously. I sit, feeling giddy, but at the same time feeling bad for the poor waiter who has to serve us out here in the middle of nowhere, though I assume Jarek has thoroughly compensated him for this gig.
The waiter approaches the table and pours red wine in two glasses before us. Jarek eagerly sips his, and as he looks at me, he has that same conceited look he always has when he's read me so well. “You like it?” he asks.
Judging by the expression on his face, he already knows the answer, and I almost don't want to give him props, but considering how elaborate this is, I have to acknowledge how beautiful it is. “I don't know that you could have done anything more perfect.” He grins.
“What's on the menu?” I ask.
“Another surprise,” he says.
“I can't wait.”
The waiter spends a moment away before providing us with breadsticks. Perfect. I'm starving since I figured we'd be spending far too many calories on this meal, so I made sure to be good today.
The waiter sets a salad before me, and I eye Jarek.
“I figured I had to make sure to get you something you'd like,” he says. I notice it has everything I'd put in the Caesar I'd made at the sandwich shop we ate at the day he found me at work.
“Is this dinner just meant to poke fun at me?” I ask.
“Basically. Is that going to be a problem?” He winks.
When we finish our salads, the waiter swaps our bowls for tin-covered trays. When he pulls the lids off, he unveils dinner plates of ravioli and garlic bread. My jaw drops and my gaze goes right to Jarek, who appears to be glancing at me desperately, as if he's hoping I'll enjoy the present, but how couldn't I? It's almost too perfect. Here I was thinking he was going to try to win me over with filet mignon or mahi mahi, but instead he provided another callback to the past.
“For old times’ sake,” he says.
I'm struggling to keep my cool. I can't believe how thoughtful this is. Why did he go to such great lengths to remind me of those nights when I'd make him ravioli and garlic bread? It seems like such a stupid meal now, but looking at this, clearly a far better version than the can of ravioli I used and probably homemade garlic bread, I'm so impressed.
My smile must reveal how pleased I am with all this. “Thank you,” I say, not just appreciative of the lengths he went to, but because it's the most thoughtful thing anyone's ever done for me. I dig into the ravioli and it's delicious. The garlic bread is far better than anything we could have warmed from a frozen bag.
When the waiter removes our plates, he announces, “And for dessert, we have...” He sets a glass before me. It's filled with strawberry milkshake and has a straw sticking out from it. “Strawberry milkshake! And for the gentleman...we have cookies and cream!” He sets Jarek's before him.
Our days of getting milkshakes! This might do me in, because those were some of the happiest days of my life. The laughs, the jokes, the fun, the playfulness, in a time where I didn't even feel anything other than friendship with Jarek… But now, to be confronted with those memories when I've been working so hard to hate him, it’s difficult.
I leap up, rush past the waiter, and dash into the cluster of trees a few yards away. I don't want Jarek to see my face. Not when I'm about to fall apart.
I look at the ground cautiously, working to keep from ruining the dress, but I know that I can't be near Jarek right now, not while I'm filled with all these conflicting emotions.
It's too much.
Why is he haunting me with these beautiful memories, ones that have been tainted for so long by what he's done?
I bow over. I'm about to burst into tears when I hear behind me.
“Lana.” His voice is soft. He's near. I turn around. His eyes glisten with moonlight. “Are you okay?” he asks. “I'm sorry, I just thought—”
I shake my head. “It's perfect. It's beyond perfect. It just...it stirs up a lot.” The change in his expression makes me wonder if he knows what I'm really referring to.
“Lana, I care about you so much. You have to know that.”
Seeing this display, thinking back on the past few days, I have to admit he's right. I want to tell him that I don't know that, that he's made it impossible for me to even consider it, but I can't...I'm swept up in his spell. He has me now, as he always manages to.
“It just reminds me of all those good times...with you...with Daddy. I'm sorry. Let's just get back to the table.”
We head back, and I sip on my milkshake, though not as much as I would have when I was little. Not so much for my diet — this extraordinary display has made me lose my appetite.
When dinner comes to an end, we leave the waiter, who packs everything up. He's surely also responsible for handling clean-up, which is strange for me, since I'm usually the one in charge of cleaning up messes.
We get into Jarek's car and he drives us back to my place.
“Mind if I come up?” he asks as we arrive. “I have another surprise for you.”
“I don't know if I can handle any more surprises.”
“I think you can handle this one.”
The wicked gleam in his eyes makes me suspicious, but what could I possibly have to lose? I lead him up and open the door.
He carries a bag and asks, “Mind if we take a changing break real quick?”
Does the bag contain some sexual experiment? I head into my room and change into more casual clothes while he changes in the bathroom. When I step out of the bedroom, he's wearing his pajama bottoms and a white sleeveless tee.
I burst into laughter. He really is going out of his way to take us back, and right now, it's mesmerizing.
I hear something on the TV. He's obviously queued up something for us to watch together. I step into the living room. An RKO Pictures logo appears on the screen, and I know what it is.
“Bringing up Baby?” I ask, even though I don't need to because the opening credit sequence is unmistakable.
He nods. My mood transforms from pleasantly surprised to horrified.
He doesn't realize that as he's taking me back to these moments, he keeps bringing back what I'm desperately working to forget. I can't help but think of that day, and suddenly I'm that girl again, waking up and searching around for him.
Get out of my head!
“What's wrong?” he asks, approaching me.
I retreat back to the entry to the hall.
The sensations of that night return, the feeling of joy as I thought we would be together for the rest of our lives—that I might never be happier with anyone but my Jarek. These images collide with those of the following day and the subsequent weeks where I cried my eyes out in the privacy of my room, though I told everyone it was over Daddy because I didn't want them to peer into those private moments I'd shared with Jarek.
I'm not angry with him now. Just hurt. So hurt. Like that morning. I want to ask why he left. Don't I deserve an answer to that? But I'm filled with so many other questions. Why is he doing this? Why does he want to be with me now? Why is he back?
“I just can't do this—” I say.
“Do what?”
“Whatever it is that you think all this is leading to.”
“Lana, I care about you...so much.”
After tonight, it's hard for me to deny that, but it's equally impossible for me to deny what he did to me. What I'm thinking is I wish you really did care that much abou
t me, but I know that any day you could up and leave, without a word, and I can't live like that.
“I can't feel that way about you.”
They're the most honest words I could have said, because I can never feel the way I once felt for him after what he did. I'll always have to live with it. I wish I could shake free of that feeling, but I don't think it can happen. Ever.
“You don't want this?” he asks.
“I don't think I can do it.” I reword his question, because I want to so badly, but that's not what this is about. “I think you should go.”
He stares at me, dumfounded. “I thought—”
“I don't know what you thought, but I'm not ready for a relationship. What we had...I told you it was just for fun.”
“When I first got back, I just assumed that since then, things had—”
“—changed?” I chuckle. You're such an idiot. You don't know what I'm really getting at? And I hate him for not knowing. “They have changed,” I say. “But not the way you think. I'm so sorry. This was a wonderful night, and you did everything you could do to make it perfect. But I don't want that with you, Jarek.” I'm lying. I want it, but that's the easiest response to keep him from prying into my true feelings.
I wonder if he deserves to know the truth, but considering all I've done up to this point, I can't tell him that I've been leading him on, for my own selfish sake, especially not after all he's done for me since the day he arrived. How out of his way he's gone to be generous and kind to me.
Jarek's expression turns sad. Some traitor within me wants to console him, but I have to be strong. This is my moment. My revenge. Shouldn't I revel in it? Shouldn't I be happy I finally have the chance to get him back? If so, why do I feel like I'm about to fall apart?
His eyes water. He nods. “Fine,” he says curtly. He heads to the VCR and removes the VHS.
I wonder how long this awkwardness will last. Will he change back into his regular clothes?
He rushes into the bathroom to retrieve his bag, and without another word, dashes out the door.
Once again, he leaves without a goodbye.
Every Time He Leaves (The Raeven Sisters Book 1) Page 17