“Take the rest of the day off,” Jack said gruffly to Dalton. “I want to be alone with my fiancé.”
“Jack...” Why couldn't she scream at him? What the hell was he doing, introducing himself as her fiancé? Why did the red-hot words of anger crowd in her throat but then run back to hide in her chest?
“You understand, don't you?” Jack said to Dalton with a wink. “We haven't seen each other in months. We need some privacy.”
“Sure,” Dalton said quickly. He never looked in Chesney’s direction. He simply turned to gather his tools.
“Mr. Moore is doing a lot of work here,” Chesney said quickly. “We're trying to get the majority of the renovations completed before winter. We’re on a strict schedule.”
“Mr. Moore can resume his work while you and I are in Chicago, dear,” Jack said crisply as he loosened his tie. Then Jack turned back to the porch and gestured for the delivery men to unload Chesney’s new furniture from the truck. “What did you buy?” he asked as he scanned the rooms. “It doesn’t look like you brought much of anything from your apartment.”
“I wanted to start over,” she stammered. “So I wanted new furniture...”
“Bring everything through this door,” Jack said to the men, as if he was in charge. Chesney glared at him, still unable to get her back bone in place.
“What is that? A desk?” Jack said to the men. “Wait, let me ask where my fiancé wants it placed. Personally, I think that corner would be perfect.”
Certain that her head might pop off her shoulders like a champagne cork, Chesney stepped forward. Her entire body was trembling, but she didn’t care. “For starters, Jack, let me remind you that I am not your fiancé,” she said in an even tone. “And also, I will decide where the delivery men place those items since they happen to be mine.”
“Of course you will, darling,” Jack said cheerfully as he stepped back.
“I want the desk upstairs, please,” Chesney said to the delivery men. “In the room at the top of the stairs.” As the men carefully made their way up the staircase, she turned to Jack, gritting her teeth. “By the way, I don’t know where you got such a ridiculous idea. And I don’t know that I really even care. But I can assure you of one thing, Jack. I am not returning with you to Chicago,” Suddenly intoxicated by her own bitter temper, she took in a deep breath to steady herself. “I don’t know why you would assume something so ridiculous. But Jack, I will not make that trip or any other trip with you.” Chesney then walked over to where Dalton stood, packing his tools, preparing to leave.
“I am renovating my house,” she said. “Mr. Moore and I are working on a time schedule. And Mr. Moore is not leaving. He is working in the upstairs bedrooms.”
A very faint smile crossed Dalton's face as silence filled the room. He stared down at his tape measure. And Jack stared at Chesney.
“Well, this is a very fine welcome,” Jack said.
“It's an expected welcome from an uninvited guest,” Chesney said hotly. With trembling hands, she picked up the puppy and reminded herself to breathe.
“I don't know what's wrong with you, Chesney,” Jack said. “I penciled this trip into a very demanding schedule. In fact, darling, I jumped through several hoops to make this happen.”
“Then pencil out your damn visit,” she growled. “Please remember, Jack, that you were not invited to come here.”
“I've never seen you behave this way,” Jack said as the delivery men awkwardly entered the front door with an antique table.
“The kitchen is that way,” she pointed across the living room and the noticeably uneasy delivery men barely made eye contact with her. She smiled, trying to reassure them that she had a good handle on this domestic disturbance. Then she turned to Dalton.“If you don't mind, Mr. Moore, you could go ahead and start working in the upstairs bedroom. Let’s go on with the day, just as we planned.”
While Dalton wordlessly climbed the stairs, the delivery men brought in a chair, an overstuffed sofa, a lamp. Jack sat down on the stairs, watching as Chesney snapped directions regarding furniture placement.
“I made this trip because I miss you,” Jack said sadly when the men returned to the truck to carry in the new bed, especially purchased for Becca’s bedroom.
Now or never. Grow yourself a big old backbone right now or spend an eternity being bullied by Jack and anyone else who wants to tell you what to do and when to do it.
“I’m not sure what this visit is about. But I don't want you back in my life,” Her voice was a too-soft whisper. She had to try again, try harder to tap into her inner bitch.
“I made a mistake,” Jack stared at Chesney with watery eyes. “What happened with Belinda was a stupid, foolish, selfish mistake.”
“Our engagement was a mistake,” Chesney said. “We are totally different people. And the longer I am away from you, the more clearly I see that I was never really happy.”
“How can you possibly say that?” Jack’s lips trembled. His pain tugged at her heart. Until this moment, Chesney had never seen Jack show remorse or emotion about anything except money poorly spent on stock market investments.
“Let's not do this to each other,” she said softly. Like any veteran doormat, she felt guilty for hurting him. She touched Jack’s shoulder, hoping to stop this ugly confrontation before things got out of hand. “Just let it go,” Chesney said. “It's over.”
“I tried to give you everything,” Jack said. “Trips to Europe, designer jewelry, a wonderful wedding and a honeymoon was planned...” With quivering lips pressed tight to regain his composure, Jack looked around at the house, at the many unfinished projects, at drop cloths covering areas of the scratched hardwood floors, at cracked windows, at peeling paint and faded wallpaper. “I could give you the life of a princess, Chesney. And you’re telling me that you would rather have this?”
“Yes,” Chesney nodded with a smile. “I'd rather be right here than anywhere else in the world, Jack. And I mean that.”
“I think you're depressed,” he said. “I think you're suffering from clinical depression.” He placed his hand on her forehead with a worried expression, as if she might have a fever, directly linked to a mental breakdown.
Chesney jerked away from his touch. “Just for future reference, Jack, you should know that you can’t diagnose depression by checking to see if I have a fever.”
He tugged nervously at the top button of his dress shirt. His expensive watch band sparkled in the sunlight. “I’m not the only one who worries about you,” he said. “Becca also thinks you should seek treatment for depression.”
Here we go again. When I don’t cave in and do what everyone wants me to do, I become the mental patient.
“When did you and Becca hang your shingles for psychiatric services?” Chesney asked sweetly.
Jack swiped sawdust off his jacket then stepped toward her to cup Chesney’s face in his hands. “I've made so many mistakes,” he said softly.
“There is no need to rehash anything,” Chesney was suddenly so tired. All she wanted was to curl up for a marathon nap.
“You want a small, private wedding?” Jack said quickly. “That’s okay with me. You want a baby right away? We'll have one. You want to renovate this place and summer here? We'll do it.”
“It's too late, Jack,” Chesney said as she stifled a yawn.
“That isn’t true, Chez,” Jack said.
She hated to say it. She didn’t want to sting him and she didn’t want a scene, either. She only wanted peace and freedom. “I don't love you.” Even after she heard her own voice, Chesney couldn't believe the words actually left her throat. They fluttered around the parlor. She avoided Jack's eyes.
“That isn't true,” he said gruffly. “You do not mean that, Chesney. You're hurt and angry about my mistake. And you have every right to be.” He stopped talking and struggled for composure. And Chesney’s heart began to hurt for him. “You are wrong,” Jack said.
“You are an ass,” Chesney s
aid flatly.
“Our relationship is not over,” Jack raised his voice and his face was bright red. “We will never be over.”
“Wrong, Jack,” Chesney crossed her arms. “We should have been over long before you screwed Belinda’s brains out. But once that happened, I’d say we were officially dead in the water, wouldn’t you?”
“If you recall, Chez, instead of breaking up, you wanted to attend counseling,” Jack said. “And you wanted to continue the plan to marry me.
She waved her hands like she was shooing away a fly. “Oh Jack, pay no attention to that. I only did that because I was stupid. But you know what? I am not stupid anymore. I am not in love with you. And I have no intention of going back to Chicago, either.”
“I will work to win back your trust,” Jack persisted. “It will take time. But I'll show you that I've changed. Chesney, please, let me stay here overnight.”
“Not a good idea,” she said.
“I’d rather not leave right this moment for that long drive back,” he said. “Couldn’t you agree to just let me sleep here tonight? Don’t you see how you have upset me?”
“Fine,” Chesney said, feeling exhausted. “You can stay here overnight, Jack. But you'll need to leave first thing in the morning.”
“We'll talk,” he said in a tearful whisper. “Okay, Chez? Can we just sit together and discuss our lives?” Jack’s voice was a salve to her confused heart.
Chesney’s eyelids felt heavy. She was exhausted by the emotional moments. “I am not promising anything,” she managed, still fighting to keep control.
The delivery men squeezed through the front door with a bookcase. Again, she pointed toward the room at the top of the stairs. “My new office will finally be ready for me to work in,” Chesney said happily to Jack. “The desk, the computer and all three bookshelves are finally here.”
Upstairs, she heard Dalton hammering something as Jack went back to his car to get his overnight bag. He grabbed two pieces of luggage from his trunk then stopped at the driver’s door, removed his sunglasses and placed them carefully on the visor.
“What are you doing?” she said aloud. “You don't love Jack. You don't want to be engaged to him. You don’t want to be married to him. But for some reason, you’re so weak that you can't tell the ass to get out of your life?”
She watched Jack wander around the side of the house, inspecting her purchase. She climbed the stairs and found Dalton patiently patching holes in a bedroom wall. Just to see him made her heart warm. Dalton Moore didn't seem to have a romantic interest in her, but he was becoming a friend. Was she so needy and unsure of herself that she needed a man to feel worthy?
“Everything okay?” Dalton asked when he saw her.
“Yes,” Chesney lied.
“Big surprise, I guess, that he's here,” Dalton tried to smile. “Nice car he's driving.”
“Umm-humm,” Chesney nodded. “Nothing but the best for Jack Mobley.”
That familiar anger was back. It bubbled from the pit of her stomach to her throat. It was almost overwhelming. She tried to push the anger away but it was impossible. On the way back down the stairs, she realized that she had reverted to that old pattern of behavior. Against her better judgment, she agreed that Jack could spend the night here. But she didn’t want him here. She only gave in to keep the peace.
Yes, that’s what I have done for all of my life. It is my pattern. It is part of my stupid DNA. I bow down so I don’t upset anyone. I sacrifice my own needs since other people matter so much more than I do.
As she leaned against the doorway, Chesney thought about Gloria and the promised book draft. Now that her office furniture had arrived, she really should work tonight. She should get off her butt and get going. Get the manuscript to Gloria as soon as possible. But instead, Jack whined and she gave in, just like always. As a result, she had an uninvited asshole in her home for an overnight stay. If Jack Mobley thought for one moment that he would be allowed to climb into her bed…
That old, stale anger boiled again. Chesney sighed and rubbed her temples. There was a good chance that she might just have a damn stroke. The stress was unbearable.
“Headache?” Dalton asked as he came down the stairs to get something from his toolbox.
Without answering him, Chesney walked away. She found Jack in the parlor, removing plastic covers from her new lamps.
“You're so beautiful, Chesney,” he said as she walked in.
“I’m sure you were just trying to be helpful, Jack. But actually I don’t want the plastic removed yet. Dalton and I are still doing a lot of dirty work, like sanding and painting. I want my new things to be protected.”
He never made a move to put the plastic back. Instead, Jack smiled faintly and said, “Let's take a walk outside in the sun.”
“No, thanks.”
“How about a nice dinner somewhere?” Jack asked. “Is there a place around here to get a decent meal?”
“Actually, I need to work tonight,” Chesney said. “As I told you earlier, it’s alright if you want to stay here tonight. But I didn’t say I’d entertain you. I desperately need to work. And since my desk and chair and computer have arrived, I need to focus on my work. In fact, I’m excited about getting started.”
“Out of the question,” Jack said firmly.
“Excuse me?” Chesney blinked, not sure whether to laugh or explode.
“You and I are spending the evening together,” Jack said. “We need to address the problems in our relationship. Our future is much more important than for you to spend time writing one of those cheesy little novels to entertain lonely old ladies.”
Chesney grabbed at the fireplace mantel for support. Jack’s blatant disrespect for her work made fury swirl but at the same time, his words sucked the air from her chest. A thousand affairs with his office assistant could not possibly hurt nearly as much as the pompous attitude. Chesney wanted to hurl one of the empty wine bottles at Jack’s empty head with the intensity of a missile. “I've made a mistake,” she said slowly, weakly.
“We both have,” Jack said with a quick smile. “But we can mend the mistakes and start over again.” He walked over and pressed his body against hers. “As soon as that handyman leaves for the day, I will be showing you, my sweet Chesney, how badly I’ve missed you.”
She closed her eyes and sighed, trying not to gag about the fact that his erection was now pressed against her thigh.
“I’m glad you see that our relationship is a much more important place to focus your energy,” Jack’s voice was low with lust as he ran his hands under her shirt.
“No,” Chesney slowly shook her head. “I made a mistake when I said you could stay here tonight. It isn't a good idea.” Slowly, she moved away from his touch.
“Well, I must admit that your place is a bit primitive,” Jack chuckled. “But it’s not really a problem, love. We'll drive to another town. We'll find a bed and breakfast somewhere. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms. I can’t wait to show you, Chesney, what you mean to me.”
“I don't want you here,” she said finally as she crossed her arms.
“You don’t mean that, darling,” he said. “You’re so depressed that you’re absolutely out of your mind. But don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” He tweaked her cheek and smiled.
“Contrary to popular belief, Jack, I’m actually not a nut case,” Chesney rolled her eyes. “I don’t want you to stay here. And I assure you that I am very sane when I say that.”
“Now Chez, I know better than anyone what you need,” Jack placed both of his hands on her face and gnashed his teeth clumsily against hers. Another failed effort to take over her mouth with his.
“I don’t want that,” Chesney snapped. “Good God, Jack, it’s like being kissed by a damn horse. Get away.” She shoved with both hands against his chest. “Get away, Jack. And stay away.”
Jack’s grin was replaced by a glare. His eyes were ice. The delivery men stopped in their tracks. They di
sappeared quickly out the front door. “I know what you need, Chesney. I know more about what you need than you know yourself.”
She sighed, exhausted by Jack’s constant needling at her psyche. Her mind felt fuzzy again. Was she losing her mind? Maybe Jack was right. Maybe she needed psychiatric attention. Who, in their right mind, would walk away from what she left in Chicago? Why did she want to be here, in Grace's house, in the middle of nowhere? Had she made all the wrong decisions, hoping for a different outcome?
“I'll take you back home,” Jack said in a soothing voice. “It's so obvious to me, Chesney, that you need rest. You can't even write anymore.” When he reached to gently embrace her again, she did not pull away. Jack stroked her hair sweetly. “You see, darling? Don’t you see that you’re so depressed, you can’t even write?”
“I can write...” Chesney argued weakly.
“Then why is your book so late?” Jack asked. “Don't you see? You haven't been able to function since you left me. It was never what you truly wanted.”
Was Jack telling the truth? She blinked again. But big tears fell over her face as Chesney looked up at him. “You hurt me,” she sobbed.
“I know,” Jack nodded and looked at the floor.
“You slept with Belinda,” Chesney cried. “And when you went to Europe on business, she was with you, wasn’t she?”
“I tried to take you,” Jack said. “If you recall correctly, Chez, you refused to go to Europe because you were promoting your last book.”
“I am a writer,” Chesney said flatly, even though tears and snot now dripped over her mouth and chin. “I have to work.”
“You were also my fiancé,” Jack interrupted. “And I'm not making excuses about the affair, Chez, but I got tired of traveling alone. You were not a part of my life. You didn't want to be with me.”
“I'm sorry,” she stepped away, scanned the half-painted room and wiped her nose on her shirt tail. “Jack, you're right,” she said finally. “I didn’t want to be with you. I wanted to pursue my career. But my unwillingness to go with you to Europe did not give you a license to cheat with your assistant.”
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