Her friend Andrea and sister Heather thought she was brave. That was the greatest compliment of all. That other women could look at what she was doing and appreciate the value of it. Jennifer just wished she saw more of Heather and Andrea these days.
Between the work and Preston’s demands for attention, Jennifer had very little time for her friends. She felt more isolated even though she had never been more exposed.
Worse, she’d lost all contact with Paul. The years had ticked by without one of those unexpected phone calls or chance meetings. Sometimes, when she was alone and allowed her mind to wander, she dreamed about him. He was her first love and, she feared, her only true one.
“I’ll consider it.” Walt’s voice broke through the silence. “Your argument is well reasoned and smart.”
She snapped back to the present and saw the deep frown on Preston’s face when Walt picked her view over his. “Good.”
“Now, it’s time to get to work.” Walt gave her a thumbs-up then left.
Preston watched him go. “That was a mistake.”
“Maybe.”
“You’ll regret it.”
“If I do, I’ll have no one to blame but myself.” And for some reason that felt good.
Twenty-One
When one opportunity ends, another begins.
—Grandma Gladys, The Duchess
THE DAY HAD BEEN CRAP. A BIG, HEAPING PILE OF CRAP.
Paul slammed the car door and wrapped his hand around his aching wrist. Last time he’d try to catch a coworker as he fell off a ladder.
He wanted to rub his eyes, but they burned from too little sleep and too many hours on the job. He should have stopped for drops, but he’d just wanted to get home to a shower and his bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow he knew he’d sleep for a week. Maybe longer.
This project had been hell. It took him away from home for more than five weeks, installing pipes and otherwise engaging in back-breaking labor for days on end. He relished working outside, but his muscles screamed for rest.
The drums could wait.
Hell, Wendy could wait.
Shower, sandwich, pillow. That was the only order that mattered. If Wendy tried to talk him to death, he’d pretend to fall asleep, though heaven knew he wouldn’t have to fake that.
He fumbled with his keys at the front door. His breath hissed out of him when he twisted his hand the wrong way and aggravated his injury. “Damn.”
He finally shoved the front door open and was surprised to see the studio dark. The usual nightlight near the kitchen counter was even off.
The timing didn’t make sense. It was only seven, hardly past dinner time. Probably meant Wendy and Brian went out. He couldn’t blame them since he wasn’t supposed to be home until tomorrow.
That was the only good thing about the injury. He got to escape a bit early, but not until after he’d spent hours waiting for a medical release. The paperwork and inevitable questioning about workplace safety would be unbearable next week, but he couldn’t dwell on that now. It wasn’t in his evening plans.
He dumped his bag on the hardwood floor and stalked through the darkness, past the stairway to the loft and into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, even thought about downing a beer, but the shower called. He wouldn’t feel human until he’d washed the grime off.
Each bedroom had a bathroom. Brian’s was upstairs. Paul’s was in the bedroom off the family room. He headed there.
He didn’t hear the rustling until he was on top of the door. He didn’t have to reach for the phone or call the police. The lights were off in there as well, but he didn’t mistake the noise. Shuffling and panting. Low murmurs and the whisper of Wendy’s voice.
She had a man in there.
His heart stopped. Actually stammered to a stop and brought him to a standstill with his hand frozen just inches from pushing the door fully open.
Through the crack, he could see bare legs and the movement of sheets over the mattress. A groan. Begging.
He forced his hand to move and shoved the door open until it bounced against the wall behind it. At the crashing sound, the figures on the bed jumped apart.
Paul saw a blur of skin and blue sheets. When his mind focused again, he watched Wendy curl up near the headboard with material clenched in her fist and her eyes wide with horror.
“Paul . . .” She shook her head as if trying to make his image disappear.
His gaze moved to the other person crowded against the pillows. Dark hair and a slight build.
“Man, I can explain,” Brian said.
Paul tried to open his mouth. Tried to make sense of the scene in front of him as his mind replayed every moment and every conversation of the last year. The pieces fell together. His roommate and his girlfriend eating dinner and watching movies. They shifted to a couple and never bothered to fill him in.
Wendy scrambled to her knees. “It’s not what you think.”
Paul found his voice. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“It’s . . .” Wendy looked to Brian and then back to Paul, but no words came out.
They didn’t have to. He had eyes. He could see them, close his eyes and hear them. The memory was burned in his brain.
“You’re sleeping with Brian.” Paul gagged on the words as he choked back the bile rushing up his throat.
She scampered toward him, dragging the sheet behind her and exposing Brian’s chest. “Paul, please listen to me.”
“No.” The word came out as a harsh whisper. Paul didn’t even recognize the sound as his own.
Tears ran down her cheeks. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“You used our bed.” That fact pricked him the most. They could have granted him some dignity and used Brian’s room, but no.
The sharpness of the betrayal stabbed at every visible inch of skin. They didn’t just cheat. They ripped everything to shreds and made it impossible for his mind to function without revulsion spilling through him.
He trusted them. Shared his concerns with Brian and his life with Wendy. While he thought he was getting support, he was really pushing her to someone else. Someone who lived right there and pretended loyalty.
Paul grabbed the door frame as a wave of dizziness threatened to take him down. Brian shifted as if to get out of bed, but Paul stopped him with a deadly glare. “Don’t.”
Brian sat back down hard. “We should go into the other room and talk about it.”
Geography wasn’t going to make this better or wipe the visions of their naked bodies from his head. Paul could barely breathe. “Why?”
Wendy slipped off the mattress and stood in front of Paul. “How can you ask that? We have to work this through.”
That she could think she’d ever mean anything to him again stunned him. “There’s nothing to figure out.”
Her wet eyes pleaded with him. “We can work through this.”
He stood there, letting the sudden quiet wash through him. For the first time in a very long while, he didn’t know what to do. Hit Brian or run. Shake her or unload on what he thought of her. He wanted to swear and curse.
“I’ll be out by the weekend.” Paul didn’t know where the words came from, but they were the right ones.
Wendy took the final step, closing the remaining distance between them. “No!”
Brian stood beside her. “Paul, don’t do this, man.”
He looked from one to the other, to the two people he should be able to trust more than anyone else, and he felt nothing but a cold calm. No heat or passion. No pain or anger.
Those would come later. Rage brewed right under the surface. He felt it heating up and planned to wallow in it when he was alone, but not now. He refused to give them the satisfaction.
They’d hollowed him out and left nothing behind. He didn’t know a body could hurt like this.
“It just happened.” Wendy’s gaze skidded away from his face as she said it.
His brain jump-started. Suddenly he had to kn
ow how long they been screwing behind his back. “How many times?”
“What?” She stammered out the question.
“It’s simple. How often? How many days . . . or is it more like months?” Paul wanted the details if only as a way to strengthen his mind against her and guarantee something like this would never happen again.
Brian winced. “It’s not—”
Damn. “A long time then.”
The anger came at Paul in a rush. He’d been so damn blind. He’d spent hours wallowing in guilt over Wendy and his inability to meet her relationship demands. And she’d been laughing at him while she screwed his friend.
The betrayal threatened to knock him over. The exhaustion faded away, leaving behind a trail of throbbing pain mixed with an almost homicidal need to hurt her.
He had to get out of there.
“Be gone tomorrow, and I’ll come back to get my things.” He turned to leave, not having any idea where to go.
Wendy wrapped her fingers around his arm and turned him back to face her. “Listen to me.”
He glanced at her hand and wondered why he couldn’t even feel her touch. “Let go.”
Something in his voice must have reached her because her hand dropped and the tears fell faster. He saw it and didn’t care. He wanted to hurt her, to shred her insides like she was doing to him.
“Tomorrow. Gone.” He couldn’t say anything else.
He walked and kept walking until he hit his car. He didn’t remember picking up his duffel bag or putting the keys in the ignition. The next time his brain focused, he was sitting in Neil’s driveway. That he didn’t crash or injure anyone was nothing short of a miracle.
He had no idea how long he sat there in the cold car as the darkness enveloped him. When he woke up, he was in Neil’s guestroom.
Twenty-Two
Know your limits.
—Grandma Gladys, The Duchess
JENNIFER SAW HIM ACROSS THE CROWDED BAR AND her heart rate spiked. After all this time and how much her life had changed, he still owned her heart.
The randomness of them being together now in the same place, on the same night, struck her. Preston had an unexpected meeting next door. He dropped her off here to wait while he worked.
Or supposedly worked. She no longer understood what he did with his time, and his violent mood swings made questioning him too risky.
She tried to blend in. As months turned to nearly two years at Naked News, she became noticed more often, though still not as much as she thought would happen. But going out and just being Jennifer grew tougher as the subscriptions rose.
Tonight, she stood with her head balanced against a wooden post and stared at her past. For all the people who knew her as Victoria, Paul was the one who loved her as Jennifer. He’d never said the words. Didn’t have to. They hovered between them, unsaid but vibrating with life.
In the quiet of her mind, she watched him. He was as handsome as she remembered. All guy and tough on the outside but sweet underneath. Blondish-brown hair fell over his forehead, just begging for fingers to run through it.
She couldn’t hear his laugh, but she remembered the rich sound. His shoulders shook and his eyes lit up as he nodded at something Neil said. They chatted up the bartender and snuck peeks at the game on the television behind him. Their bond appeared as strong as ever, which filled her with a humble satisfaction.
Paul deserved good friends and good times. He deserved so much.
From her vantage point behind a post and through crowds of people, she could see the blonde two seats down throw I’m-available looks in Paul’s direction. So far, he wasn’t catching the hint. Didn’t even seem to notice.
Jennifer smiled at his lack of ego. He never did understand his appeal. He failed to notice when Tracie flirted with him. His laser-like focus kept him moving forward.
Not that he’d been celibate. Hardly that. Jennifer heard rumors now and then. Knew he’d lived with a woman named Wendy but hadn’t heard much about her recently. Jennifer stood up on her tiptoes looking for a wedding band, but she was too far away to get a good peek.
Every now and then Heather would hear something, or people in Jennifer’s social circle would mention seeing Paul. They didn’t run with the same people, but they went in and out of the same neighborhoods, so their friends would talk.
More than once she’d asked someone to pass a message to Paul that “Jennifer said hi” but she never heard back. Figured on some level that was best.
Still, she was amazed she didn’t see him more often. She’d sure been tempted to seek him out and watch him play with his band from the safe distance at the back of the room. Working up the nerve had been the issue.
So was explaining her absence to Preston. He didn’t even like her hanging out with Heather. And he knew all about Paul. Not the details, but bits and pieces. Likely enough to ferret out her true feelings.
“You ready to go?” As if she’d conjured him up, Preston stepped in front of her, blocking her view of Paul.
Preston’s eyes were glassy and wild. He kept glancing around and shifting. A mass of constant motion, which was a new thing he’d picked up.
She focused on this thin lips. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You seem . . . funny.”
His usual detached demeanor had been replaced with twitching. “We need to head out.”
Leaving would be a relief. “Okay.”
Still not sure what was happening or the reason behind Preston’s jumpy behavior, she put her arm through Preston’s. For the briefest of moments she let her gaze touch on Paul. A visual caress for a second in that one last look.
Something on her face had Preston spinning around. He followed her stare.
“What are you . . .” His eyebrows lifted. “Ah, I get it.”
Her blood froze. “What?”
“Now I see what has you so excited. Paul’s here. Perfect.” Preston didn’t run his hands together like a scene is some bad movie, but he looked like he could.
“For what?”
He smiled with a coldness that chilled her. “I’m fine with it. He’s a friend. You’re close.”
Every cell in her body whirled in panic. The thought of her worlds colliding here, like this, with Preston on edge and Paul relaxed, made the room spin around her. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you say hello to him? Catch up on old times?”
“No.”
“Now, that’s no way to treat an old lover.”
“Preston, don’t—”
“Let’s go relive old times, shall we?” Preston turned toward the bar.
She grabbed his arm and tugged until he faced her again. It took all of her strength and will to stop his tracks. “I want to leave.”
“We can talk, maybe exchange some stories about you. We’re all grown-ups.”
She wasn’t convinced that was true at the moment. “We’re supposed to meet the others in an hour.”
She didn’t want to go out or haunt the clubs. Everything inside her screamed to rush home and hide there. This was her nightmare. She’s dreamed about seeing Paul again, but not like this.
Preston’s smirk morphed into a frown. “Why are you so nervous?”
Terrified was more like it. “I’m not.”
“I was thinking we should get together with him. You know I’ve been wanting us to make some new friends and try a few adventures.”
She knew what he really meant, and it had nothing to do with friendship. This was part of Preston’s pushing of her boundaries. He wanted to take her to dark, forbidden places she didn’t want to go.
“No, Preston.”
He stood there for a second before a smile broke over his face.
“You win this round.”
She never won. Not with him. She might not be strong enough to leave him, but she was smart enough to get that.
“I think we should get out of here.”
“And I believe in giving a wo
man what she wants.”
She didn’t question her luck in him dropping the subject.
Instead, she moved him out the door as fast as possible.
“You’re Paul, right?”
Dark hair and an expensive suit. Paul knew exactly who this guy was. He’d seen him around. Heard stories. The guy was some business genius.
Preston, the man Jennifer lived with, probably loved.
He’d been sitting at the table in the bar, staring for the last twenty minutes. He’d been in the same place last week, but Paul had only caught a glimpse of him that night. Something had twitched at the back of his neck, and when he turned, he’d seen Preston shuffling toward the door.
Paul got the hint. Clearly, the man wanted attention. Paul wasn’t in the mood for a fight and certainly didn’t want to think about Jennifer. He didn’t want to think of any woman, really. The situation with Wendy had rubbed him raw.
She called every day and he ignored her. They were over and he was looking forward to some time alone. No more jumping from relationship to relationship. A guy could only take so much crazy in his life.
He would have left the bar now, shoved this smirking jerk to the side and hit the door, except that he was meeting Neil and a few other friends. So Paul sat there and shook hands with the guy who now had the right to touch Jennifer every night.
The thought kicked him as hard as Wendy’s betrayal. If he were being honest, even harder.
“I have something for you.” The guy’s voice was as smooth as scotch.
Paul hated the other man on sight. “What?”
“Here.” Preston slid a piece of paper across the bar in Paul’s direction.
It was all a bit too spy-like for Paul’s taste. If the guy had something to say, he should just say it. Playing games was not his thing. Engaging in some sort of showdown with this jackass didn’t sit well either.
Paul knew he no longer had the right to fight for Jennifer. That was this guy’s role now.
“What is it?” he asked without turning the paper over to read it. If the guy wanted to play games, fine, but Paul wasn’t participating.
Preston hesitated, his gaze narrowing. “Jennifer’s private cell number.”
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