by Kris Jayne
Shannon advanced on Cori, who stumbled backward.
“God! I said I was sorry. Besides you didn’t seem to mind when you were making out with Aaron the hero.”
Horror flooded Shannon. “What? I have a boyfriend. I wouldn’t make out with anybody.”
“Really? Because after Aaron threw your ex out of here, you made out with him in the hallway and disappeared into the bedroom.”
Acid burned Shannon’s throat, and she felt like throwing up again. “I wouldn’t have done that.”
Cori smirked. “Well, you did.”
“I was drugged!”
“You were pretty happy near as I could tell. Totally into it. Aaron’s hot. I don’t see what the big deal is.”
Shannon’s chest constricted, and she looked down the hall. “Where’s Lindsay?”
Her friend would tell her what happened without all the bullshit commentary.
“She had something to take care of at the funeral home. Won’t be back for a couple hours.”
Shannon’s breathing heaved, and dizziness crept over her. She leaned against the doorjamb to steady herself.
“Look, I can drive you to the doctor if you want.”
“No! I don’t need a doctor. I just have to pull it together.” Shannon threw her face into her palms.
Cori’s tale pushed new pieces of memory to the forefront of her mind. She remembered Kid grabbing her, and a guy pulling her away from him. That had to be Aaron. He’d put his arms around her. Shannon gasped. She had kissed him. She recalled the sandpaper feel of his face on her cheek. What had she done?
The watering of her eyes turned to full-blown tears, and she stepped back into the bathroom, slamming the door. She opened the cabinets across from the sink and found a couple of rough, threadbare towels. That would have to do. A hot shower—that’s what she needed.
She’d get herself clean and wash away the stupidity of the night before. Regret slammed her.
She shouldn’t have come back to the house. She should have gone to the memorial and then seen Lindsay another time. Being around these people was a mistake. She’d known that, and come back anyway. She should have known better, but now, she’d concentrate on forgetting.
How many times had she found herself in this murky mess before—the blur of drugs and a questionable guy? The best part was not remembering. If she went home and got back to her life as it was now, she could continue to not remember.
A shower and then getting the hell out of that house were as good a plan as any.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Over the next three weeks, Jonah became laser-focused on planning Shannon’s birthday. Since it fell on Halloween, she insisted on celebrating the night before because she had trick-or-treating plans with Olivia.
“You can come if you want. I’m meeting at Jeff’s at six for dinner. Trick-or-treating starts at seven.” She shared her plans one night when he stopped by her apartment. He hadn’t seen much of her since she’d returned from the funeral in Mineola. Jonah figured she was still consumed with attending to her friend.
“He won’t mind?”
“I already checked with him. All you have to do is find a costume. I’ve got my witch costume all picked out.”
Jonah’s heart twisted at her expectant look, which gave him his answer. For her to introduce him as her boyfriend to Olivia and her responsible ex-husband meant something to her. Jonah couldn’t disappoint her.
“I’d love to. I think I can wrangle up a costume, and we’ll have your birthday dinner the night before.”
“What are we doing? You won’t tell me anything.”
“I’ll send a car for you at seven. Bring a change of clothes and dress however you want.”
She squinted at him with suspicion. “Anything I want? So, no fancy dinner? Unless you’re buying me something else to wear. Don’t, Jonah. That ball gown was plenty. I feel guilty.”
Shannon sighed, exasperated and pleading.
To reassure her, Jonah raised his right hand. “I promise I won’t buy you another outfit.”
“Thank you. Now, can’t you tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope. Be ready at seven.”
He decided that he wouldn’t buy Shannon one thing for her birthday. Instead, Jonah dug deep into his creativity to impress her with something other than his money.
Staying in seemed like the best idea. Shannon had only been to his craftsmen-style home on historic Swiss Avenue once—and just for a few minutes. They almost always went to her place a few blocks from the Scarlet Maple.
He planned a meal to cook all on his own. Of course, this entailed having a chef from one of his favorite restaurants come over the week before to walk him through a trial-run chicken parmesan with roasted vegetables and pasta.
Jonah never cooked a meal for a woman before. He had hired a chef and told women that he cooked dinner, but that was years ago, in his douchebag twenties.
Digging deep meant dusting off the guitar skills he also acquired in his twenties. Jonah thought he might take a turn at writing something to go along with a tune he knew. Three days into the lyrical process, he realized he should probably stick to market valuations and not quit his day job.
Abandoning the idea that he could write a romantic masterpiece, he went to a local guitar store to find sheet music for something he could practice and learn in a few weeks.
Then, he remembered driving to dinner and Shannon turning up the volume and closing her eyes, loving a particular country song. A few learned chords and YouTube guitar lessons later, Jonah could play it—maybe not like Tim McGraw—but he’d at least try.
Shortly before seven thirty, Shannon stepped into the parqueted foyer, clutching the dozen long-stemmed roses he had delivered to her with the car and an overnight bag. She dropped the bag and removed her coat to reveal long, lean jeans and a glittering halter top in silver sequins. Her hair bounced as she stepped carefully in her sky-high heels.
“A little casual. A little fancy. I have other options in the bag.”
Jonah curled his arms around her, giving her a series of nibbling kisses along her jawline before landing on her lips. The softness of her mouth drew a moan from him. He wound her curls around his fingers, and she pressed toward him. Jonah pulled away, breathing hard into her hair. If he didn’t stop now, his elaborate dinner scheme might be ruined.
“What you have on is perfect—except the shoes. I love them. I could see you in those—only those—later, but you should be comfortable.”
Shannon laughed. Her thumb swiped slowly across her plump bottom lip. Jonah straightened up and exhaled.
“You don’t have to tell me twice to take these off. Or to save them for later.” She threw herself at Jonah, taking his face in her hands for a deep kiss. He pulled her hands down to her sides.
“I made you dinner. I have impressive, romantic plans for tonight. At this rate, we’ll never make it.”
“Okay. Okay. I’m hungry. Lead the way.”
* * *
Shannon floated through the three weeks since the funeral in a haze. Seeing Olivia, working, and avoiding Jonah were priorities one, two, and three.
She called the police officer allegedly looking into Kid’s attack on her and reported that she’d seen him. Shannon could hear the general apathy in the guy’s voice. Jonah had pushed them before, and likely would again. However, there was no way Shannon would mention the incident to him.
No matter how many times she told herself that what happened wasn’t her fault, shame forced itself on her. Her life today was about taking responsibility for her choices, and she’d screwed up.
After her monthly family therapy session with Jeff, Taryn, and Olivia, she’d lingered in the waiting room, nearly discussing the events from Mineola with their therapist. The moment came, and she froze. She could have avoided what happened, and she couldn’t bear to hear that from someone else—let alone her therapist.
Move past it. She admonished herself on a daily basis
, distracting herself with extra shifts at the restaurant or at Vivienne’s.
She tried to go on as before with Jonah. For breakfast, lunch, and/or dinner, he came in to the restaurant. Gladness to see him came easy—even though sometimes she felt like a liar and a cheat.
When the limousine arrived in front of her building, Shannon peered out the window and steeled herself. Jonah planned a special evening for her, and she would enjoy it. His obvious pleasure in seeing her happy prodded her on.
“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” Shannon sat where Jonah told her in the wide dining room situated straight ahead across the foyer.
“Positive,” he shouted from the kitchen. He came back with a ceramic dish filled with tomato sauce and covered in cheese.
“Lasagna?”
“Chicken parmesan.”
“Impressive.”
He set the dish on a trivet between the two place settings on the end of his arts and crafts dining room table. Shannon recognized the coherence between the decor of the room and the era of the house, knowing Vivienne had done the decoration.
“Thank you. I also have some vegetables and pasta. What do you want to drink? I have club soda, Sprite, and Coke. Or water, obviously.”
“Club soda is good. Do you have lime?”
“Of course.”
After a few more trips to and from the kitchen, Jonah finally sat down cater-corner from her and began serving.
“This smells fantastic. I thought you didn’t cook?”
“I got a lesson from a friend. It looks like the one he made, so I’m feeling pretty good about myself. Flavor-wise? We’ll see. Be kind.”
“Always.” Shannon cut a piece of chicken, swearing that regardless of the results, she’d tell him she loved it. Luckily, she didn’t have to lie. “Wow. It’s good!”
Jonah gave a small fist pump. “Victory.”
“Be careful. Now I’m going to start expecting home-cooked meals.”
“I might start making them.”
“You never cooked growing up?”
“No. We had household staff for that. My mother never cooked. My dad certainly never cooked. My grandmother taught us to bake and cook some. I learned to master spaghetti and tacos when I got my first apartment in college. Do you cook much?”
“A little. Honestly, I’m getting better. I grew up making macaroni and cheese out of boxes. I ate that so much that now I can’t stand the sight of it. Olivia asked for it once, and it was a struggle to mix it up without hurling it out a window.”
“I kind of like it, which is weird, because I’ll admit it’s terrible.”
“Cheese shouldn’t come from a powder.”
“So, when you cook what do you make?”
“I learned how to make homemade mac and cheese, but I can’t eat that all the time. I mostly eat simple stuff—baked chicken, pasta, vegetables. Carl, the chef at the Scarlet Maple, showed me how to roast a ‘proper’ chicken.” Shannon made the air quotation marks and laughed.
“How’s that?”
“Make sure your chicken is dry so you get crispy skin. Roast at a high temperature for a few minutes and the reduce it. That’s also for crispy skin. I’m going to try it when I do my turkey for Thanksgiving this year.”
“Oh. What are you planning for Thanksgiving?”
Shannon hadn’t considered spending the holiday with Jonah. Not that she didn’t want to, but she figured he’d be with his family. That didn’t sound like fun to her—at all. She’d never had a happy Thanksgiving.
Jeff and Taryn said she could come over there, but what she really wanted, though, was to cook and spend time with friends. Her boss bragged on her cornbread dressing and invited her to her place. It would just be Shannon, Penny, and Penny’s two kids, but that sounded great. Jonah’s family made her uncomfortable—even as nice as Vivienne was to her.
“Penny—my boss—invited me over. She just got divorced, and it’s just her and her kids. I won’t see Olivia that day. I get her the next day. We’re going Christmas shopping.”
“You can come to my parents if you want. The dinner is usually outstanding, and we watch football.”
“Umm…I could stop by for sure.”
“I imagine a stuffy dinner with my parents isn’t at the top of your list for your holiday off.”
“You’re parents seem…like great people, but I thought it’d be nice to have a relaxed holiday.”
“Believe it or not—the holidays are the best time with my family. My grandmother is driving up from Houston.”
“By herself?”
“Well, her driver is driving her up from Houston. She doesn’t like to fly.”
Jonah stared at her wide-eyed waiting for a response.
“Do I have to dress up?”
“I’ll be in a suit and tie.”
“A suit and tie? For Thanksgiving?”
“We do a formal dinner. The jacket and tie usually come off after dessert—if we’ve eaten all our vegetables.”
For a moment, Shannon took Jonah seriously, then he chuckled.
“I can tell Penny I can’t make it. I would like to spend the day with you.”
“Me too. Let’s make it a date.”
“Are you sure your parents won’t mind the extra person?”
“I’ll tell them we’re spending the holidays together. They’ll be fine.”
“When are you going to give your dad your answer about running for office? Thanksgiving is your deadline, right?”
“Yes. I’ll tell them—as soon as I figure out what I want to do.”
“I can’t imagine being in Congress, but you would have a chance to help a lot of people.”
“Yes, but not the people I want to. That’s what scares me, frankly. The people pushing me to run are people who expect to have a politician in their pocket. Lester Cornell and even my father. If I ran, I’d want to represent the people who don’t already have access to power and government. It’s a tough thing. You have to have money to campaign, but the money makes you beholden to moneymen.”
Jonah dropped his fork and sighed. Shannon respected him for wanting to help everyday people. He’d probably make a great representative.
“The moneymen are always the problem—no matter what you’re talking about, aren’t they? People with money get to call the shots.”
“I wish I could disagree with you. But then, that’s why I think I would want to run. I could do things differently. Or so I tell myself. I don’t know. I keep thinking I’ll get some kind of sign to point me in one direction or another.”
“Whatever you decide, you can always help people if you choose to.”
“True.”
“You did your Habitat for Humanity project last Saturday. How’d that go?”
“Great. We’ve finished a couple of houses, and we’ll start on the next ones in a month or so—weather permitting. Things get trickier over the winter.”
“Well, if you ever need an extra pair of hands, I’d help—if I can get the time off.”
Jonah’s eyes lit up. “You’d love it. You work alongside the people who are going to live in the house. You meet them and their family and form a real connection. I got one of the moms I’ve met a job at Moran Financial. She’s an admin in our payroll department.”
“You love helping people.”
“I do. I know how lucky I am to be in this position. It’s really all an accident of birth.”
“You work hard, too, though.”
“Yes, but it’s still easier. What did Ann Richards once say about George W.? He was born on third base and thinks he hit a triple? I don’t know how true that is for him, but I know I don’t want that to be me.”
“I admire that about you. Some of us are born in the parking lot, and some of us aren’t even that lucky.”
“Well, it’s not where you start. It’s where you finish.”
“I hope so.”
Shannon wondered how far she’d actually come. Just when she thought she e
scaped the mistakes of her past, they jumped up and bit her. Getting dragged backward over and over exhausted her. One day, she feared, she’d run out of steam to rebound.
“Hey,” Jonah interrupted her thoughts, “this is your birthday—sort of—let’s keep the celebration going. I have dessert, which I admit to buying, and then I have your present.”
Shannon crossed her fingers he hadn’t spent more exorbitant amounts of money on her. “I told you that you didn’t have to get me anything.”
“Nonsense. What kind of boyfriend doesn’t give his lady something for her birthday?”
Shannon nearly choked on a piece of zucchini. Jonah thought of himself as her boyfriend. So had she. She still did. Drugs or no, a girlfriend doesn’t throw herself at another man. She clamped down on that thought to root it out of her brain. What happened hadn’t just been her fault.
“Well, I can’t wait to see what it is. Can I get a hint?”
He grinned, lifting his eyes to the wood-coffered ceiling. “No. I’m nervous enough as it is.”
“I’m sure I’ll love it. I don’t know why you’d be nervous.”
“You will. Anyway, we still have cake—but not until you finish your vegetables.” Jonah winked and swirled pasta tightly around his fork.
After dinner, Shannon insisted on clearing the table. A neat pile of pots and dishes sat in the sink, and Shannon started to make sink of hot bubbly water to wash them.
“Don’t bother with that.” Jonah snuck up behind her and swept her hair to the side to kiss her on the neck.
“You cooked. I can’t make you clean.”
“You’re not. My housekeeper will be in tomorrow. She’ll take care of it.”
Shannon liked the idea of having a housekeeper, but she didn’t think she could get used to having strangers sniffing around her house. Jonah, on the other hand, thought nothing of it. What did he do for himself, she wondered?
“You head into the living room. I’ll bring your dessert. Do you want coffee?”
“No, thanks.”
Jonah had the lights low in his den with a small fire going. Shannon dropped onto the brown tweed sofa, crossing her legs to wait for whatever he had planned next.