Nobody's Fool

by Barbara Meyers

  Jolie glanced at her reflection in the dresser mirror. Every day she made an effort to look her best. Hair. Make-up. Outfit. All on the off chance that she might cross paths with Court. At night, when she retreated to the privacy of the guest house she did as she pleased, donning sweats or shorts and T-shirts, cleaning her face and not worrying how she looked because no one saw her.

  She wouldn’t be able to do any of that in Court’s house. She’d always have to be on. Unless she stayed in her room the whole time. The thought of putting on an act for Court’s benefit every night was daunting. Pretending she didn’t care, acting like there was nothing between them, that she’d gotten over what he’d done to her.

  She’d spent too much of her life pretending. She didn’t want to live in that house. But the alternative, letting Court see how much she still hurt over what he’d done, that she still cared and wished they could make things right between them, was unthinkable.

  Somehow she’d have to tough it out. Get through it until Melina’s collection launched and she could escape.

  Three days later Krystian and Sophina helped move Jolie’s things into Court’s guest room. Court was out of town, which Jolie considered a small blessing. He had left a binder on the kitchen counter with instructions for everything from the remote controls for the televisions and sound system to the alarms and garage door opener code. His cleaning lady came every Thursday. Contact information for service people was at the back.

  Once Jolie had unpacked—taking time to appreciate the well-appointed bathroom and the generous closet space—she explored Court’s house.

  It was significantly smaller than Melina’s, of course. Court didn’t have a tennis court, a guest house or a four-car garage. But he had four bedrooms with a separate master suite, a home office and a beautiful kitchen that looked out over the swimming pool and deck.

  He’d forgone a formal living room and created a space primarily for entertaining. An entire wall was taken up with a large multimedia setup and comfortable leather sofas and chairs were grouped around it.

  Jolie wandered into the master suite, curious about Court’s private space. There was a massive king bed heaped with pillows covered in shams that matched the comforter. The décor was made of sturdy pieces of furniture and geometric patterns. Strong, solid and definitely male.

  His walk-in closet featured drawers and shelves and a full-length mirror. His clothes were organized from formal to informal. Jolie ran a hand along the sleeve of a business suit and caught a whiff of Court’s cologne. She leaned closer and breathed in, memories of their time together in Oak Ridge assaulting her senses. She stepped back before sadness could overwhelm her.

  His bathroom reflected even more of him. A walk-in shower with multiple body jets and a rain shower overhead. Tile and granite with towels in navy blue and shades of wheat. A Jacuzzi bathtub.

  She opened one of the mirrored medicine chests and picked up his razor, inspected his dental floss and hair care products.

  Jolie had no idea why she felt compelled to snoop. She knew Court. Or at least she had once. But what she knew of Court hadn’t allowed for his vindictive behavior. So maybe she didn’t really know him at all.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and opened a nightstand drawer. There were recent copies of magazines in there—Forbes, Inc., Sports Illustrated. A small box of tissues. A pack of throat lozenges. An envelope addressed to Court. Knowing she shouldn’t, Jolie picked up the envelope. It had an Oak Ridge postmark and was dated last fall. The return address was Justin Wright’s.

  Inside were pictures from the reunion. Jolie had been vaguely aware of Justin hovering nearby at every event, taking candid shots of all the participants. Justin had been the kid in their class who’d always had a camera in his hand. He’d been responsible for many of the yearbook filler photos.

  Jolie leafed through the photos, which was like a montage of the reunion from start to finish. There was one of her and Court in the corner of the Cedar View Supper Club, holding drinks, each focused on the other. That must have been after Court had dragged her away from Chip and Sarah. Another of them struggling along at the three-legged race, several of their opponents in the background downed. One of them collapsed on the ground at the finish line. Jolie stared at that one for a long time and the happy expression on her face. Another of him swinging her around after their team won the Life Savers competition. A final shot of them side by side at the picnic table, their heads close together.

  A lump swelled in Jolie’s throat. How can we look so right together when everything went so wrong?

  She pushed the photos back into the envelope and closed the drawer. She went to her own room, where she vowed to spend as much time as possible for the duration of her stay. She huddled under the covers trying to pretend it didn’t matter, that she didn’t care, but it was no good. Happiness had slipped through her fingers, and in the end the tears won out.

  Two nights later Jolie pushed through Melina’s back gate. She stepped out onto the paved walkway that ran between Melina’s and Court’s properties. Blackthorne Hills had been designed as a multi-level development with maximum green space. Every neighborhood included walkways and bike trails, dog runs, playgrounds and sections of land left to nature. The less expensive properties were at the front of the development. Melina, being Melina, had purchased a double lot to accommodate her enormous home, tennis facility, guest house and swimming pool. Court’s was one tier below hers, just having a small pool.

  Jolie let herself in through the laundry room’s side door, which led into the kitchen. The television from the living room hummed in the background. The under-cabinet lights cast a warm glow over the granite countertops. The aroma of something divine hung in the air though nothing was cooking. Her stomach rumbled. She heard Court’s voice coming from his office. She stood still for a moment to listen. He was on the phone discussing details of a contract.

  She tiptoed down the hall to her room and closed the door as quietly as possible. She kicked off her shoes and found her favorite pullover and yoga pants. Her plan was to grab some food from the kitchen while he was still on the phone and bring it back to her room. Eat. Shower. Fall into bed. All without running into Court.

  She reached for the doorknob when a tap from the other side made her jump. “Jolie?”

  Court, of course. Who else? She stepped away from the door and offered a nonchalant, “Yes?”

  The aroma from earlier seemed to have followed her into her room. Her stomach rumbled again. The cup of fruit she’d had at lunchtime hadn’t stuck with her, and she hadn’t taken the time to break for an afternoon snack.

  “I got Chinese,” Court said. “Kung pao chicken, shrimp in garlic sauce, fried rice, soup—”

  Jolie whipped the door open, all thoughts of avoiding Court evaporated. She’d just remembered there was virtually nothing of hers in the refrigerator except a couple of yogurts and a Lean Cuisine. “Good, let’s eat.”

  Court stepped back, cradling the take-out bag to his chest so she could lead the way to the kitchen.

  Jolie got plates and utensils out while Court unpacked the food. He’d bought more than one person could possibly eat. Obviously he’d planned to have her join him for dinner. She didn’t see the harm. At the moment, all she cared about was food.

  “Want a beer?” he asked.

  She slid into one of the chairs and started opening the containers. “Sure.”

  He set an opened bottle of Kieran Light on the table and took the chair across from her.

  Jolie piled food on her plate and started eating, ignoring the manners her mother had instilled in her.

  Court did the same, except she was aware of him looking her way more than once. She didn’t attempt conversation and he seemed to know better than to try.

  Jolie ate like she was preparing to hibernate, finished her beer and pushed her chair back. She rinsed her plate a
nd put it in the dishwasher along with her utensils. Her beer bottle went into the recycling bin.

  “Thanks,” she said. She walked past the table without looking at Court. “I’ll buy next time.”

  Any sense of triumph she felt at having ignored Court faded the moment she closed her bedroom door. She wasn’t just behaving as if she were indifferent. She was being downright rude. Her mother would be appalled at her.

  Jolie stripped out of her clothes and got into the shower. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to encourage Court or let him think that she’d forgiven him. If she was pleasant to him, he might take it as a softening of her attitude.

  “Oh, what’s wrong with me?” she asked as she shampooed her hair. She didn’t recognize herself any more. She thought longingly of those therapy seminars she’d attended. What would Caroline say? She pictured herself on the stage with her.

  How does that make you feel?

  I feel awful.

  Why do you think you behaved that way?

  I behaved that way because Court hurt me and I’m angry with him for what he did. What would you like to change about your behavior?

  I’d like to change the fact that I’m having trouble acting like I don’t care.

  Jolie could hear Caroline’s calm measured voice say triumphantly, You are the only one who has control over what you do and what you say. You have a choice about how you treat other people.

  Her repetitive self-analyzing thoughts tumbled over themselves while she dried her hair and brushed her teeth. She crawled into bed, confident she could find a happy medium in her future interactions with Court. Polite but distant. Professional. That’s what she’d strive for after she apologized for her earlier behavior.

  Court brooded in front of the television after he’d stowed the leftovers in the fridge. He didn’t know what he’d expected from Jolie, but he hadn’t expected to be ignored. She’d barely said two words the whole time. She refused to even look at him. She’d turned into an ice princess, and he wondered once again at the wisdom of allowing Melina to talk him into this arrangement.

  Initially he’d thought it was a good idea to have Jolie in his house where she couldn’t avoid him. But he wasn’t going to corner her and try to clear the air. Not unless he wanted to have his eyes scratched out. She wasn’t ready to forgive him. Hell, she wasn’t ready to even speak to him. The situation was far worse than he’d imagined.

  He gave up and went to bed where he tossed and turned trying to come up with a better plan to bring Jolie around. Plan D should probably be to stop making plans altogether. At least where Jolie was concerned. The only thing he kept coming back to was something his mother said often when he was growing up: Time heals all wounds.

  Yes, but how much? Would he be old and gray by then? He had an image in his head of a gnarly ancient hermit who’d spent his entire life alone, longing for the one who got away and never having found anyone else to fill that void.

  That was what he had to look forward to if he didn’t figure something out.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jolie sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed, surrounded by discarded sketches. She’d started yet another design on her pad, concentrating on getting the line of the evening look just right.

  Pleasing Melina was not easy. She nitpicked at everything, asked countless questions, offered endless ideas for improvement. Initially Jolie had hated kowtowing to her every whim, but she’d grudgingly come to accept that Melina had an expert’s eye when it came to fashion. She could take a great design and make it fantastic with something as simple as an unexpected embellishment or reworking the sleeves.

  As the line began to come together and the date of the Atlanta launch neared, Jolie’s excitement grew. Her gut told her that between the two of them, they had come up with something that would make the fashion world sit up and take notice. That didn’t make her current frustration easier to take. But in the end everything she’d endured, including being ensconced in Court’s house, would be worth it.

  A tap on the door sent the furrow of her frown even deeper. “What?”

  Court opened the door a few inches and waited until she looked up.

  “What?” she said again, her irritation mounting. It was hard enough to concentrate knowing he was in the same house with her, just a room or two away. To have him in what had been designated as her personal space completely ruined her focus.

  “Someone here to see you.” He turned and left, leaving the door open those few inches.

  Jolie set her sketchpad aside, not putting it past Court to have let in a couple of Jehovah’s Witnesses for her to deal with. She came into the entryway and gave a whoop of pure joy, then launched herself into Val’s waiting arms.

  “Val!”

  He lifted her off the floor while she hugged him, not wanting to let go. Val was everything she needed in that moment. Home. Comfort. Friendship.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” she exclaimed when they finally let go of each other. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

  He looked divine as always, even though she’d tousled his hair a bit in her enthusiasm. He’d perfected business casual in a way that was GQ-photo-shoot worthy.

  “Because that, my darling, would have spoiled the surprise. Come on. I’m taking you to dinner so you can tell me all about everything I’ve missed.”

  “Don’t you mean everything I’ve missed about you?”

  “Isn’t that what I said?” He grinned. “Go. Go get dressed. Keep it simple. I’m starving. Where’d Court go? Court, you’re more than welcome to join us,” Val called.

  Jolie made a nixing motion before she heard Court behind her say, “Thanks anyway.”

  Jolie spun around.

  “I wouldn’t want to intrude.” He nodded at Val and left. The television came on. Val and Jolie looked at each other.

  “Oops,” Val whispered. Jolie grabbed his hand and hauled him to her room and closed the door.

  “Why would you invite him?” she hissed as she tugged off her top and began rummaging in her closet. “What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking it was the polite thing to do. I could sense him listening to every word we said. You should have seen his face when he answered the door.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “If looks could kill. Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t mind tangling with him if we were playing for the same team, but that’s not what he had in mind.”

  “You’re delusional,” Jolie said. She shrugged into a winter white blouse and a lightweight green cardigan and skinny black jeans. She added some jewelry and ran a brush through her hair.

  “You’re the one who’s delusional,” Val replied. He leaned against the bathroom doorjamb and watched her touch up her make-up and add some gloss. “The man is so not over you.”

  The hand holding the lip-gloss faltered. “Even if you’re right, he had his chance.”

  Val moved behind her, his hands on her waist. “He did and he blew it?”

  “You know he did,” Jolie whispered.

  Val kissed her hair. “Okay. Let’s go. There’s got to be a decent restaurant around here somewhere.”

  Court pushed away the sandwich he’d made and turned up the TV. He’d been flipping channels for an hour, alternating between anger and despair. A reel that started when he’d opened the door for Val to the moment the pair had left for dinner played in a loop through his head.

  Jolie greeting Val had been the most emotion he’d seen out of her since she’d arrived in Atlanta. Certainly since she’d been staying in his house. Mostly she ignored him or, more recently, was painfully polite. She kept her distance and stayed in her room whenever possible, where it seemed she had everything she needed. If she ventured out at all it was to the kitchen and nowhere else, although they had crossed paths in the laundry room on
ce.

  Court muted the television and stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t know what he was going to do about Jolie. She made him crazy. She wouldn’t forgive him. She wouldn’t even talk to him. He’d hurt her and she was never going to get over what he’d done.

  He couldn’t blame her. He couldn’t go back and change it. He couldn’t make it right. But he also couldn’t believe he’d lost her for good. As long as she was here, living in his house, he had hope.

  Or so he thought until he’d seen her reaction to Val’s surprise visit. Pure, unadulterated delight. Court resented every second of the time she was in Val’s arms. Val looked just as delighted to see her as she was to see him. They’d wasted no time going to her room, although they hadn’t been in there long before they left for dinner.

  That didn’t make sense. If Court was with Jolie and he hadn’t seen her in weeks, the last thing on his mind would be food. Then again, they had all night. Court had no idea how long the guy was staying. Jolie was under a lot of pressure. She didn’t have time for distractions.

  Before he could further contemplate Jolie sleeping with another man in his own house, he picked up the murder mystery he’d been wanting to read.

  He hoped it wouldn’t give him any ideas.

  Court was engrossed in the story when he heard the front door open and the murmurs of voices. Footsteps receded down the hallway toward Jolie’s room then all was quiet. Court sighed and put down the book. How, he wondered for the thousandth time, had he screwed up so badly?

  “I’m so glad I get to stay here instead of some five-star hotel,” Val said. They’d both completed their nightly beauty rituals and were in bed with the light off. “I’ll take company over comfort any day.”

  “Me too. I wish I didn’t have to work. I wish we could do something tomorrow.”

  “I’ll find a way to entertain myself, so don’t worry about that. But I do want to meet Melina. Then tomorrow night let’s do something fun and fabulous. Go to a club. Drink. Dance. We can invite her along.”