“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds so appealing.” He laughs as he turns his body toward me a little more. “No, I guess I’m not offering to go to a birthday party as much as I’m saying I’d like to give you a chance to have a little fun.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know…because you deserve it?” He draws his eyes away from me and focuses on the actor being interviewed on the television. “You work incredibly hard and completely focus on Bailey. Even tonight, you were giving her all the chicken off your plate.”
“She liked the chicken the best.”
“Exactly my point. You didn’t even think about keeping it for yourself.”
“That’s just a mom thing,” I argue.
“Really? ‘Cause I had a mom, and it wasn’t like that.” He places his fingertips against my shoulder, just enough contact to make me look at him. “Let me do that for you, please. I want to. Go hang out with Annie for a while and relax.”
That charming aura he seems to cloak himself with dances across the sofa and wraps itself around me. Even if I wanted to tell him no, I’m not sure my lips would follow through. The man could probably convince me to give him my car if he doesn’t stop that intense eye-studying scrutiny he’s been practicing lately.
Not that giving up the car would be a particularly hard sell. I could use an upgrade.
“If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” he insists, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. He doesn’t take his eyes off me, and I can’t help but notice the gentle pressure of his hand against my shoulder.
“Almost Midnight with Jamie Price,” I interject, forcing my attention to the television. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this show. Normally I’m in bed by now.”
“That’s a shame.”
“What?” My eyes swing in his direction, landing on him just as he drags his hand away from my shoulder.
“Nothing. You deserve the world, that’s all. You shouldn’t spend your Friday nights alone.”
His eyes tell me that he’s paying me a compliment, but the fact that I’m not in agreement brings my ego down a notch. Rubbing the hem of my sweater dress between my fingers, I try to play it off as a joke.
“Well, technically I’m not alone, because you’re here. Anyway, what would I do with Bailey? Have you watch her while I went out on a date?”
He smiles, but not that charming gesture with the dimples that proves irresistible. This smile doesn’t touch his eyes, and he turns away from me to look at the TV.
“Absolutely, if that’s what you want. I’d be happy to watch her anytime.”
“I’ll be sure to alert the hordes of guys breaking down my door,” I mutter.
“You can’t tell me no one at school ever asks you out.”
“Well, that would be illegal.”
He laughs as though I just told a grand joke, but the truth is, I’m a bit flustered by his choice of topic and the change in his body language.
“No, no one at school asks me out,” I continue. “Honestly, there aren’t many single guys there. And the ones who are single probably erroneously assume that I’m involved with Mr. Jennings, since we share the last name, our classrooms touch, and we seem to wind up eating lunch together a lot.”
“He’s not your type, huh?”
The amount of thought I force myself to go through to ponder his question makes my eyebrows pinch together. “I’m not really sure I have a type, not in that way at least. Beyond the usual nice, smart, and so on.”
“That’s a cop out answer if I ever heard one.”
Is it? Seems to me that it beats desiring someone unkind who lacks of intelligence. Not that I need to share that with Jake, because this is already making me more uncomfortable than I care to admit. Besides, what am I supposed to say? Someone like you, except preferably not a gigolo.
The effects of my internal overthinking threaten to show on my face, so I stare at the blonde woman on the television, watching her perfectly painted lips break into a smile as she laughs at something Jamie said. Something about her seems so familiar…
“Oh my gosh, she looks just like your friend’s wife,” I blurt, glancing at Jake. He squints as though he’s trying to focus before shifting his position on the couch and nodding.
“Yeah, Camdyn. She’s on TV with Jamie from time to time.”
“She hangs out with Jamie Price,” I repeat haltingly.
“Yeah, she writes books. Girly stuff I imagine, but I’m not much of a reader.”
Grateful for the distraction, I walk into the kitchen and retrieve my phone from the counter, stopping on my way back to pull up the search engine.
“Camdyn Parker, right?”
My eyes remain on the phone as I sit down, and when I glance up, I realize I’ve settled myself a little too close to him on the sofa. I’m trying to decide whether it’s too awkward to slide away from him when he leans closer and glances at my phone screen, his arm sliding behind my shoulders.
“No, her books aren’t Camdyn Parker. Camdyn Taylor, and some other fake name she had before that.”
I begin typing her name into the phone’s search bar, and the feel of Jake’s hand resting on my left shoulder makes my fingers slide awkwardly across the screen. Camdrb winds up being the result of that effort, so I begin erasing as my pulse increases. My second attempt isn’t much better, because as soon as I think I have it he says, “You spelled it wrong.” The closeness of his voice is expected, but still makes me want to lean away from him. My brain, anyway. My body seems to desire the exact opposite. While I remain perfectly still, willing my mind and body into some sort of truce, Jake uses his right hand to touch the keyboard on my phone, spelling out the name.
The instant he finishes, a wealth of information appears on the screen, beginning with an official website. He touches her name at the top, and when the phone refreshes her face is front and center on the screen. Who Is Camdyn Taylor, About C.W. Oliver, Books, Movie News, etc.
“She makes movies?” My voice has an odd sound, similar to a half Marilyn Monroe-half laryngitis hybrid. I clear my throat hoping Jake won’t notice.
“How is the casting going?” Jamie asks on the TV, as though he heard my throaty question.
“You know I can’t talk about those types of top-secret things,” she tells him, glancing behind her as though she’s being watched. She leans a little closer to the camera, and her voice grows quieter. “Honestly, they tell me nothing. Less than nothing. I think they’re scared to death I’ll screw something up. The only thing I can tell you is that I have it on good authority that yours truly will be in the direct vicinity of George Washington himself.”
“They are actually trusting you to stand next to the first president of our country?”
“Definitely a risky move, but in their defense, he’s already dead.”
Jake chuckles, bringing me back to my present situation and the realization that he still has his arm wrapped around my shoulders. Purely to get closer to the phone, I’m sure.
“Have you talked to him lately?” I ask, trying not to read too much into his actions. “Cole, I mean.”
“Yeah, a little bit.”
My eyes won’t move from her face on the television, where she just said something else that has Jamie laughing.
“What is it about her?” I wonder aloud, leaning back so at least his arm will be against the couch and not solely resting on my shoulders. That way maybe I can begin to tell myself that he’s just trying to be comfortable.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you cared enough about her that you almost screwed up your friendship over her. What makes her your type? What did you like about her?”
He leans his head back against the couch, merely an inch away from mine, and lets out a sigh before he bothers answering.
“I don’t know.” He rubs his right hand along his jeans at his thigh, and I drop the phone to my lap. “No, that’s not tr
ue. Parker and I basically had opposite philosophies the past couple years. He never dated anyone, because he was only interested if he knew she might be the right girl. I thought he was crazy. The way I saw it, he had a list of missed opportunities a mile long. So when Camdyn showed up, my interest in her was the same basic interest I would have had in any pretty girl. It was different for Parker.”
“How so?” His arm around my shoulders is so perfectly still, I begin to wonder if he even realizes he left it there.
“He didn’t come back to work telling me that he met her, or that he wanted to date her. He started talking about her like he’d just discovered life on another planet. She was fascinating to him.”
His hand slides away from my shoulders as he pulls it down and rubs his fingers across his face, almost like he’s tired. The immediate lack of his warmth is rather disappointing, but I remind myself that he shouldn’t have his arm around me anyway.
“The thing is, he made her sound irresistible to me, too. The more I think about it, I’m pretty sure what I was looking for in that situation wasn’t her at all. Just someone or something to feel that way about. Something that matters.”
The TV switches to a commercial break, singing something about spicy volcano tacos, and I find myself glancing in Jake’s direction.
“Anyway,” he continues, “you asked what my type was, right? I’m thinking she has to be brunette.”
“I see you as more of a blonde guy.”
“There you go stereotyping.” He meets my eye and holds his gaze steady. “Definitely brunette, dark eyes. She has to be kind and patient, careful with details, borderline perfectionist. Maybe a little mysterious, and loves kids. That’s a must, of course.”
“Sounds like you’re becoming picky.” Although I intend my words as a joke and offer them with a grin, he nods at my statement.
“I am, very picky. What about you? What does your type look like?”
“Probably a billionaire who owns his own yacht and has one of those private islands.”
“Very funny,” he says with a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Okay, being totally truthful… I don’t know what he looks like. He’s smart, definitely quick on his feet. Makes me laugh. Constantly challenges me to do better, be better. And I won’t worry about whether he’s devoted to me, because he’s waited for me for a long time.”
“Waited for you,” he repeats, tension showing in the movement of his jaw. “I guess you mean like you, before you and I—”
“Yes.”
“So you’re looking for a guy who’s never messed up? Parker told me I should read about the prodigal son, and that guy did some screwed up stuff. His dad still took him back, though.”
For a split second, my mind flashes to Heather and her constant teasing about Wonderland. I can hear her joking that I’ve gone through the rabbit hole. That could provide a logical explanation for why Jake McAuliffe is giving me a Bible lesson.
While we sit on the couch in my house.
In front of the TV where we just saw the married woman he once made a play for.
Who happens to be moderately famous.
“Of course I don’t think there’s anyone who’s never screwed up in their life,” I finally say, trying to tamp down the illogical feeling of panic I sense rising inside.
Those blue eyes finally leave my face as he tilts his head to look at the ground. “You think that guy is out there, then?”
“Why shouldn’t he be?” My eyes wander to the floor, wondering what he’s finding so fascinating there. “I can’t afford to give up everything I ever expected my life to be. Things have definitely changed with Bailey, but anything is possible.”
“Yeah,” he whispers, leaning toward the edge of the couch and placing his hands on his knees.
Does he think if I find someone that he won’t be part of Bailey’s life anymore?
“Jake,” I say, reaching out to touch his arm. The simple motion causes him to turn his head toward me again, and I wish I could read his eyes the way he reads mine. There’s some sort of storm lurking in their depths, and I can’t tell if I need to heed the warning.
“Listen, in no way am I here to make you unhappy. That’s the absolute last thing I want.”
“I know,” I answer automatically, because somewhere deep inside his words resonate.
“Don’t settle.”
My eyes widen as he turns his entire body in my direction and takes my hands in his. The feeling of my own pulse beating against his fingers turns my stomach in knots, and I fight the urge to pull away. Not because I’m worried about what he might do, but because I’m worried about what I’ll do. Maybe it’s the constant, every-day contact, or the fact that I don’t have any other viable offers on the table, but Jake has been chipping his way into my heart lately. Little by little, one sweet word to Bailey at a time.
I desperately want to keep that thought locked away, because having it out in the open is only going to hurt.
“Don’t settle,” he repeats. “If that guy shows up, just make sure there’s something there besides the fact that he waited. If you want a disciplined guy, that’s great, but don’t let that be all there is.”
“You act like the whole thing is about platitudes and denial.” A thick breath catches in my throat, causing my eyes to tear up as Jake leans in more earnestly, making sure I’m focused on him. It’s impossible not to be, with his face just inches from mine and his eyes holding me captive.
“No, it’s all about right and wrong. You see everything in black and white, Alex. It’s probably why you like algebra, because you can’t talk your way into a correct answer the way you can in any other class. Ask someone to elaborate on the history behind the Civil War and they can probably go off on a tangent about southern rights and the price of cotton, but it’s not like that with algebra. Either x is 4 or it isn’t.”
“This isn’t about math.”
“No,” he agrees, holding my hands tighter. “It’s about you and the fact that nothing’s perfect. You’ve spent your entire life trying to live up to the idea that you can be flawless, but you’re not. And the minute you became imperfect wasn’t with me, as much as you want to keep punishing yourself for it.”
A tear makes its way down my cheek, and I pull my hand out of his so I can brush it away.
“You don’t know that much about me, not really.”
“You hate not measuring up.” Since I’ve removed my right hand, he wraps both his around my left. “I bet you’ve been that way since you were a girl, never doing anything wrong. And you don’t want to do anything to disappoint your parents, either. You aren’t responsible for what happens to them, and you’re not responsible for Heather.”
A response is probably necessary, but I can’t force any coherent thoughts past the obvious roadblock that is Jake’s spot-on analysis. It makes me want to pull the neck of my sweater over my head and pretend to disappear rather than to continue staring at that handsome face.
“You’re so devoted to making sure Bailey has a good start, but as awesome as that is, don’t sacrifice yourself. She comes alive when she sees you shed that faultless image. When you’re pretending to be Hoppy, or dancing around the living room, or rewriting her books in your head while you read them. And I have no right to say anything, I know that, but I care about the two of you.”
He abruptly releases my hand and stands so he can step around the couch and grab his shoes.
Tell him not to leave.
But I can’t. Instead, I rise from my spot on the couch and brush at my eyes again before straightening the hem at the bottom of my dress.
“Listen, don’t mind me,” he mutters as he kneels to tie his shoe. “I’ll be around tomorrow sometime before noon so you can go hang out with Annie.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He tilts his head up so he can offer a smile, like he’s trying to prove that the conversation that left me shaken rolls right off his back. “I’ve been
thinking through some things, and trying to figure some stuff out. You know what, though? It doesn’t matter. I should probably go.”
He moves in the direction of the door, and I can’t make myself go around the barrier of the couch.
“Thank you,” I say, watching him grab his jacket from the back of a kitchen chair.
“For what?”
Everything, I want to say. Holding my hand for five minutes, even if it was just to lecture me. Looking at me like you see me, and I’m important. Making me feel reckless and valued at the same time.
“Dinner,” I lamely offer. “Offering to watch Bailey tomorrow. Just showing up.”
He stretches the jacket across his back as he shoves his arm into the sleeve. “You don’t have to thank me,” he states, pulling the keys to his truck from his jeans pocket. “I’d do pretty much anything you asked, but you’ve probably figured that out by now.” There’s a lengthy pause as he waits by the door, looking in my direction like he has something more to say. Finally, he shrugs his shoulder and makes a step toward the porch. “Good night.”
“Good night, Jake,” I whisper after he closes the door behind him. Minutes tick by as I continue to stand by the couch, just watching the darkness through the corner of the blinds and keeping an eye on the place where he just walked out. Finally, I resign myself to the fact that the headlights aren’t returning and he’s not walking back through the door.
Why I would want him to do that in the first place is vaguely confusing. There’s absolutely no future in harboring any sort of feelings for Jake. If we didn’t have a past together, and he actually had some chance of being the guy, and things were different…
But they can’t be. Bailey’s sleeping in the back bedroom, I’m still trying to figure out how to live a new normal, and he has a past three miles longer than the average person’s grocery list.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Alexis
Finding new friends so I can make Louisville home is difficult even on the best days. Usually I make a joke at my own expense to try to brush off my uneasiness and wind up alienating people in the process. Who wants to be friends with a pseudo-intellectual, self-deprecating high school teacher who can’t manage to carry on an adult conversation?
Curiouser (Girls of Wonder Lane Book 3) Page 23