by D. B. Webb
While good ol’ dad had set me up for failure in the relationship department, I still didn’t like when men treated women like trash. Okay, so I didn’t always treat them like princesses, but at least they knew that going into whatever it was we did. Usually they were one night hook ups that ended in me calling them a cab. But they always agreed. I was all about women being able to take a hold of their sexuality and use it in any way they wanted. If I could have meaningless sex, why couldn’t they?
But I wasn’t about to have sex with Ryan. No, I was on my way to a fancy restaurant to go on the first date I had been on in years. I should have felt nervous over what Devlin would do to me if he ever found out about this date, but of course I didn’t care.
I was too interested. Too mesmerized by Ryan and the way she didn’t give a shit about who I was. Too idiotic to think about the fact I was risking my future business with Devlin over a date.
But maybe she didn’t see this as a date? Maybe she saw it as a dinner her ex’s best friend that was forced upon her?
When I really got to thinking about it, the more I realized that this was not a date. Fuck that. I didn’t date. I messed around and never got into the emotional shit.
I didn’t have time for emotional shit. Especially complicated emotional shit. Because complicated was exactly what Ryan and I would be. No, I didn’t have time. I would give the poor girl her lunch, and bow out. She’d think I was a gentleman, and maybe it would ease the blow of their breakup or something. Things would end before they began—completely uncomplicated.
But I couldn’t help but to think… what a beautiful complication Ryan Patterson would be.
I was in Jackson’s car.
Jackson’s car.
It was an atrocious, black Mercedes with his very own driver. Figures he would have his own driver… Ben is what Jackson called him. What else could I expect from the man who lived in a building that had its very own elevator man? The elevator man who, by the way, had given me a very sly smile as we descended toward the garage level of the building.
You don’t know shit, Bob, I told him silently. I shot him a glare to send my message his way, but he just winked before turning his attention back toward the elevator doors.
When we finally made it back to The Singing Room Gallery, I made sure to rush in before Jackson could enter. I beelined straight for Eli’s office where I forwent my usual courtesy knock, and instead burst through the door like I owned the place. If Eli were any other boss, he would have been pissed, but because he was the nicest man I knew in New York City, he just looked at me in surprise.
“Ryan…?”
“Sorry,” I started out of breath, “Jackson… er… Mr. Foster is here.”
“Here, as in at the gallery?”
I nodded.
“Well,” he stood and straightened his slacks with the palms of his hands. “I guess I’ll handle this. I take it the meeting didn’t go well. Is he angry?”
“No, nothing like that. He wants to keep the skyline piece, but he wants to buy my piece too!”
Eli stood, looking flabbergasted for a second before recovering. “Your black and white beach piece?!”
“Yes!”
He clapped his hands together in victory. “Wow! That… wow, Ryan!”
I knew he would be excited for me. He knew my heart and soul belonged to that photograph. It had been on sale for the past year, but was usually overlooked due to the more notable artists we sold at our gallery.
“Did he know it was your piece?”
“No! Please don’t tell him. That would be… awkward.”
What would be even more awkward was if I had to explain that statement to my boss. I didn’t exactly feel like hashing out my heartbreaking story to Eli, even if he would be the kind of person to take you out for drinks afterward.
Eli, being the awesome person he was, didn’t ask questions, but instead nodded and said, “Well, I won’t tell if you don’t.”
Oh, I wasn’t planning on telling… ever.
“Thanks.”
I felt childish not telling Jackson that what he was buying was actually taken by me back when I was still living in California, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. Would he even want it after he found out? I had to admit it would be a little weird to have art by your ex (girlfriend, fling, fuck buddy?) hanging in your home.
We both exited Eli’s office to find Jackson, hands in his designer jean pockets, waiting for us by the entrance.
“Mr. Foster,” Eli extended his hand to Jackson, who removed his hands from his pocket and took Eli’s hand in his own. “I hear you want to buy another piece? The Newport Beach black and white print?”
“The one I ordered originally? Yeah, that’s the one.” Jackson’s eyes quickly fell on me. They twinkled mischievously and were almost immediately returned to Eli. “But I have to tell you, if you give me another New York skyline, I won’t have any more wall space, so I would prefer to actually get the beach print this time around.”
He was joking, and his smile was evident of that, but I watched as Eli’s face turned a shade darker as he began to get angry with Jackson’s demeanor.
“If you’re implying I intentionally sent you the wrong piece, you’re mistaken Mr. Foster.”
Jackson began to backpedal, realizing he had just offended my boss, “Call me Jackson, sir. And I was completely joking. The mistake was my fault. I entered the wrong number. I am pleased with the print I received, which is why I want both.”
Eli appeared to ease up a bit after that, but remained stoic and all business. “Well then, let me get the paperwork for you. The beach print is lovely, and I completely understand why you are so eager to add it to your art collection.” Eli then turned to me, “Ryan, stay with Mr. Foster as I go and get that?”
I nodded and watched as my boss hurried off.
“I really didn’t mean to offend him,” Jackson whispered. I was acutely aware that his lips were only centimeters away from my ear. The way his breath fell on my skin caused goosebumps to dance across the surface. I hated that he could still cause such a physical reaction from me.
I turned to find us face to face. My eyebrow quirked up, challenging him. “What did you think you’d do by implying he’d given you the wrong piece on purpose?”
A corner of Jackson’s mouth curved up. “He seemed like the kind of guy who likes a good joke.”
“He usually is. But this gallery is his baby. You would have been better off making a joke about his mother dying.”
Jackson scoffed, “Well that’s fucking morbid.”
We both laughed. It felt nice, being with him like this again. We had always had a good time together and I had considered him to be a good friend during our short stint together.
Jackson sighed and rubbed his hands through his hair—his tell that he was nervous.
“Do you know who the photographer is?”
My heart skipped a beat, but I kept my face neutral.
“For the skyline piece?” I asked, playing stupid.
“The beach piece… it was anonymous.”
I shrugged, “I’m not entirely sure. I’m just in charge of sales. I don’t work with the artists or photographers.”
It was lie, but he didn’t need to know that.
Jackson looked slightly disappointed but nodded at my answer. I wanted to tell him the truth in that moment, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. But I was curious to know why he wanted the name of the photographer so I decided to ask, “Why?”
He gave a noncommittal shrug before answering, “I thought he was good, so I was wanting to look at his other pieces.”
Jackson thought he was good? I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or be angry at the fact that Jackson had assumed the photographer was a man.
“What makes you think it was a man who took the picture?” I inquired, a small smirk played on my lips.
“I don’t know for sure, but the female in the photo… I just felt like she was loved by th
e photographer, you know? The way that she seems so carefree and happy… and beautiful.”
It was a good reason, I had to give him that much. The female was loved, but not by me. The day the photo was taken, I had been watching the blonde and her fiancé. They were playful and without a doubt they were in love. I admired the rawness of their affection for one another. I snapped the photo when the blonde had run into the ocean while her lover ran after her. She was just about to turn to face him when I snapped the photo.
“She was loved,” I confirmed quietly.
“So you do know the photographer?” He narrowed his eyes and offered his sweet smile.
Shaking my head, I replied, “No I don’t know who took it, but I’ve seen the photo and I agree. She was definitely loved.” I paused before continuing, “Maybe you’re right. It could have been a man.”
Jackson watched me as I spoke. It was as if he thought I would evaporate before his eyes, like this would be the last time he would ever see me so he needed to memorize every detail of my face. It made me feel insecure at first, but then I couldn’t help but feel unabashed desire for this man standing in front of me. This was Jackson Bennett. The man I had fallen so effortlessly in love with—even though it was against everything I had intended to do. This was the man that taught me how to live. It was the man that walked away without a single glance back.
I brought my eyes to his, to see them so intense that I could have melted right there in the middle of the gallery. And it was then that Eli interrupted our silent staring match by thrusting the iPad into my hands and papers into Jackson’s.
“Okay, this shouldn’t take much time. We will double and triple check that this is the right piece. We have it here for you to see in person if you’d like.”
Jackson told Eli he would like that very much, and before I had a chance to join them, Eli whisked Jackson away toward the photography section of our gallery.
When I was alone, I was finally able to take a full breath for the first time in the past hour. I wanted to hate Jackson. Hell, for years I thought I did.
I headed into my office and closed the door behind me. I needed some time alone to process everything that had just happened. It took me months to get over Jackson Bennett after he had walked away from me, from us. For ten years, I compared every man I dated to him, and they never seemed to measure up to him. He wasn’t my first love, but he was most certainly the last man I had ever came close to loving.
I dated a few people here and there in the past years. I had only been serious with one person. But he was a vanilla kind of man. Not as bad as Devlin had been, but certainly not close to Jackson. He didn’t make me feel alive. He made me feel safe. At the time that was what I needed… to feel safe. It allowed me to move on from my soul-crushing love, or so I thought until today.
Ten damn years.
I couldn’t possibly still feel anything toward Jackson after all these years, could I?
No. It was because I never had closure. That was the only reason I was currently hiding in my office. Soulmates didn’t exist like my girl coworkers always gushed about. Sometimes people found their way to each other and it worked. Other times, you were left broken on the sidewalk as you watched the man you loved disappear.
He wasn’t my soulmate.
He wasn’t my anything but a life lesson and a broken heart.
I hadn’t been on a first date in over five years. Even then, I had been a child—fifteen years old. Now I was a grown woman and had no idea what the hell to wear on a first date.
Except this wasn’t a first date.
I had just broken up with my boyfriend of five years. Jackson was my ex’s best friend. This wasn’t stuff romance was made of, and I knew that. Besides, I remembered Dev telling me that Jackson was only in town for a short time over the summer before heading back to school on the East Coast.
I pulled on a pair of dark-wash blue jeans and a black V-neck tee. My hair was long and stick straight, so I added some curls to give my locks some life. As for makeup, I was never someone who overdid it. I applied mascara and lipgloss. I didn’t need to impress Jackson Bennett.
At exactly 12:30, I heard a knock at my front door. Jackson may have been a jackass, but he was a jackass who arrived on the dot.
When I swung the door open, my heart gave a small, traitorous jump. He was standing there with a forest green henley. His hands were stuffed into his jeans. A small, playful smile played on his lips.
Whoa, girl. Settle down, I tried telling myself.
“You’re punctual,” I commented as I stepped out and locked the door behind me.
“That’s actually my middle name. Jackson Punctual Bennett. Didn’t Devlin tell you?” he joked back. I forced myself to keep from smiling. I didn’t want him to know I was excited about this date… or whatever it was… with him.
“I don’t think Devlin has ever spoken about anyone he met in college. It’s like his life here and his life there are separate or something… Which is probably why he was able to trick me for so long…” My voice trailed off when I realized I was rambling. It was then that I remembered this was Devlin’s best friend. Did he know about Devlin cheating on me? If he did, did he even care? Jackson didn’t really seem like the kind of guy who would be angry over his friend being unfaithful, but then again, I didn’t know much about him.
“Trick you?” he asked quietly as we turned and headed down the stairs.
“Uh…”
Shit what was I supposed to say? Yeah, by the way, your best friend is a bastard who can’t keep his dick in his pants? We walked in silence until we got to his car.
“He didn’t tell me why you broke up…” We stopped at his car, and he opened the door for me. When I got in he paused before shutting the door. When he got in beside me he gave me a sideways look before asking slowly, “What did Devlin do?”
Did he really not know? Maybe he didn’t. Maybe Devlin really did live several different lives. Maybe he kept us all in our own separate boxes.
“He…” I cleared my throat before looking away from Jackson’s determined eyes, “He cheated.”
The silence was deafening. Jackson didn’t reply to me, but instead pulled his seatbelt on before starting the car. We drove in an awkward silence. I wondered if he regretted taking me out. Being here with me had to be complicated for him. Devlin and him were best friends. You didn’t casually take your best friend’s ex girlfriend out on lunch dates.
“I’m sorry,” he grumbled beside me after a couple minutes.
“Not your fault.”
The cloud of silence fell once again before he broke it once more by saying, “I fucked a friend’s mom once.”
That had me whipping my head in his direction. Where in the hell had that come from?
As if he read my mind he continued, “It was a dick move. I knew it was. I did it because I was a selfish asshole who didn’t think about how my actions would affect others. I learned my lesson the hard way that time. He still won’t talk to me.”
I wanted to scoff and tell him serves him right, but there was a rawness in his voice that stopped me. I could tell how much admitting that hurt him.
With a loud sigh Jackson finished, “He was an amazing guy. And I screwed up a great friendship. I regret it every day. Maybe Devlin will too. We all make mistakes. Some that change our lives.”
I couldn’t say anything to that because the hurt was still too fresh. I hoped Devlin regretted throwing our relationship away for the rest of his life. I hoped he would hurt the way he had hurt me. So I bit my tongue, and we continued our drive to the restaurant.
Just when I thought I had ruined this lunch date, Jackson began to laugh. Not just a small chuckle, but full and throaty. I felt it to my bones and wanted to record it to memory. It was full of life and unlike anything I had heard, but unfortunately I couldn’t get past the shock of his outburst and couldn’t appreciate it as much as I would have liked.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked.
“God, we’re both messes, aren’t we?” was his reply.
“Excuse me?”
“You and I. We’re messes. Here I am, this jackass that has never experienced a breakup because I’m a jackass who fucks around, and here you are newly single after five years because my best friend cheated on you.”
I took a moment to really let his words sink in.
He’s not wrong…
“Maybe we should make a support group… we could have a weekly meeting.” The words left my mouth, and as they did I let myself smile for the first time. With that Jackson laughed again.
“Hi, I’m Jackson, and I have never been in a relationship.”
I decided to join his ridiculous game and added, “I’m Ryan Patterson, and I’ve been personally victimized by Devlin Lane.”
“I think you’re mixing AA with a Mean Girls quote,” he informed him with a small laugh.
“The fact that you knew that says more about you than me,” I laughed.
He gave a quick glance my way, and I couldn’t help but admire his mouth. I let myself wonder for a moment what it would feel like to be kissed by Jackson Bennett.
Ryan Patterson, what is wrong with you? I berated myself. Devlin just broke up with you! You can’t be thinking about kissing another man… Not just another man—Devlin’s best friend… less than twenty four hours after your breakup…
I was thankful when we finally got to the restaurant. Any longer in that car and I might have lost my mind. I couldn’t deny the sexual attraction I felt for Jackson. It was unlike anything I had experienced before, even with Devlin. Devlin and I had been kids when we found our way to each other. We grew up together, and I always assumed that sexual chemistry was what we had, but sitting in the car with Jackson for fifteen minutes had proven to be more chemistry than I felt with Devlin in five years.
It felt freeing.
It felt reckless.
It felt like like I was on fire.
We had ordered our food and were currently munching on the complimentary sourdough rolls. As engaging as our conversation about her life in California with Kayla and Devlin was, I was mesmerized by Ryan’s eyes… and lips… the sound of her laugh… the way she rolled her eyes at anything sarcastic I said. More than anything I couldn’t help but notice that she was letting her guard down. And each time she stared at my lips… God, I thought I would lose my shit. She was making it incredibly hard to keep up this gentleman persona I was trying to convey.