One More Time

by Laurelin Paige

My gut says yes.

  All the best parts of our relationship have been driven by instinct. The moment we first met, the night we first slept together, and the entire way we got back together this time. Our story is driven by impulse, which makes this proposal the perfect way to cap it off.

  That means it’s show time.

  I tiptoe through the living room and into the hallway. Still no sound. I slip the ring box into my pocket and head into the bedroom. She must be sleeping. I decide I’ll crawl into bed beside her and slip the ring on her finger while she’s still out. Jenna sleeps like the dead, so I’m sure I can do it without her waking up. Then I’ll see how long it takes for her to notice the diamond on her hand.

  God, I’m so excited, it’s going to be hard not to wake her up myself.

  Mostly, I just can’t wait to see my sweet girl’s sleeping face when I push the door open.

  But that’s not what greets me on the other side.

  The first thing I see is a man’s face. A total stranger. He’s sound asleep on my side of the bed. Shirtless. His arm draped across the body in the bed next to him.

  I’m thrown.

  Then I’m spinning.

  Then I’m speechless.

  And then, I’m seeing red.

  “Who the fuck is this?” I yell.

  He wakes up startled, as does Jenna, who I now see is the body next to him, dressed in the same blue nighty set she used to woo me into her hotel bed so many times in Vancouver.

  If it’s possible for physical steam to come out of a man’s ears like in the cartoons, then someone ought to see if that’s happening to me right now. I want to shred this place apart. I want to punch a hole right through a wall. I want to kick this guy’s ass and ask questions later. Deal with details later.

  Like the detail of my fucking broken heart.

  “I’m Walter,” the guy says, sitting up, his eyes blinking with sleep.

  I’d almost forgotten that I’d asked, but that name immediately hits my ears. I know it. I’ve heard it before.

  I’ve heard it from Jenna’s own mouth, I realize.

  Walter? Who is Walter?

  Then it hits me—Walter is the name of the guy that Jenna claimed was not her boyfriend. The name of the guy she was talking to on the phone when I was outside her trailer that day. The name of the guy she said I love you to.

  So then what the fuck is Walter doing in her bed right now?

  I might regret what I’ll do if I find out that answer. So I don’t stay to find out. Instead I turn around, walk back down the hallway, through the living room and directly out the front door.

  19

  Jenna

  I’m still half asleep and so confused. Was I just dreaming that Tanner was here? I sit in bed staring at the door where I swear he was just standing. I rub my eyes.

  No. I’m awake. He was here. I check the clock on the dresser. It reads nine-forty AM.

  Wait. Tanner is supposed to come home around nine-thirty Monday. Is the clock wrong? Did I somehow sleep through an entire day? I know Walter and I polished off a bottle of champagne last night, but could I have possibly lost a full 24 hours?

  I’m fully awake now. And now I distinctly remember Tanner yelling at Walter.

  “What the hell just happened?” I ask, throwing the covers off.

  “I believe your boyfriend tried to surprise you by coming home early. And it worked.” Walter smiles guiltily. “I guess I surprised him, too. By being in bed with his girlfriend. Whoopsie daisy!”

  I laugh out loud. Literally. It’s a bursting cackle. Walter is so obviously not straight. Plus I told Tanner I was hanging with my bestie to watch him on live TV.

  “Why would he freak out?” I ask Walter. “It doesn’t make sense.” I jump out of bed and peek into the hallway. There’s no one there. The house is silent. Did he leave?

  “Well in his defense, we are dressed like the sex scene in a daytime soap opera,” Walter says, stretching.

  I look down at my negligee and back over at Walter’s bare chest.

  Shit. He’s right. This doesn’t look good, if you don’t know my boy bestie would rather die than touch a woman’s parts for any reason other than draping a new gown.

  “But I swear I told Tanner that you weren’t my boyfriend when he asked me during the shoot.” Didn’t I? I try to recall how the conversation went.

  “Uh-huh, but did you tell him that I was your gay best friend?”

  I’ll be honest, I can’t remember those precise words coming out of my mouth. I don’t normally use Walter’s sexual preference as an identifying quality when talking about him. I should have probably told Tanner, though. And I might have… The whole shoot is now a blur of mixed messages and steamy trailer sessions.

  “Okay. This is just a little misunderstanding,” I say, but my stomach is starting to knot. We’re too newly back together to have misunderstandings right so soon. I have to fix this. “Lemme call Tanner and explain. Put some clothes on. Just because his first sighting of you was in your undies, doesn’t mean the official introduction should go the same way.”

  “Valid,” Walter says. “But I really hadn’t planned my outfit for this.”

  Walter grabs his trusty silk and starts to rummage through his store of clothes in my closet while I grab my cell to call Tanner. My chest is tight with guilt. He rushed home to surprise me--and what a romantic surprise--and he must have been so horrified to find me in bed with another man. And don’t I know how that feels?

  I dial.

  No answer.

  Which is fine. I try not to panic. Maybe his phone is dead. Maybe he’s driving and can’t pick up. Though he didn’t have a car at the airport. Did he go home first and get one? If he just cabbed over, how did he even leave? Did he Uber?

  I text and wait.

  The message says delivered, so his phone isn’t dead.

  But Tanner still doesn’t respond.

  I call again. Nothing. I call a third time. Same deal.

  And then it hits me. He’s not picking up on purpose.

  He’s not going to pick up. He is giving me the total blow-off.

  And now I’m pissed.

  Five minutes later Walter emerges with beauty products but still in the kimono, apparently unable to find an appropriate meet-the-boyfriend outfit.

  “He won’t take my calls! Can you believe this? I mean, it’s the simplest mistake. It’s not even a mistake. It’s a misunderstanding. No one did anything wrong. I will say one sentence to Tanner, and he’ll totally understand what’s going on here.”

  “Uh-huh,” Walter says, nodding as he massages oil into his bald head.

  “But now I’m not just pissed about that.” I’m still pacing, my arms flying expressively as I talk. “This means Tanner doesn’t trust me! He thinks I would actually cheat on him while he’s in New York working. Literally everything we’ve been building together all these weeks means nothing to him if he thinks that I would be so disloyal, which means we’re right back where we started, and Tanner James is going to break my heart. Again.”

  “Did it occur to you that you might deserve this?” Walter says, calmly. Patronizingly. “And could you please stop pacing, you’re giving me motion sickness.”

  “My fault? Are you kidding me?”

  “Don’t give me that angry face,” he starts, “just hear me out. Ten years ago Tanner made what you now know was a ‘simple mistake’, and you walked away without letting him explain, true or false.”

  “True,” I say, as my heart starts to beat a little slower and my stomach sinks a little further.

  “And you were so angry because you thought he’d betrayed your trust, true or false.”

  “You know the answer.”

  “And he called and called and called, but you wouldn’t pick up, true or...”

  I cut him off. “Thank you. I got the point.”

  “And now you know that Tanner’s number one feeling after that whole charade was how could Jenna not trust me enoug
h to know I wouldn’t hurt her like that? True or false?”

  “This is different!” I insist, stomping. “We were young and stupid back then. And we were afraid. And we didn’t communicate. We’re adults now. We talk.”

  “Which is why he knew exactly who I was when he saw you in bed with me.”

  It takes me a second to respond because I don’t want to give Walter the benefit of being right, yet again. Finally I cave. “You might have a point.”

  “Age doesn’t matter. Hurt is hurt,” Walter says.

  “Have you ever considered being a therapist?”

  “Absolutely not. Other people’s problems make me insane. Yours included.”

  “Hey!”

  “Bottom line. You have every right to be frustrated, but so does he. So now you’re getting a taste of your own medicine. What are you going to do about it?”

  “I don’t know. Keep calling?”

  “Don’t look at me,” Walter says. “I don’t know what you’re supposed to do. This is your drama. Now I’m going to go shave so I can get out of here and figure out what I’m wearing once you’ve fixed it.”

  Walter heads back into the bathroom. I throw on a robe and slump down on the bed. It is time for some robo-calling.

  I dial Tanner over and over and over again. I text at least ten times, too.

  Please come back. This is silly.

  I can explain but I want to do it in person so you’ll really believe me.

  Please, Tanner. Let’s not ruin this all over again.

  He doesn’t respond. Karma’s a real bitch, I think to myself.

  But I know better this time, and so does he. He’s just upset, but I will not – I repeat, not – let him get away.

  “What are you going to do, honey?” Walter asks.

  I know exactly what I have to do—reverse history. Maybe I ran away from Tanner last time, but he also didn’t try hard enough to win me back. He knows that now, and I’m not going to repeat the same mistake he made, at the very least. It is Grand Gesture time for this girl, even if that means ignoring the twisting and turning of my stomach…and mustering the courage to do a little ‘face talking.’

  “I’m going to get my man back.” I take a deep breath and head for the bedroom door.

  “Go get em girl! I’m proud of you,” Walter calls after me “But maybe take off your robe and put on some real clothes?”

  “Uh. Yep. Good point.” I turn around and rush to the closet, grab the first item of red clothing I can find – a slip dress – and throw it on for a little added color confidence. Tanner always says red is my color. Here’s hoping it gives me the boost I need right now.

  “Wish me luck,” I tell Walter, as I throw my hair in a bun, grab my bag and open the front door.

  20

  Tanner

  I pace back and forth on the front lawn, trying to wrap my head around what the fuck just happened.

  Jenna was in bed. With another man.

  Fuck.

  Fuck!

  I’m too worked up to stay in one place. I don’t have a car, and I need space to think. I take off around the block to sort my head.

  I’ve barely made it down a few houses when my phone buzzes with a call.

  It’s her.

  I can’t answer. I’m too mad. Too hurt. We just got back together and she already cheated on me! I silence the call.

  She texts a minute later asking me to come back and talk.

  Yeah, like how she came back and talked to me after she thought I cheated? Fuck that. She can sit with this until I get my thoughts straight.

  I silence my phone altogether and shove it in my pocket. I’m an asshole for ignoring her, and an even bigger asshole for justifying my actions because she did it to me in the past, but my chest is aching, and I can barely breathe.

  I love her. I was going to ask her to marry me!

  Is this my fault for refusing to tell her I wanted to be with her for real? Because I said I wanted to take it day by day?

  I could kick myself for that now. I was such a fucking idiot.

  Or… oh God. There’s another possibility, and it’s the worst one of all. Did she make me fall for her all over again so that she could have the pleasure of breaking my heart this time?

  I don’t doubt Jenna’s acting skills. She is good. But I don’t think I could possibly have misread all the signs of her body, the reactions she couldn’t have controlled. The way her pulse quickens each and every time I touch her. Or the way her body seeks mine out, even in sleep. The way she comes for me like fireworks.

  Besides, now that she knows the truth about what happened with Natalia and the infamous kiss, it wouldn’t make sense for her to follow through on any kind of nefarious plan for revenge. Especially after we opened up and realized that we both had fears holding us back.

  So, what was this then? A drunken night with an ex? A booty call because she needed to come, and I didn’t Skype her? Was she with that guy the whole time we were getting back together? Am I the asshole who’s the other guy?

  I don’t like any of these options, but it’s worse not knowing the answer. I don’t know how Jenna spent all these years without resolution. I can’t even handle twenty minutes.

  And instead of waiting for the universe to give me an opportunity to work things out with her like I did before, this time I’m going after her right from the beginning.

  I practically run the last leg of the block back to her house. I’m prepared that Jenna won’t want to talk to me. She’ll send him—Walter—to talk me down. She’ll be avoiding the confrontation.

  Just thinking about it makes me want to punch him in the nuts.

  Of course I’m not going to punch him. Or anyone. I’m going to be cool, and stay there until Jenna sees me. Then I’m going to make her talk things out. Like a grown-up. Like we should have done last time.

  I head up to the front door, but just as I go to put my key in the lock, it swings inward.

  And standing where I expect to see Walter, is Jenna.

  “You’re still here?” she asks, her brows furrowed, her eyes hopeful.

  Like there was anywhere else I would be when this isn’t settled. Well, except for the trip around the block.

  “I’m not you, Jenna,” I spit. Is she planning to leave before we discuss this?

  Not gonna work. I’ll be here when she gets back. I’ll wait for as long as it takes. “We need to talk.”

  “Hold on, Tanner. I need to tell—”

  “No.” I cut her off. “You don’t get to talk. I get to talk. I just found you in bed with another man; that means I get the speaking stick now.” I pace in front of her in tight strides, a caged tiger.

  “Last time, you got the speaking stick,” I continue. “You wouldn’t know that, because you ran away. I see how you felt now, but what I don’t see is how you were able to leave.” I stop and direct my stare at her. “I was serious when I told you I love you. I thought you felt the same.”

  I can feel the storm of rage within me swirling. How dare she. How dare she?

  “This is my fault for not defining our relationship. Let me give you a definition right now. The second you went to bed with me, you lost your right to fuck other guys. In case you’re wondering, I wouldn’t touch another woman with a ten-foot pole. And I’m just so…”

  I trail off, not knowing the words to tell her exactly how furious and overwhelmingly sad I am to know that all along, she maybe just wasn’t capable of loving me the way I loved her.

  Love her.

  I still fucking love her, God help me.

  There’s nothing to punch on the porch, but I want to destroy something. Anything.

  Maybe everything. I’d burn everything beneath the Hollywood sign to the ground if it meant this feeling inside would go away.

  Behind Jenna, I see that guy, Walter, and he’s grinning. It’s a real bastard move, and I think I actually growl at him.

  “Hi!” he says with a little wave. “It’s nice to mee
t you!”

  With that he disappears back into the house, leaving Jenna smirking and watching me. I’m horrified that she’s just going to let him stay while we talk this out, but maybe she doesn’t trust me not to punch him on his way out.

  “It’s taken us a full decade to finally learn to trust each other again. I never thought we’d actually get back together on this movie, and I know you didn’t either. But we did. And I thought that meant we were meant to be together for real. I don’t know if it’s because of chemistry or personality or the fucking alignment of the stars, but you and I are a perfect fit. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work because I know I’ll never find someone like you. I love you, Jenna, with all my heart and all my soul. Why would you want to ruin that?”

  I’m out of breath, out of words. My eyes sting, hot and dry.

  “Do I get the speaking stick yet?” she asks.

  As much as I want to hear her explanation, I’m also afraid of what she’ll say. I don’t really want to hear her tell me she just doesn’t love me that much. I’m broken now, but that would shatter me. I’m still hoping against hope that this is all a bad dream.

  But she’s staring at me, and I’ve learned, if nothing else, that I have to stop letting fear interfere with my relationship with her.

  “Fine,” I reply.

  “Good. Why don’t you come inside so we don’t attract any attention from any neighbors…or TMI reporters”

  Something about Jenna’s tone is throwing me off. I can’t figure out why she’s so completely calm, but she makes a good point about reporters.

  I let her lead me through the door. I guess she does trust me not to hurt the guy I found in her bed. Although the only possible way for me to inflict the same pain on him that he has on me would be to rip his heart out, and I’m not sure even my Jet alter-ego could justify that.

  She sits me down at the kitchen island, in the same room with Walter. We’re actually going to discuss this in front of him?

  I look back and forth from Walter to Jenna, warily. But she’s important to me, so I let this ride out. For now.