“Hi, you must be Jenna. I am Valerie, Cal’s assistant.” She stands up to walk around the table to shake my hand. She is beautiful, with her blonde hair curled past her shoulders, brown eyes that are accentuated by perfectly applied makeup, and a friendly smile. “Cal has told me so many lovely things about you that I am sorry we won’t be getting a chance to hang out together.”
“He has said some wonderful things about you as well.” I shake her hand back, trying to squash the tiny hint of jealousy I feel towards her.
Cal and Sean enter the room, and Sean engulfs me in a hug. “I truly hope to see you again, Jenna. Thanks to you and Layla for the fun times.” He slaps Cal on the back and walks to his bedroom.
Cal tells Valerie he’ll be back, grabs my hand, and takes my luggage with his other. I wave goodbye to her and we depart.
We get into the awaiting car and pick up Layla at the front of the hotel. Our short car ride to the airport is filled with her enthusiastic chatter, telling us how her, Sean and the rest of the guys ended up the pub, where Sean taught the whole bar how to sing Irish folk songs. “I had so much fun last night! Good thing I wasn’t left alone, who knows what kind of trouble I could have gotten into.” She gives me a look, and I blush.
“Thank you for letting me intrude on your girls’ weekend.” Cal squeezes my hand as he talks to Layla.
“You can intrude any time if it always makes her look this damn happy.” They both laugh as my face gets red from the attention.
“Layla, do you mind if I have a couple of minutes alone with Jenna?” Cal asks, as we pull up to the curb for departures. She looks at her watch, nods her head, and exits the vehicle.
I turn to Cal, swallowing the lump that has now formed in my throat. “Thank you so much for an incredible week.”
“This doesn’t have to be the end, Jenna. Stop being stubborn and give me your phone number.”
“Cal...”
“Friends have each other’s phone numbers. Why can’t we?”
I bite my lip, trying to grasp for any excuse, but have none. How can you just be friends with someone after the type of week we had? I can’t be a casual friend with Cal. I don’t want to be just friends. I want more, and the reality of that is unrealistic. When I give someone my phone number, I expect them to call. I don’t want to feel the disappointment of knowing he has it and doesn’t call. I don’t need the emotions that come with empty promises.
“You are going to be busy with the movie, traveling to different countries, and I am busy with my career. I think it would be best if we just leave things as is.”
“Best for whom?” He pushes a strand of my hair behind my ears and kisses me softly on the cheek.
“Best for me,” I whisper, as he claims my lips in a hungry kiss. He has the ability to make everything around me cease to exist as I kiss him back, matching each thrust of his tongue with my own. Our kiss is about to take its usual heated turn, but the knock on the window from Layla pulls us out of our inferno.
“Email,” I say, trying to catching my breath. “I’ll give you my personal email. Let’s start with that.”
“I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.” I pull a piece of paper out of my purse and write down my email address for him. He, in turn, hands me a card with his cell phone. “Please call me when the emails start to not be enough for you.”
He opens the doors, steps out, and reaches for my hand to help me. He gives Layla a hug goodbye before turning and pulling me into his arms. I squeeze him tightly before I pull back and look into his eyes, willing my brain to memorize every single detail of his handsome face.
“Stop looking at me as if this is a final goodbye, Jenna, because it’s far from it. Don’t give up on me.” He kisses me one last time before releasing me. “You’ll have an email by the time you land. I’ll see you later.” He winks at me, waves at Layla and gets back in the car. I walk with Layla into the airport, my brain telling my heart to ignore the hope he has ignited in it.
As we settle into our cruising altitude of 39,000 feet back to Chicago, I can’t seem to keep quiet my sigh of contentment as I relax into my seat and reflect on what an amazing week it has been. Professionally, attending this conference will help launch my brand on a wider national level. I’ve already been invited to speak at three more conferences, and one of the local Chicago news stations called Robert, requesting a meeting to discuss a possible monthly segment on themed party ideas. This could really catapult my business in the local area with higher-end clients. So energized am I by the new possibilities, I grab my notepad from the seat pocket, and start writing down party ideas I think viewers would be interested in.
“I need you to stop what you are doing and talk to me about this weekend, sister to sister.” I turn to look at Layla, expecting her to have her usual shit-eating grin on her face, but am surprised by her serious expression.
“Okay…what’s going on?” I put my pen down to give her my undivided attention.
“I want to know what’s going on in that brain of yours. You haven’t said a word about what you’re feelings regarding Cal.”
I shrug, momentarily lost for words regarding my emotions. “Honestly, I don’t know what to feel about it. I feel it needs to be left as it is - two grown adults, who are attracted to each other, chose to act on it and that’s it.”
“Bullshit, Jenna. Don’t hide what you’re feeling from me!” Anger sparks in her beautiful blue eyes, and I can’t help but smile at how lucky I am to have her as my best friend. I look around to make sure none of the other passengers are looking at us before responding to her.
“Okay, fine, I’ll tell you everything, but you can’t interrupt me and must wait to speak until I’m done. Deal?” She nods in agreement right away, her eyes now beaming with anticipation.
“You, out of everyone, know how my divorce wrecked me. I thought I found the perfect person for me. Turns out, he wasn’t. I have come to terms with that, and am trying to work on how it has changed me - how the bitterness and skepticism are now more present in my thoughts on life. Trust me when I say, it definitely isn’t how I used to feel. It’s not that I want to be alone - I just don’t want to feel broken again.”
“But this week, I met someone who made me come back alive. He completely consumed me, and I didn’t want to fight it. I wanted him to overwhelm me because it felt so… amazing! He made me feel special. He made me feel beautiful. He made me feel worthy! He made the outside world disappear when he looked at me. And the realism of it all scares me. How does a person I just meet evict these kind of emotions out of me? Is it real or am I feeling this way because I am lonely?” I shake my head with a sad smile.
“While most of the time it was easy to forget who Cal is, the fact remains that he’s an actor, going up the roller coaster ride of his career. We live in different countries. He travels all the time. His life, and whom he is with, will always be public scrutiny. We couldn’t be more polar opposites with our own life trajectories. I don’t know why he chose me to spend this week with.” I hold up my hand to shush her interrupting reasons as to why he did. “But I have zero regrets about this week. If anything, I believe he was meant to help me feel again. And I will forever be grateful for that.”
“But Jenna, what if you two continue corresponding, and he wants more?”
“I can’t think about the what ifs, Layla. I can’t start to worry about whether he emails me or not. Because if I do, it’ll distract me. If I’m being honest with myself, based on how he made me feel, it would probably derail me. He’s a distraction that I can’t handle, so I won’t let myself whimsically daydream of a fictitious life with Cal Harrington. He’s a complete fantasy. I need to live in the present and the present is me and my career.”
She studies me and slowly nods her head. “I completely understand and probably would be thinking the same way.” I nod my head, not telling her that I regret giving him my email address. “Will you at least start dating again now?”
“Like I said before, I will if you will.” I smile with questioning eyes at her.
“I don’t know if I am ready,” she whispers, her watery eyes giving away her fears from her past experience with love.
“We don’t have to actively try, we can just be more open to it.” I give her hand a squeeze of encouragement.
“Yeah…I like that idea.” She slowly smiles as she thinks about it and squeezes my hand back with affirmation.
“I love you for loving me. Thank you for being such an amazing friend.” I lean over and hug her with all the strength I have.
“Right back at you. Now let’s get working together on creating some fabulous party ideas for you!” I laugh at her enthusiasm and we start brainstorming.
Five hours later, I unlock the door to my apartment and breathe a sigh of relief to be home. I leave my luggage by the door and sit for a moment on my couch. I have a spectacular view of Lake Michigan, courtesy of my Nana, who left me this amazing piece of real estate when she passed. She bought this place in 1976, which is located in a high rise overlooking Lake Michigan. She was astute enough to pay it off and now if I wanted to sell it, I would make at least ten times the amount she paid for it or more. I can never see myself selling it. Not only because of the sentimental value that it was hers, but also because it’s the perfect fit for me and where I need to be in the city.
I was exhausted when we landed, but now I sit with adrenaline pumping, my body still on Las Vegas time. The internal debate with myself starts on whether or not I should check my personal email, as I think about Cal and what he’s doing right now. This is exactly why I didn’t want to keep in contact with him. I should be going to sleep, not missing him and his touch as much as I do. With a frustrated groan at my lack of willpower, I give in and check my email. To my surprise, I find three emails from him.
To: Jenna Pruitt
From: Cal Harrington
Subject: I miss you
Your delicious scent is everywhere…in the car, in my room, on my sheets. This is torture. Please write me when you arrive home.
Cal
To: Jenna Pruitt
From: Cal Harrington
Subject: Where are you?
I just stalked your flight and it says you’ve landed. This is why email is stupid, and you should just call me to let me know you are okay.
Cal
To: Jenna Pruitt
From: Cal Harrington
Subject: Call Me…..
You know you want too. :)
I can’t help the giggle that escapes me from him last email. Of course I want too, but I can’t. Should I even bother emailing him back? It would be very rude of me not too. I ignore the warning signals my head is sending to my heart and email him.
To: Cal Harrington
From: Jenna Pruitt
Subject: Call Me…Maybe?
Sorry for the delay in response. I am safe and sound, tucked in bed, wearing nothing, and thinking of you.
Sweet, wet dreams Cal…
Jenna
I smile an evil smile as I hit send and get up to go get ready for bed, my heart beating with excitement at the anticipation of his response. Already I am falling down the rabbit hole of distraction.
15
It took longer than I expected to get back into my work routine, and I place all the blame on the email affair I am having with Cal. Our emails to each other have started to get more frequent and longer. His movie started filming, so he explains to me in detail what his daily activities are like and what’s coming up for him. He includes pictures of himself on set or just lounging in his room, which only intensifies my want for him. He always ends his emails asking what I am doing, how my day was, what Chicago is like, and why I haven’t picked up the phone yet. As soon as I told Robert about what happened in Las Vegas, he is on the pro-Cal band wagon and even helps takes photos of the city when we are around town to send in my emails. He thinks I’m crazy for not calling him, but I still stand firm with my decision of email only. The emails have become the highlight of my day, and I have to mentally reprimand myself not to check them every hour for his response. The only time my resolve cracks is when I am lying in bed at night, alone. The desire to hear his voice is so strong that I’ve now started to put my phone in the other room to avoid the temptation of calling him.
“Have you two shared dirty emails yet?” Layla asks with an evil smile as we sit in our normal booth at O’Malley’s three weeks later. It seems that as of late, my relationship with Cal is the favorite topic of discussion when all three of us get together.
“No, because his assistant checks his email. In fact, I got one from her today under his email letting me know that I might not hear from him for a couple of days as they only have three days left in Las Vegas until production moves to Hong Kong, so he is working twelve-hour days.”
“That’s just creepy that she checks his emails,” Robert says, before ordering another round of drinks for us.
“I understand why she does it, and I actually appreciate her warning me.”
“So no dirty emails and you won’t call him for some phone sex? What a dull relationship. You’re being stupid, Jenna!” Robert reminds me for the millionth time. I shrug my shoulders as I sip my drink, his comment not worth responding to.
“I think she’s being smart,” Layla chimes in, sending a warning look to Robert that does not go unnoticed.
“Thank you, I do too. I’m just being careful to not let myself get hurt again.”
“Of course you would think that. You two bitter yentas are going to grow old together if you keep that thinking up.” We laugh at his choice of words, and I try to recall if he has ever mentioned his own heartache in the past.
“Have you not gotten your heart broken before, Robert?”
“Of course, my heart has been completely slaughtered. Once. And yes, it was brutal. But I am in love with love, and I believe that you can find love multiple times. Remember the good times with that person. Remember the reasons why you aren’t together. You repeat the cycle until you find the one whose idiosyncrasies are livable, and you can’t imagine life without them.”
He makes it sound so simple. Like snapping your fingers can turn off your emotions to proceed with life. The brain doesn’t work that way. I am convinced it completely wants to mind fuck you if you let it. I’m done giving the power of my feelings to someone else. I am in control and I’ll decide who will be the worthy recipient.
“All right Yoda, so what do you suggest us bitter yentas do to change our ways?” Layla inquires with a sarcastic smirk on her face. I look at her with raised eyebrows, surprised she asks a question that will produce an answer we all know she won’t like.
“Do you think you can handle my answer, Layla? Because you know I only tell it like I see it.”
“Bring it! We haven’t known each other long. You’ll barely scratch the surface,” she says with a confident smile.
My gaze shifts back to Robert, who takes a big sip of his drink. Layla thinks Robert is being arrogant and when she does, she enjoys nothing more than to call him out and prove how wrong he is. This is the wrong place and the wrong time for this current challenge, and I brace myself for the possibility of this to turn nasty, as Layla’s wounds run deeper than mine. Any topic regarding herself gets quickly dismissed.
“What I am about to say comes from a place of love and not criticism, even though it might come out that way. All statements are just my opinion - an outsider looking in. I love you both so much and just want us all to be happy.” He clears his throat before he proceeds. “Layla, you use your curves as an excuse. You have started to believe the lie that you tell yourself that a man showing interest in you only means he’s curious what sex with a fat girl would be like. Well, that’s bullshit! You had a man who loved you for you, curves and all. He died and yes, that fucking sucks and is unfair. It happens to millions of other people too. Stop using his death as an excuse to not live anymore! You are still alive, surrounded
by people who love you, and want to see you happy. You ARE beautiful! You ARE smart, and there are plenty of other men out there who’ll want you just the way you are, exactly like your husband did. Stop lying to yourself, thinking we are satisfied with your excuses, because we see through it all. Do you think he would like how you are currently living? If you want to even call it that.”
My mouth hangs open, completely shocked at how brutally honest he just got with her. Robert is new to our circle - he never knew Layla before her husband, during her marriage and when he died. But Robert is an old soul despite his youth, and I’m learning that his judge of character is spot on. He’s completely right about Layla. She parties and has sex with random men to numb her pain. I have tried to talk to her about it, but she refuses to talk and tells me she’s doing just fine. I grab her hand underneath the table and squeeze. I know she wants to run right now, her natural instinct to do so when things get too emotional for her. Her expression stays emotionless, her eyes cold as she looks at Robert.
“Are you done?” she asks in a hard voice.
“Only if you want me to be.”
“I think I’m quite done hearing your assessment.”
“I don’t mean to hurt you, Layla. I’m just trying to be honest. Please believe me when I say that I don’t want to say these things to you, but what kind of friend would I be if I continued to be silent?” He softly pleas with her to understand and not be mad, but she only nods at him and looks away.
“Okay, my turn.” I change the subject so Layla can calm down and the focus not be on her anymore. Even though I certainly don’t want the attention on me, I’m intrigued to hear what he’s going to say.
Heartbreak Warfare (Let Me In Book 1) Page 12