“It’s Jensen. Jensen Strong.”
“Oh. Hi, Jensen.” I try to inject some pleasure and enthusiasm into my voice so he doesn’t hear how much I wish he were someone else.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I got your number from what’s on record with the courts. Just between us, I totally bribed one of the clerks into giving it to me. I figured my firstborn wasn’t too much to offer.”
I chuckle. “Well, at least it wasn’t your soul. And I’m duly flattered.” Which I am. It’s nice to have someone so interested in me that he’ll go to that much trouble just to get my private number. Hopefully it’s me he’s interested in and not who I am or who I’m related to.
“I hope ‘duly flattered’ means you’d be willing to go to dinner with me as a show of appreciation.”
“It might mean that. What did you have in mind?”
“How about tonight? Seven thirty. Someplace swanky with candlelight that will make you look even more ethereal than you already do.”
I’m really not interested. Not at all. But I should be. Jensen is a great-looking, smart, successful, well-respected guy who is charming and interested in me. I’d be a fool not to at least explore the possibility.
And I feel like a fool.
Because I don’t want to.
Even though he has all those things going for him, he lacks one crucial element—he’s not Nash.
It has nothing to do with his looks or his job or his personality. It’s just that I’m in love with someone else. And he’s not him.
But I can’t have Nash. Nash is unattainable. A loner. A wild card with no interest in me other than for some temporary distraction and a good time. He might care for me in his own way, but it’s not a way that’s healthy for me, a way that I can live with. And I can’t pine away for him forever, which is exactly what would happen if I started waiting around for a guy like him.
He’d always be leaving.
And I’d always be waiting.
But that’s just Nash. It’s who he is. I knew it all along. He’s hard and thoughtless and broken. Not on purpose. Just because. And I can’t fix that. I can’t fix him.
“How about lunch instead?” I say impulsively. Lunch is less intimate, which is good, and it also gets me out of the house so I’m not forced to sit around and think about Nash all day, which is also good.
Because that’s exactly what would happen. I’d mull over every word and every subtle nuance of last night while waiting for him to show up or call or text or . . . something.
Always waiting.
But this will be good for me. Plus, it’s work-related. I can pick his brain and try to figure out how to go forward with this case. And with my life.
I can’t be on “vacation” from work forever. And if I’m not going to go backward, back to everything I knew before, then I have to move forward. Today feels like as good a day as any to take the first step. And it doesn’t hurt that my lunch companion is a prosecutor. Spending some time with him might be helpful to me in several ways. And an innocuous lunch won’t give him the wrong impression.
I hope.
“Well, it’s not the venue I’d choose to charm you with my jazz flute, but I’ll take it,” he says teasingly. I don’t have an overabundance of movie knowledge, but Anchorman is one that I’ve seen. Several times. And I loved it. It goes a long way toward warming me up for my lunch date. Maybe I might have enough fun to take my mind off Nash.
Maybe.
“Ohmigod, I love that movie!”
Jensen laughs. “I knew there was something special about you.”
I wish I could say the same, but what it feels like is that I’m embarking on a great friendship. Nothing more.
I refuse to let loose the sigh of hopeless disappointment that’s lingering in my chest. This is still a step in the right direction. All I can do is take things a day at a time. Maybe even a meal at a time.
“Where are you?”
I bite my lip, a little embarrassed to admit it. “Um, I’m still at home.”
“I’ll pick you up in an hour. Is that all right?”
“How ’bout I meet you there? I’ve got some things to do afterward.”
I can tell it’s not what he really had in mind, but he agrees and tells me when and where.
“Okay. See you then.”
I’m still holding the phone, deep in thought, long after Jensen has hung up. The ring of my phone startles me, causing me to jump. Reflexively, I answer it.
“Why did you leave? I cooked a huge breakfast this morning and you missed it.”
It’s Olivia. I smile.
“Good morning, old woman. How does it feel to be a whole twenty-two years old?”
“It feels like cotton mouth and a headache.” She laughs.
“That means you sent twenty-one off in just the right way.”
“Well, if that’s the case, I sent it off in an epic way. Ack!”
“Sorry I cut out on you last night. I, uh, I wasn’t feeling all that well, so I just came on home. I didn’t want to be the resident wet blanket.”
Olivia is quiet, thoughtful. “Are you feeling . . . better now?”
“Ummm, some.”
“Would this have anything to do with a certain ass**le that looks a disturbing amount like my boyfriend?”
“Ummm, it might.”
“Uh-huh. As I suspected. I hate that he’s not more like Cash. I think all that time at sea warped his brain.”
I know she’s trying to excuse his behavior, and she might be right. But I don’t think so. I think some people are just incapable of very much emotional depth. And Nash is probably one of them. All he feels is anger. It might be all he’ll ever feel.
“Maybe,” I say simply.
“So what do you have planned today? Wanna do some shopping?”
“I’m sure whatever plans you’d had that caused you to skip class were better than shopping with your cousin.”
“Skipping class wasn’t the plan. This hellacious hangover sort of made that decision for me.”
“Then I’m sure you don’t feel like spending hours going from store to store and trying on clothes.”
“For you? Anything.”
“Why are you so good to me?”
“Uh, because you’re family and I love you. Duh,” she says playfully.
“Family or not, I don’t deserve it.”
“Marissa, stop saying that. When are you going to realize that you’re not the monster you think you are. You might have been at one time. Sometimes things happen that change us. Completely. Sometimes it’s something good, like finding your soul mate. Sometimes it’s something bad, like being kidnapped and being afraid for your life. Stop beating yourself up for the past. Look ahead. And know that you deserve to be happy. And to be treated well. Everyone deserves a second chance. You’re no different.”