CHAPTER 7
~Jane~
IT WASN’T THE way Luke showed me how to throw darts or even the way he got jealous when Ian showed me too much attention. It wasn’t the way I found him so endearing when he apologized thinking he had upset me. Nope. None of that, though I liked those things.
Lying in bed, starfished out and staring up at the ceiling in a dark hotel room with a big ole goofy grin on my face, I know it’s not those sweet moments.
It was the way he looked at me.
Longing.
Sensual.
Sweet.
Caring.
Sexual.
Love.
I saw every one of his emotions, but even if I hadn’t seen them weighing him down, I felt them through his heavy gaze. It seemed to pain him to look away… to let me walk away. My body was on fire in the car, and I restrained myself from running back inside and telling him every one of my deeply held secrets.
I’m weak to him, to his magnetic gazes, and handsome face, strong hands, and God, why does he have to look so good? It would be a challenge to not fall for him in any normal situation, but seeing the lust and the love in his eyes for me, I’m undone—unequivocally—ruined by that man.
My body burns for him. Our chemistry is electric. I see it in his eyes. I affect him like he does me. The current that runs between us is stronger than when we were together, if that’s even possible.
Damn you, Luke!
Squeezing my eyes shut, I curse his name again and again until the tears fall from the corners of my eyes. I roll to the side and hold my arms around me while curling my legs to my body. So many wasted years. So many.
Too many.
And all because he couldn’t make the verbal commitment he had already made in his heart.
Damn him.
My phone rings, startling me from my misery. I sniffle to gather myself together and answer the phone, hoping it’s a friend I can talk to, someone like Sarah who will understand the emotional trauma I’ve gone through the last couple years with the mate to my soul.
“Hello?”
On the other end of the phone, I hear just a whisper in the dark and lonely room. “Jane.”
No. Not who I wanted or needed. “Lawrence.”
“I… I miss you, Jane.” This is the man who treated me like a dog, expecting me to heel by his side on demand. Asshole. I leave his statement lingering between us, with nothing to say in response. “Jane, I want to see you. Will you come over?”
“Why?” I ask, not whispering.
“So we can talk.”
“I don’t have anything to talk about.”
“I think we have a lot. I’ve given you space, time to find yourself, let you think about things like you wanted. I’ve done everything you said you needed, but now I want you to come home.”
“What you forgot is that I didn’t say I need time to figure out where I stand with us, Lawrence. I know where we stand and it’s apart.”
“No.”
“Yes,” I say, delicately. “I don’t want to hurt you—”
“But I am hurting. Without you, I’m hurting.”
“I’m sorry.” I lie there with the phone to my ear, but a lone tear trails down my cheek for the man I lost, the man I love who will never love me back the same way—Luke. “We were convenient, Lawrence, nothing more.”
“You were my life.”
“I was an accessory to your life. I completed this picture you have in your head about how things should look for your career. I don’t want to accessorize someone’s life. I want to be someone’s world.”
“You can’t find that here. This is LA. The land of narcissism. I can give you so much though—a good home and a comfortable life. You can open a spending account at Saks. Jane, I feel love for you.”
I feel love for you replays in my head two more times. “I don’t even shop at Saks.”
“I’ll buy you a new car—”
“I bought myself a car. Lawrence, this isn’t about money. It’s about love and although I care about your well-being, I’m in love with someone else.”
“What does that even mean? You’ve been gone what, a month, and you’ve already met someone? Or, let me guess, you were screwing around behind my back? Fuck. I should have known. Wendy warned me about you and I defended—”
“Excuse me? How dare you! I never cheated on you. It’s insulting you would even think that, much less say it. As for your sister, she’s the slut sleeping with your best friend and business partner. Wise up, Larry.”
“Goddamn it, it’s your ex, right?” He sighs harshly into the phone. “Luke Anders? Really? I’m a lawyer to the stars. He’s a D-level producer. He’s not going anywhere in Hollywood.”
“See, that’s what you don’t understand. My feelings for him have nothing to do with his career.”
“Jane, listen to yourself. Are you insane? I know you like nice things. He can’t give you those things. I can.”
“Are you listening to yourself? You would settle for someone who looks good on your arm over someone who loves you? Why?”
“Because my career is my love. The rest are just pieces falling into place.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t be with someone I don’t love.”
“We’ve been together for a while, Jane. There are no surprises with me. You know what you get with me, so what changed?”
“My heart.”
“Damn, rein in the emotional crap and look at the big picture.”
“I am looking at the big picture and it doesn’t include you. Goodbye, Lawrence.” I hang up the phone and drop it to the bed.
He’s an emotional grand canyon: wide and expansive, picturesque even, but the faults are too deep to overcome.
Feeling a lot like I dodged a bullet, I do what I know I shouldn’t. I play with fire, and text Luke. Thanks for the drinks tonight.
Luke: Anytime. It was good to see you.
I debate whether to text again or let him go to bed. Or maybe he’s not even home yet. Or has company. Ugh! Lying in the dark, I light up my screen and stare at his last message. Then I dive back into this tumultuous pool and text again: Yes, it was a fun night. Are you home or still out partying?
Luke: I’m home. Just walked in.
Me: Alone?
Oh shoot! I shouldn’t have typed that.
Me: I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.
He doesn’t text back right away and butterflies invade my belly.
Then he does, making them all go away.
Luke: I’m alone, Jane. How about you?
Me: I’m alone too.
Luke: I meant your well being, but I like that answer better.
Smiling, I type: I’m grateful for more than just the drinks.
Luke: What are you grateful for?
Me: For the company.
Luke: Ian’s ego can be a bit much, but he’s a cool enough guy if you’re into that GQ looking wealthy director type.
Me: O.o
Me: You, Luke. I meant you.
Luke: Me?
Me: Thank you for your company. The fun was needed more than you know.
Luke: I’m available for fun anytime. Like now, for instance.
I hear a virtual knock and open the door of opportunity.
Me: You’re not tired?
Luke: Nope. You?
Me: I’m in bed already.
Luke: Wait, hold up. So you were just lying in bed thinking about me? I like where this is going. Continue…
Giggling, I do continue, loving these lighthearted exchanges.
Me: You have such a dirty mind.
I roll onto my back again, holding the phone above me while I wait for a reply. When he does, I’m left debating again.
Luke: Come over.
Luke: You’re alone. I’m alone. Let’s be alone together.
Me: How do you know I’m still alone?
Luke: Because I’m assuming you wouldn’t be texting me from bed if you weren’t.
Me: What if I actually said yes?
Luke: Yes, what if?
Me: Be careful what you wish for.
Luke: Or it might come true. *wishes harder*
My heart leaps from giddiness. He does want me. Just like I want him. I don’t reply. I can’t. I need to be with him now more than ever, so I grab my purse as I head for the door.
Even after midnight traffic sucks and it takes me longer than expected to get to his house. My headlights scan across the front of his house as I pull into his short driveway. When the lights settle on the garage door, Luke is leaning against the entrance, full-on panty-assaulting smirk on his face. The biceps are giving his smile a run for my money though. With his arms crossed, shadows detail the defined muscles—firm, carved from strength and creating pure sex appeal.
Sitting here, I’m faced with the possibility of what could happen if I get out of this car, so I stay inside, physical barriers in place. Our eyes stay steadily fastened.
Pushing off the wall, he comes to the driver’s side window and knocks. His voice is muted through the glass when he says, “Hi.” And though the window is electric, he makes a circular motion with his hand signaling me to roll it down.
I do, and then ask, “It’s late. What are you doing out here?”
With his hands pressed to the top of the car, he leans down. “Wishing upon a star.”
His voice is deep, seductive, fitting for the quiet of the hour. My grip on the steering wheel tightens. I try to keep up the conversation, knowing if I stop, it will only be because our lips will be too busy doing other things. “A lot of wishing going on tonight.” I roll my eyes. I sound so ridiculous.
“I’m hedging my bet.”
And yet, I continue to play along. “And what bet is that?”
“Come inside and find out.” My door is opened and he steps back to let me out.
Seconds.
I only have seconds to figure out how this is going to play out, not just tonight, but what direction this relationship is going in.
“I missed you, Jane.”
And I’m done for. It doesn’t matter that he’s the second one tonight who has said that to me. It only matters that he’s the one I want to hear it from.
I get out of the car.
He shuts the door and offers me his hand, palm up. I want to convince myself that it’s the stars reflecting in his eyes, but I know better. I’ve seen that emotion before. It’s the same one he sees in mine, the same one I feel deep inside.
Taking his hand, he leads me into the house. The only light inside is the glow from the moon shining in. The only sound is my heart beating loudly in my chest, my soul wanting to reconnect with his against my head’s better judgment. He exhales and I’m comforted by the sound, feeling less alone in this emotionally charged moment.
With the door locked behind me, I stand in the dark space. Our hands are still together when he starts to walk farther inside, stopping when I don’t budge. Looking back at me, he whispers, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”
“I’m afraid of what I do want. What I shouldn’t want.”
I can see his own struggle in his actions. He shifts and as if he’s that boy back in high school, he says, “I’ll keep this a secret if we have to, Jane. I want to be with you so badly that it hurts to be this close.”
Tears fill my eyes, and I drop my head down. “You’ll be a dirty secret for me?”
“I’ll be anything you’ll let me be.” Taking my other hand, he holds both between us. “Hey, look at me.” When I do, he says, “And there’s nothing dirty about this or us.” The warmth of him calms me, my nerves subsiding. Our bodies inch closer on their own accord. This feels right. This is where I should be.
His scent.
His touch.
His lips.
They beckon me and I can’t resist their enticing pull.
I may have been with Lawrence, but it never felt like this. Not real. Not deep and forever. Our feelings were superficial. The conversation with him earlier proves what my instincts told me a long time ago. Another downside of thinking of Lawrence while I’m with Luke is that I think of her, the blonde standing in Luke’s shirt staking claims over his heart and home. And all the other hers Luke has been with during our breakup. I’m no longer his one and only. And he’s no longer mine. The thought breaks my heart and another crack forms in the future I once dreamed of having.
Just before our eyes close and our lips meet, my head takes over my heart, the feelings of hurt smothering my desire. I say what I should have replied to his text. “I can’t.”
His hands leave my body, distance thrown between us, and a quiet “Fuck” is heard as he walks away. Standing in front of the windows, he stares ahead.
“Luke?”
The concern in my voice crackles and pops, the live wire energy between us breaks down. When he doesn’t turn around, I go to him, touching his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“No apologies. Okay?” Suddenly he turns and starts walking to the stairs. “It’s late. You’re welcome to stay here. I have a guest room or the couch,” he offers. “Or you can go if you’ll feel more comfortable not staying. I don’t know what you need from me. I will do anything for you, but you have to tell me what it is, Jane.”
“I don’t need anything.”
“You need something or you wouldn’t be standing in my house right now.” Taking three steps up, with his back to me, he adds, “For the record, I was hurt too.”
“I’m sorry.” He told me not to say it but I can’t help it.
He hesitates, but then walks up the stairs. I watch him go. I’m left standing in his living room, alone with the darkness and silence of his surroundings and the reality of the life he built without me.
As I look around, I know what I’m doing before I do it. The answer is so obvious. His pull is too strong. My body acts on instinct. I’m not going anywhere, but up the stairs to join him.