Perhaps we would arrive at the same destination, just in our own time.
What I tried to ignore throughout the three months we were together were the late-night calls.The texts.The ones he took in the hallway and never explained, murmuring something about the confidential nature of his work.Or adhering to it with a point of his finger and a look.
On occasion that was true.
I was used to Cole being zip-lipped about things in his career, so I tried not to read into it.
I finally concluded there must be other women, and one night I heard one.Eventually I started to be able to tell the difference just by the way his body tensed and the tone in his voice.
I’m ashamed it took me three months, but it did, and I finally acknowledged that we were nothing more than fuck buddies.
The night I heard that woman again, I snapped.
Jake never said I was wrong.He simply left, and our relationship was over.
So, now I learn he’s working with Cole at BHS and he’s here at Trina’s wedding.
And he wants to explain.
He’s had three months to explain...three months during which I’d wished and hoped and imagined so many things.Hope is a dangerous thing.It blinds you to reality as you cling to a fantasy that doesn’t exist.
I imagined Jake walking down the street holding my hand.
I imagined Jake sitting at my parents’ dinner table at Thanksgiving.
I imagined Jake telling me he loved me as we ice skate in Central Park at Christmas.Or while walking along Waikiki Beach, where he dropped to his knees and proposed.
Stupid.
I knew the only memories I’d have were of his lovely body climbing over me, his big shoulders crowding me and rough jaw scratching me when he kissed me...everywhere.
It was erotic and wonderful.
My body still craves him as he stands before me in his dark suit and polished shoes, a dusting of growth on his jawline.
Those blue eyes lock with mine, demanding an answer, but he knows what it is.
No.
Absolutely not.
I shake my head.“You’ve had months to explain, Jake.”
I glance behind him, and spot Cole looking ready to cause trouble.Lifting my eyes back to his, I give him a sad smile, one full of disappointment.“Goodbye, Jake.”
I grab my flute off the bar, then slip away.
