Chapter33
Stick
The alarmon my phone went off and I put down the paintbrush. I was painting the second bedroom in my apartment a very neutral light tan. It hadn’t been touched since Lucas had moved out, and I wanted to put a fresh coat on it before Shelly moved in, after the baby was born.
I enjoyed the mindlessness of it, the not having to think. So much so, I had to set the alarm to make sure I didn’t miss the Stratton interview being aired.
I cleaned up my brushes and took a quick shower, and just as I was about to settle down on the couch with a beer, my phone buzzed. Jane’s text tone. I debated even looking at it. I figured it was masochistic enough to even watch her on television, but to interact with her during it?
Curiosity got the best of me, and I reached for the phone, taking a drink of beer as I did.
Are you home?
Yes.
Can I come up?
Where are you?
Look out your window.
I was off the couch in a flash, and when I pulled back the shades there was Jane, across the street, leaning against the Vette, phone in hand, looking like she didn’t have a care in the world.
No care that just seeing her at Caro’s funeral last week had been torture enough. I certainly didn’t need her in my apartment—a place she’d never before been to. How did she even know where—
Lucas.
Stay there.I grabbed my keys and was out the door. Mentally making a note to let Lucas have it the next time I saw him.
She was at the door of my building when I got downstairs. “I was going to bring some champagne to toast and watch the interview with, but…my normal buyer wasn’t available.”
“What are you doing here, Jane?”
She moved past me into the vestibule. It was warm enough now that she didn’t have a coat on, and she was only wearing what looked like a couple of layers of goofy tops instead of three or four. “Is my car going to be safe there?” she asked.
Typically no, but I owned this block when it came to cars. I walked a couple of steps out onto the stoop and looked around. “Ricky,” I yelled to a neighborhood kid that was on his stoop a couple of doors down from where Jane had parked. “That car is with me. Under my protection. Anything happens to it and I will be very unhappy.”
“Got it,” the kid said. He’d make sure Yvette was left alone, and I’d slip the kid a twenty when Jane left.
Never mind that I hoped she never left.
She was already walking up the steps when I came back into the building. “Third floor,” I called out, and followed her up, trying not to stare at her hips as they swayed underneath her flowy top.
Once inside, she made herself at home, sitting on the couch, reaching for the remote. “Youweregoing to watch it, weren’t you?”
I shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
She narrowed those green eyes at me. “Yeah, right.” She turned the TV on and flicked to the right channel. I offered her a beer and she took one, then I sat down on the couch, but not right next to her. She held out her beer bottle, neck pointed at me, to clink. “Here’s to good television.” I tapped the neck of my bottle to hers then took a long swig.
I was wishing I’d started drinking a lot earlier, because being this close to Jane without being able to touch her was something I really didn’t want to do sober.
The interview was done well, but then I knew that it would be—I’d been in the room while they’d filmed it. Teller had asked Jane about family and how she felt about her dad and whether Jane thought Joe had integrity. Jane had answered pretty pat answers that she’d worked on with Grayson and Caro. But she didn’t outright lie or anything.
She was just playing a part. Much like they all were.
I remembered that day so clearly—how I’d told her she was fierce and held her in my arms even though people were watching. How she’d let herself be vulnerable in front of me, if only for a second. How I was thinking I’d wished I’d told her I loved her on her birthday.
Now, it was a good thing I hadn’t. It would have been that much harder letting her go.
