a note. Called me commitment phobic and—and…” She choked back a sob. If she planned to make it through without crying, she’d better hurry. “And…well, his rejection was out of the blue—and his so-called reason for leaving totally untrue. Just because I didn’t want to get married, doesn’t mean I wasn’t committed.”
She stared blankly at her cooling food, forearms on the table, every ounce of her attention attuned to the man whose opinion she held in the highest regard. He said nothing for a long time. So long, in fact, she cast him a sidelong look. He was frowning—thoughtful? Compassionate? Dubious that her argument had a leg to stand on? She couldn’t tell. “Gee, thanks, Jax. I’m all better now,” she quipped with false enthusiasm, hoping to prod him into revealing what hid behind that frown.
“He took your things, too?” he asked.
“My things?”
He nodded. “Your furniture, rugs, whatever.”
“Oh.” Why did he have to zero in on that one tiny inconsistency for her “commitment” argument. “Does my heart count?” she asked, wanting to impress upon him what was important here and what wasn’t.
She got a reaction. He winced a little. “Sure, it matters. I meant did he steal your things?”
“No, nothing like that. He left my clothes, the two framed prints I’d bought and a what-not shelf I took from my room when I left home.”
“That’s all that was yours?”
She didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking. “So what? What are things? It’s the emotions of a relationship that matter, and my emotions were totally—committed.” Why did she falter on that last word? She had been committed to Perry and to their future together.
“Hmmm.” He nodded, his expression solemn. “But you didn’t want to get married?”
“What are you, a prosecuting attorney?” she asked, trying to keep things light so that his probing wouldn’t bug her. She didn’t want to be mad at Jax. “It’s not a felony to say no to a marriage proposal.”
He didn’t smile.
“Come on, Jax. Lighten up. My heart may be broken but I don’t need a transplant. Just tell me it’ll be okay and give me a hug and help me heal like always.”
He cocked his head, watching her. “So you came here for a hug?”
She broke eye contact, embarrassed and unsure why. Antsy, she picked up her fork and toyed with it. “Well…duh.” She ran the fork prongs through the melted butter and syrup, making a curvy row of lines from one edgeof the plate to the other. When she peeked at him again, she was serious. “You know my mother’s story, Jax. Marriage doesn’t guarantee anything. I thought we were fine the way we were. Why rock the boat with meaningless contracts and promises?”
“Apparently they weren’t meaningless to him.”
She hadn’t come here for an inquisition. “Since when did you join the debate team?” she asked, annoyed. “I need a friend—a hug—not a cross-examination.” Slapping her palms to the table, she bolted up. “Look, if you can’t see that he was in the wrong, then I made a mistake coming to you. I thought you were my friend.”
“I am your friend. I’m only trying to get the whole picture.”
“The whole picture is I’m upset and I need you to be on my side. Be my friend. Tell me he’s a beast and I’m well rid of him.”
“Okay, he’s a beast and you’re well rid of him,” he dead-panned.
She crossed her arms and glared. “That’s a good start. Now let’s work on making it sound like you mean it.”
He eyed her silently, then said, “I am your friend, Kim. But a friend tells you the truth. If you want a yes-man then you’ll have to hire one. From me, you get honesty.”
“Is that so?” she asked, “Then how much would you charge to be my yes-man?”
“Stop kidding.”
“I’m not kidding.” She struggled to keep from bursting into tears. She didn’t know why she was so agitated or why she was on her feet. Apparently her relaxing bath with all those yummy bubbly jets were no match for Jax’s disapproval, even if, at this stage, it was only a possibility on the horizon. She patted around on her hips as though searching for pockets. “I don’t have any money on me, but if I run upstairs and get ten bucks, would it buy me a ‘Perry is a big jerk and everything will be all right’?”
“Perry.”
“Huh?”
He seemed to have turned inward for a second. When she spoke, he refocused on her. “Nothing.” Appearing vaguely troubled, he worked his jaw. She wondered what he was thinking. After a second, he indicated her food. “Why don’t you eat, then get a good night’s rest. We can talk when you’re fresher.” He stood. “I think it would be best if I leave you alone for a while.”
She was so surprised and disconcerted by his abrupt decision to go, she couldn’t move or speak. She didn’t want him to leave. The whole point of coming here was to be with him. When she opened her mouth to say so, he stopped her by taking her arm and firmly guiding her back to the chair. “Sit.” With both hands on her shoulders, he coaxed her down. “Eat.”
Once sitting, she stared up at him. “But—”
“You’re tired. I’m tired,” he said, before she could go on. “I can see you’re in no mood to be rational.”
“Rational!” She started to stand, but he foiled her plan by placing a restraining hand on her shoulder.
“Sit.” He shook his head at her. “Stay.”
She made a face. “I am not your dog.”
He exhaled heavily and turned away, mumbling something that sounded like “A dog would be less trouble and more affectionate.”
“What?”
He didn’t turn back, merely shook his head. “I said leave the dishes and turn off the lights as you go to bed.”
“That’s not what it sounded like.”
“Good night, Kim,” he called back, disappearing from view.
She glared at the empty kitchen door, fists balled. After a few seconds, she calmed down enough to realize he was right. She needed time and distance from this afternoon to be totally rational on the subject of Perry’s desertion. Jax was an expert on “totally rational” because if there was one thing Jax was, besides brilliant, it was rational.
She could hear his rapid tread as he jogged up the stairs two at a time. He was really going. “Hey,” she shouted. “What happened to my hug?”
Somewhere in the distance a door slammed.
CHAPTER THREE
FOR Jax the
