there?” he called sleepily.
He didn’t even recall her name! Her heart sank even as her resolve strengthened.
“Nobody worth remembering,” she whispered, and closed the door.
The lock snicked shut before Jonas made it off the bed. Cursing, he flopped back on the mattress, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tried to get his bearings. The events of the previous evening came back to him with the force of a fast-moving freight train and made him grateful to already be prone.
Serena. His wife.
He’d only gotten a peek at her pale face before the door closed, but he knew this much for certain: she wasn’t going out for coffee and bagels. She’d bolted.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure how he felt about anything. He’d married a woman he’d known for a handful of hours. Talk about acting out of character. He preferred his Is dotted, his Ts neatly crossed. Tidy and well-ordered—that was how he liked his life. Every move he’d made since graduating from law school had been planned out carefully and methodically. Or every move until he’d walked into that lounge the previous night and spied a vivacious redhead. For a handful of stolen hours she’d been his sole reality. He hadn’t lost himself in a woman like that ever. As thrilling and baffling as he’d found the sensation the evening before, right now he felt confused and oddly vulnerable.
A cellphone trilled and pulled him back to the present. The ringer was low and muffled, and came from beneath his wrinkled trousers.
“Benjamin here,” he said, after retrieving it.
“Where are you?” Jameson Culver demanded by way of a greeting. “We agreed to meet first thing this morning at campaign headquarters, to go over the radio spots you’ll be taping tomorrow. It’s after nine.”
“Ah…right. Sorry. I’ve been…tied up.” It wasn’t a complete lie, he decided as he recalled one of the inventive uses Serena had found for his necktie. His campaign manager, however, was far from mollified.
“Well, get untied,” Jameson boomed. “This is important, Jonas.”
As if he needed reminding. “I know my lines forward and backward. That’s the benefit of speaking from the heart.”
“I want to be sure you punch the right words. Now that former Mayor Cloverfield has endorsed you, Davenport is going to pull out all the stops to discredit you. You need to come across as confident and authoritative. He’s going to keep hitting on your youth and relative political inexperience. He’s going to make it seem as if you’re trying to cash in on your family’s name recognition with voters in this region.”
“This election is about me.” Jonas had gone out of his way to keep his father out of his campaign. All of his life he’d lived in his father’s shadow. He wanted to win on his own merit.
“Maybe you should ask Corbin to do a commercial spot. His public endorsement could sway some of the fence-sitters,” Jameson said.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“You’ve pulled ahead a little in the polls after last week’s town hall debate, but it’s still anyone’s race.”
“I know that.” The words came out sharp.
Jameson wasn’t deterred. “There’s a strategy for winning elections. Hand-shaking and babykissing only get you so far. Your father is political gold, Jonas.”
“My answer remains no.”
His campaign manager sighed dramatically. “Fine, but keep this in mind. Voters say they want change, but when it comes right down to it they often go with what they know. Davenport’s work on the council makes him less of a mystery. You’re untried, Jonas, which means they want to know anything and everything there is to know about you.”
A lead weight settled in the pit of Jonas’s stomach as he spied the white envelope sticking out of one his shoes. “About that…” he began.
“Is there a problem?”
“I’m not sure.”
After ending the call, Jonas dressed. His clothes were a little the worse for wear, though not in as sorry a state as the lacey lavender bra he discovered under his shirt. It hooked in the front. He remembered helping Serena out of it and helping himself to…
He closed his eyes, groaned, and lowered himself to the side of the mattress. Unfortunately he misjudged his proximity and found himself on the floor instead. Appropriate, he decided. He’d been off-balance since meeting the woman.
“Might as well get this over with,” he muttered. Wedging the tip of his index finger beneath the flap, he unsealed the envelope and sealed his fate.
Dear Jonas,
I don’t know where to begin.
“Yeah, join the club.” He snorted, bemused to find them once again in perfect agreement.
Sorry doesn’t seem the right word, but it’s the only one I can come up with. I had a lovely time last night. An amazing time, in fact. But I got carried away. I think we both did. Marriage!
Of course, this is Vegas. I’m sure we’re not the only two people to ever find themselves caught up in the moment. Since you’re a lawyer, I assume you will know what to do to remedy the matter. I will pay half of any legal fees, etc.
I am returning to San Diego today as planned. Forgive me for not waking you up to say goodbye. I thought it would be easier and less embarrassing for both of us if I just left.
Thanks seems as awkward a word as sorry, but it fits here. You are a very special man and I wish you nothing but the best.
—Serena
She’d listed her contact information at the bottom of the page, along with a postscript:
I’m returning the ring. I know it wasn’t expensive, but perhaps you can get your money back.
He fished the band out of the envelope. It was a cheap piece of metal that had probably already caused her flesh to turn green. He slipped off the one on his finger and, on an oath, flung them both into the wastebasket on the opposite side of the room.
Still sitting on the floor, he rested an elbow on one raised knee and stared at the note. Serena’s penmanship was as eclectic as the woman: a collection of capital and lowercase block letters with some cursive ones tossed in. The dots for the “i”s were misaligned or missing. The “t”s were half crossed. He should have been pleased that she didn’t want to stay married to him, grateful that she was making this so easy for him. No tears. No demands, financial or otherwise, and God knew he’d left himself wide open to those. No repercussions of any sort.
Jonas let his head fall back on the mattress and closed his eyes as he waited for the relief to come. Any moment a huge wave of it would wash over him and cleanse the last reminders of Serena Warren from his memory.
More than
