I turn off my phone and put it on my nightstand without responding to anyone.
“Everything all good?” asks Jack from my doorway.
“Yeah.” I can’t muster the strength to say it very loudly. Everyone’s doing just fine without me.
“You don’t sound very happy about that. How come?”
I shrug, turning to face him. “I guess part of me is super proud and part of me feels useless.”
“Did Tarin call you that?”
“No. Actually he said he’d rather that I be there.”
“So why not go?” Jack folds his arms and leans against the door frame. “He wants you there, you want to be there … so go.”
“Who says I want to be there?”
“Your face. Your tears. The things you say when you’re sleeping.”
I frown at him, trying to figure out if he’s messing with me or not. “I don’t talk in my sleep.”
“Oh, yes you do. Loud too. Wakes me up.” He breaks into a modernized version of the song by the Romantics, Talking In Your Sleep. I’m not amused.
“Bullshit. Your room’s on the other side of the apartment.”
“Who says I sleep in there?”
I turn and look at my bed, thrown off by the idea that I’ve had a bed buddy without even realizing it. “You don’t sleep in here. I’d know that.”
He laughs and pushes off the frame to stand straight. “I’m just messing with you. I sleep on the couch sometimes, though, and I can hear you plain as day. You’re always arguing with Tarin. I think you guys have unfinished business.”
I take the phone off the nightstand and stare at it. “Maybe we do.” I can’t believe I just admitted that out loud. “But I’m not ready to go there right now. He needs to finish what he started without me getting in the middle of it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I think … this thing with Austin … it just … complicates things too much. I don’t want him needing me because he feels guilty. Like he has to make something up to me.”
“Why do you think he does? Want to do that, I mean?”
“He says he’s made mistakes and he’s trying to fix them. He’s already apologized for the Austin things, so …” I shrug. “I just think getting together based on our mutual situation with Austin is a really bad idea. It’ll eventually go down in flames and take me with it.”
“Do you care about him?” Jack asks, walking into the room and taking me by the shoulders.
“Of course. I care about all my clients.”
“Shut up with the client crap or I’ll put my tongue in your ear. Do. You. Care. About. Him?” Jack shakes me for effect.
I sigh in defeat. “Yes. It’s totally stupid and awful, though, so I’m going to ignore it.”
“You’re going to ignore the feelings?”
“Yes. That’s what I’m going to do.”
“No, you’re not.” He slides his arm around my shoulders and walks me from the room, snatching my phone out of my hand on the way.
I leap up to try and get it from him in the hallway, but he’s way too tall for me, and now thanks to the boxing regime I started him on, he’s a wall of solid muscle. His thumb is tapping out a message up near the ceiling.
“Cut it out, Jack!” I yell, panicked about what he might be doing.
“Back off, wild woman, I’m busy sexting your lover.”
“You’d better not be!” I scream, doubling my efforts to retrieve my cell. I succeed in messing up his hair, but that’s about it.
He hands me back my phone with a very self-satisfied smile. “Here you go. Mission accomplished.”
I hurriedly click over to the texts to see what he sent.
The message to Tarin says one thing: “Come see me in Chicago.”
“Goddammit, Jack!” I run screaming down the hallway and tackle him over the back of the couch.
Chapter Forty-Three
JACK AND I ARE WATCHING television that night when Tarin’s face suddenly appears on the screen. He’s attending a premier of some sort and he’s alone.
I’ve never seen him looking so sharp. We’ve only been apart for three weeks, but he’s a changed person, that much is clear. And I’m not the only one who notices. The girl holding the microphone and hoping to interview him is swept away by it all - the hair, the clothes, his shoulders. Wow and holy schmokes. My heart, it be melting. I cannot believe I had sex with that man and left him behind. How stupid am I? Very stupid. Very, very, very stupid. I grip the arm of the couch so hard my fingers go white.
“My god!” the girl says. “Tarin Kilgour of By Degrees is here and he is … Tarin!” She coaxes him over with her microphone and crazy waving. “Tell us, what the heck happened to you! Are you in love? Did you join a cult? What happened here?” She puts her hand on his upper arm and looks back and forth between Tarin and the camera, her teeth so big and white they’re almost too bright to look at. She’s rubbing his arm up and down, making me want to reach through the TV to smack her. Jealousy? Oh my god, I’m jealous. Oh, this isn’t good. I leave off with killing the couch and rub my face a few times, trying to get ahold of myself.
Tarin shrugs, giving her a warm smile while also stepping just a tiny bit to the side, enough to detach her hand from his arm. My heart feels like it’s bursting inside my chest cavity, and my face burns with heat. Oh joy! He doesn’t want her to touch him and she’s beautiful! Ahhhhh! This is so not the old Tarin. The old Tarin would have gotten her number and coaxed a blow job from her later.
“Seriously, though, Tarin, how did you do it? You look amazing.”
“Well, I made some new friends, cleaned house, started boxing.”
She puts her hand to her chest and flutters her eyelashes. “Boxing? Oh my god, be still my heart.” She looks at the camera and leans in a little, like she’s sharing a secret with the million or so women watching. “As if he wasn’t sexy enough, right? …Boxing? Someone bring me a fan.” She turns back to him all business. “Tell us who your new friends are, Tarin. Any ladies in the bunch? Anyone special?”
“You could say that.” He looks into the camera and winks. He actually winks! My heart stops, spasms painfully, and then one giant ker-thump! later, it’s back to racing again.
“Man, is he fucking working that camera or what?” asks Jack, smirking. “Do you know how many girls just came in their pants over that one?” He shakes his head slowly. “I gotta hand it to the guy. When he goes clean, he goes all in with the style, know what I’m saying?” Jack looks down at his heavily ringed fingers and scrappy jeans. “Maybe I should buy a suit.” He looks over at me, as I sit there dealing with anxiety level nine. “Would I look good in a suit? I know you told me to get one before and I ignored you, but I’m thinkin’ maybe I should try one.”
I can’t peel my eyes from the screen now, trying to catch another glimpse of the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life. Tarin. Holy shit.
“Yeah, sure. Get a suit,” I say absently. I grab the remote and turn up the sound, trying to catch the mumbled conversation he’s having just off camera with someone else. The girl’s mic is catching part of it as she prepares to snag the next person coming her way.
“Yeah, I got a lot of things going on right now,” he says to someone off-camera. “I’m going out of town soon, so I’m not sure I’ll be there next week. Maybe later, though. Call Mel…” That’s the last I heard before the girl with the microphone is squealing over her next grab.
“What color should I get?” asks Jack. “Black? Probably black, right? Or maybe I’ll swing the other direction and go full-on white…”
“Dark green,” I say standing, thinking about Tarin’s eyes. They’re so, so dark. But on the screen just now, I could see the green. I swear I could see something magic in them. “Go with green.”
“Are you serious?” he asks, looking up at me.
“What?” I say, looking over at him, suddenly realizing we’re having a conversation. Kind of.
?
??You want me to wear a green suit?”
“No, I don’t want you to wear a green suit. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then why’d you tell me to go with green?”
“Shut up, Jack, I’m trying to think.” I rub my temples in circles, trying to make the headache and panic go away.
“What’s wrong with you?”
I drop my hands instantly and jump to my feet. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me? Why are you even asking me that question? You know what’s wrong with me.” I throw both hands towards the television. “You texted Tarin and now he’s coming out here! And he’s all dressed up!”
Jack frowns. “I doubt he’s going to wear that monkey suit out here. He’ll need to get it dry cleaned first.”
“Shut up, Jack! You know what I mean!”
“Not really.” He looks at me like he’s worried. “You’re kind of wigging out on me right now. Should I go put my bike helmet on just in case?”
I flop down onto the couch. “Don’t you get it? You told him to come. He thinks I told him to come. He just winked at the camera and sent me a message! He’s on his way!”
“Maybe he wasn’t talking to you.”
I jump-tackle Jack and pound him with a throw pillow. “Of course he was talking to me, you asshole!”
“Okay! Okay!” Jack is laughing hysterically beneath my onslaught. “Relax! Jesus, woman. I have a tour coming up. Don’t put me in the hospital. The tabloid’s ‘ll have a field day with that shit. I can read the headlines now … Jack O’Leary beat nearly to death by crazed wannabe lover.”
I calm down in the face of his ridiculousness and go to my corner of the couch to shoot daggers at him with my eyes. “You suck, you know that?”
“You totally love me and the fact that I texted Tarin for you. You were too chicken shit to do it, but you wanted it done, so don’t play dumb with me.” He affects a deep-south accent. “Ain’t nobody got time fo’ dat.”
“I’m going to bed,” I say, standing again. “I’m nervous now, thanks to you. I’m going to get a stomach ache too.”
“Good. I hope you have lots of sexy dreams too. After the stomach ache.” As I get to the bedroom, he yells louder so I’ll hear him through the door. “I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight! I hear the secrets that you keep when you’re talking in your sleep!”
I lock the door to my bedroom, not convinced he isn’t sneaking in to listen to me babble about who knows what. After getting in bed, I lay there listening to the sound of my own breathing and the faint glimmering of voices still coming from the television. All I can think about is seeing Tarin again, and every time I get an image of his face or his hands or his arms in my mind, I think about that time we had sex on the couch and my heart doubles its pace. I’m so not ready to see him again. I don’t think I have the strength I know it’s going to take to make him go away. Maybe that’s why I don’t text him back and explain it was all just a misunderstanding.
Chapter Forty-Four
THE NEXT MORNING I WAKE up and wander out of my room around ten. I tried to sleep in as long as possible so I could usher the day past as quickly as possible, but this is as far as I got before my eyelids refused to close anymore. I’m ridiculously nervous about Tarin coming, and I know I’m not going to be able to eat a thing until he’s come and gone. Tea. I need some tea. And then some Valium. I wonder where I could score some.
Shuffling out to the family room, I talk to the back of Jack’s head. It’s slumped to the side a little and he’s wearing a baseball cap, something I’ve never seen him do, but I write it off as another one of his eccentricities. Sleeping in a hat. Typical. I have no idea how he can sleep all night sitting up like that. It’s like sleeping on a plane, something I’ve never been able to do.
I talk loudly to wake him up. “You need to get up and take a shower, Jacky boy. You smell.” I smile at myself. There’s something evil inside me that makes me want to harass this man from the moment he opens his eyes to a new day until the minute he closes them at night. “You need a haircut too. Go get one, would ya? Hiding your rat’s nest under that stupid hat isn’t working.”
He picks his head up and leans forward. Standing up, he turns to face me as I reach the counter in the kitchen.
I’m looking over my shoulder to laugh at the cranky expression I expect to see there, when I freeze.
Time stands still.
I’m suffocating all of a sudden because I can’t breathe correctly.
I feel dizzy.
“You’re not Jack,” I say. I’m whispering because that’s all I’m capable of doing. My lungs and voice won’t work.
“No. I’m Tarin, actually.” He walks over and holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
I stare stupidly at his outstretched arm. I know those tattoos. I know those muscles, although they look thicker than I remember them. Looking up, I realize that there’s something new about him. I don’t know that smile that’s lighting up his face. I’ve never seen anything like it. I feel like a Hershey’s Kiss left in a hot car. Sweat breaks out on my upper lip and under my arms. Attractive.
“Aren’t you going to shake my hand?” he asks. His grin could not possibly be cuter. That hat should make him look like a fool, but all it makes me want to do is dare him to take his shirt off again. Truth or dare, Tarin. Truth or dare…
My brain is going haywire. I frown and smile at the same time, and I’m sure I look like I’m having intestinal cramps. They’re probably not that far away considering how my guts are churning right now. “No, I’m not going to shake your hand. No way.” I scoot to a spot behind the counter so he won’t see anymore of my nightgown than he already has. Ack! How humiliating! I’m wearing my granny gown! Why?! Why did I put this on last night? It’s my comfort-wear. My Wal-Mart Value-of-the-Day that has traveled with me for five years, survived with me through thick and thin. It’s heinously ugly, but it helps me sleep. I’m convinced it’s magic. Possibly dark magic, but I don’t care. At least, I never cared before.
“I hope you don’t mind that Jack let me in. He said he was going for donuts but that was like two hours ago.”
“When did you get here?” I have nothing to do with my hands so I tap my fingers on the counter. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…
“In Chicago? I left L.A. last night around ten. I waited a few hours after arriving to show up here, though. I didn’t want to interrupt your beauty sleep.” He gestures to my nightgown as he smiles and I want to die of shame.
“I didn’t tell you to come,” I blurt out. I struggle to keep my hand on the counter and not up slapping my face like it wants to. What a dope. Why did I say that?
“I got a text…” He’s frowning, confused. Maybe a little embarrassed.
“That was Jack. He took my phone from me and did it.” I look at the counter, too humiliated to continue. This feels like a really bad high school moment. Awko taco.
“You could have changed it, though, huh? … Texted me back and told me that it was Jack. But you didn’t.”
I look up and he’s got that damn smile on again. Its cuteness annoys me because I feel myself falling under its spell. I hate not being in control of my own emotions.
“I guess. But that doesn’t matter. I mean, you have places to be and they’re not Chicago.”
He pauses to take a deep breath and then speaks. “I was hoping I could convince you to come back with me to LA. I chartered a jet just for us.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going. I don’t belong out there.”
“Out there in L.A.? Or with me?”
“Either. Both.” My words feel too harsh for both of us, so I soften the next ones. “I don’t know. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“What if I do? Doesn’t that matter to you?” He tilts his head slightly. I see a vulnerability in his expression that hurts my heart. I despise myself for making him feel this way, for knowing I’m going to keep hurting him.
“Everything matters to me,” I say,
tears stinging my eyes. “That’s the problem. Everything matters too much and it hurts. I’m tired of the hurting.” I can’t look at him anymore so I stare at the phone book that has been offering Jack and me delivery people laden with boxes of food.
Tarin comes into the kitchen.
“Stay over there,” I warn, backing up and pointing towards the couch.
“Why?” he asks. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
“No, don’t be ridiculous.”
He takes another step.
“Please, Tarin?” I’m too embarrassed to say any more.
“Just tell me why. I need to hear you say it.”
“Say what?”
“You know.”
“No, I really don’t. What do you want me to say?”
“Tell me you regret ever being with me and I’ll go. I just need to hear you say the words so I know the truth. I’ve almost convinced myself you care and that the reason you left is because you couldn’t handle the emotions that were coming up between us, but if I’m wrong, I need to know so I can let you go. Otherwise I know myself … I’m going to be stubborn and keep holding on as long as I think there’s a chance.”
“I’m not going to say that …” I pause, realizing we’re thinking two completely different things. “Tarin, I don’t want you coming any closer because I just woke up. I have morning breath like you wouldn’t believe, and I’m wearing an eighty-year-old’s nightgown.”
He pauses and then a sexy smile appears, slowly but surely erasing his worried expression. “I’m kinda liking the old school thing you have going on there.” He points at my clothes.
I grab a spatula off the counter, refusing to smile back at him. “Stay back.”
He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “No need to get physical. At least not with a spatula.”