Red Hot Reunion

Jane tried to protest. “Of course he does. He loves you.”

“He loved the way I picked up his dry cleaning and made him dinner and threw dinner parties for his clients. I was the perfect secretary. But never his perfect wife.” Jane’s face fell even further. “I don’t mean to sound bitter about it, and honestly while there was a time that I was, I’m not anymore. I just want to be honest with you so that you don’t get your hopes up thinking we’ll get back together. We won’t.”

Her parents were silent, taking in everything she had come to say, so much more than she had said in total for thirty-two years.

“As for the night you came to Jason’s restaurant in Napa…” She took a deep breath, then let it out, not sure exactly how to tell them that while they’d hurt her, in a way, she’d been glad. It had forced Jason to show his true colors.

And for her to reevaluate everything that she’d been hiding from for so long.

Jane’s eyes were nervous, her hands wringing her napkin. “I’m sorry.”

Her words were so soft Emma almost missed them.

“I know,” Emma said. “And I’m sorry too for not being able to be the daughter you always wanted.”

Jane looked up, two tears falling from her eyes to the tablecloth. “That’s not true. I’ve held on too tightly.

Your father told me to let go, to let you live your own life. But I couldn’t.” Her mother sniffled and Emma felt something deep down in her heart break. “I thought you were happy.”

Emma reached for her mother and wrapped an arm around her frail shoulders. “I know you did. I thought I was too.”

Only she could never be happy without Jason. She suddenly remembered what he’d said at the reunion: It was now or never.

And in that moment as she held her mother in her arms, Emma knew that she’d only ever had one choice: Now.

Twenty-Five

What do you mean she’s not here?”

Kate seemed to be enjoying Jason’s frustration, given her smirk. “Like I said, she left an hour ago.

Besides, what makes you think she’d want to see you anyway?”

Jason tried to come across as tough, confident. Based on Kate’s expression—like she had a mouthful of water she was trying not to spit out—he wasn’t doing a great job.

He slumped down on one of Kate’s couches feeling like the pathetic idiot he was. “No, I don’t think she wants to see me. But I was hoping to change her mind.”

Kate patted his knee. “Well, when you’ve done something as stupid as tricking her into thinking you loved her—”

“I do love her!”

“I know that, you loser, but a little advice: The whole revenge angle as a way to woo chicks really sucks.”

Rocco pulled Kate onto his lap. “Hot damn, woman. I’ve been waiting for you all my life.”

Kate said, “I know,” kissed him, then turned back to Jason. “Anyway, as I was saying, given how badly you screwed up I’d say it’s a damn lucky thing that she loves the crap out of you.”

Jason shot up off the couch. “She told you that?”

Kate shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. The point is, you’ve got a truckload of groveling to do.” She got off of Rocco’s lap and poked one shiny red fingernail into Jason’s chest. Hard. “Down on your knees, begging for forgiveness groveling. Understand?”

Jason nodded. “Trust me, that’s the plan.”

She smiled and snuggled back onto Rocco’s lap. “Good. In that case I can tell you where she went.” Jason was already halfway out the door when she said, “Her parents’ house. She said she had some unfinished business to take care of.”

As the door slammed behind Jason, Kate pressed her br**sts into Rocco’s hard chest. “He’s not the only one who should be on his knees right now.”

Rocco shifted to get off the couch, but Kate put a hand on his thigh.

“Not you, sweetheart, me.”

Emma drove through the Stanford Campus seeing it not as it was today, but as it had been ten years ago.

Easter Sunday. A day she’d never been able to forget. For months afterward she’d been haunted by the look on Jason’s face when he saw her with Steven. Holding his hand.

She shivered at the memory. It was not a recollection that got better with age. It hadn’t faded and her actions hadn’t magically morphed into being good or right.

She’d had plenty of chances to tell Jason what was going on before that horrible Easter Sunday, but she hadn’t the nerve to take them. Steven had been pursuing her for a while. Her parents had met him at a faculty function and taken an immediate liking to him. What parent wouldn’t? Star football player, high grade point average, career prospects coming out of his ears. Emma had been swept up into his arms, his world, his future.

She’d loved Jason so much, but at twenty-one she hadn’t known just how much a love like theirs meant.

That it would be the one true thing she would ever know.

So she’d taken the easy route, made the easy choice, the one that meant everything would fall neatly into place.

In many ways, she mused as she got out of her car in the Stanford quad parking lot, choosing Steven had been a relief.

It was as if some unseen force punched her in the gut. She caught herself on the hood of her car before she crumpled in the empty parking lot. My God, had she hidden from the truth all this time? Had she truly picked Steven because she was afraid of a life with Jason?

Had she chosen a frigid world because Jason’s world was wild and scary? Because she hadn’t wanted to risk having nothing but love to rely on? No money, no connections, no beige furnishings?

Yes, she thought, as she watched students hop on their bikes and hurry off to their next classes, that was exactly what she’d done. She’d wanted to blame her parents for pushing her into Steven—and away from Jason—because that way she’d never have to blame the real person at fault.

Herself.

Yesterday, she’d been so angry at Jason for wanting to make her pay for her sins. But had he actually followed through on hurting her?

No.

Instinctively she knew it wasn’t just because he’d been impressed by the way she’d stood up to her parents in his restaurant. Or because she’d been his sexual plaything for a week, or harnessed her inner Playboy Bunny, or bought a new wardrobe.

Jason hadn’t hurt her because hecouldn’t hurt her.