With Jack being proper and polite at all times, every one of my actions was…well, I was sticking out like a sore thumb. The guy had moved my bookcase, helped me with the wooden shelf, and painted my walls, for crying out loud. Men like Jack had people to do stuff like that for them. He had a driver. His house was perfect. He always wore expensive suits, day in and day out. He was distant with everyone. Again, men like that had other people do their dirty work. Living with the Colesons I had seen people like him plenty of times.
When I was a teenager, I would go out with the family when they wanted to show me off to their friends—not because they loved me like their own or anything remotely close to that, but because they wanted their rich friends to think they were generous and big-hearted people.
Look at us, we saved this girl.
I remembered going to fancy restaurants and dinner parties ‘as a family’ but ending up being completely ignored by everyone, including Gary, who was the only one who cared about me even a little. All I did was wear what Angela wanted me to wear, show up, eat what was put in front of me, be quiet and look happy.
However, my happiest memories were not born in those places with those people. They were born in the kitchen of their home where I spent most of my time when I wasn’t in my room, and they were made with the housekeeper, Susan O’Donnell, who I had breakfast and dinner with every day. Some days, Gary wanted me to join them in the dining room, but they weren’t like Susie, who made me laugh with her stories. They didn’t have easy conversations even when it was just the four of them. They didn’t laugh from the heart, didn’t love from the heart.
Still, there was one fact we’d all agreed on: Gary had saved me. Reluctantly or not. I was thankful, just like they wanted me to be, and I would be for the rest of my life.
However—and that is a loaded however—I couldn’t say I’d forgotten about those dinners, the house parties, the get-togethers, and tonight’s dinner with the partners was one of the last things I wanted to do, but I had made a deal. Playing pretend was something I wasn’t so bad at. Didn’t mean I enjoyed it, but I wasn’t bad at it.
When the screen lit up with a new text message, I picked it up.
Jack: Answer your phone.
For some reason, that simple text had me smiling harder than a text that short should have. It definitely drew Sally’s attention.
“What’s going on? Good news?” she asked, her neck stretched so she could see what I was doing.
I waved her off. “Nothing. Just a text.” A text that was pure Jack Hawthorne.
“Oh! Share with the class, please. Love stories are my favorite kind of stories.”
“Unfortunately, no love story here.” I still hadn’t told her I was married, not because I was trying to hide it but because I didn’t know how to explain my husband. “Maybe you’ve spent enough time with the stories there. Wanna switch out books for sugar and flour?”
“Sure.” In one quick move, she was up and sauntering toward me, her ponytail swishing from side to side. “You mind if I turn on the music back there, too?”
“Not at all. Go for it.”
I grabbed my phone and headed toward the books that were scattered on the floor. I lowered myself onto the cushion she had been sitting on, crossed my legs, and took a deep breath. As Sally started another playlist on Spotify, I called Jack back instead of waiting for him to call me once again.
He answered on the third ring. “Rose.”
“Jack.”
I kept waiting for him to say more since he was the one who had called first, but he said nothing. “If you’re busy, I can call later.”
“No. I wouldn’t answer if I was busy.”
“Okay then. Why were you calling?”
I was hoping maybe dinner had been canceled.
“It’s almost five. We need to be at the restaurant at seven. I’m heading out of the office in a minute—would you like me to pick you up?”
“Oh, yes please. Around six, maybe?” My eye caught on a book that was still in one of the cardboard boxes, so I grabbed it and checked the back cover.
“That won’t work. With the traffic, it will take us at least forty-five minutes to get to the restaurant. Add to that the drive from your coffee shop to the apartment, and we wouldn’t make it in time.”
“No, you can just pick me up on your way to the restaurant.”
He said nothing.
“I’ll get dressed here. I bought the dress today, so I don’t need to go to the apartment. I’ll be ready when you get here.”