Close to You (24 page)

Usually he would be all “ladies first” but not this time. If he didn't speak now, he might not say it at all.

Allie stopped talking and stood waiting for his direction. He shifted on his crutches.
God, please let there be another way.
He threw up one last urgent prayer. He'd been doing variations on it all day, but so far no divine intervention had shown up.

He sucked in his breath.
Do it, Gregory. Just get it over and done with. Like ripping off a Band-Aid
. “About last night. I um . . .” He wound his fingers around the plastic handles and gripped them tight.

Allie tucked a strand of stray hair behind her ear. “Jackson, there's something I need—”

“Allie, please, I kind of need to say this.”

She stilled. “Okay. I'm listening.”

He forced the lie out. “I think I may have given you the wrong impression last night.”

She tilted her head. “How so?”

She wasn't going to make this easy, was she? “I, um, may have given you the impression last night I'm interested in you. As more than friends.” He fumbled the line worse than a kindergartner playing his first football game.

No kidding, dude. And what might have given her that impression? The fact you could barely keep your hands off her? Or that if Kat hadn't shown up, you would've kissed her and you both know it?

He waited for her to verbally tear him into bite-size strips, as she was so proficient at doing.

Instead she just looked at him, a collision of emotions playing across her face. “And you're not.” It was a statement, not a question.

“No.” He managed to choke the single syllable out. Barely—since every atom in his body was calling him out as the big fat liar he was.

“Okay.”

Okay? That was it?

“That's it?”

Her brow furrowed. “Um, thanks for the clarification?”

Awkward silence.

“So, um, you had something you wanted to say?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Not now. Need any help with your stuff?”

He tried to search her expression for a hint of disappointment or hurt, but he got nothing. Either she had missed her true calling as a world champion poker player or he'd totally misread things and had never been out of the friend zone.

Given that he'd spent the entire day agonizing over what to do, he should've been thrilled. Instead, as she flicked him a wave over her shoulder as she left the room, it felt like she'd taken his heart with her.

* * *

“H
e said what?” Kat almost spat out her apple juice.

“ ‘I may have, um, given you the impression I am, um, maybe interested in you as more than friends.' ” So, she might have thrown in a couple of extra ums, but if she didn't try and make light of the conversation, she might cry.

Allie propped her moccasin-clad feet up on the coffee table, then realized she'd assumed the identical position she'd been in the night before when Jackson knocked on the door.

Twenty-four hours and another lifetime ago.

She'd worn the Tauriel outfit partly because she sensed he liked it. How pathetic was that? At least he'd barreled ahead and gone first before she could tell him about Derek. Because that wouldn't have been awkward at all.
Hey, so, just thought I should mention I'm married. That's nice, because I don't fancy you at all.
Ack.

Kat put her glass down, broke a line of chocolate off the block of Berry & Biscuit they'd torn open, then passed it to her. “I hope you were like, ‘Dude, guys buy me out a pizza joint all the time. Why would I read anything into that?' ”

Allie laughed for real this time.

Kat snapped off a square and popped it in her mouth. “Do you think he meant it? Sounds like his ex did a bit of a number on him. Maybe he just freaked out. I was there. He was not looking at you with just-friends eyes.”

Allie snapped off a row for herself. “Well, whatever eyes he was or wasn't looking at me with last night, his vision has obviously cleared today. I can't believe I even rang the lawyers this morning.”

“Good girl.” Kat held her hand up for a high five. “What did they say?”

“Just that they were expecting a ruling any day now.” They'd been saying that for months, but she'd decided to go glass half-full and give them the hotel's address just in case they were right this time. “Probably cost me two hundred bucks to open my file.”

She popped the chocolate into her mouth. Left it on her tongue to dissolve into creamy soft goodness.

She should be feeling relieved. Problem solved. What had been starting to become very complicated was now uncomplicated.

It didn't matter if he meant it or not or what his reasons were. It never would have worked. For fifty thousand reasons.

So they'd shared a few moments. A bit of chemistry. She'd had that before and look where it had gotten her.

A box of tissues appeared under her nose. She pushed it away. “I'm fine. I'm good.”

The tear trickling down her cheek betrayed her. She swiped it away and got angry. “What is this? I don't even know why I'm crying. I've known the guy for two weeks. Seriously, what is this?”

She looked across to see Kat grinning at her with chocolate-­coated teeth.

“Why are you smiling?”

Kat tried, and failed, to wipe the smile off her face. “I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be, but it's like you have ‘ta-da, breakthrough' flashing above your head in big neon lights.”

“Have you been drinking? Like, a lot?”

Kat reached over and grabbed her hands. “Allison Shire, you know I love you like crazy, but I have spent the last two years with a shadow of the Allie I know. It was like the day Julia walked into your class, you shoved real Allie somewhere deep down and put a lid on her. Do you realize I have never seen you cry over Derek? Not once. You find out your husband is already married and not a tear. So as far as I'm concerned, hallelujah, praise the Lord for Jackson Gregory. I may plant a big kiss on him when I see him tomorrow because that guy has finally managed to crack the freaking nuclear bomb–proof barricade you've been hiding behind.”

Allie didn't dare tell her friend this was the second time in less than twenty-four hours the guy had reduced her to tears. For two opposite reasons.

“I cried over Derek.” She had—the day Julia had showed up and shattered her world with the same ease a wave destroys a sandcastle. And then she'd packed her bags, changed the locks, called the lawyers, and hardened up. She was a Shire. And Shires didn't show weakness. Veronica had drilled that into her children since before they could walk.

Her best friend was right. She'd spent the last two years trying to ignore the hurt and pain. And all it had gotten her was
feeling like she'd swallowed an entire weather system and was just waiting for it to unleash its fury.

Reaching over, she plucked a tissue from the box and tried to stem the river now cascading down her cheeks. She was afraid that now she had started crying, she'd never stop.

Twenty-Six

V
UDU CAFÉ WAS PACKED.
T
HE
noise of the people crowded around tables bounced off the ceiling and walls. A long cabinet ran down the center of the restaurant, holding a range of food that made Jackson's mouth water just looking at it. He'd asked for the best place to get coffee in Queenstown and the hotel receptionist had not steered him wrong.

Jackson tried to navigate through the fast-moving throng on his crutches, scanning to figure out which line was for people ordering takeout and which for people waiting for a table. He could wait. It wasn't like he had anything else to do this morning, since the others were off visiting the last set of location sites, and they weren't crutches-friendly.

Maybe the bustle and some good food and coffee would distract his conscience from how he'd ignored Allie the day before. There didn't seem to be any middle ground with her. Either his heart was out there or it was barricaded behind a wall of seeming indifference. He was sure a shrink would have a field day with that one.

He was so sure he'd made the right decision, except everything in him screamed that it was wrong.

He blinked and there she was. At the table right in front of him. Sitting at a table for two. On her own. Her attention captured by the packet of sugar she was carefully stirring into her coffee.

Just as he was about to turn away, she looked up and saw him staring at her. A wary look crossed her face. Not that he could blame her.

“Hi.” He spoke first. “What are you doing here?” It came out more accusation than question.
Great start, Jackson.

She lifted an eyebrow. “Even tour guides are allowed the occasional day off.” She looked at his crutches, then around the buzzing room. “Do you need a seat?” It was the kind of polite, halfhearted offering made with the expectation the other person would say no. He opened his mouth to fulfill his end of the unspoken deal, but what came out was, “Sure, thanks.”

Jackson sat down, balancing his crutches against the table. Shrugging his jacket off, he hung it over the back of his chair.

What were the chances of them being in the same café at the same time? Maybe there was a bigger plan in play.

He looked down at the table. Picked up a packet of sugar and spun it between his fingers. “I'm sorry I've been a bit of a jerk the last couple of days.”

He looked up to see her studying him over the rim of her coffee cup.

“I found out my mom has cancer. It's . . . advanced.” He didn't know where the words came from. Hadn't known what he was going to say next, but that wasn't it.
Good one, Jackson, be that pathetic guy who plays the sympathy card.

“I'm really sorry.” Allie's fingers reached over and covered
his and he found himself blinking back tears. What was wrong with him? He didn't cry. Ever.

He breathed deeply, forced back the betraying moisture. “I need this money. Like, really need this money. My parents, they downgraded their health insurance. And their plan won't even begin to cover what she needs for treatment.”
And it was all
my fault
, his conscience tacked on at the end.

“I can't afford any distractions. I have to do whatever it takes to convince my uncle to invest in this idea. If I don't . . .” His voice trailed off. He didn't even want to think about any other scenarios.

A smile played on her lips. “So I'm a distraction?”

He couldn't look away. Trying to deny his feelings any longer was futile, like trying to catch a hurricane with a butterfly net. “You're a bit more than that.” It was like once the words started, he couldn't hold them back. “Allie, you undo me. When I'm around you, I forget about everything else. And it scares me more than anything ever has.”

Her mouth parted. “It scares me too.”

His blood thrummed in his ears as he saw in her eyes what he knew was reflected in his. Then a shadow crossed her face.

“Jackson, there's something I really need to—” Her words dropped over a verbal cliff as she stared at a blond, preppy-looking guy who'd appeared beside their table. “Derek?”

Derek? As in, the guy whose call he'd answered? The guy Allie's mom had given her a hard time about? Ex-boyfriend Derek?

As Allie gaped up at Derek, something in his gut told him reality was a whole lot more complicated than that.

The guy smiled, but it didn't come even close to reaching
his gray eyes. “Hello, darling wife. Hope I'm not interrupting anything.”

The words hit Jackson's ears like a whip. His
what
? Almost as if carried by the force of them, his head swung back to Allie. She was still staring at Derek, all color draining from her face. Her hand jerked, knocking her purse from the small table, change clanging against the floor as it fell and scattered around feet and under chairs. She didn't even look or seem to notice.

One look at Allie's wide, panicked eyes told him he hadn't misheard. She looked between the two of them. “Derek, what—Jackson, I—”

“Is it true? Are you married?” She couldn't be. It wasn't possible that, after everything, he'd gone and fallen for a married woman. Or that, in all their time together, Allie hadn't so much as given a hint she was someone's wife.

Her mouth tried to form words, but nothing came out for a few seconds. Her face was a hurricane of emotions. Finally, a defeated “I don't know,” fell into the space between them.

He almost laughed. She didn't know? How could you not know if you were married or not? It was a pretty straightforward yes or no question.

“Well, if she doesn't know, I can tell you. Yes, she is.”

His fist itched to punch the smug look off Preppy Guy's face. Feel the cartilage of his nose shatter the way Jackson's heart had. Instead, he forced himself to his feet, shoved his crutches under his arms, and stumbled across the café, pushing through the people crowding the counter in his haste to get to the door.

Fresh air. A deep breath. His fingers clutching the hard metal of the handles of his crutches. A cool wind against his
bare arms. His coat was still inside. Abandoned on the back of his chair.

Then it was around him. Hands draped it around his shoulders. The hands of a woman with a
husband
.

“How could you? How could you do this to me?” The words falling to the cement pavement, laden down by their own weight. He didn't, couldn't, turn. He couldn't look at her.

She was worse than Nicole.

“I'm so sorry, I . . . Please let me try and explain. I was about to tell you.”

Sure, she was. That's what all liars said when they were caught.

Her shoes now stood in front of him. Blue Skechers blocking his view of the cracked pavement.

“You're married.” He directed his words to her feet.

“It's been in court for two years. It's complicated.” She sounded like she was choking back tears.

“You're
married
.” He looked up, staring over her left shoulder at the top of a nearby mountain.

“Jackson. I . . .” Her voice cracked with anguish, or maybe it was giving up after telling so many lies—he couldn't quite tell.

“Were you really ever going to tell me?” He clenched his fingers. “Did you get some kind of kick out of making a complete idiot out of me? Was this some sort of revenge for how things were at the beginning? Were you ever going to get around to saying, ‘Oh, and by the way, Jackson, I kind of have this thing called a husband'?” He spat the words at her, his anger finally breaking through his numbness. He wanted to push her to say something—anything—to try and hurt her as much as he was.

“I'm sorry. I never meant—”

“To hurt me. Yeah, yeah, I know the script, Allie.” It was the same lousy one he'd read on the note Nicole left him.

“Please, let me explain. Derek and I, we, he . . .” Their looks collided, hers pleading with his to give her a chance to explain. “Please don't hate me. I was going to tell you. I swear. I tried, but we kept getting interrupted.”

Hate? He felt a lot of things. Betrayal. Confusion. Relief. Sadness. The anger that a few seconds ago had been choking him receded like a fast-changing tide. “I don't hate you. I just . . .” His teeth tugged at his bottom lip.

She studied his face for a second, as if looking for something. “I'm sorry. I . . .” She ran her fingers through her hair. “You're the last person who deserves this. Any of this. I'm never going to forgive myself.”

He looked at her. The copper hair. The perfect eyebrows. The eyes that, a few minutes ago, he'd wanted to find himself in forever.
Nothing.
Whatever had once drawn him to her was gone. He set his face like marble. “Just go, Allie. Just take your lies and go back to your husband. I hope the poor guy knows what he's got in you.” He couldn't stop the bitterness that imbued his final words.

Hurt flashed across her face, but she stepped back. “I'm so sorry, Jackson. It isn't what you think, but you're right, I should have told you.” And with that, she headed back to the café. Back to her husband.

* * *

S
he'd thought after she found out about Derek and Julia it wasn't possible for her heart to be more broken—turned out she was wrong, because she didn't remember anything hurting
as much as the vise currently clamped around her entire being.

Maybe it was because this time she was the one causing the pain. Last time she'd been the victim; there was a certain amount of comfort that came with that.

She walked back into the café, the image of Jackson jumping up from the table as if he'd been struck with a flaming poker seared into her mind.

Where Jackson had been, Derek now sat. The guy who'd once captured her heart and then made a fool of her in front of everyone she loved, everyone who mattered. He was the reason she'd spent the last two years of her life living like a nomad instead of lecturing in the halls of academia.

She'd hoped never to have to see Derek again as long as they both should live. Lord knew she'd paid her lawyers enough to make it so. What on earth was he doing here?

Her eyes skittered over him. His sandy blond hair was a little longer than she remembered, touching the top of his collar; his body as lean as it had always been.

Derek looked up as she approached. “I'm sorry if that was awkward.” His face held a hopeful, almost beseeching, expression. His eyes implored her to speak.

If he'd been anyone else, she would have fallen for it. But she'd fallen too far, been hurt too much, wavered before that expression too many times to ever be so stupid again.

She looked down at the table, seeing not her so-called husband but Jackson. His stricken expression morphing into incredulity when she said she didn't know if she was married. Not that she could blame him. It was an unbelievable thing not to know.

It was all her fault. Why hadn't she told him earlier? Found
a way to slip “Oh, and by the way, I might be married” into a casual conversation? Or better yet, “So, funny thing, I got married to this one guy, but it turns out he already had a wife.”

She pulled out a chair and slumped into it. “What are you doing here, Derek?” She didn't bother asking how he'd found her. It didn't matter. Not now.

“The courts have ruled my first marriage isn't valid.” He lifted a shoulder. “Something about the paperwork not being filed correctly in Vegas. So you, my dear Allison, are still my wife.”

She didn't even look at him. “I don't believe you.” Her fingers gripped her seat. It couldn't be true. There was no way this had dragged on for two years—cost her thousands of dollars—only for that to be the answer.

He pulled some papers out of the pocket of his jacket. “You may not want to believe me, but you have to believe these.”

She glanced down and saw the seal of the High Court. Not that that meant anything. Derek had proven himself to be capable of the most far-reaching of deceptions. She wouldn't be surprised to discover document forgery was another of his hidden talents.

“I'll believe it when my own lawyers tell me.”

“Can you look at me?”

She turned, emotions threatening to overwhelm her as she looked her betrayer full in the face for the first time since she'd fled their home. Her home.

He leaned over and touched her hand. She snatched it away.

“I'm sorry. I know I hurt you more than I could even begin to imagine. But please, I'm desperate. I can't give up on us. Why do you think I've fought it so hard for the last two years?”

Well, that was a pretty easy one. M-O-N-E-Y. Namely, hers. An annulment would have left him with nothing. A divorce? Who knew what he'd gain from that. And that was before they even got to his questionable visa status, since it had been granted on the basis of their relationship.

He lifted his hand and grazed a finger across her cheek.

“Don't touch me.” She spat the words out through gritted teeth, slapping his arm away.

They couldn't still be married. It wasn't possible. He was married—had been married—to someone else, the day she walked down the aisle. All naïve and innocent, thinking she'd met the love of her life when instead she'd fallen for the world's biggest con man.

She looked up to find tears in his eyes.

“I'm so sorry, Al.”

“Don't call me that.” He'd never called her that before. The only one who had was Jackson. She wasn't going to let Derek take that too.

Derek took a breath, as if trying to gather himself. “I'm so sorry for everything. I know I don't deserve one, but, now that the court stuff is done, I'm here to ask for another chance to make it up to you and prove I can be the man you thought I was.”

Her whole body jolted, as if plugged into a live socket.
What?
This was not part of the plan! She was getting over this. Over him. Finally able to contemplate returning home, to her old life, without overwhelming humiliation making her want to find the biggest hole she could and bury herself in it.