The Wrong Man (29 page)

“Good. Stop this. All of it. I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I don’t want these… things. We aren’t together. We aren’t even friends. None of it makes any sense!”

“I told you I want you back. I told you months ago. Last time you bit me, I think.” He glowered before heaving a deep sigh and taking a seat on the corner of the desk.

“I don’t want you.” I folded my arms and paced the small room. I stopped and shook my head. “What we had ended a long time ago. I can’t accept gifts from you. Flowers, cupcakes, those red roses. I didn’t even look at the card, but they were from you, weren’t they?”

“Yeah, but those were to remind you I hadn’t forgotten the things you like. To let you know I was thinking about you.”

“That’s sweet, Trevor, but I don’t want these things. This bag is beautiful but I can’t accept it.”

“Why not? Look, Bran, I made a mistake. I left for selfish reasons. I thought Trey could help me and, well, I ended up learning I need to help myself. I broke it off with him right after we ran into each other at that restaurant last spring. I knew it was too soon to ask you to reconsider, so I figured I’d work on getting my act together. I got a job. A real part in this awesome new cable series. The pilot aired a few days ago and damn! The network bought a dozen episodes. Crazy! So yeah, I can afford the bag now. I told you last year I’d buy you one for your thirtieth birthday, remember? I’m a little early, but I want you to have it. I’m renting a great place, and I bought a new car. I’ve got my shit together. The only thing missing is you.”

“Uh….”

“Brandon, we’re good together, baby. You know it. I know it. Let’s stop wasting time and get back to normal. Get back to us.”

A speech like that would have made my heart soar a year ago. It wasn’t the most eloquent, but it hit the right chord of sincerity with some of my favorite phraseology: job, car, shit together, thinking of you. It was good. Good for him. However, something important was missing.

“Trevor, I’m not playing hard to get. I’m happy for you, and I wish you well. But that’s all.”

He stared at me for a long moment, then looked at the pile of boxes littering the floor.

“Are you still with that guy? The one from the restaurant?”

I walked over to the door and held it open. I wasn’t going to discuss Jake with Trevor. A wave of longing came over me. A sudden rush of anxiety made my hands tremble. It was past time for Trevor to go. He finally stood and walked the few steps to the door.

“Keep the bag. Please. It’s the least I can—Just be happy, Bran. You deserve to be happy.”

He was gone before I could respond. I stared after him for a good few minutes until the tremor in my hand snaked up my arm, threatening to take over my entire body. I was halfway to the main door, waving absently at my employees and familiar clients to alert them I was leaving the premises when I literally bumped into Luke.

“What are you doing here?”

“Where are you going?” We spoke over each other, wearing matching scowls.

Luke inclined his head toward the door.

“Let me buy you a cup of coffee. You look like shit.”

“Thank you, or should I say ‘fuck you’? And answer my question. What are you doing miles away from your sexy soc—”

“Cut the act, Brandon.” Luke shot me a pointed look that was equal parts irritation and concern. “You know why I’m here.”

Neither of us spoke during the short walk to the coffee shop. I sat at a small corner table while Luke ordered our drinks. When he set mine in front of me, I mumbled my thanks and glanced up at my best friend.

“You drove all the way here because you’re worried about me?” I tried to make the query sound incredulous. But my tone and pitch were off. I sounded pathetic.

“Yeah. I’m worried. You weren’t picking up your cell, so I called the store. Lizzy gave me the scoop about Mack and then mentioned something else must have gone down ’cause you were hiding in the back room.”

“Hiding? I’m firing her in the morning,” I said without heat as I swirled the foam in my latte repeatedly.

“Right. So tell me what happened.”

I looked up at my oldest, dearest friend. He was my light-skinned brother from another mother, who adored me without question. The worry etched in his pretty face made me sad, though I was grateful I had him on my side. I stared at the latte in front of me and said a quick prayer the caffeine would grant me the surge of energy and strength of mind required to set my world right.

I took a deep breath and opened my mouth. And I couldn’t seem to stop. Mack, the ex, Jake. He listened without interruption. When I told him about Trevor coming by again, he rolled his eyes and snorted.

“I hope you keep the bag for the rent money he should have paid you. Lousy bum.”

“Trevor kept talking about the things he
has
now that he’s finally gainfully employed. Things, things, more things. It was enlightening. He alluded to affection like it was a kind of currency, you know? And vice versa. So the more you can give, the more obvious it must be that you care. The thought struck me as lacking.”

“It is, but plenty of people think that way. We live in a consumer-driven society. No one knows it better than a retail storefront owner. It’s a cutthroat world out there. Everyone is obsessed with having the latest and greatest gizmos and gadgets. Driving the best cars, living in fancy homes in the most desirable neighborhoods. It’s easy to forget what’s real and what’s right. Look at us. We’re sitting in a chain coffee shop, drinking high priced lattes, discussing the evils of capitalism while dressed in designer duds. We’re all hypocrites to a degree. Maybe Trevor isn’t a bad guy, but he isn’t special. He’s like everyone else who gets caught up thinking what you have equates to who you are.”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” I looked at the steady line of people waiting to place their orders and tried to think how to ask my best friend a very weird question. “Luke, do you think I hold grudges?”

“Grudges? No, but I think, for as confident and capable as you are, you still have a hard time thinking you’re worthy of love. You put on a great act, but at the end of the day, you’re afraid to let anyone in. How will you ever get your fairy-tale ending if you don’t take a leap of faith?”

“You’re starting to sound like Mara.”

Luke shrugged and chuckled softly. “You mean like a whack job? So be it. To quote the American playwright, George Seaton, ‘Faith is believing in things when common sense tells you not to.’ It isn’t a grudge you hold against Jake. It’s fear. It’s okay to be scared, Bran. It’s natural. Just don’t let it keep you from happiness.”

As much as I wanted to scoff at his quirky habit of quoting dead poets and always managing to find the perfect sentiment, I was rendered speechless. He’d hit a raw nerve. I had no snappy comeback. I supposed that’s what happened when you were exposed.

“I think he was right. About everything. I have to fix this. I don’t know what to do or how to do it, but….” I blinked to stave off the threatening tears.

Luke smiled kindly and leaned across the table. “You’ll think of something.”

T
HE
FOLLOWING
morning I headed for Jake’s apartment. I was dressed for a day at the store in pressed navy trousers and a cashmere sweater. For someone with plenty of bright ideas and a flair for the dramatic, I was at a loss. After careful consideration I decided to wing it and hope inspiration took over at some point. What I did know was I couldn’t let another minute go by without seeing him. I didn’t even know if he was home but I had to do something. If he wasn’t there, I’d go into work early and… I didn’t know. Restack linens or something.

I pulled up to his building as a radio deejay announced the time as 7:06 a.m. Oh. Fuck. I couldn’t sit in my car like a creepy stalker. I had to find his place and then…. No clue. I knew Lizzy’s address, and she’d said Jake lived across the hall from her. We never spent any time here. I wondered idly if that was a sign of some sort. Armed with nothing more than a number and a bad case of nerves, I looked up at the nondescript, brown stucco box and shook my head. The designer in me was always aware of my surroundings. The good, the bad, and in this case, the ugly. Architecture in Los Angeles was a mixed bag of traditional Spanish to Art Deco, Modern and progressively hip futuristic. However, Jake’s building didn’t attempt grandeur on any scale. It was a plain, utilitarian entity on a pretty, palm tree-lined street.

I took a deep breath of the cool morning air, set my shoulders back as though readying for combat, and made my way up the long path to the main entrance. The sound of a dog barking wildly made me stop in my tracks. There was no one in sight, so I waited to see if it was going to come barreling toward me out of the blue. A softly spoken command in a voice I knew well sent my heart beating double time. I licked my lips nervously and gripped my car keys with a sweaty palm but couldn’t seem to move my feet. I stood still and listened for their approach.

It had only been a couple days, but it felt like a lifetime. When Jake skirted a pygmy palm leading Mack by a leash, I had the strangest sensation of puzzle pieces falling into place. I’d felt it the first night he’d kissed me months ago. He’d been right. I was in love with him. Irrevocably and hopelessly in love. His longish hair was disheveled as usual. He looked like he’d rolled out of bed and thrown on a pair of black workout shorts and a royal blue pullover. He looked carelessly athletic and completely gorgeous. He was who he claimed to be, a simple guy. No artifice, no bullshit.

How very fucking beautiful.

He came to an abrupt halt when he spotted me standing in the middle of the pathway, but Mack went nuts. He barked a cheerful greeting that seemed to echo along the quiet residential street and tugged at the leash insistently until Jake let go. I dropped to my knees as the happy old Lab bounded toward me, wagging his tail furiously. He pawed and mewled, speaking in a funny way I knew meant
I’m so happy to see you
. I hugged him around the neck and gamely allowed him to nuzzle my chin and lick my face before I pulled back to get a better look at him. For a dog who’d been on death’s door a few days ago, he looked amazing.

“Hey.” Jake stood closer than I realized. I gulped and sent up a quick prayer I wouldn’t blow this.

“Hi. Um….” Nice. All fabulosity had fled. I was standing like an idiot with my heart on my sleeve and no idea what to say or how to get what I wanted. What I needed.

Jake eyed me warily before looking down at Mack. “We were just on our way to the beach.”

“Can I come?”

“Bran, you’re not exactly dressed for—”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t mind if you don’t.”

Jake’s brow furrowed in confusion, as if to ask “who is this man and what did you do with Brandon Good?” I couldn’t blame him. I’d ask the same thing if I could think of anything to say.

He cocked his head curiously. “O-kay. We’re not going far. Just to Santa Monica. If we go early, no one cares about dogs on—you sure?”

I nodded and followed him when he gestured the way to his SUV. The drive at this early hour was relatively painless. Traffic was minimal and other than Mack’s happy panting in the back, the car was mostly quiet. The radio was on but the volume was low, the way Jake seemed to like it. The background static served as an unspoken acknowledgment bigger things were on our minds.

Jake parked in the empty lot near the boardwalk. Santa Monica Pier was vaguely visible through a thick marine layer to our left. The temperature was a good ten to fifteen degrees cooler at the beach, and though I was grateful I was wearing a sweater, I knew it wouldn’t keep me warm if we were here long. We let the excited dog lead the way along a wooden plank from the boardwalk to the beach until it dead-ended, leaving a large swath of sand between us and the water.

Jake didn’t say a word. He stopped when I did and held Mack’s leash in a tight grip when it was clear the dog wanted to get moving with or without me. But he waited to see what I’d do without trying to influence me one way or another. I slipped my expensive loafers from my feet and bent to carefully remove my socks, slipping them into my shoes. I picked them up and gave Jake a wan smile. The one he returned was glorious. A ray of sunshine on this cool October morning.

“What about your pants? They might get wet—”

“I’m not going swimming. They’ll be fine.”

“All right. Let’s go. This is Mack’s first real outing since he got home from the vet. He’s a little excited,” he said with a half chuckle.

“So I see.”

A few intrepid joggers dotted the horizon near shore, but otherwise the beach was deserted. It was peaceful, and though chilly and gray, the setting was still stunning. Miles of uninterrupted California coastline. Natural beauty at its finest. No wonder Jake loved it here. We were minutes from the land of smoke and mirrors, a place where imitation was celebrated and sometimes more coveted than the real thing. Here, we were surrounded by Mother Nature’s power and infinite perfection.

I’d never felt smaller or more aware of the fragility of the human condition than I did in that moment. Life was short. It was special. It certainly was not to be wasted. Pride and fear were weaknesses of the human condition. I was suddenly more determined than ever to set them aside and be someone better, stronger, and a fuck of a lot braver. I swallowed hard and glanced at Jake’s handsome profile. He was wearing dark sunglasses, though the skies were gray, but I could see his expression was serious. It was time to suck up some courage and say what needed to be said.