When Sparks Fly (84 page)

Grant

I grab a beer from the fridge and drop into one of the chairs on my back deck. I rented the small cottage on the beach when I first moved here. It’s a one bedroom, which is perfect for me. I can sit on the back porch and watch the waves come in and hit the shore.

Life here is good. I fell in love with it as soon as I arrived. Although, since returning from Tahoe, the solitude seems more oppressive. I want someone to fill the chair next to me. Someone to enjoy the simple pleasures of drinking a beer while the sun sets and the beach and ocean slowly became one.

I want that someone to be Jordyn.

“Fuck it all,” I mutter and take a long drink from the bottle. A vivid scene of Jordyn sitting around a large grand dining room table rolls through my mind. Her family all smiles as her ex-boyfriend sits next to her. The charming, perfect couple. The rat bastard smiling at Jordyn – and her smiling back.

I close my eyes, forcing out the vision – the idea – of Jordyn resuming her life in California and taking the easy way out. Living the life her family wants her to have. Hell, who knows, maybe it’s the life she wants, too. I don’t know her that well. We had one weekend together. Had mind-boggling sex. It was great.

But it’s over and life as usual crept back in. We have a whole lot of country between us now.

I try to recall the conversations from the past week. She’s always happy, laughing. Her smile, when we Skype, has the ability to reach through the computer screen and chase away any dark clouds of doubt I have.

Are we in love? No. Can we get there? I’m sure as hell headed there and will sprint the rest of the way, if necessary.

I grab a couple more beers from the fridge and return to the porch. I don’t know how long these dinners usually last, so I have no time reference for when to expect a call from her. I wanted her to leave as soon as she saw the ex-douchebag’s car in the driveway, but I’m not sure I have a right to suggest it. She has to handle this her way and I have to trust her.

Trust
. That’s a tough one. I know mistrust shouldn’t be placed upon people who have done nothing to warrant it, but my trust has been trampled on too many times in the past. Mistrust is given freely – its trust that’s harder to rationalize.

“Yo, Cary, you here?”

My best friend’s voice echoes through the house. Tom “Beeper” Hines and I have known each other since flight school. His reputation of getting stall warnings in pilot training followed him to our first carrier assignment, and the RAG bestowed the call sign on him with an admonition that no one wants to hear the irritating alarm that beeps when the jet is in stall.

“Out back,” I call.

Beeper’s a stand-up guy. Married his high school sweetheart, Cindy, and they have a new baby girl, Jessica. No time for flying to Tahoe for weekends with the guys – at least not for a while. But Beeper is unique. He actually loves his wife, his new little family. It’s not like he couldn’t have gone to Tahoe, it’s that he didn’t want to go.

I hear the fridge door open and the clinking of beer bottles. When he sits down in the other chair, he has two bottles of his own.

“Damn, man,” I say, taking in the dark circles under his eyes. “You look like shit. Jessica still not sleeping through the night?”

“Nope, which means no one is.” He downs half his beer and then slides his eyes over to me. “So what’s your excuse for looking like crap?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My eyes focus on the surf, which is calm at the moment, creating only small waves that slide over the sand.

“Cary, you look like you haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in over a week. Does Jordyn have you on west coast time while you’re trying to function on the east coast? You need to tell that girl goodnight and get off the damn phone so you can get some shut-eye. I have to fly with your tired ass daily and don’t want you fucking up and making me pull the ejection handle.”

I shrug. “That’s not really the issue. I like talking to her. We have fun. She makes me laugh.”

“So this sulliness that you have going on is due to…?”

I breathe deep and down the rest of my beer. Grabbing the other bottle, I twist off the top and send it skittering across the table top. “She’s at her parent’s house for dinner.”

“And?”

“And the ex-boyfriend is there. They have an on again, off again relationship. She swears it’s off for good, but…”

“But, what, man? The woman calls you every night and talks to you until damn near sun up. She sends you text messages that I can only assume are pornographic since you get this shit eating grin on your face whenever you read them. This does not seem like the actions of a woman who wants to get back with her ex.”

“Yeah, well, Rachel strung me along for months, letting me think all was well with our relationship, too.”

“Bullshit, man. You had your doubts… you told me you thought she was acting weird. Pulling away.”

“And whenever I would ask her about it – she lied to me. Told me things were fine. I bought a ring, for Christ’s sake.”

Beeper puts his hands up. “I get it, but just because Rachel led you on doesn’t mean that’s what’s happening with Jordyn.”

“I’m tired of giving women the benefit of the doubt, Beeper. Rachel wasn’t the first, just the most recent in a long line of females that loved me – until someone better came along.”

“It only takes one woman who will not let you go. Give Jordyn a shot – she may turn out to be your one true love.” He taps the rim of his bottle to mine and we both take healthy swigs.

I want to believe Beeper, be encouraged by his words. But that damn vicious voice in the dark parts of my mind just keeps whispering
we’ll see
. I need to gage Jordyn’s demeanor when she calls me tonight, and hope to hell I can tell if it’s real.

*

Jordyn

After dinner drinks are always taken in the sitting room. We’re nothing if not predictable in our social graces. I hate always being so formal. It’s odd that I rarely feel comfortable in my parent’s house. I remember I thought of it that way growing up, too –
my parent’s house
. Not my home. Not a place I wanted to be. The best day of my life was leaving for college. The second best was moving into my own condo in the city. Far from this mausoleum estate they call home.

The dinner conversation transitions and the group happily chats, pretending to be entertained by each other. I sit quietly until I can reasonably escape without having to deal with nasty comments from my parents.

By the grace of God, Jeremy finishes his drink and stands. “Well, I hate to end this evening, but I really must be going. I have a full day of patients tomorrow.” He gives my mother a peck on the cheek. “Faith, dinner was extraordinary, as always. Thank you so much for inviting me.”

“Oh, Jeremy,” my mother giggles, making my stomach toss. “You know you’re welcome anytime.”

Jeremy smiles, reaching his hand across to my father. “Bronte, it was wonderful to see you.”

My father smiles. “Give me a call this week and let’s set up a tee time that works for you. We haven’t had a golf outing in quite some time.”

“Will do, sir.” While Jeremy continues his good-bye’s to my brother and his wife, I down the rest of my drink and stand next to him.

“I’ll walk you out,” I say. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the grin on my mother’s face. It’s not happiness, more self-satisfying. Proof that she can still influence my decisions where Jeremy is concerned. Boy, is she going to be upset when I come back in the house and tell her what I really think of her meddling.

But first, I’ll deal with Jeremy. When we reach his car, he opens the driver’s side door and turns to me. A stern look crosses his face. At least he understands I’m not coming out to give him a kiss good-bye.

“You’re clear that our relationship is over, correct?” I ask. “We’re not in love. And I will never marry you, Jeremy.”

“Yes, Jordyn, you’ve made that painfully clear.”

“Then why do you insist on accepting dinner invitations from my mother?” My hands fly up in the air over my head. Perhaps that last glass of scotch was not a great idea. My voice is all squeaky and higher than usual.

Jeremy leans in, brushing his lips over my cheek. “A guy can still hope, can’t he?”

He slides behind the steering wheel and starts to close the door. I force it open, looking him square in the eye.

“No, Jeremy. You shouldn’t hope for that. It will never happen.”

“Because of this guy you met in Tahoe?”

“No, this was over way before I met Grant. I don’t love you and I never will.”

“Who said anything about love, Jordyn? Marriage is a business transaction. Nothing more. Just think about it. I’m sure you’ll come back around. You’re a smart girl.”

He slams the door, starts the engine and roars out of the driveway.

Smart girl. Fuck you, arrogant ass!

I turn on my heel and strut back to the house. I might as well kill two birds with one stone. My family’s meddling in my personal life is coming to an end tonight. No if’s, and’s, or but’s about it.

When I enter the room, my father glances up at me from his chair. “Jordyn, it’s wonderful to see you’ve come to your senses about Jeremy. You could do a lot worse than that young man.”

“Oh, I came to my senses about him, but it happened a while ago which is why I broke up with him. Jeremy understands we are no longer together, so I need for the rest of you to get on board with that idea – sooner rather than later.”

My mother presses her hand to her heart as if I’ve just stabbed her. “I cannot accept that. There is absolutely no reason for you to push Jeremy away when he is able and willing to marry you.”

“Willing to marry me? Do you hear yourself, Mother? Am I so incapable of finding someone to marry that I have to settle for someone who doesn’t love me any more than I love him?”

“Well, what are your options, Jordyn?” My brother chimes in, smug grin on his face. “What? Are you going to marry the Navy guy? How exactly will that work? He can’t move here. Are you going to give up your job and follow him around? On his salary? I mean, I’m no expert on what the military pays, but I’m guessing his annual salary doesn’t come close to what you’re currently making. Am I right?”

“I have no idea, Eddie, and moreover, I don’t care. Whatever it is will be enough. And I’m confident that I can find another job. I know you like to think that I’m stupid, but I’m really not. The degree from Stanford should be evidence of that. Add in my cum laude status, and I think it’s safe to say I have a higher intelligence than most. Hell, I may even be smarter than you, big brother. I didn’t see any academic distinctions after your name when you graduated.”

“I’m still your boss, though, aren’t I?” he sneers at me. His eyes darken and red splotches dot his cheeks.

“By virtue of being male and born first, not because you earned it on your own. Some claim to fame there.” I snort, driving the nail a little deeper.

Eddie leaps to his feet. “Fuck you, Jordyn.” His voice reverberates off the high ceilings. Mother gasps, her hand clutching the base of her neck. My father grumbles and shifts in his seat, but apparently isn’t going to step in and break this up just yet.

Beth hisses, and scrambles to her feet, pushing the children out of the room and up the stairs. Of course, not before she sets her icy glare on me. I swear, I will never figure out how someone so cold can make me feel like she has set my skin on fire.

“This is really very simple,” I say, controlling my voice. “Jeremy and I are over. We’re not getting back together, and we are certainly not going to marry. I have moved on. If you would stop meddling, Jeremy could move on, also.”

Something between a heavy sigh and groan erupts from my mother’s throat. It’s her trademark unnecessarily dramatic attempt at making me feel guilty. Up until now, it has typically worked.

Not anymore.

“Jordyn, think about how this affects all of us,” my father says, trying not to grit his teeth. “We are your family, and we want what’s best for you. I know you think this…
pilot
… will make you happy. But if you think about it – I mean, really sit and think about it – you will come to the same conclusion that this is just not a feasible match for you. What could a man like that possibly offer the family?”

My mouth drops to my chest. It’s clear how they interpret success, but no one has actually come out and told me that I have to marry someone who is financially viable and worthy of their respect.

My brother sits down and leans back, his calm, cool demeanor restored. “He’s right, Jordyn. This guy you met has no skillset save flying planes and dropping bombs. That’s not really experience we need. Jeremy, on the other hand, has a highly respected and successful career as a doctor. He comes from a very well-connected, financially secure family. Do you even know anything about this other guy’s family? I mean, obviously they didn’t press him to really strive for a more lucrative career path.”

“First, he has a name. It’s Grant. Not
this guy
, and not
a man like him
. Second, he graduated from the Naval Academy, one of the most academically challenging institutions in the country. And how dare you disparage his career path. He puts his life on the line to protect this country. He makes it possible for us to have a thriving family business. The next time you want to take advantage of all the rights and liberties you enjoy, perhaps you should thank him and the other men and women who serve on your behalf. I wouldn’t expect you to understand that there are some things that are more lucrative than money. That’s the only thing you live for. Grant strives for a higher purpose – something he believes in and would die to protect.”