The nerve of him. The utter nerve.
I sat in my car, more incensed than I thought I’d ever been. I hadn’t known who my “client” was going to be, and once I found out, I was totally flabbergasted. Astonished. Seeing him standing there so close after our brief interaction the other day had tripped me up seven ways to Sunday.
I hadn’t wanted to believe that my heart could still cry out for his, but it could. It did.
At least until tonight.
I was still dumbfounded by his lack of regard for the truth. How could he sit right there next to me and lie his ass off like that? Didn’t he know how each fabrication burrowed into my gut until I felt sick? Physically ill?
Why did he say all that? Every bit of it was so over the top. To make himself feel better for being such a douche? Such a fucking deadbeat? Not that he knew he was a deadbeat, but still.
My face was wet, and I ordered myself to quit weeping for him. He wasn’t worth it. I’d cried enough tears for him to fill an ocean already, and I refused to offer up any more. I’d anticipated an evening with an old man suffering the early stages of dementia or something similar, and instead, I’d gotten sucker punched.
I came close to telling him about Callie, but at the last minute, my instincts made me shy away from the subject. I was glad now. Even though he was her father and legally had paternal rights to her, I couldn’t in good conscience let him into her life. I wouldn’t allow his distorted fabrications to ruin her future like they’d ruined mine.
Not that my future was ruined. I had my eyes opened tonight was all. And it was long overdue.
Now I could move forward with the understanding that he was nothing but a liar. Maybe even a clinically pathological one. He’d been pretty damned convincing. If he’d been testifying to a jury, he might have swayed them to the verdict he wanted. I’d known better, of course.
All that nonsense about trying to reach me. What a crock of shit! It was me who’d attempted to reach him. I’d searched for him, but without knowing he was in London, England of all places – if that part was even true – I’d had nowhere to start.
I would’ve known if my phone had received messages, whether text or voicemail. It would have shown missed calls. It wasn’t like the technology was so difficult to use. Even if I hadn’t been able to identify the number, I would have called him back.
I’d been waiting so desperately for any news about him, I picked up every incoming eight hundred number and beyond, hoping it was somehow him. I’d hung up on so many robocalls and telemarketers, it wasn’t even funny.
And letters. He might as well have aimed a knife at my jugular. All those notes we used to share. I reached into my clutch, pulling one out. I’d kept this single missive even now because of what it said. I’d been so happy to find it forgotten in a drawer after he’d vanished into thin air. Other than Callie, it was one of the only pieces of him that I had left.
It said:
R,
I was so proud watching you give that speech in econ today. I know you were nervous, not that anyone else could ever tell but me, but you nailed it anyway. Yours was better than anyone else’s, I swear. I love you more than you could ever know, and nothing will ever change that. See you tonight.
Bear hugs and tongue kisses,
J
It was such a stupid, saccharin little note, one amongst countless others, but I’d saved it because of that fourth line. At the time, I’d believed him unquestionably. I’d known he loved me. I’d known nothing would ever change that. Just like I felt the same about him.
And the closing. Bear hugs and tongue kisses.
That signature developed from a private joke of ours. Anytime we snuck out to be together – usually for some naked time – we’d start off with a tight hug and a steamy French kiss. This amounted to both our welcome greeting and our goodnight/goodbye. We did it every single time. Where had all that tenderness and fun gone? Where had that Jax gone?
Could that boy and the man I’d had dinner with be one in the same?
If so, what happened to him? To what we’d had? What had happened to us?
Everything became too blurry to drive, and I pulled over. It took a long time for my crying jag to pass, despite me just having promised myself that I would no longer give him any more of my sorrow. It hurt so much, even after all this time. All the mean stuff he’d said tonight didn’t match up at all with what he’d said back in high school. What he’d once promised me. So much so that I wondered if alien body snatching might actually prove to be a thing.
At least I had tissues in my glove compartment.
Once I calmed down and cleaned up, I went on a long enough drive to allow the puffiness of my face to decrease to semi-non-crying levels. I even went to the grocery store and bought some cucumber slices to put over my eyes. After I felt reasonably satisfied with the result, I went back to the apartment.
“Your client behave himself tonight?” Raina whispered in the darkness. She was watching a movie with the lights off and the sound turned low so it wouldn’t wake Callie. Which was perfect.
“Yep. So far, the woman’s kept her word.” I couldn’t help being impressed with how breezily unaffected I sounded.
“Good. I was really worried for you those first few times, so I’m glad you’ve found your comfort zone.”
Comfort zone, ha! Nothing could be further from the truth, but Raina thinking I had made pretending easier.
When I’d first gone to work for the Wish Maker three years ago, I’d been between a rock and a hard place. Raina had been laid off, and I’d recently gotten fired. My Callie girl had been so sickly as a baby. I couldn’t do anything about missing work, but the company I’d been employed with was ruthless and cold. The second time I’d called in, they’d given me a pink slip when I returned. It was right at Christmas, too.
Bastards.
So when Raina heard from a friend of a friend of a friend that there was a job opening, I applied without really knowing anything about the position or what it might entail. When I discovered it was an “escort” job, I did an about-face and marched right back out, or I started to. Turned out the Wish Maker could be exceedingly persuasive.
She’d sworn that I could be what she termed a “sexless escort,” meaning while I’d go on dates and spend time with these men, I’d never have to perform any type of sex act with them. I made her sign a contract before I caved. And even then, I was quivering with trepidation.
But she always sent me to these elderly men. Most of whom were so baffled or lost in their memories that they rarely even touched me, much less tried to initiate something as physical as the wild thang. Only one, the elderly gentleman known as Charlie, had wanted to pat my hands. Which while creepy, wasn’t a deal breaker.
The whole date had been fairly benign. He never touched me anywhere else, so I put up with it. Getting paid several thousand dollars for every two hours meant I could handle some pats, even if the dude did smell like mothballs and that ointment you use on arthritis. Willingly taking these dates meant I kept a roof over our heads and Callie’s medical check-ups up to date. I couldn’t complain.
Well, not about that aspect of my life anyway.
This would’ve been so much less complicated if I didn’t have the memories of the Jax I’d once known floating through my mind. If he was just some conceited little asshole who’d bedded me then left, it would’ve been painful when he’d gone, but I wouldn’t have been suffering like I was now. That Jax, the one I considered my Jax, had seemed to adore me. Hell, he seemed to worship the ground I walked on.
But apparently not.
If he had, he never would’ve abandoned me. Maybe he’d decided to lie to himself and to me in order to make himself feel better for ripping my heart out. If things had gone down like he said they had, I couldn’t blame him. I couldn’t be angry with him because they wouldn’t be his fault. He wouldn’t be culpable for his sins. He would have been off the hook.
I’d never imagined him going so far to appear innocent when he was clearly guilty. As I looked in on my daughter, my feelings of being let down transformed into ire. The emotion was so strong that I bit into my thumbnail to calm myself.
How dare Jaxson Liddell upend my life like this? He could have left well enough alone, but he didn’t, and now I didn’t know what to do.
Why hadn’t he just stayed in London where he belonged?