Just Friends To . . . Just Married. Renee Roszel

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СКАЧАТЬ uncomfortable. But when a person drops to the floor in shock, comfort isn’t the first consideration. Now, with pain shooting through her arches, she shifted her legs out in front of her, her slim skirt not giving her many options. With trembling hands, she smoothed the paper on a thigh. Hesitant to read the words she knew were there, she smoothed it several more times.

      She’d come home from her trip so pumped up, so full of good news, with big plans to celebrate. Her fledgling career as a professional meeting planner took a big step forward today. After the unblemished success of the chiropractor’s conference in Las Vegas she’d organized, she’d landed a big client, the owner of a chain of hardware stores. He’d hired her to plan his company’s next corporate confab for January. That left plenty of time for a well-deserved vacation.

      So, tonight she’d envisioned a quiet dinner, just the two of them, romantic candlelight, a little wine, and for dessert, making love on the rug in front of a crackling fire.

      She glanced at the brick hearth, empty and cold and gray with soot, and blinked back tears. The only thing that would lie naked in front of it tonight would be the bare floor. She forced herself to look at Perry’s note, to focus, read.

      “You’ll probably hate me for doing it this way,” it began, “but you shouldn’t be surprised. We’ve had the debate often enough. Face it, Kim, you’re commitment phobic. I wanted marriage, but for two years you put me off. Well, I’ve had it. I’ve found somebody who isn’t afraid to commit. Good luck with your life.” It was signed, simply, “Perry.” He added what looked like a hastily scrawled postscript which read, “Besides, I’ll never measure up.”

      Miserable and baffled, Kim murmured, “Never measure up? What do you mean?” Her voice quavered with tears. “Measure up to what—to whom?”

      She stared at the cryptic sentence, wiping away tears. After a long, silent struggle to get her mind around the ragged hole that had been shot through her life, she lifted her gaze to take in the gaping void that so suddenly shrouded everything. Perry’s abandonment was a painful lesson of how little she’d given to their life together, at least materially.

      “But…but I did care for you!” She picked up her favorite of his colognes and spritzed the air, inhaling. All at once, there Perry stood. Tall, blond, athletic, grinning that smirky grin that made her go gooey inside. Amazing about scents, the way they could conjure up a human being with only a few molecules of biochemical extracts. Suddenly disturbed by the smirking image, she waved her hand through the mist, trying to disperse the scent and erase him from the room. She succeeded only in perfuming her fingers. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stand that smell again,” she muttered, wiping her hand on her linen skirt. “You reek, Perry,” she said. “You lousy coward.”

      She didn’t want to believe anything in his note had the slightest ring of truth. Commitment phobic? Not a bit. True, they did discuss marriage several times. She’d patiently explained she wasn’t ready. She didn’t like fighting, and never let one of their marriage discussions escalate to an argument. But even so, each time they “discussed” it, she pulled away a little more. Couldn’t they simply be the compatible couple they were, enjoying the same movies, the same music, the same Chinese restaurant? Why did he have to rock the boat? He knew disagreements upset her.

      Anger destroyed.

      Hadn’t she seen it enough with her mom, who spent Kim’s formative years committing serial marriage? Her mother brought five husbands into their middle class tract house, interspersed by a few not-quite-so-committed boyfriends. Each of those relationships had been briefly happy, too soon deteriorating to volatile and unsettling. She grew to hate fighting, so the more Perry harried her, the more resistant she became.

      She took in a shuddery breath, caught his scent and made a sour face. Glancing back at his note, she reread the postscript. “Besides, I’ll never measure up.”

      “Measure up?” she whispered, as though trying to get a handle on what Perry meant. “Measure up?” She shook her head, bewildered. Hunched there, in the gathering darkness, her mind took her back, way back, to her next door neighbor, her best friend for all her growing-up years, Jaxon Gideon. Jax was three years older than Kim. He’d always been tall, even as a youngster. Since she couldn’t count on a loving father in her life, Jax was the guy she ran to, blubbering, when she scraped her knee. And later, in high school, she still ran to him when a boyfriend dumped her, or even when she dumped a boyfriend, and simply felt down and alone.

      Jax was also the guy she went to when she won something, like a class spelling bee, or the time she got her picture in the paper for writing the best essay in a city-wide contest on the topic, “Why I love St. Louis’s Gateway Arch.” Her mother was so busy cooing and panting over her latest husband she didn’t even notice. But Jax was genuinely happy for her, even though he’d entered the contest, too. Of course, Jax was a science and math brain, which she never was, so their relationship never got competitive.

      Childhood memories filled with Jax flashed by. She experienced a spark of warmth in her cold, desolate heart. Funny, but Jax had such a special place in her life that even thinking of him soothed her tattered spirit. She could hardly believe she’d let herself get out of touch with him over the past decade. Decade? Could it really be that long?

      Well, she blamed Jax. After all, didn’t she still live in St. Louis? He was the one who left to attend Northwestern University in Evanston, a suburb of Chicago, where he had stayed. Of course, they were grown-ups now. He had his life to live and she had hers. Their paths inevitably had to diverge. Which, to Kim, was a sad thing. She could use Jax living next door right now.

      Back in high school, she’d sensed he had a crush on her. They went on a few dates, but Kim resisted a romance. She didn’t dare put Jax into the “boyfriend” category. A person could lose a boyfriend, and Jax had been the only stable friend and confidant she’d known in her life. Her mother’s many marriages, with all the fighting and the breaking up, scarred her. She hated upheaval so Jax became her rock, her comfort and solace. For that reason, she kept their dating casual and occasional, terrified that upping him to boyfriend status would throw him into the realm of chaos, where she spent too much of her young life. She couldn’t risk it.

      “I wonder what Jax is doing these days?” After graduating from Northwestern he started up a dot.com, made a bundle and got out before the bubble burst. She didn’t know what he was doing now. Some kind of consulting, she’d heard, still in Chicago.

      The last time she saw him was when her engagement to Bradley ended. Jax was in his third year at Northwestern, and she’d just started at a local junior college. Thinking her life was over, she fled to him and, as usual, he consoled her, told her it was “for the best,” which, in hindsight, couldn’t have been more true. Like magic, Jax got her back on track. After a week of crying on his broad, capable shoulders, she returned to St. Louis, into the chaos that ebbed and flowed through her world, leaving Jax solidly in his essential “friend” status.

      She sniffed and swiped at a tear as she scanned the emptiness again. Her misery began to mutate into anger. Sucking in a shuddery breath, she cried, “How could you, Perry? How could you sneak out of our relationship like a thief in the night?”

      All of a sudden she had a brainstorm. The shock of finding Perry gone had to be the worst disaster in her life to date. If she ever needed Jax, it was now. “That’s absolutely what I need! My Jax Fix!” Not only would talking to Jax make her feel better, he would be happy for her when he found out about how well her business was doing. They could laugh and talk and…well, it would be like the good old days.

      Before she knew she’d even moved, she grabbed her cell phone from her handbag and dialed directory assistance. She cleared her throat, СКАЧАТЬ