She’d just admitted she’d been in love with him….
And what about Jonah? Had he been dealing with issues she should’ve been aware of but wasn’t? He’d never mentioned having been married or divorced. Had it been such a painful experience he didn’t want to look back? Was it an embarrassment to him? What had gone wrong? He didn’t love lightly, so she couldn’t imagine he’d jump into that kind of commitment without real depth of feeling. She also found it a little curious that Jonah had started acting up—drinking, becoming less reliable and picking fights for no reason—only after their relationship grew serious.
When he’d cheated, she’d assumed he was shallow and disloyal. She’d made herself believe it so she’d never get sucker-punched like that again. But maybe there was more to it….
I wish I’d married her, okay? Is that what you want to hear? God knows you won’t believe anything else, so there you have it. I was an ass**le with no heart, out to hurt anyone I could, and I tried to destroy your life and hers just for the hell of it. I used you both, like I use all women.
He didn’t use women. She had to be honest enough to admit that. And it wasn’t as if he’d go to bed with just anyone. She’d seen him gently deflect unwanted female attention plenty of times. Heck, she’d even given him the chance to “use” her the other night, and he hadn’t taken it, although she could tell he wanted to. Why?
She glanced at her cell phone, lying on the couch beside her. A direct flight to California took less than two hours. Jonah would be home by now. Should she call him? If she did, would he believe she was calling to talk about what she’d just seen on TV? Finch hadn’t divulged any new information. As usual, the police had kept what they released purposely sketchy….
Why did she even need a reason? So what if he realized she wanted to talk to him? What was so bad about that? Did she really have to insulate her heart to such a degree? Or was it her pride she was protecting?
Probably both. But at this point, she had nothing to lose.
Except everything she’d guarded so fiercely for the past ten years…
She remembered their kiss at the motel and how quickly it had brought back all the desire she’d ever felt for him. “You scare me,” she said, but she picked up her phone, anyway, and punched in his number.
Jonah was just drifting off to sleep when his phone rang. He almost let it go to voice mail. He wasn’t feeling quite as sanguine about getting fired as he’d tried to convince himself before leaving Phoenix. The more he thought about that meeting in the conference room, the angrier he became that Hunsacker and Finch hadn’t stood by him or Francesca.
But in case the call was important, he checked to see who was trying to reach him. And when he recognized the number, he answered. It was Francesca. Had Butch tried to contact her again? Was she frightened? Hurt?
“Are you okay?” he asked without so much as a hello.
“I’m fine. Sort of.”
She didn’t sound fine. Something was wrong. “What’s the ‘sort of’ all about? You haven’t heard from Butch, have you?”
“No.”
“But you have your pepper spray ready?”
“It’s on my nightstand.”
“Where are you?”
“In the living room.”
Just seeing her number had spooked him, made him realize he wasn’t as sure as he wanted to be that she’d be safe without him. Denial could hit anyone, especially someone so eager to get back on stable ground, and it had hit him.
He already regretted letting that happen. What had seemed reasonable in the light of day no longer seemed that way in the dark of night. “Go get it. Right away. Then you can tell me what’s wrong.”
She seemed to be moving when she spoke again. “When Adriana came by earlier, she had a few things to say about you that were a little different than anything she’s told me before.”
If he never heard Adriana’s name again it would be too soon.
Rolling over, he gazed at his daughter’s picture in the moonlight coming through the windows overlooking the cityscape. What could’ve changed? And did he even want to know? He’d hurt so many people…. “What’d she say?” he finally said.
“You seem reluctant to ask.”
He was reluctant. But he was also resigned. “You’re entitled to your pound of flesh, remember?”
She didn’t laugh. She was too serious for jokes tonight. “Adriana told me she was in love with you when she slept with you ten years ago.”
He said nothing, didn’t know what to say. Hearing that made him feel even worse, because, for the most part, she’d been both nameless and faceless to him. He’d only been reacting to the desperate panic he experienced whenever he realized how much he loved Francesca. It made him feel too out of control, too vulnerable—placed him right where he’d been when he was married, and he couldn’t deal with that.
“This doesn’t come as a surprise?” she asked.
“I guess I sort of knew she felt…something. Or thought she did.” He wasn’t sure her emotions had ever been stronger than a crush. Until that night, he hadn’t so much as flirted with her.
He would’ve explained that to Francesca, except he feared it would look as though he was minimizing his mistake or trying to excuse his own actions, and he refused to do either. Francesca had made the right decision when she cut him out of her life. She deserved better.
“Did you guess before you were, um, together?” she asked.
He pulled his eyes from Summer’s smiling face and sat up. “Are you holding your pepper spray?”
“I am now. Yes.”
“Good.”
“Can we get back to the discussion?”
Massaging his left temple, he slumped onto his pillows. “Do we have to?”
“You’d rather not?”
He sighed. “I could sense some…interest. Why?”
“I don’t know what to think about it. It’s not every day you hear something like that from your best friend.”
Adriana had hurt Francesca all over again. Remembering how Francesca had thrown up during the drive to Prescott, he decided it was time to quit being so damned selfish and put a stop to her pain, if he could. “Listen, that night was entirely my fault, okay? Every bit of it. If I’ve ever claimed otherwise, I was just…passing the buck. I knew she had a thing for me, and I took advantage of it. Hate me, not her.”