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  I'd have to figure out something though, because she deserved an explanation .

  As Michelle continued to watch me with wide, confused eyes, I steeled myself. She might have been playing me from the start. I had no idea, but it didn't matter .

  I couldn't get sucked in again .

  I was still too far from attaining my own goals and too far from being anywhere close to where I needed to be in my own life, and her machinations to get a fucking story had gone and put everything at risk .

  "Jake," she said, unaware of the raging turmoil inside me. "Look, I don't know what in the world this is about..." Her eyes dropped to the paper and she took a deep, shuddering breath. "But I had nothing to do with...whatever...this is. I don't know anything about it ."

  "Nothing," I said scathingly .

  "No!"

  "It's just pure coincidence then that the day after I told you everything that happened to Whitley, some anonymous source contacts a reporter and spills all this shit about her." I raked my hands through my hair. "You've fucking ruined her! You got any idea what the press will do to her? They'll pillory her ."

  "I didn't do anything!" she shouted, her voice cracking halfway through the last word .

  "What the fuck ever," I snapped. It had to be her. It was the only thing that made any sense at all. "You know what? I don't know why the hell I ever believed a single word coming out of your mouth. It's pretty damn obvious that it was a lie all the fucking time. All of it, just for a fucking story ."

  "Jake!" Tears sprang to her eyes. She held out a hand but let it slowly fall back to her side. "Can you...look, can you calm down so we can talk about this ?"

  "There is nothing to talk about," I said slowly. "Absolutely nothing. And there's no we . There never was. There was you and me, and we fucked. That's all there was. Now I've got to go try and fix this mess you made." I shook my head, still unable to believe it. "Thanks for probably ruining my life, Michelle. Like I didn't already have enough shit to deal with ."

  She pressed her lips together, her eyes closing .

  "But hey...I guess that's nothing you need to worry about. As long as you're getting your stupid stories. Have a nice life, Miz Nestor ."

  Twenty-Six

  Michelle

  I t was the slamming of a door down the hall that jerked me out of the fugue I'd fallen into. If it wasn't for the cranky old goat who lived in 210B – he was always slamming the door – I don't know how long I might have stood there, staring in the direction Jake had taken .

  He'd taken the steps instead of the elevator, as if jogging down twenty-eight flights was better than being around me for however long it would take for the elevator to get to my floor .

  That idea bothered me. A lot .

  How could he think I'd do something like that ?

  Not just run to a TV reporter, but do something that would be so humiliating for the woman involved ?

  It was like he knew nothing about me .

  But I guess he didn't. Not really. I would have at least given him the benefit of the doubt, I wanted to think, would have assumed he hadn't gone all out to do something so...so...mercenary and hurtful. Yet I hadn't gotten that from him .

  The sheer venom in his voice rang in my ears, and I shivered, wondering if I could have done anything different, made him listen... "I could have tried harder," I told myself. Right ?

  Looking around, I found myself still standing in the hallway, and I ducked back inside my apartment, leaning my back against the door. A massive ache spread through me, emanating from my chest, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was coming from my heart .

  I'd known I was getting in over my head with him, but I hadn't realized it was that bad .

  "I should have tried harder to make him listen," I said again. But what could I have done ?

  He'd been so angry ...

  Then, abruptly, it was like a light came on .

  What was I supposed to do? Force him to stand still and listen to me? Grab his arms and make him stand still while I insisted I hadn't done anything wrong ?

  I didn't even know who he was talking about .

  That wasn't going to happen .

  I couldn't make him believe me .

  That understanding only added to the ache, and I buried my face against my knees as the burn of tears creeped ever closer. Giving into the urge, I buried my face against my knees and gave in to the sobs that had lurked so close to the surface since he'd showed up on my doorstep .

  I'd had one day .

  One day to feel happy and then it had all come crashing down around me, everything going straight to shit .

  "I should have known better ."

  * * *

  T he crying jag left me feeling good and drained, so I retreated to my bedroom with a cold washcloth and closed the blinds, sending the room into darkness .

  As I sank down on my bed, I decided it was a good thing I'd gone to Jake's place instead of calling and asking him to come spend the weekend with me. I'd thought about it – hard. But I'd been too nervous to even pick up the phone and it was a good thing because if I'd laid down and the sheets smelled of him, I might have started crying all over again .

  Draping the cool rag over my eyes, I blew out a shuddering breath .

  "Don't think about it for a little while," I said. "Just don't think ."

  I didn't expect to be able to follow my own advice, but to my surprise, within a few minutes, I slid into a restless sleep .

  Fragments of dreams chased me. Jake alternately mocking me and yelling at me .

  How could you do it ?

  I never should have believed you .

  When I finally woke, it was almost a relief .

  It was also still daylight, which wasn't a relief, because that meant it was still the same day. I didn't know why but I was desperate to get this first day gone – this first day of a new world that had no Jake in it. At least not for me .

  Have a nice life .

  The echo of his voice still rang in my ears, and I managed, barely, not to start crying all over again .

  Was this what it felt like to have a broken heart? If so, then sign me up for the single ladies' club, because I never wanted to feel like this again .

  Getting out of bed took all my energy, and I padded listlessly out of the bedroom to stand in my kitchen. After brewing a cup of tea, I wandered around my apartment for what felt like hours, but in actuality, it was less than thirty minutes. Sipping at the tea, I tried to find something that felt like it was worth doing .

  I couldn't write the article yet .

  There was no creative spark inside me, and the very least I had to do was take off the rest of the day, maybe even the rest of the week .

  If it took more than that ...?

  Grimly, I realized I might have to tell my aunt that I wouldn't be able to write for her any longer. Wouldn't that be fun ?

  She'd want to know why, but I'd have to stall on telling her for a few days, at least. If she asked me right now, I'd break down and tell her and that just wasn't acceptable .

  The last thing I wanted to do was tell my aunt that I'd fallen for the King of Multiple Orgasms, and he now hated me .

  And I still didn't know why .

  Listlessly, I dropped down on the couch and picked up the remote, thumbing it until the TV on the far wall flared to brilliant life .

  I flipped through channels .

  Hallmark – hell, no. The last thing I needed was some sappy love story .

  Game shows. No, thanks .

  The weather. Bleakly, I looked outside. Cold and gray, kind of like I felt right now .

  When I finally landed on the news, I dropped the remote and just stared at the screen without really seeing it. I'd been doing that for an indeterminate amount of time when a name caught my att
ention – immediately .

  "Whitley McCrane ..."

  Whitley .

  Jerking upright, I stared at the TV, listening raptly .

  Whitley McCrane .

  Senator's wife .

  Having an affair .

  Reported being sexually assaulted when she was in high school .

  The entire report painted her in the horrible light...and it had been reported by an anonymous source .

  An anonymous source .

  Jake.

  Heat suffused my face as everything fell into place .

  He thought I had done all of this. He thought I had found some reporter to take this story to, that I dug around and found out who his friend Whitley was and then decided to tell the world about it .

  "Wow." Swallowing the knot in my throat, I closed my eyes and fell back against the couch. "That's some opinion you have of me, Jake ."

  * * *

  M inutes ticked by, the silence stretching out so long that the shadows in my apartment had shifted to full on gloomy evening by the time I finally felt like moving .

  And the only reason I moved was because the stupid phone was ringing .

  Again.

  It was the third time somebody had called since I'd worked up the energy to turn off the TV, and that had been some time ago. I'd looked at the phone the first time, hoping against hope it was Jake .

  But it had been my parents, and I hadn't been up to talking to them .

  The screen showed me that it was them again, but now for some reason, I wanted to talk to them. I wanted to talk to somebody who wouldn't think I'd carelessly destroy somebody's life just for the hell of it .

  "Hello," I said, my voice wooden .

  "Darling!" Her voice came across the phone warm and bright as she greeted me .

  "Hi, Mom," I said wearily. I wasn't up for cheerful chatter. Too often, that was all she had for me. It had been like that ever since ...

  Ever since Parker, I made myself finish, forcing myself not to shy away from the bastard's name. It was over. It was done. I was living, but I wasn't always healing, and I needed to deal and accept and move on .

  "Sweetheart, are you okay?" she asked softly .

  It surprised me that she even seemed to notice, and I took a deep breath. How bad did I sound ?

  "I'm having a lousy day, Mom." Then, before I could change my mind, I asked, "Would you consider me a bad person ?"

  She sounded concerned. "What ?"

  "A bad person. Do you think I'd do something mean and careless that could ruin somebody's life?" The words tumbled out in their rush to escape my lips .

  "Heavens, no!" She spoke so forcefully now, she almost didn't even sound like herself. "You are one of the kindest, sweetest people I've ever met – and you're my daughter. I'm insanely proud of that fact, Michelle ."

  Tears sprang to my eyes at her words. "Thank you, Mom." I attempted to wipe the tears away, but it was hopeless. "I miss you. I miss you and Dad. It's been too long since I've seen you both ."

  "Well..." She laughed a little, something embarrassed about it, like being caught having such strong emotions was uncomfortable for her. "That's actually part of why I called, dear. Your father and I are in Philadelphia for a few days...business. We were thinking we might swing through New York when we left. Have dinner, maybe catch a show. What do you think ?"

  "That sounds great, but I've got a better idea, unless you're just dying to spend some time on Broadway." I paused a moment, some of the knots in my belly untangling a little. This was what I needed. "How about I come there instead ?"

  * * *

  T he flight to Philadelphia was short and uneventful, which was exactly how I preferred it. I thought briefly that my seatmate might have been flirting with me, but the idea seemed a little far-fetched. Why would men suddenly be noticing me all because I had put on jeans and a cute sweater ?

  I was still the same old me .

  He walked with me through the terminal, chatting about a restaurant he liked down near the river. He could have knocked me over with a fingertip when, after claiming our bags, he asked, "So...what do you think? Want to join me for dinner ?"

  "Excuse me ?"

  With a charming smile on his boyishly handsome face, he said, "I was just thinking since we're both in town for a few days, maybe things would be a bit more fun for both of us if we had plans for dinner one night ."

  "Ah..."

  "Darling!"

  My mother's familiar, ebullient voice sounded through baggage claim and I winced a little. "I think my ride is here ."

  He was still watching me with expectant eyes, and for half a second, I thought about saying yes .

  Have a nice life ...

  "I can't," I said, the words tumbling free. "I'm just down here to see my parents." And get away from somebody who hurt me .

  "Of course." He nodded. "I understand ."

  He stepped away just as Mom drew even with me, and she gave me a wide-eyed look. "Was he asking you out?" she whispered – not too quietly either .

  "Mom..."

  "He was , wasn't he ?"

  "Mom ," I said again. My face was so hot now I knew my cheeks probably rivaled my hair. I'd started wearing makeup again, so hopefully that was concealing some of the blush, but I doubted it was covering all of it. "Come on. I want to get my bag and go ."

  "He's very cute. You should say yes," she said, walking with me as I headed toward the conveyor belt just as the red light flashed .

  He was cute, but there was no way in hell I'd say yes now , even if I didn't still have thoughts of one sexy Jake King dancing through my head. "I came here to see you and Dad, not date ."

  "Honey..."

  Spying my bag and the chance to escape, I grabbed it and spun around, giving her a bright smile. "Okay. I'm ready! Besides...he just headed out. Too late, now ."

  Dad was waiting at the curb for us with the car, a shiny black SUV rental. He greeted me with a quick kiss on the cheek and cupped my chin, turning my face from one side to the other. "Aren't you looking lovely ?"

  "Thanks."

  He pinched my chin the way he had when I'd been a small girl, then let go. "Your mother said you sounded unhappy earlier, but you look quite well to me. Is everything alright ?"

  I hesitated, not wanting to get into...well, anything. I didn't think they'd approve to hear I'd been having an affair – of sorts – with a male prostitute and now I was mooning over the fact that he'd ended it, all because he thought I'd gone to the press .

  No.

  That so wasn't something I wanted to get into with my parents. Our relationship was finally returning to something resembling normal, but we weren't so close that I felt comfortable discussing anything like that with them .

  No way in hell .

  * * *

  I liked Philadelphia.

  It didn't have the frenetic, fast-pace lifestyle of New York, but there was never a lack of things to do either. I could even order in Chinese in the dead of the night – which I liked .

  They might not have a dozen different theatres all vying for your money crammed into a couple of square blocks, but they definitely had a love of the arts .

  And I loved the Forrest Theatre – Dad had bought tickets for a Broadway play when he heard I was coming to town and that made everything seem a little better. For the time being at least .

  Mom and Dad often traveled to Philadelphia, so I'd been coming here off and on most of my life and had seen everything here from plays like A Christmas Carol to Les Miserable to Stomp and Lord of the Dance .

  The outside of the magnificent theatre was unassuming. It wa
s tall and made of pale stone, sitting on one of Philly's narrow, tree-lined streets. But on the inside, it was...beautiful. Walls that gleamed like pale gold in the dim lights, interspersed with rich accents of deep red. The chandeliers overhead sent splinters of light down to shine on the stages. People dressed in everything from semi-formal attire to jeans and t-shirts. I'd surprised my parents when I emerged from my hotel room in a dress of snug, red jersey. I'd planned to wear the dress for Jake, but that plan was out the window now. I might as well wear it for me .

  Both of them had looked a little dazed at first, and I thought maybe one of my boobs was hanging out, but a quick look down revealed that the sweetheart neckline, while sexy, wasn't all that risqué. "What's wrong?" I'd asked .

  Mom, to my horror, had teared up before stepping up to hug me. "You're just...beautiful, honey. That's all. You're beautiful ."

  Now, as we followed the usher to our seats, I was cursing the shoes I'd worn, a pair of black heels with ankle straps and pointy toes. I hardly ever wore heels. These were comfortable as far as heels went, but they were still high heels, and thus...miserable. The usher gestured to our seats, and I nodded my thanks as I took my seat, along with my mother. Dad didn't sit until we did and sipped my wine as he leaned to murmur to my mother. She laughed and both of them looked at me before exchanging glances again .

  They'd been doing that all night .

  "What?" I asked, getting exasperated .

  "Nothing." My mother lifted her cocktail to her lips, sipping as she focused her gaze on the stage. Of course, there was nothing there .

  "Don't give me that. You two have been giving me odd looks all night." Wiggling my toes inside my shoes, I settled more comfortably in the chair and put both my purse and the program in my lap. "You two might as well tell me what's up. Otherwise I'll keep pestering you ."

  Dad laughed .

  Mom sighed .

  I found myself smiling .

  It felt good to do that. I didn't smile enough with them – with anybody really. It was because I didn't let myself get close to people. I already knew what the problem was, and although I understood the subconscious reasoning behind it, it didn't lessen the impact on my life .