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“Hey, girly. What’s up?” she answered cheerfully. Then she squinted. “Wait, where are you? Do I hear the ocean?”
I nodded. “Yup. I’m in California. That is indeed the ocean.”
“Damn. I’m so jealous. You’re always jetting from coast to coast and I’m just here in my kitchen again,” she sighed.
“Yeah, you get to taste cookie dough and cake batter all day, what an awful life,” I teased.
“True,” she agreed. “How are you? I haven’t heard from you in, like, a week. I was starting to worry.”
“I was, uh, on a trip,” I said cagily.
She cocked her head to one side. “A trip? Without cell service? Where’d you go?”
I bit my lip. Should I tell her?
“Yes, actually. I was on a yacht off the coast of Florida,” I said slowly. “With Bruin.”
“What?” she squealed, dropping her whisk on the floor.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s crazy.”
“Tell me everything,” she demanded.
Well, I didn’t go into all the gritty details of our sexcapades, but I gave her the gist. “And then at the end, he got all cold and aloof again. Sent me off with just a short goodbye. I can’t help but think it has something to do with Jeff.”
“Hmm. Maybe? But why?” she asked.
“Because Jeff probably knows that Bruin has a daughter, and he probably thinks that means Bruin is too complicated for me. He still remembers Bruin as the reckless womanizer he was in college. He’s changed, though,” I explained.
She shrugged. “Well, if you’re so sure he’s different now… just go for it.”
“I can’t. It would ruin Jeff.”
“Jeff will get over it. Jillian, this is your love life, not his. You’re a grown woman and you can decide who to give your heart to,” she told me firmly.
I smiled. “You know what? You’re right. Look, I have to go. There’s something I need to do,” I told her. “Bye, Anna Kate.”
I hung up and headed back to the hotel, thinking I would call Jeff and just tell him to back off and let me live my life. I drank a couple glasses of wine, trying to work up the courage. I lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, wondering how to approach the subject. I was just starting to figure it out when suddenly the phone rang. Thinking it was Jeff, I answered without even checking the caller ID.
“Hi,” I said. “Listen—”
“Jillian,” the voice interrupted. It was not Jeff.
“Bruin?” I asked breathlessly.
“Yeah. It’s me,” he said gruffly.
“How did you?”
“I got your phone number from your business card,” he explained quickly. “And I needed to talk to you.”
“I-I wanted to talk to you, too. I just didn’t know how. And I thought you wouldn’t want me to anyway,” I rambled, feeling totally caught off-guard.
“The way we left things was terrible. I’m sorry,” he said. “I should never have stormed out that way. I just want you to know, I was never angry with you. Or anything. I don’t even think I could be. It’s just…”
“Jeff. I know,” I said quietly.
“Yes. That and… well, my daughter. There are a lot of moving parts in your life and in mine and I worry they would not overlap well,” he admitted.
