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“You do?”
She nodded. “Marriage might be a good thing for others, but I don’t ever want to marry again. Relationships shouldn’t be a trap, something that boxes you in, makes you smaller. Relationships shouldn’t make you suffer.”
For a long moment, her words just hung there in the air, and they sounded so bleak. He didn’t immediately speak. “You can’t escape pain in relationships,” he finally said after another moment. “Love, even the best love, can hurt. Mara’s cancer ravaged her. The pain when she was dying—it’s hard to even go there. The confusion Oliver felt when his mom was finally gone. The questions he asked. It was years before he stopped asking for her.”
“That would have killed me. My girls are my heart.”
“I had to be strong for him. I had to be everything for him.”
She pushed her sunglasses up on her nose. “I wish my girls had had a father like you. I thought Ted would be like my dad. My dad was amazing.” She sighed softly. “Ted wasn’t amazing. He was just hurtful. For years I tried to tell myself it was the alcohol that made him petty and unkind, but after a while, I couldn’t keep making excuses, not when everyone was so miserable.”
Jack leaned forward. “Why do you pretend you don’t know me?” he asked bluntly. He hadn’t meant to ask, not today, not when Paige wasn’t well, but the question popped out. “We know each other. I know you. Do you really not remember me?”
Silence stretched for a long, uncomfortable moment, and then Paige’s lips pursed. “Of course I remember you.” Her voice had dropped, deepened. “How does one not remember you, Jack King?”
He didn’t understand. His brow creased. “Then why pretend?”
“You didn’t recognize me, either. Not at first.”
“I knew who you were within minutes—seconds—of sitting down at the coffeehouse. But I was baffled by your response, or lack of response. I wondered if maybe you’d had an accident, suffered a memory loss.”
Even in the shadowy light he could see her cheeks flush. “I was embarrassed,” she confessed huskily.
“Embarrassed about what?”
“Everything. That night in Paris. Me. The differences between us, and our careers. You’ve accomplished so much, and in comparison—”
“That’s rubbish.”
Her shoulders lifted, fell. “I just panicked. It’s awful to admit, but I felt insecure.”
He was more confused than ever. “But why?”
“Jack, I never thought I’d see you again after that summer trip to Paris, and then suddenly I’m supposed to teach with you. I was embarrassed that I fell so easily into bed with you all those years ago. Embarrassed that you’ve had this huge career and in comparison—”
“Then stop comparing, Paige.”
“You’re right,” she agreed. “I hate feeling ashamed, because I have nothing to feel ashamed about. I’m proud of everything I’ve accomplished, but—” She broke off, and she gave her head a slight shake. “I’m sorry.”
He rose and walked to the kitchen, where he filled a glass with water. He took a long drink, buying time, even as he tried to calm down. He was disappointed. Angry. And he didn’t know how to respond.
She entered the kitchen behind him. “Everyone was so excited about you coming to Orange. It was such a big deal.”
He turned to face her. “You weren’t pleased.”
“I was . . . shocked.” She leaned against the wall. “At first I thought it had to be a different Jack King. But no, it was you.”
“I thought we had a good time in Paris.”
Her laugh was low and mocking. “I didn’t know what I was doing in Paris. You were totally out of my league.”
Jack’s chest grew tight, confusion warring with his temper. He didn’t get angry often. He didn’t like to feel angry. It was such a pointless, destructive emotion. “Did I take advantage of you?”
“No.”
He wasn’t convinced. He wasn’t sure of anything right now. “I was an instructor that summer. You were a student. If I used my position to seduce you—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Jack, no. That’s not what happened. I wasn’t drunk. You didn’t take advantage of me. There was no power imbalance. Okay?”
“You left Paris the next day.”
“It was time for me to go home.” Her chin lifted, expression defiant. “You did nothing wrong. If I’m uncomfortable, it’s because I’m uncomfortable with me.”
“I don’t know why. You’re beautiful. Brilliant—”
“Insecure.”
“But why? Look at you. Look at what you’ve achieved.”
“I’m also divorced. And I struggle with self-esteem. I take criticism hard. I work too hard to make others happy—”
“Probably at your own expense.”
“Probably,” she agreed. “I’m a perfectionist, Jack. Always have been.” She crossed the kitchen, picked up her pill bottle from the counter, and popped the cap, easing one tablet from the bottle. “But that’s my problem,” she added, returning to the living room to retrieve her tea. “Not yours.”
He followed her back to the living room, watched as she washed down her pill. His chest remained tight with emotion. He was still puzzled and frustrated. He didn’t know how to talk to this Paige. He didn’t know this Paige. But maybe he’d never known her. “I should go.”
“I’ll probably be able to sleep now that I have a full stomach. Thank you for the sandwich.”
“My pleasure.”
“Thank you for checking on me. I appreciate it.”
He hesitated. “You don’t have to keep up the brave face with me. You can just be you.”
“I am me.” She pushed a long tendril of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “I’m sorry I pretended not to know you. I should have come clean—”
“It’s fine. You had your reasons.”
