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Chapter 32
“Who would have thought that, just a few months after our ride from the airport where you asked me about Lilac and Libby, we’d be driving the opposite direction and you’d be telling me about Hope?” Luke’s gaze was on the 101.
“You didn’t even realize you were in love with Libby,” Jordan said. “At least I know my state.”
“Shit state.”
“Yep,” he expelled over a sigh.
“I gotta say, when I warned you about Hope, I didn’t think of you. I was afraid you’d break her heart, not the other way around.”
“I hope I didn’t break hers. That’s the last thing I want.”
“I said a few other things I regret saying then. I honestly didn’t think you were ready for …” Luke turned his head toward him for a brief moment instead of finishing the sentence.
“Nah, I should have listened to you,” he said with a tired smile. It waned as he turned his gaze to the side window and added, “You’re not the only one who thought I’m not made of the right stuff.”
“What are you going to do about Rush, and the news, and all that?”
“Tell her not to sue if she doesn’t want them to dig deeper and find that some of it is true.”
“Will you be okay there all alone?”
“Been there for over twenty years, as has been pointed out to me only yesterday. So, yes, I will.”
When he landed in D.C. the next morning and drove toward his hotel, Jordan thought he could smell the stench of the river in the cold air of the early morning hours. A striking contrast from the ocean breeze that he had rediscovered and now left behind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I appreciate you checking with me first, Chidel. You know I’m gonna say ‘no comment’ if you go with this, right? Because I have nothing to comment on. So, go ahead.” Jordan hung up and put his phone facedown on the desk. There were a few journalists whom he considered sort-of-friends and several had called to check with him first before deciding if to publish. By telling them to proceed and publish, he had convinced them to do the reverse.
His news aggregator analysis app indicated a declining interest in the story, which he was glad of. If glad meant numb and working on autopilot.
Outwardly, it was as if nothing had changed—attending meetings, discussions, analyzing strategies, talking all day, not caring what people thought, eating alone by choice in his hotel room, then jogging half the night. Inside, his heart had gone from frozen to charred. The damage and pain were similar, the treatment to both conditions out of reach.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hey, Jord. Called to check in on you but you’re not picking up. Been over a week since we last spoke. Don’t work so damn hard. Also, wanted to tell you that, if you still want to buy a place in Riviera View, then I have a suggestion. Call me.”
He listened to his sister’s voicemail while eating a sandwich for his late dinner over his laptop in Warber offices on Independence Avenue. He didn’t bother using earphones, since the place was deserted at that hour of the night.
He had been drowning himself in work—anything that would numb the constant ache that pulsated with the rhythm of his heart.
“Didn’t know Gen Y knew how to use old-school voice messages,” he texted his reply. “I wasn’t looking anymore, but tell me.”
“I do my best to connect with the older generations in their preferred means,” Ava texted back almost immediately, adding a winking kissy face emoji. “There’s this large plot, 4K sqf, but sonofabitch will sell it only as one, though it’s divided into two houses. Zack and I can’t afford the whole thing. Thought you might be interested.”
Jordan ran a hand over his mouth. After months of limbo, he wanted to belong somewhere, to have an address at least. Despite everything, he had no intention of buying in D.C. Renting something close to his previous apartment was as far as his scattered thoughts had reached.
Riviera View still felt like home.
“Send me the details,” he texted back.
