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I shake my head. “Not anymore. I told you. I’ve let it go.”
“What if I don’t want you to? What if…” he trails off, “Youhaveto remember how good we were together.” His eyes are imploring. “I know I messed everything up, but it’s not too late. A few weeks ago, you still cared about me. That day at the Swanson Court, you said that being with me was the best thing that ever happened to you… that can’t have changed.”
“It has.” I hold his gaze. “Jack, I fell in love with someone else.”
His face hardens. “Landon Court doesn’t deserve you.”
“And you do?” I snort. “Don’t make me laugh.”
He looks crushed. “Okay, maybe I don’t deserve you, but I’m not blind. These past few days you’ve been a shadow of yourself. I know about him, Rachel. He’s heartless with women. He’ll use you and then he’ll toss you aside. He has hurt you already, hasn’t he? I know you. I can fucking see it in your face.”
I close my eyes. “You’re only seeing what you want to see.”
“Am I?” he laughs bitterly. “So where is he? This perfect Landon Court? Why are you here with me, if you’re so fucking happy with him?”
If I were a different sort of person, I’d hit him. I want to, very badly, but I clench my fists and grit my teeth. “I’m sorry I listened when you begged me to come with you to see your mother. Clearly, I should have ignored you.”
“Rachel…” he steps towards me and I hold up one hand to stop him.
“Why am I suddenly so important to you, Jack? Because there’s another man in the picture? Someone who maybe, makes you feel insecure?” I watch as his eyes narrow slightly, but I continue, anger and regret for all the months I wasted on him, making me emotional. “Tell me, if I’d never met Landon - If I’d still been waiting on the sidelines, hoping you’d see past your bevy of models and athletes and exotic beauties to notice me, I’d still be right there, wouldn’t I? The only reason you suddenly can’t let me go is that I don’t want you anymore.”
He starts to say something else, but I notice a cab coming down the street and hail it. Luckily, it’s empty and quickly comes to a stop in front of us. Just before I climb in, I give Jack one more glance. He’s watching me, his eyes clouded, his hands shoved into his pockets.
“Goodbye Jack,” I say quietly.
He doesn’t reply.
LANDON Court doesn’t deserve you.
If it wasn't so frustrating, it would be funny how everything always came back to Landon. Even an evening with Jack had somehow managed to devolve into an emotional conversation about Landon.
He’ll use you and then he’ll toss you aside.
It’s not as if I didn’t know that already. I’d spent the past few days pushing Landon away just so I could protect myself from that imminent hurt. But no matter how hard I tried, there he was, in my head, and physically too, refusing to let me go.
I sigh, pushing all my thoughts about Landon, about Jack and his ill-timed realization that we had something ‘good,’ to the deepest darkest recesses of my mind. There, at least, they won’t threaten to drive me insane.
I decide to call my mom, because it’s been a few days, and for some reason, I find myself appreciating her more. She answers on the fourth ring. “Sweetheart,” she coos in her low, smooth voice, and I sigh, feeling homesick.
“Hi, Mom.”
“How are you? I hope there’s nothing wrong.”
I’m tempted to break down and tell her how miserable I am. I hold back, but just barely.
“No. Nothing’s wrong. I’m good. Laurie’s good.”
“You’re fine,” she corrects, then laughs. “I’m glad you’re both okay.” There’s a pause. “Your father and I will be in the city on Thursday. I have an art thing.”
It’s always and ‘art’ thing with my mom. Even showing her work in a prestigious gallery is an ‘art’ thing. I still don’t know if she’s so blasé because of how successful she is, or because she really doesn’t care about events.
I’m in front of my building by now, and I step out of the cab. “Will I see you guys?”
“If you want,” she replies. “You could come with. We’ll pick you up on our way. Laurie too. It’s a black-tie thing at the Remington House.”
“The… what house now?”
She sighs, probably exasperated by my ignorance. “The Remington House is a historic mansion on Fifth,” She informs me. When I don’t say anything in reply, she continues her lecture. “Shelby Remington, the last living member of the Remington family left the house and his entire art collection to the Remington Trust. It’s a museum now. Two Cornelia Eames paintings he lost in a bet a long time ago are being restored to the house. I’m giving a speech.”
