AllFreeNovel
Share Us
****
The next morning, he was up and dressed early. He drove to Jenna’s house, a tidy structure with yellow siding and white, lintel topped windows. Hunkering in the rental car, he rehearsed what he planned to say. The door eventually opened, and a weedy little girl skipped down the drive. Her pale blonde hair was loose, long waves glinting in the morning sunlight as she ran to a minivan. She blew Jenna a kiss and got in the vehicle.
“Wait!” Jenna called out while waving a bright pink sack. The kid had forgotten something, probably her lunch. Scrambling back, the little girl grabbed the bag, hugged Jenna, and hurried back to the van.
A tightness pressed down on his chest as Eric watched the scene—Jenna bending to enfold her daughter, her hands tenderly sweeping over the length of golden hair, and the loving kiss. He’d played such scenes in his head a thousand times over the years, simple day-to-day things his stupidity had cost him. Piggyback rides, parental hugs, and bedtime stories were things he had never known as a child and rituals he took no part in as an adult.
He wondered how much the little girl missed having a daddy. Who fixed the chain on her bicycle when it broke? Who scared off the monsters in her closet? Who would knock the teeth down the throat of the first asshole to get out of line with her?It should be me,Eric thought sadly.Even though she wasn’t his, he would have been proud to be her father.
If only he hadn’t said such terrible things the night Jenna went into labor. If only he’d kept the demons of jealousy, anger, and hurt from rising up.If only. He shook his head, killed the engine of his car, and walked to the front door.
He gave a two-knuckle rap against the wood. As he waited, his feet shuffling on the mat, time dragged into eternity before Jenna answered. Finally, the door opened to a narrow crack, and she peeked out. He felt tempted to wedge one foot at the opening like a pushy salesman, sure she would slam the door when she saw it was him.
“Come in.” It was a reluctant invitation and she tugged the lapels of her robe tight about her throat. She cocked her head. “Kitchen’s that way. There’s a pot of coffee on the counter, help yourself. I’ll be right back.”
Eric stepped through, past the living room and into a space with honey-colored cabinets and shelves displaying jars, cups, and mismatched canisters. The house was welcoming with cushy furniture and lots of warmth. It was nothing like the austere box he and Jenna shared in Malibu, and nothing like any of the houses he owned with Bree. Jenna’s home expressed comfort, something his current wife could never pull off no matter how high her decorating budget was.
In a short while, Jenna reappeared in jeans and a white turtleneck. Her sun-streaked hair was combed back from her face, a face still radiant in his estimation. Her eyes were different, still soft and golden but no longer wide and animated. They were pensive and held a glimmer of sadness. Eric longed to hold her, to draw her against his chest in a comforting embrace till the veil of sorrow lifted.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and sipped slowly, keeping her mug held high like a shield.
“Thanks for seeing me,” he said.
“The sooner we settle whatever you think needs settling, the sooner you can leave.”
“I know I deserve your anger…I wouldn’t blame you for hating me.” He let the words hang hoping she would deny the last part of his statement. She didn’t. Discouraged, he raked his fingers through his hair and looked away.
Jenna sipped her coffee, willing herself to disregard the familiar gesture. Letting Eric’s troubled body language spark any feeling would be too easy of a slip into the past.
He turned and spoke softly. “I guess I should start by apologizing for what happened the night you had the baby.”
Jenna lurched as if she had been punched squarely in the chest. The impact of his words went straight to her heart. “Don’t go there. I don’t ever think about it. It isn’t fair of you to remind me.” She dipped her head so he wouldn’t see how clearly she was lying. She’d thought of that night a thousand times, remembered how drunk he’d been and the sad tremor of his voice as he confessed he could never love her baby.Our babyher mind instantly corrected as her pulse started to race.
Had he somehow found out Janie was his?
Eric said “sorry” in a such a repentant whisper she knew at once he hadn’t. How could he?He’d spent close to a decade in a whirlwind of fame and glamour, and all of it with another woman.
“Get to the point.” Jenna held her mug high. It was ridiculously large, and almost masked her face.
“Could we maybe sit?” he asked.
Nodding, she crooked her chin toward the kitchen table. “Get to the point.”
“I’m getting a divorce.”
A tinge of annoyance replaced the thrumming anxiety beating at her insides. She narrowed her eyes. “I already know about it. It’s not like you’ve kept a low profile all these years. The story is on the cover of every tabloid in the supermarket.” Once again, she hid behind the mug.
“Can you put your damned coffee down so I can see your face while we talk.”
Jenna lowered the mug and placed it on the table. She kept her back tight against her chair, her tone and glare steely. “Wow. Movie star temperament. I wondered if fame went to your head.”
“You have? So…you think about me?” He smiled as if he’d won a prize.
Jenna’s heart was back in her throat, throbbing now with ire. His A-list standing was the very last thing she wanted to acknowledge. She shut her eyes and pressed her fingers to the lids as if they burned or itched.
“Will you please just look at me,” he begged. “I’m not temperamental, just more determined, a result of my age…not my star on the Walk of Fame.”
Again, Jenna felt a weighty press against her breast. The mention of Hollywood prompted images of her former life to flash in her head like a cannonade—riots of screaming fans, disembodied hands grabbing at her, and the press never more than a yard away. Jenna let her eyes settle on the cozy simplicity of her kitchen till the chaos of her mind settled.
