In a Moon Smile (23 page)

“That isn't true,” he said gruffly. “You do not mean that, Chesney. You're hurt and angry about my mistake. And you have every right to be.” He stopped talking and struggled for composure. And Chesney’s heart began to hurt for him. “You are wrong,” Jack said.

“You are an ass,” Chesney said flatly.

“Our relationship is not over,” Jack raised his voice and his face was bright red. “We will never be over.”

“Wrong, Jack,” Chesney crossed her arms. “We should have been over long before you screwed Belinda’s brains out. But once that happened, I’d say we were officially dead in the water, wouldn’t you?”

“If you recall, Chez, instead of breaking up, you wanted to attend counseling,” Jack said. “And you wanted to continue the plan to marry me.

She waved her hands like she was shooing away a fly. “Oh Jack, pay no attention to that. I only did that because I was stupid. But you know what? I am not stupid anymore. I am not in love with you. And I have no intention of going back to Chicago, either.”

“I will work to win back your trust,” Jack persisted. “It will take time. But I'll show you that I've changed. Chesney, please, let me stay here overnight.”

“Not a good idea,” she said.

“I’d rather not leave right this moment for that long drive back,” he said. “Couldn’t you agree to just let me sleep here tonight? Don’t you see how you have upset me?”

“Fine,” Chesney said, feeling exhausted. “You can stay here overnight, Jack. But you'll need to leave first thing in the morning.”

“We'll talk,” he said in a tearful whisper. “Okay, Chez? Can we just sit together and discuss our lives?” Jack’s voice was a salve to her confused heart.

Chesney’s eyelids felt heavy. She was exhausted by the emotional moments. “I am not promising anything,” she managed, still fighting to keep control.

The delivery men squeezed through the front door with a bookcase. Again, she pointed toward the room at the top of the stairs. “My new office will finally be ready for me to work in,” Chesney said happily to Jack. “The desk, the computer and all three bookshelves are finally here.”

Upstairs, she heard Dalton hammering something as Jack went back to his car to get his overnight bag. He grabbed two pieces of luggage from his trunk then stopped at the driver’s door, removed his sunglasses and placed them carefully on the visor.

“What are you doing?” she said aloud. “You don't love Jack. You don't want to be engaged to him. You don’t want to be married to him. But for some reason, you’re so weak that you can't tell the ass to get out of your life?”

She watched Jack wander around the side of the house, inspecting her purchase. She climbed the stairs and found Dalton patiently patching holes in a bedroom wall. Just to see him made her heart warm. Dalton Moore didn't seem to have a romantic interest in her, but he was becoming a friend. Was she so needy and unsure of herself that she needed a man to feel worthy?

“Everything okay?” Dalton asked when he saw her.

“Yes,” Chesney lied.

“Big surprise, I guess, that he's here,” Dalton tried to smile. “Nice car he's driving.”

“
Umm-humm
,” Chesney nodded. “Nothing but the best for Jack Mobley.”

That familiar anger was back. It bubbled from the pit of her stomach to her throat. It was almost overwhelming. She tried to push the anger away but it was impossible. On the way back down the stairs, she realized that she had reverted to that old pattern of behavior. Against her better judgment, she agreed that Jack could spend the night here. But she didn’t want him here. She only gave in to keep the peace.

Yes, that’s what I have done for all of my life. It is my pattern. It is part of my stupid DNA. I bow down so I don’t upset anyone. I sacrifice my own needs since other people matter so much more than I do.

As she leaned against the doorway, Chesney thought about Gloria and the promised book draft. Now that her office furniture had arrived, she really should work tonight. She should get off her butt and get going. Get the manuscript to Gloria as soon as possible. But instead, Jack whined and she gave in, just like always. As a result, she had an uninvited asshole in her home for an overnight stay. If Jack Mobley thought for one moment that he would be allowed to climb into her bed…

That old, stale anger boiled again. Chesney sighed and rubbed her temples. There was a good chance that she might just have a damn stroke. The stress was unbearable.

“Headache?” Dalton asked as he came down the stairs to get something from his toolbox.

Without answering him, Chesney walked away. She found Jack in the parlor, removing plastic covers from her new lamps.

“You're so beautiful, Chesney,” he said as she walked in.

“I’m sure you were just trying to be helpful, Jack. But actually I don’t want the plastic removed yet. Dalton and I are still doing a lot of dirty work, like sanding and painting. I want my new things to be protected.”

He never made a move to put the plastic back. Instead, Jack smiled faintly and said, “Let's take a walk outside in the sun.”

“No, thanks.”

“How about a nice dinner somewhere?” Jack asked. “Is there a place around here to get a decent meal?”

“Actually, I need to work tonight,” Chesney said. “As I told you earlier, it’s alright if you want to stay here tonight. But I didn’t say I’d entertain you. I desperately need to work. And since my desk and chair and computer have arrived, I need to focus on my work. In fact, I’m excited about getting started.”

“Out of the question,” Jack said firmly.

“Excuse me?” Chesney blinked, not sure whether to laugh or explode.

“You and I are spending the evening together,” Jack said. “We need to address the problems in our relationship. Our future is much more important than for you to spend time writing one of those cheesy little novels to entertain lonely old ladies.”

Chesney grabbed at the fireplace mantel for support. Jack’s blatant disrespect for her work made fury swirl but at the same time, his words sucked the air from her chest. A thousand affairs with his office assistant could not possibly hurt nearly as much as the pompous attitude. Chesney wanted to hurl one of the empty wine bottles at Jack’s empty head with the intensity of a missile. “I've made a mistake,” she said slowly, weakly.

“We both have,” Jack said with a quick smile. “But we can mend the mistakes and start over again.” He walked over and pressed his body against hers. “As soon as that handyman leaves for the day, I will be showing you, my sweet Chesney, how badly I’ve missed you.”

She closed her eyes and sighed, trying not to gag about the fact that his erection was now pressed against her thigh.

“I’m glad you see that our relationship is a much more important place to focus your energy,” Jack’s voice was low with lust as he ran his hands under her shirt.

“No,” Chesney slowly shook her head. “I made a mistake when I said you could stay here tonight. It isn't a good idea.” Slowly, she moved away from his touch.

“Well, I must admit that your place is a bit primitive,” Jack chuckled. “But it’s not really a problem, love. We'll drive to another town. We'll find a bed and breakfast somewhere. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms. I can’t wait to show you, Chesney, what you mean to me.”

“I don't want you here,” she said finally as she crossed her arms.

“You don’t mean that, darling,” he said. “You’re so depressed that you’re absolutely out of your mind. But don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” He tweaked her cheek and smiled.

“Contrary to popular belief, Jack, I’m actually not a nut case,” Chesney rolled her eyes. “I don’t want you to stay here. And I assure you that I am very sane when I say that.”

“Now Chez, I know better than anyone what you need,” Jack placed both of his hands on her face and gnashed his teeth clumsily against hers. Another failed effort to take over her mouth with his.

“I don’t want that,” Chesney snapped. “Good God, Jack, it’s like being kissed by a damn horse. Get away.” She shoved with both hands against his chest. “Get away, Jack. And stay away.”

Jack’s grin was replaced by a glare. His eyes were ice. The delivery men stopped in their tracks. They disappeared quickly out the front door. “I know what you need, Chesney. I know more about what you need than you know yourself.”

She sighed, exhausted by Jack’s constant needling at her psyche. Her mind felt fuzzy again. Was she losing her mind? Maybe Jack was right. Maybe she needed psychiatric attention. Who, in their right mind, would walk away from what she left in Chicago? Why did she want to be here, in Grace's house, in the middle of nowhere? Had she made all the wrong decisions, hoping for a different outcome?

“I'll take you back home,” Jack said in a soothing voice. “It's so obvious to me, Chesney, that you need rest. You can't even write anymore.” When he reached to gently embrace her again, she did not pull away. Jack stroked her hair sweetly. “You see, darling? Don’t you see that you’re so depressed, you can’t even write?”

“I can write...” Chesney argued weakly.

“Then why is your book so late?” Jack asked. “Don't you see? You haven't been able to function since you left me. It was never what you truly wanted.”

Was Jack telling the truth? She blinked again. But big tears fell over her face as Chesney looked up at him. “You hurt me,” she sobbed.

“I know,” Jack nodded and looked at the floor.

“You slept with Belinda,” Chesney cried. “And when you went to Europe on business, she was with you, wasn’t she?”

“I tried to take you,” Jack said. “If you recall correctly, Chez, you refused to go to Europe because you were promoting your last book.”

“I am a writer,” Chesney said flatly, even though tears and snot now dripped over her mouth and chin. “I have to work.”

“You were also my fiancé,” Jack interrupted. “And I'm not making excuses about the affair, Chez, but I got tired of traveling alone. You were not a part of my life. You didn't want to be with me.”

“I'm sorry,” she stepped away, scanned the half-painted room and wiped her nose on her shirt tail. “Jack, you're right,” she said finally. “I didn’t want to be with you. I wanted to pursue my career. But my unwillingness to go with you to Europe did not give you a license to cheat with your assistant.”

“I know,” Jack nodded. “I know, Chez. I was wrong.”

“You took Belinda with you,” she said evenly. “You took her on lots of those trips. She was with you in China. Wasn’t she?” His silence was her answer. “You cheated for most of our relationship, didn’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Jack said.

“No, I don’t suppose it does,” she said.” The truth is, I didn't want that life.”

“We can work it out now,” Jack said.

“I don't want to work it out,” Chesney said. “If I wanted to save my relationship with you, I wouldn't have left Chicago.”

“You're not thinking clearly.”

“Stop treating me like a mental case,” she bristled.

Shaking again from pent-up anger, Chesney pointed at the bags by the staircase “Get your luggage and get out,” she said wearily. Then she stomped across the room and opened the front door.

“Don't do this, Chesney,” Jack warned in a low voice that seemed to vibrate through the sparsely furnished room. “If I leave now, I will never be back. I mean it.”

Chesney said nothing.

“You will never find another man like me,” he said.

“Gawd, I hope not,” she snapped.

“I have the money to give you everything,” Jack said.

“What I wanted from life does not cost money,” Chesney swallowed hard, feeling hurt well again in her throat.

“You'd rather be in this shack? You'd rather be here?” Jack shouted.

“Yes, I’d rather be here,” she smiled, completely unaffected now by his raised voice.

Jack brushed past, grabbed his luggage and turned to glare. “You had better be damn sure that you want me out of your life,” he said. “If I walk out the door of this dump, I will never try again to patch things up with you.” As a response, Chesney turned her back and Jack barged out the door. Three steps across the porch, his foot smashed through a rotten board. He fell victim to the same scenario Chesney endured on the back porch. A long, loud string of obscenities erupted from Jack’s mouth as he struggled to free his shiny wing tip from the rotted planks. His pant leg was not only filthy but also torn. He was enraged, to say the least. She watched from the front door, amused.

“Whoops,” Chesney laughed.

“Damn it,” Jack yelled furiously. “This is not funny. In fact, it is absolutely ridiculous.”

“Watch your step there, Jack.”

“You're crazy,” he spluttered angrily as he yanked at his pant leg. “I mean it. You have lost your damn mind.”

“And it sure feels good,” Chesney yelled. When Jack finally freed his leg, the ragged tear in the material of his pants revealed his hairy chicken leg from knee to ankle. When he looked at her, red-faced and panting, Chesney slammed and locked the door. Through the window, she watched Jack trip and limp over loose bricks on the walkway, yank open and slam the drivers’ door shut on his fancy Saab and gun the engine. Dust followed his car all the way down the lane. Chesney pressed her face against the cool window pane and sighed. “Free at last,” she muttered. “Thank God, I'm free at last.”