Missed Connections (29 page)

He steals a fry. “Didn’t they feed you up there in hippie Siberia?”

“Gruel.” There’s only time for one word as I shovel in another bite of juicy burger.

Jack grins, but he doesn’t realize I’m serious. Unfortunately, my stomach has shrunk, and I fill up way too soon for my tongue’s liking. The food is delicious, and I could eat for hours if not for my protesting stomach. Despite being stuffed, I pick the bacon off the burger and cram it in my mouth for my final bite.

“Full?”

“Yes.” I pat my stomach.

“That’s good. You were all big eyes and sharp teeth for a while there. Now you’re looking more relaxed.”

“Maybe too relaxed. I’m so sleepy.”

“You can sleep in the car. Come on. Let’s get you home. What’s this about a new job?”

Suddenly, the food in my belly doesn’t feel so great. “A friend, Blake, hooked me up.” I give him the details about the job.

The drive takes forever, but I can’t tell him while we’re driving. At some point I doze off, because I wake up to his hand gently stroking my cheek.

“Sarah, wake up. We’re here.”

I blink, stupidly leaning into his touch. He’s parked us in the shade of one of the tall trees that line my street, but it’s still so bright and warm that I could easily slip back to sleep. Four kids on bikes zip by, laughing, and I sit up, checking my face for drool. Man, I was really out.

A group of teenagers crowds the steps of the apartment building across the street. Jack leans closer, and his lips curl into a gentle smile.

I pull back. “I need to go inside.”

He takes the key out of the ignition, but I stop him from leaving the car with a hand to his arm. It’s not fair to him or Blake to continue like this. Not even one more kiss. I’ve finally made a decision and need to honor it.

“We need to talk.”

He goes very still. “Okay.”

The gentle haze of sleep deserts me, leaving behind painful reality. “We can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore.”

He grips the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles go white. “This again? Why not?”

“Jack, I know it sounds like the oldest cliché in the book, but it’s really not you. It’s me.”

“Don’t do this, Sarah.”

“We’re amazing together, but not in all the ways I need.”

“What we have isn’t just sexual!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Is there someone else?”

I nod.

He slumps in his seat. “What’s his name? Blake?”

“He’s the one who got me the new job.”

“I offered you a job too.”

“I know. It just wasn’t the best fit for me, Jack.”

“I can’t believe this.” He won’t even look at me. I know I’m the one hurting him right now, but it kills me that he won’t look at me.

“I know. But believe me when I say it wasn’t easy, and you mean so much to me.” Tears drip down my cheeks, and I try to hide them because I don’t have the right to cry while breaking up with him. Jack’s the injured party, but I can’t help it. My heart’s still breaking in two, and half of it will leave in his car with him and trail around behind him forever. A piece of me will always belong to Jack.

He nods.

I squeeze his hand and leave the car, forcing myself not to look back. His car rumbles and drives away, and through the uncertainty, I feel a little lighter now that I’ve made a definitive decision. I made the right choice for my future. It’s time to move on with Blake.

Chapter 32

The whole situation makes me feel like crap, but if nothing else, the hippie weekend made me realize that Blake is the one I need to be with, the one I want even more than Jack, which is saying a lot. If Blake and I had never met, who knows what Jack and I might have eventually been?

But I have to focus on the future, and that means telling Blake I’m ready to meet
right now
. I don’t know if Jack and I will ever be able to be friends again. I don’t know if Blake and I will work in person. But I know I want to give him my full heart and a fair chance. He’s the smart choice, and it’s time for me to grow up.

Being so out of my depth with Fern and Ziggy eroded my self-confidence in ways I hadn’t expected and can only see now that I know I’m not going back to Inner Space. I wanted to fit in so badly that I overlooked how shitty they truly were to me, and it made me doubt my decision-making abilities, even when it came to Blake and Jack. I was so paralyzed about making the wrong decision that I wasn’t able to make any decision at all. Then seeing the way Fern and Ziggy cheated people and lied to us at the retreat was like a bucket of cold water poured over my body.

I need to be true to myself, but I need to keep other people in mind too and not justify my own bullshit like Fern and Ziggy do. Maybe I’m making the wrong choice in the long run, but I don’t think I am. And even if I am, that’s what life’s about. At least I’ll have put myself out there and tried to do the right thing, tried to be a good person.

Jack and Blake deserve someone who’s going to give them one hundred percent. I can only give that to one man. I refuse to give less than that to one man.

The weight of my mom’s history falls from my shoulders. I’m not like her, and I never will be. I made the best decision, and I’m sticking with it. A smile takes over my face, and I turn my computer on and wait for it to boot up. Then I spring up and look around in the fridge. Do I have anything I can make for a dinner? I find a baking chicken and vegetables. Homey and perfect. I log on to Skype and message Blake, though he’s away.

Me: I want you to come over tonight. Online isn’t enough anymore. I want us to be a real couple, live and in person. Come over for dinner. I want to see you in 3-D.

God, why do I feel so nervous? We’ve talked so much, and I’m making the right decision. But what will it be like in person? Will the conversations flow as smoothly, the truth come out as freely when the screens and anonymity are taken away? My nerves are like honeybees, buzzing beneath my skin. I push away from the computer and pace around, wondering, savoring the sharp, sweet sensation. What if our sexual chemistry pales compared to Jack and me? It doesn’t matter. Some relationships are a slow burn. What we have is so satisfying that we’ll make it work.

My computer chimes with a reply.

Him: What time?

Seven?
That gives me just over two hours. I send my address.

Him: I’ll be there.

Shit. Is that enough time to get ready? My gaze ping-pongs around the apartment. It’s okay, but not perfect.
See you then.

I log off and run around tidying things that are out of place or embarrassing. He wouldn’t judge me for all the chick flicks in my DVD stand, but I move some of the cooler movies and classics to the top to display them more prominently. Half an hour later, after dusting and sweeping and vacuuming, I catch sight of my reflection while scouring the bathroom.

Shit! I forgot all about myself. Flat hair, pale skin from lack of sleep. Dark circles beneath my eyes. I have a situation here and might need more than an hour to fix it. My chest rises and falls as I breathe way too heavily—and suddenly I start laughing.

I don’t have to do a damn thing.

Because it’s Blake, and he loves me. He doesn’t give a shit what I look like. He loves me for who I am, not my looks, and I feel the same way about him. With us, what’s on the inside has always driven our feelings. It’s substantial, and no matter what, we have an amazing foundation to build upon.

So I head to the kitchen and take my time preparing supper, putting the chicken in the oven. Then I head to the bathroom and step into the shower. He loves me for who I am, but I still want to look nice. I’m just not going to drive myself up the wall aiming for perfection.

Not liking damp hair, I blow-dry and rub some shine serum into my hair, leaving it at that. Wanting to skip decisions about coordination, I choose a simple but cute blue jersey dress and apply some light, clean makeup—undoing the evidence of the hippie weekend. Clear lip gloss, an extra coat of mascara. It’s the most relaxing date preparation I’ve ever had, and it makes me even happier.

By the time I’m done, it’s almost seven and the doorbell rings. Right on time. I throw open the door and smile at…Jack? No, he can’t be here right now. Blake will arrive any second. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here right now.”

“You look beautiful.” He looks me over head to toe and pushes past me into my apartment. “Expecting company?”

“I am, actually.” He’s being uncharacteristically rude, but I did just break up with him after having him drive to a retreat center in far Jersey to get me. I owe him a few minutes and want to give him time—but not right now, with Blake on his way.

Jack paces in the same pattern on the same place in my living room that I walk when I’m burning off excess energy or trying to work something out, and it slams me in the heart. He’s so right for me. He’s conflicted and walking exactly where I do when I’m tangled up in knots.

“There are some things I have to tell you, and you might be mad, but you need to keep an open mind.”

“Another chance” twirls around my legs and slithers beneath my feet, unbalancing me because I do want to give him another chance. Jack’s an amazing man, and I was an idiot to think he’d cheat. He’s no closer to being my mother than I am. He deserves someone who appreciates and loves him on every level. I can do that. I see him for who he is, and I know I could trust this man with my life—with my heart. “Jack.”

The timer goes off on the oven, shattering the moment. Shit! The chicken. “Hang on.” The oven clock tells me Blake is now six minutes late, but I know he’ll be here soon, so I turn the oven off but leave the chicken inside so it stays warm. My emotional connection with Blake is the smarter choice. I can’t forget that, but I owe it to Jack to hear him out.

Jack’s still pacing when I return to the living room. I sit on the couch and wait for him to speak.

“Sometimes we do things…when we truly love someone…”

“Jack, please don’t think this was an easy decision for me. It was about what he gave me emotionally.”

“Fuck it.” He pulls out his phone and fiddles with it. Impatience itches my skin, but I try to give him time to collect his thoughts. My phone buzzes, and a chime sounds from my computer that I left on when I started cleaning.

My hand twitches, but I can’t get it while Jack’s here and so upset. That’s beyond rude. My phone buzzes again—probably Blake telling me why he’s late.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” Jack asks.

“I didn’t want to be rude and talk on my phone in front of you,” I say pointedly, hoping he’ll take the verbal nudge to start talking, but he misses the irony of the situation and continues screwing around with his phone. With an eye roll, I move to my desk and grab my phone. If Jack’s not going to talk to me, I can at least see what’s happening with Blake. Maybe it will give me an idea of how much time I have to give to Jack before Blake shows up.

The missed message is from Blake.
I’m right here.

The door steals my focus like a flower turns to the hot sun. Blake’s outside that door right now. I swallow hard, suddenly nervous, and not just because Jack is still here. Why hasn’t Blake knocked? I walk over and stare out the peephole, but the hall is empty. I open the door and look up and down the empty hall.

My phone beeps with another message.
I’m in your living room.

He’s… What? Shaky legs carry me back to the doorway, and I stare at Jack who smiles weakly and presses a button on his phone while looking me in the eyes. My world trembles.

My phone receives another message, and it’s a long moment before I can look at it
.
It’s Jack.
“What?” My brain stalls.

“I’m here for dinner, Sarah. I’m your Missed Connection.”

Chapter 33

Is this a trick? Is he doing this to sabotage Blake and me? But no, Jack’s not like that, and besides, how the hell would he have Blake’s Skype account? “What the hell is going on? What do you mean you’re my Missed Connection?” The impossibility of it pings through my mind. He can’t be. But he’s here and knows about the Missed Connection, and he’s walking toward me, swallowing my reasons with the intensity in his eyes. What about Blake? “You can’t be.”

“Why not?” His voice is soft.

Because I’d have known if it was you.
“Because…it can’t be you.”

“It wasn’t me when we ate Indian food and watched
Dirty Dancing
online? When I told you I took secret dancing lessons so I could be like Johnny? When you’d come home from work and talk to me online about your days and let me be there for you? It
was
me all along.”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Are you disappointed?” Jack stops just inches away.

“I don’t know how I feel.” I can barely breathe. I can’t believe it. “But I have your number. It’s not the same as my Missed Connection.”

“You’re the only one with this phone number. I wanted you to get to know me for real with no preconceived notions.” He scrolls back, showing me the messages from “Blake” over the past couple of months.

My hand clutches his phone—and the truth. He’s my Missed Connection, and I don’t know how to feel about this. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to but never found the right time.”

“The right time would have been anytime in the past two months, Jack! We talked almost every day. You could have told me every day that it was you. Or, I don’t know, maybe when I was downstairs breaking up with you to be with…you.”

“So you could tell me how we could never be a couple because we were too different and the best I could be to you is casual sex? And I didn’t know if you were breaking up with me for the Missed Connection or someone else. Not for sure. Not until you messaged me after I left.”

I can’t even deal with the thought of there being someone else besides Jack and Blake in the equation. The doorway is too crowded with Jack, me, and all my emotions crammed into it, so I push past Jack and walk into the living room.
Jack
is my Missed Connection? “Start from the beginning.”