One Breathless Night(10)

“Just the water, thanks,” she said. “With aspirin. That was a great idea. Do you mind if I finish going through my texts at the table?”

“Not at all. But I think you might be more comfortable on the couch. It’ll warm you up faster. If you’d like me to disappear for a while...”

“You’ve already seen me crying with makeup all over my face.” The way she looked at him made him still. He hoped he hadn’t pushed too hard. Finally, she shook her head. “You don’t have to leave. But I want to give you your privacy, as well.”

“I’ll be in the kitchen or my bedroom.” He pointed to a door across from the large living room. “The bathroom’s there,” he said. “The second bedroom is through the door on the right.”

“Got it, thanks. This place is huge. It must cost a fortune.”

“Just about,” he said. “Or it will when Sam works out all the bugs. We’re only the third people who’ve stayed in it. At the end of our stay, we fill out a survey, which is very specific and long. Totally worth every moment spent. Then Sam will make adjustments, and there will be at least two more test runs. All old friends from our MIT days.”

“Lucky them. Hell, lucky me.”

He smiled, then quickly filled two glasses with water and retrieved the aspirin from the bathroom. Jenna had taken his advice and she looked comfortable on the sofa. She was already reading her texts so he moved as quietly as possible when he set down the water and pills, plus a box of tissues just in case.

He made a stop in the bedroom to get out of his tux. He was sorry Jenna didn’t have her own things with her, but they’d get by. He put on some jeans and a long-sleeved Henley, and then returned to the kitchen.

After he took his own aspirin, he settled on a stool at one of the high counters, his back to Jenna. The wet bar was nearby, but he wanted to be sober when he read the rest of the texts from Faith. This wasn’t going to be easy for him. Or her. Now that he was thinking clearly, he was worried about her. Despite everything, they’d been friends for a long time, and he wanted to know she was safe.

He’d already read the first three texts, so he began with number four.

More apologies followed, then the subject circled back to worry. She wanted to know if he was in the hotel. If he’d left. Did he know where Jenna was, because Payton was worried.

That one pissed him off. But when he read the next text—This is just cruel—his gut clenched.

The hell with sobriety, he wanted a Scotch. Because she was right. It had been cruel. He’d been hurt. Humiliated.

Leaving without telling her where he’d be going, well, shit, what had she expected? But he should’ve texted her the address of the apartment. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been there, but he’d made the arrangements, and of course, Faith had no reason to think they weren’t going home together. Even if he’d said outright that he’d rather she didn’t come back.

She’d done a hurtful thing in a very public way on a stupidly significant night, but he was reasonably sure she’d done them both a favor. Marriage would have been a mistake.

From the living room, Rick heard Jenna sniffle. And there might have been a sob in there, too.

Wondering if Faith was doing the same thing out there somewhere sent him scrolling to the latest message. If she needed him, he wouldn’t desert her.

I’m heading to Payton’s guest room. Please let me know you’re all right. I’m assuming you’ll send me the apartment address when you sober up.

The next text gave him Payton’s phone number and that made him sad, as well.

He immediately texted her that he was fine and gave her the address. It was snowing hard. She wouldn’t be popping up anytime soon. Then he typed:

I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have left like that. We’ll talk.

He could have said more, but he wanted the rest to be in person. Texts were great for a lot of things, but telling Faith he’d be moving out wasn’t one of them.

As he waited for a response, which might never come, he went to the living room to see if Jenna was all right. It was easy to see that she wasn’t, though he’d already known she’d been crying.

At this point he’d said everything there was to say without getting in her business. If she asked, he’d try to find her transportation to wherever she lived, but he doubted she’d be able to get there. But then, with Faith staying with Payton, perhaps it was a good thing Jenna was here.

Jenna, her eyes red and her face flushed, looked up at him. “This is awful. He doesn’t understand that everything’s changed. He thinks I’m the one being ridiculous because he’s apologized and I’m still upset.” She sniffed and picked up another tissue from the box. There was a pile of them on her lap. “Sorry. You’ve got your own things to deal with.” She held up the box. “Want one?”

He smiled and shook his head. God, how he wanted to comfort her.

“I’m going to take you up on that offer of the second bedroom.”

Perfectly understandable, and he’d already guessed the night might go like this, but damn if he wasn’t disappointed. That comforting thing tended to work both ways.

“No problem. I have something clean for you to sleep in. I was thinking of having another drink before bed. Would you like one? The pantry is full of teas and hot chocolate.”

She perked up a bit. “I’d love some hot chocolate, but you don’t have to make it for me.”

“I’m making myself one. It’s simple enough to make two.”

She nodded. Winced at the tissues on her lap.

“Hang tight,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

Rick went to the kitchen and found a smallish pot. Then he put some milk on to heat. After he made sure the fire was low, he looked back at the sofa, at Jenna’s profile. Even with her red-rimmed eyes and her sad smile she was beautiful. He wanted her more than he should have. Not that he begrudged her the second bedroom. In fact, it was probably the best thing to do, but he’d have liked more.

Kissing Jenna had startled him. The way she fit in his arms, the taste of her, her lips, her style, the soft moans of pleasure that made him ache to know what she’d sound like in bed.

But she wanted to be alone and he’d give her that. And a paper bag for her tissues.

“Thanks,” she said. “Again. For everything.”

“No problem. The drinks are coming soon. I’ll go grab that T-shirt for you. I can bring you your mug in the bedroom when it’s ready. Or...”

“No. That’s okay. I mean, yes, I’d like to borrow a T-shirt, but I wasn’t planning on going to bed for a while.”

“Oh. That’s good. Great. I’ll just—” He pointed to the kitchen as he moved in that direction.

After a quick check on the milk, he went into his bedroom. His suitcase, along with Faith’s, were still in the closet. Payton, he felt sure, was supplying her with whatever she’d need for the night.

After zipping away Faith’s things, he grabbed his T-shirt from the National Weather Center. Lucky he had an extra. Curse of being a storm chaser.

Jenna had the tissue box and her used tissues in hand as she stood. “I’ll go put these in the—” She tilted her head toward the second bedroom.

“Yeah,” he said. “There’s a trash can in the en suite.” He headed to the kitchen where the milk was close to boiling, so he poured in the powder from two packages. Godiva chocolate. He imagined Jenna would like it.

He hoped she’d meant it, about staying up. It was nearly three thirty and she’d been through the wringer. It wouldn’t surprise him if she crashed right there on the couch in the middle of drinking her hot cocoa. But he wanted to talk with her more. Even if she all she wanted to do was vent, though Rick hoped they could move on to other subjects. He liked her wit, her strength. Her life had just taken a turn that could result in repercussions for years to come, but she wasn’t about to take Payton’s crap in order to save face, or to get that wedding band around her finger and hope she’d change him later.

Maybe that was why his situation with Faith seemed so easy to handle. Comparatively, he’d gotten off easily. Now that some of the shock and hurt had eased, he knew that Faith and he would be friends again, although the idea to look for a new apartment had started to take root. It would be good for both of them to feel free to see other people.

After adding a hit of peppermint schnapps to his drink, he saw Jenna enter the great room. She’d let her hair down and it fell to her shoulders in gentle waves. Her face was far less puffy, but the closer she got, the more he could tell her sadness hadn’t abated.

“Just poured you a cup,” he said, and then held up the bottle of schnapps. “Peppermint?”

“No, thanks. I have a lot to think about, and liquor won’t help.”

“It might help you sleep.”

“I’m still wired, but once the adrenaline stops making me want to scream, I’ll probably fade like a punctured balloon.”

“Well, then, why don’t we go back to the couch. I’m almost an impartial observer. As close as you’re going to find tonight. Feel free to say what you like. I promise not to repeat a word.” He put the schnapps down and picked up the T-shirt. “It’s the most comfortable one I own.”