As he eased toward the darkness beyond the porch, a wave of panic swept over her. The window of opportunity was closing. Fast. If she didn’t act, it would slam shut within seconds.
“Wait.” The repeated request came out strangled, and she swallowed. “Please.”
He hesitated, but every taut line of his body said he was primed to disappear into the night.
It was now or perhaps never.
She cleared her throat and took the plunge. “If you have a few more minutes, I could use a sympathetic ear.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and remained where he was. “Wouldn’t you rather talk about this with a friend? Someone you have a history with?”
He was trying to bail.
Not surprising, but an ego hit nonetheless. Her skills with the male species must be as sadly lacking as her persuasive powers, in light of her failed attempts to convince Rose to play at the open house.
“I don’t have any close friends. My parents shared custody, so I spent the school year in one state and summers in another. None of my grade school friendships survived. I lost touch with my high school friends after we graduated and went our separate ways. I was a commuter student in college, which isn’t conducive to forming friendships. Being a nose-in-the-book studious type doesn’t lead to many friendships either.”
“What about career friends?”
“The series of positions I had kept me on the move while I inched closer to my dream job in Tennessee, where Jason occupied my time. Until he didn’t.” She exhaled as Jon edged deeper into the shadows. She’d have to give him an out. If he didn’t want to stay, coercing him into lingering would accomplish nothing. “If you don’t want to listen to my sad tale, I understand.”
He froze. “I didn’t say that.”
“Your body language does. You seem poised to flee.”
After a few moments, he slowly returned to the porch and reclaimed his seat on the step. “I can listen.”
She released the breath she’d been holding.
First hurdle on the path to friendship cleared.
Gathering her thoughts, Ashley set her chair in motion again. “This is . . . it’s hard to talk about.”
“I get that.”
Yeah, he would, if his fiancée had thrown him over.
“Let me go back to your earlier question. Yes, Jason was a boyfriend. One I believed was destined to become more.” She leaned her head back against the tall rocker and looked up at the stars twinkling through the diaphanous furls of fog beginning to swirl through the night.
Several seconds ticked by.
“How did you two meet?”
It was a natural follow-up question, but based on the lag, Jon had had to dig deep for it. As if he was pulling his conversational skills out of the dusty corner of an attic.
“At a society soiree held on the grounds of the historic house where I worked. One of those charitable affairs where people pay five hundred bucks or more for dinner to support a worthy cause. I was there in a professional capacity, as part of my job coordinating special events. He was a guest. We chatted, he called, we started dating. I thought I’d found my dream job and my dream guy in one fell swoop.” She gave a humorless laugh. “Wrong. About the guy, anyway.”
“He didn’t end up being Prince Charming?”
“More like a frog.” She rocked harder as all the repressed hurt came surging back. “He began canceling dates at the last minute, always for what seemed to be valid excuses. He had to work late on a hot project. His boss had tapped him for an unexpected business trip. A promising client was in town and had to be wined and dined.”
“None of that was true?” Jon’s voice was quiet, but there was a hard edge to it.
“I imagine some of it was. He did have a busy, high-profile job in investment banking. But I doubt most of his excuses were legit. And the last one sure wasn’t.” Another wave of pain washed over her, along with a heaping dose of humiliation.
Jon twisted toward her, his features masked by the darkness, his posture relaxed. Yet there was leashed anger in his inflection. “What happened?”
“Another last-minute out-of-town meeting came up—on his birthday. I canceled the dinner reservation I’d made but decided to at least give him a memorable homecoming. So I got a giant happy birthday banner, a bunch of balloons, and garland and went over to his house to decorate his garage door. It was a rear-entry job, and I wanted him to be surprised when he pulled in. Except I was the one who was surprised.”
“He was home.” Jon’s flat tone suggested he already knew the ending to her story.
“Uh-huh. And not alone. There was a BMW convertible in the driveway. At first, I wondered if someone had stopped by to check the house and get his mail while he was gone, but through the privacy hedge in back I could see him sitting on the edge of his pool. A blond was wrapped around him like an octopus, and there was some heavy stuff going on.”
“Did you confront him?” The steel in his manner returned.
“No. I’ve never been the confrontational type. I waited for him to call me. Two days later, he did. He stuck with his out-of-town story until I told him what I’d seen.”
“Did he try to backpedal?”
“On the contrary. He was brutally honest.” Thank goodness the darkness hid the blush of mortification on her cheeks. “He said that when we met, he’d been getting over a breakup and needed someone to fill the gap until he found a new girlfriend. After he met Debra—the blond—he strung me along until he was certain she was the one. He said he’d been planning to break up with me in the next few days.”
Jon muttered an unintelligible phrase. “There’s a term for men like him.”
“I know, and it’s not fit for polite company.” She tried to inject a light note into her reply but couldn’t quite pull it off. “To rub salt in the wound, he said he could never fall for someone whose biggest thrill in life was rooting through dusty archives and uncovering arcane facts of history. In other words, a boring loser.” Hard as she tried to remain in control, the last few syllables wavered. Worse yet, a sniff escaped.
Dang.
Crying hadn’t been in her plans. She was past that with Jason. He didn’t deserve any more of her tears.
“Hey.” Jon leaned toward her, extended a hand . . . then pulled it back. “I’m sorry he hurt you. And the way I see it, there was only one loser in the scenario you described—and it wasn’t you.”