Importantly, they both gave me their assurance that they’d say nothing to Cletus and Jennifer about the whole ugly ordeal. I appreciated their understanding. Close as we were to the engagement party, Jennifer—and Cletus, for that matter—didn’t need to be fretting about Kipling, not after what they’d been through last year with Kip’s mistress Elena Wilkinson and her psychotic sister.
Flopping down heavily in my chair, I glanced at the clock over the mantel of the fireplace, an old French black marble chiming clock my grandfather had purchased in New York City specifically for this office. When it worked, I loved the sound it made as it struck the hour. The sound never failed to remind me of afternoons spent in this very room as a child, watching my grandpa rule the world.
But the clock had stopped working years ago, and I sorta felt that way about myself too.
As far as I knew, the clock had never been moved by anyone from its current position. I dusted around it, and I imagine the maids who’d serviced the office during my grandfather’s time had done the same, seeing as how it was far too heavy for one person to lift.
But soon, I’d send it—and myself—away to be fixed. Sure, sending the clock away meant risking harm to it, but wasn’t it better to take the risk than to just sit in place and never work? Collecting dust? Being no good to anybody? At least, that’s how I felt about myself.
I also suspected the Lodge and Jennifer would be safer once I left. Kip wouldn’t come around and give Jennifer a hard time, Cletus and his brothers would see to that. My ex would be forced to let his claim on the Lodge—and me—go.
Since the clock was only correct twice a day, I pulled my phone from my bag to check the time and frowned at the sight of a text I’d missed while dealing with Kipling and Miller.
Jason: Waited three days. Calling you now.
The message read like a riddle. I set the phone down, feeling oddly breathless and angry. Then I snatched it up and began typing my scathing reply. But before I could, the phone vibrated again.
Jason: Google told me I had to wait three days after a first date to call the woman I can’t stop think about if I don’t want to come across as desperate. Did I wait long enough or is this Google thing bullshit?
A surprised laugh bubbled out of me, and I pressed my fingertips to my lips. And just like that, all the disappointment and frustration I’d been carrying around because I hadn’t heard from Jason after our date simply evaporated.
With a happy smile, I deleted the scathing reply and typed something new.
Diane: In the future, please ignore Google and call whenever you’d like.
An uncontrollable smile bloomed, and I giggled with glee when those tantalizing three dots appeared, warning of an incoming message. If Monsieur Auclair had been present, he would’ve looked down his nose at me in disapproval, staring at my phone like a teenager with a crush.
Oh well. C'est la vie.
But then in the next moment the dots disappeared, and I almost jumped out of my skin because my phone rang. Jason was calling me. Sucking in a steadying breath, I closed my eyes and told my heart to behave. Then, clearing my throat, I answered his call.
“Hello?”
“Gorgeous.”
I tried very hard not to feel like a schoolgirl talking to the boy she liked, and I failed. “Hello, Jason.”
He made a short, happy humming sound. “I do like how you say my name.”
“Well good. Because I do like saying your name. What’s up?”
“You said to call whenever I like.”
I needed to stand up. One cannot simply sit still while one is overwhelmed by reciprocated feelings. “So, I did. How are things?”
“I miss you.”
Closing my eyes again and pairing it with a full-face scrunch, I struggled to contain my excitement and managed an only slightly self-contained, “And I miss you.”
“What are you doing tonight?”
I fiddled with the front of my jacket, lamenting the loss of corded phones. Those springy plastic cords were great for fiddling with while on calls. “I don’t know what I’m doing tonight. I guess that depends.”
“On what?”
“It depends on what you have in mind.”
He chuckled. The deep, rich, rumbly sound vibrating in my bones. “Oh now, I’m not sure I should say what’s on my mind.”
Fireworks bursting in my heart, I muted my side of the call and squeed, doing a ridiculous dance in my office. If anyone had walked in, they would’ve thought I’d fallen off my rocker.
“Diane? Are you there?”
Hurriedly, I unmuted the line. “Yes. I’m here.” I had to clear my throat again; it was not accustomed to creating such a forceful squee. “And if you’re asking me if I’m free tonight because you’d like to get together, I am.”
“How about now? Can you leave early?”
“Uh . . .” I tried to think. I knew I didn’t have any more meetings, but I did have some errands to run for Jennifer.
“I haven’t seen you for three days.” He said this like three days was the equivalent of three decades.
“Before that, you didn’t see me for longer.” I giggled. Just full on giggled. Like a giggling giggler. This was Jason’s influence on my good sense and maturity level, heaven help me. “And before that, you didn’t see me for a year.”
“Maybe. But that was before Henry got a taste of what spending time with Beth would be like.”
I turned and leaned fully against the wall, swooning, placing a hand over my swelling heart. “Can I meet you at my place in an hour? I have a few errands to run for the bakery.”
Jason hesitated before suggesting, “How about I send you an address?”
I meandered over to the mantel clock, tangentially wondering if I could send for someone to come fix the clock where it resided. “What kind of address?” Why send it away if it could be fixed in place?
“An address to a house with a gate. I’ll send the gate code, too.”
“How far away is it? Whose house is it? Is it your house?”
He chuckled. “It’s not too far from the Lodge. You can interrogate me about the rest once we’re there.”
“If we’re not meeting at my place, then I’ll need to change.” I glanced down at my pantsuit. There was nothing wrong with it, I knew that. But Kipling’s dig earlier about my thighs echoed between my ears. My thighs wouldn’t be as visible if I wore a dress. “Two hours?”
“Diane, don’t go home and change. Come as you are.” His tone was an odd mix of commanding and beseeching, but mostly commanding. It didn’t upset me, but it did make me want to take my sweet time changing and getting ready before heading over to this mystery house, just to be contrary.
But then he added, “It’s you I want to see, gorgeous. Not your clothes.”
Chapter Eleven
*Jason*
“Raise your voice until you are heard. Look however you want, be whoever you want, and demand people pay attention to you. Stop taking what you’re given, and demand the space in life you want.”
K.F. Breene, Magical Midlife Madness