Chapter 134
JUSTINE DROVE NORTH on the Pacific Coast Highway. The sun had set. She’d just left her fifth session with her therapist, Ellen Hayes, since returning from Mexico. Things were better. Not perfect. But better. She’d gotten perspective on what had happened to her in the jail cell in Guadalajara, and on the Harlows, especially now that she and Jack had put the screws to them.
But Justine remained unsure of how and where to talk to Paul, and what she should say to him. She hadn’t gone to Crossfit once since coming back for fear of running into him. Her therapist had recommended the direct approach in a quiet, neutral venue, like a Starbucks.
Was that the way to go?
I need a man’s perspective, Justine thought, and it became clear to her that she had to go to Jack’s. And then she realized that subconsciously she’d already been on her way there.
I’ll tell him, she decided. Everything. I’ll ask his advice.
A few minutes later, Justine almost pulled into his driveway but saw two cars she didn’t recognize. That wasn’t unusual. One of Jack’s few vices, besides Midleton Very Rare Irish Whiskey, was a love of high-performance cars.
He bought and traded them all the time.
Justine parked up the street, thought about calling ahead but figured Jack wouldn’t be upset if she just knocked on his door. He said any time I wanted to talk, didn’t he?
Jack’s house was set slightly down the bank. A high hedge helped block it from the highway bustle. Justine was almost to the end of that hedge, almost to his driveway, when she heard a door open, footsteps, and a woman laughing.
Jack joined her, saying, “I swear to God!”
The woman said, “I like you, Jack Morgan. You are a funny guy.”
Justine knew that voice, that accent, didn’t she? Australian? “And I don’t think I know a smarter, funnier, or more beautiful woman,” Jack replied.
Unable to help herself now, Justine peered through the hedge and saw Guin Scott-Evans climbing into the passenger side of a black Mercedes sports car. She looked absolutely stunning.
Justine’s stomach fell a long, long way, and she was suddenly hyperaware that she was horribly alone in life. Jack was dating Guin Scott-Evans? When had that started? The memory of what Justine had once had with Jack seemed almost suffocating right then.
“Not sexy?” Guin said, and shut the door of the Mercedes.
“Oh, you’ve got that sexy thing in spades and aces,” Jack said, climbing into the driver’s side, shutting the door, and starting the engine.
For a second there, as Jack was getting into that Mercedes, Justine saw him clearly in the light. He looked genuinely happy, the kind of happy you didn’t see often. It was that rare a thing.
Justine spun around and hurried away up the sidewalk as the Mercedes backed out and drove off, heading south. She stood by her car, watched them leave. Jack’s taillights blurred into every other taillight in Los Angeles and disappeared.
For a long moment, Justine just stood there, staring off at the point where she’d lost them, telling herself it was good that Jack had someone new and exciting in his life, even though it made her realize she had feelings for Jack that she just couldn’t ignore. She couldn’t stop herself from hoping that maybe one day, they would make it work. You’ve done a lot of things tougher than this, little sister.
Wiping away a few tears, Justine already felt stronger, as if she’d shouldered the weight and was ready to do the heavy lifting in her life again.