“I’ll take it under advis—Jane.” She was in the kitchen, her eyes more or less on his ass, but at the sound of her name, she lifted her gaze to his eyes.
“I was going to get more coffee after all,” she said, “but I think I’m going to call it a night.” She looked between the two of them, then back to Dallas. “Are you ready to leave, too? Or can you find another way home?”
“I’m ready,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Five minutes later they’d said their goodbyes and were heading to the corner where Dallas had told the driver to meet them.
“Jane, listen—”
“You son of a bitch.”
“Excuse me?”
She stopped dead a few feet from the car and looked up at him. “Do you think I don’t know what you’ve been keeping from me?”
His entire body turned to ice. Colin. How the hell had she figured out about Colin?
“Do you think I couldn’t see exactly what you were hiding in there?” she continued, before he could respond.
He was frozen, but somehow he managed to thaw out his tongue enough to say her name. “Jane, please—”
But she just pressed on.
“You’ve slept with her,” she blurted. And even as tears spilled down her cheeks, a wash of warm relief swept over him. “You’ve actually slept with Adele.”
Mrs. Robinson
“Jane—”
“No.” I hold up my hand, my palm itching to slap him.
“Dammit, Jane, just listen to me.”
“Honestly, Dallas, I’m really not in the mood.” There’s a cab moving slowly down the street, and I flag it. “You take the car. Enjoy the drive. Hell, maybe Adele needs a lift.”
I almost regret saying the last when I see the hurt on his face. Then I remember that he hurt me first. I slam the cab door shut and tell the driver to take me to the Upper West Side.
On the way, my phone rings five times, each call from Dallas.
I send each one to voicemail. And then, for good measure, I delete the voicemails.
Jerk.
I mean, what the hell? He’s more than willing to tell me he’s slept with a zillion vapid women and yet he never thought to mention that he was fucking my stepmother?
Granted, she wasn’t technically my stepmother, but that little fact didn’t lessen the hurt.
I’m still pissed when I get home and my phone rings again. I’m about to just turn off the damn phone altogether when I realize the call isn’t from Dallas but from the guy in LA who’s producing the movie.
“Joel, I’m here.”
“Janie, Janie, sweetheart, Tarpin’s over the moon. Loves the material. Loves you. Everyone at the studio’s excited about him. He’s ready to sign on.”
“Seriously? I was just talking about him and the movie tonight. That’s so incredible.”
“Just one little thing. He wants to meet you first.”
“Me?”
“Since the screenplay’s not done, he wants to chat a bit. Make sure he’s confident in the direction of the story.”
“And the book’s not enough for him?”
Joel chuckles. “Baby, this is Hollywood. Just meet us at The Ivy at ten tomorrow for breakfast and all will be good.”
I start to tell him that I’m in New York, but what the hell. It’s not like I really want to be here at the moment anyway. And if I set up the flight right now, I can nap on the plane and still have time to go to my LA house, shower, then change before the meeting.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll see you at ten.”
I hang up and immediately call Brody. “Hey,” I say when he answers, “I have to go to LA tonight so I can meet an actor for a breakfast meeting.”
“Tonight? It’s already past ten. You’ll never get a flight.”
“One of the perks of my family name,” I remind him. “Nice, comfy private jet. Anyway, I just wanted you to know because I think I’m going to stay out there awhile and work on the screenplay and the new book.”
There is a very loud pause from his side of the phone line.
“You want to talk about it?”
I close my eyes and silently curse. The man really does know me too well. “You know, I really don’t.”
“Whatever he did, I’m betting he’s not quite the asshole you think he is.”
“Probably not,” I admit, “but right now it doesn’t feel that way.”
“Well, do me a favor, and don’t celebrate your birthday alone. Go out with your LA friends. Drink. Dance. Go to the beach. But don’t sit in your house and work. More important, don’t sit in your house and mope about Dallas.”
“I won’t,” I promise, but even as I say the words, I remember the concert. Dallas and I were already planning on flying to LA tomorrow for the Dominion Gate concert and my birthday celebration. Now, it looks like I’m going all on my own.
And you know what? That’s just fine by me.