There was a stunned silence, and then, “Jayne as in Jayne the nanny?”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Yes, of course. Unless you know any other Jayne you might be having an affair with.”
I felt him move up behind me, but he was smart enough not to touch me. “There is no affair, Mellie. With Jayne or anyone else. Why would you even think that?” He sounded genuinely surprised.
“Because the other day when I took the kids to the park, we came back to the house and were in the kitchen. We heard you and Jayne in the foyer, practicing golf, and you were laughing. And then it was . . . quiet.” It was hard for me to say that last word.
There was a long moment of silence, and my heart sank. I dipped my chin, then glanced back at him. His teeth gleamed in the moonlight and I realized he was grinning, a big, wide, open grin that he only did when he was really amused.
“Oh, Mellie. Sometimes I wonder why I’m the writer and not you, because you have one heck of an imagination.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, allowing indignation to creep into my voice.
“Well, if you’d just walked a few steps farther into the foyer, you would have found Jayne and me at the bottom of the steps, listening to Nola in her bedroom. She was singing, and plucking something out on her guitar. She said she mentioned to you that she was having a dry spell, and that had me worried. I was just so grateful that she was making music again, and we didn’t want to disturb her.”
“Was it any good?” I asked, momentarily distracted.
“For other people, maybe, but it wasn’t up to her standards. She’s having a creative block. I’ve told her to just keep working through it and she’ll eventually get to the other side. That’s why I didn’t want to bother her.
“I left Jayne to pick up all the golf balls, and I went back to my study to write.”
I felt him come up on his knees behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders.
“Mellie, after all we’ve been through, you’re supposed to trust me now. Without trust on both sides, we can’t have a strong marriage. You know that, right?”
I nodded, trying to focus on his words instead of the way his hands felt on my bare shoulders. “But she’s young, and pretty. And thin. And you were laughing. What was I supposed to think?”
“Anything but what you were thinking. Mellie. You are the most beautiful woman to me, just the way you are. I married you because I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and raise our children together. There is nobody else I want to do that with.”
My eyes prickled with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m so sorry. I just, well, I guess I still have abandonment issues that I’m trying to work out. I’m trying, though. I really am.”
I turned to face him, admiring the way the moonlight skipped across the strong bones of his face, making him look like a marble statue. But when I put my hands on his chest, there was nothing cool or marble about him.
“I love you, Mellie. Despite all reason and sanity, I find that I can’t live without you. All I ask is that you trust me.”
I leaned forward, pressing my body against his. “I do,” I whispered against his lips. “Although I think you could have said that in a nicer way.”
With a quick movement, startling General Lee enough to make him leap to the relative safety of the floor, Jack had me pinned on the bed. “Maybe I can convince you in other ways.” He bent his head to my neck and began to kiss his way up to my ear.
I grinned. “I’d like to see you try.”
My cell phone began to ring again and I grappled for it on the nightstand. Without looking at the number, I turned it off and tossed it across the room, eager to test out my mother’s theory about make-up sex.
CHAPTER 22
Iwaved good-bye to my mother as she dropped me off in front of Henderson House Realty. She’d taken me to Gwyn’s in Mt. Pleasant to shop for a dress for Marc’s book launch party after she insisted that sewing two old bedspreads together and cutting holes for my head and arms would not be an appropriate gown for the occasion.
I entered the reception area, eager to immerse myself in work so I could forget about the whole episode of trying on dresses, or the reason why I’d been forced into it. Apparently, none of the dresses in my closet actually fit, according to my mother, even if I did manage to get a zipper all the way to the top without any tearing noises. I had no idea when she’d become such a fashion expert, but she seemed to believe that Kim Kardashian–tight was not a good look for me. I wouldn’t have minded the comparison if I hadn’t caught sight of myself in the mirror from behind and realized that Kim and I had a lot more in common than I ever could have imagined.
“Mamamamama!”