Page 16 of The Making of Marnie Jones

Somehow, she needed to get her focus back. To stop obsessing over Jake McGrath. To concentrate on her life as it was, not what it might be. “When are you going to drop by the library? Loriana misses you.”

Tristan gave her his lopsided grin.

Everything would be okay.

But by that night, she was at her wits’ end. She’d last seen Jake on Friday morning. She’d expected him to keep up his campaign by coming to her house again, but he hadn’t. Unsure of how to react to the silence, she tried to go about her normal routine for the weekend, all the while waiting for him to appear.

The day before, she’d shopped for groceries, even though she hadn’t needed to, and then she topped up an almost-full gas tank. Today she’d headed to Starbucks, and enjoyed her time with Tristan, even if events from the past few days distracted her.

Frustrated, she hit the treadmill, trying to outrun the images of Jake’s devastation each time she rejected his requests to go with him. Inhaling sharply, she pushed the images away. Instead, she tried thinking of the other men of her acquaintance. Men who were safe because they’d never perceive her as anything other than a friend. Men like Seth, Colton, and Tristan.

With a wry grin, she mused over Loriana's hopeless attempts at matchmaking. Loriana remembered when a younger Tristan had been a frequent patron. When she learned about Marnie’s penchant for Starbucks, she’d begun her machinations.

Of course, the woman had no idea how impossible the situation was. Marnie was twenty-four to Tristan's twenty-three, but they were so far apart in experience it might as well have been a hundred-year gap. She was old in a way that had nothing to do with chronological age. His life experience simply couldn't compare to hers. No one's could.

Except Olivia Bater’s.

She freely admitted she liked the young man. He was smart and funny, dedicated and loyal. One day he’d make a great partner, just not for her, because marriage wasn’t in her future. No one deserved to be saddled with her. Her emotional baggage alone filled a house. There wouldn't be enough room for love, romance, or companionship—all the things necessary to make a good marriage.

She accepted her single status. Her self-contained existence was safe. No brown-haired, blue-eyed hunk was going to change that.

Yeah, right.

How had she circled back to Jake McGrath? She cursed under her breath. The man was too good-looking by far, and probably aware of it as well. No wonder he’d chosen a job that put him in front of the camera—he was a hunk. And had self-assurance to spare...except when it came to Olivia. He seemed almost broken when he discussed his niece, the cocky attitude whisked away by despair. His faith in Marnie’s ability to help Olivia stole her breath, seeing as she’d never helped anyone in her life.

How did she feel about the end of his campaign to change her mind? A bit sad, because, despite everything, she enjoyed their interactions. The idea of there being nothing further was disappointing—which made no sense.

Still, her curiosity was piqued. Was she capable of helping Olivia? Would meeting another survivor help or hinder her own recovery? She lowered the speed of the treadmill. What recovery? If she was healed, why did the thought of discovery cause such panic? If she was settled in her new life, why did she wonder if she’d have to give it up should her actual identity become known?

Jake McGrath had the ability to shatter her world into a million shards, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to find the strength to put the pieces back together.

Chapter seven

“So,I’mhopingyouwon’t be too angry with me.”

Marnie’s gaze snapped to her boss, her brow furrowing in concern. “Loriana, there’s nothing you could do to make me angry with you.”

“You say that now.” Loriana glanced at the clock on the wall. “I might have some news for you.”

“And what’s that?” She suspected but waited for confirmation.

“Jake McGrath will be here in about two minutes to take you out to lunch.” The words came out in a rush, and Loriana picked up several books and pivoted to put them on the trolley.

Unsure who she was angrier with, Marnie rounded on her boss. “When did you two hatch this little plan?”

The older woman had the decency to look a little chagrinned, but the expression was fleeting.

She put her hands on her hips. “He called yesterday to apologize for coming to the library under false pretenses. He admitted he should’ve been honest with both of us from the first. And he wanted another chance.” Her boss appeared thoughtful. “If I’m out of line, I apologize. I was the one who investigated him when I stuck my nose into some place where it didn’t belong.”

“You weren’t.” Marnie was quick to reassure. She was upset, but staying mad at Loriana was hard because the woman only had Marnie’s best interests at heart. “You did what I ought to have done at the beginning.” She tried to tamp down the panic at the notion of seeing Jake. Of what he might’ve said to Loriana. “Did he tell you why he was here?”

Shaking her head, Loriana brushed the top of the circulation desk. “Don’t think I didn’t try to pry the information from him, but he’s almost as closemouthed as you are.” She placed her hand on Marnie’s. “You know you can trust me, right? That you can talk to me about anything? You can tell me whatever, and I’ll keep your confidence?”

Marnie jumped at the touch, then stared, speechless. Although she liked and respected her boss, she’d never contemplated sharing her secrets, or opening up that part of her kept separate from everyone. This physical contact made her heart race, and she fought the urge to yank her hand back because the connection was alien, uncomfortable. She cleared her throat. “I’m not sure what to say.”

“Say you’ll keep an open mind. The man seems earnest—which I appreciate. To be clear, though, if you don’t want to see him again, I’ll support that decision. I don’t want you to do anything you’ll come to regret.” Loriana squeezed, then let go.

Oddly, despite the earlier discomfort, Marnie felt the loss of connection acutely.

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