Page 33 of Perfect Mess

If the declaration that Ashley Griffin had been jealous of me was difficult to wrap my head around, the admission that Jack had been staring at me, me, was absolutely mind blowing. “Why were you staring at me?” In all those years back in high school, I was convinced that Jack Thompson didn’t even know I existed. And now to hear him say he was staring at me?WTF?

Jack shrugged. “What, you think I never noticed how you would look at me? It seemed like every time I turned around, you were there.”Fair.Jack’s eyes twinkled like diamonds. “I mean, come on, you were a cute girl. I was a teenage boy. What can I say? I was intrigued.”

I had to hold on to my chair to keep myself from falling over.Jack Thompson thought I was cute????

“Anyway, I want to apologize. Truly.” Jack looked me right in the eye. “I would do anything, Mary, anything to take it all back.”

I had to take a deep breath to give myself a moment to calm down. If I would have known back in high school what I had just found out, my entire life would have been completely different. Somehow, I gathered my wits and made my lips move. “It was twenty years ago. We’re both adults now. You’ve changed, I’ve changed.” I didn’t need the horrors of the past tainting the present. I just wanted to forget high school and move on. “What’s done is done.”

Jack’s eyes drifted over my fingers. My bare fingers. Fingers that were not wearing any rings.

“You’re still single?” His lips pressed together, his eyes like a lion stalking prey.

“I am.”

“Never settled down?”

“I don’t settle,” I said.

Jack smiled. Lion fangs peeking out between his lips. “You ever get close? To settling I mean.”

“I was serious about someone once. A long time ago. A guy I met after college. He was a nice guy. A fantastic guy, actually, but it ended badly.”

Jack took a slow sip of his drink. “What happened?”

“We just didn’t fit.”

“Sorry about that.”

“I’m not. You live and you learn, right?” I took another sip of my coffee. “What about you?” I asked. “Ever get married?”

Jack shook his head. “I was engaged, though.” He held up two fingers. “Twice. Well, three times if you count Charla.”

“Charla?”

“You know that saying, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas? Well, she didn’t stay.” Jack’s face made it clear he didn’t want to elaborate.

“You bought her a ring?”

Jack frowned. “I think so.”

“Well, it seems to me that if you put a ring on a woman’s finger, she should count. Even if her name is Charla.”

Jack passed me a napkin, which I used to wipe away the pistachio flavored cold foam from my chin. “So let me guess,” I said. “All these women you thought you were in love with, not a fit?”

“Something like that.” Again, Jack seemed less than eager to elaborate. Instead, he peered out the window where a Bill Murray look-alike in a yellow fedora swatted his putter across the green. Jack asked, “So if golf isn’t your game, what is? Actually no, wait, don’t tell me, let me guess.”

“Okay.”

Jack contemplatively rubbed at his chin. “Full contact karate.”

“Nope.”

“Big game hunting.”

“Not that one either.”

“Ah, I got it. Cage free shark diving.”

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