Page 52 of A Gingerbread Romance

He swallowed the bite of sandwich, took a swig of iced tea, and wiped his mouth, then headed for the door in his hooded sweatshirt and joggers.

He unlocked and opened the door, and his jaw went slack.

“Hey, handsome, how are you?” she said with a tease in her voice. Carla. Jonathan almost choked on the tea still in his throat.

“I’m fine,” he said, unwilling to disguise the irritation in his voice. “What are you doing here, Carla?”

“Well, that’s no way to greet an old girlfriend,” she said flirtatiously with a dramatic shake of her long, perfectly styled dark hair. “May I come in, please?” she said bluntly, batting her lashes.

He heaved a sigh. “That depends,” he said. “What do you want?” He crossed his arms.

She sighed with an equal amount of frustration and dropped the phony friendly tone. “Jonathan, don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m just here to ask you for a favor. It’s about Don.”

He opened the door and waved her in with one hand. “Don?”

It had been three years since he’d seen Carla with any regularity. Three years since he’d owed her any favors, as couples were likely to do. Three years since she’d set foot in his—formerly, their—spacious and well-appointed apartment. He walked to the kitchen, which sat adjacent to the living room in an open concept design, then leaned against the countertop with its dark granite surface and porcelain backsplash, crossing his arms. She followed him and leaned against the center island to face him.

“Wow, the place looks good,” she said approvingly, with a glance around.

“What’s going on?” he asked, ignoring the compliment.

“It’s no big deal,” she said. “I just thought after we ran into each other recently that maybe we could be friends again?” Jonathan raised a brow.

Carla went on. “And… Don needs a commercial real estate agent to help him find a warehouse space to set up his new gym, so I just thought maybe you’d be willing to help him out? Maybe even cut him a deal? He’ll be renting, of course, though, not buying.”

Jonathan stared at her. The woman was unbelievable.

“A deal? As in, I drop a few thousand dollars from my commission in order to make Don’s life easier, the way I’d do for a good friend who didn’t sleep with my fiancée—that kind of deal?”

She bit her lip, then straightened her shoulders uncomfortably, holding her head high. “Uh, yes, exactly that kind of deal.” But he thought he could see the self-assuredness draining from her face.

“You can’t be serious.” He chuckled ironically.

“Why not?” she demanded, crossing her own arms and thrusting out a hip.

“We’re not friends, Carla.” His face was probably as twisted up as his insides at the moment. “You can’t just waltz in here and request the bro’ deal for your boy, Don, just because I ran into you last week and made nice with you in public. That little exchange didn’t mean anything.” He heaved a sigh. “Actually, it turned my stomach, if you must know. So no, I don’t think a deal is something I can do for your husband. My apologies,” he said sarcastically, turning to pour himself a glass of iced water. His throat had gone dry.

Carla huffed. She turned and walked into the living room, her expensive leather handbag pinned tightly to her side. “When are you going to get over it, Jonathan?” He heard the irritation seeping into her voice. “That was three years ago. I said I was sorry. I gave you back your ring. You still got to go to Fiji.”

He snorted softly. As if he’d wanted to go on his honeymoon alone.

“Carla, you have no idea what you’ve done to my life.” He could feel his anger growing, and it might be cathartic to let it all out. She was the source of this change in him, after all. “No idea how much damage you caused when I walked in on you and Donald. No idea that it still haunts me; that I can’t even trust a woman now, all these years later, because of the way you betrayed me.”

She sucked in a heated breath but quickly pulled herself together, coming back to the kitchen and slapping her handbag on the island counter. “I know I did that to you. But I thought that by now, you would’ve gotten past it. When are you going to get on with your life, Jonathan?”

“I can’t believe you have the nerve to ask me that.” Something felt wrong here, though, all this blame he was throwing at her. She was right. It had been three whole years. Whenwashe going to get over it?

“You know what I think, Jon?” She lifted a perfectly painted fingertip and pointed at him. “I think you’re scared. I think you feel safer sitting there, wallowing in fear, instead of putting yourself out there again and taking a chance.”

He inhaled, wishing he had another comeback, but he didn’t. This felt like old times, though. They used to fighta lot. Their relationship never would’ve lasted, even if she hadn’t cheated on him.

“Why did you cheat on me?” he demanded, suddenly wanting to know the answer to the twenty-million dollar question.

Carla’s head rolled back, stunned, and she went silent. “Because we were never right for each other, and I knew it.” She glanced at the floor and then back at him. “But I didn’t know how to tell you I knew it.”

“You never loved me?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Of course I did, at first. But it faded away, Jonathan. And I couldn’t get it back.” She paused. “And then I did some things I’m not proud of,” she added quietly, “and I hurt you. I never should’ve cheated on you. I should’ve broken things off first. I see that now, but I was young and stupid…”

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