Page 10 of Secret Nights and Northern Lights
I refold a pair of thermal leggings Jacklyn knocked to the floor. “You could, you know. Seeing someone a second time doesn’t equal commitment.”
“Then what? Athirdtime? Nope, that’s too slippery of a slope. Besides, you’re one to talk.”
“Hey!” I protest. “I went on several dates with that Jordan guy a couple months back.”
Jacklyn arches a judgmental, perfectly waxed brow, knocking another pile of sweaters to the floor as she stretches her long legs. “And what was wrong with him?”
“He made it clear he only wanted sex.” I pick up the pile at my feet and set it atop the scattered makeup on the coffee table. “Essentially, he was you.”
A husky laugh fills the air as Jacklyn arches her back and stretches her arms overhead, now knocking my winter coat off the rounded arm of the sofa. Giving up on what was already a muddled mission at best, I lift her legs and replace them in my lap as I sink onto the cushion next to her.
“There’s nothing wrong withjust sex, you know,” she says through a yawn. “Might actually do you some good.”
I try to remember the last time I had sex.A year ago? Two?Surely not two. That’s…a while. But the fact that whenever it was, it clearly wasn’t memorable enough to fully recall, tells me all I need to know about the quality.
“Some of us want more than sex,” I say defensively.
“Right, right,” Jacklyn croons. “Some of us want to sabotage any potential relationship because no man could possibly live up to our idolized version of our high school boyfriend.” She pauses, and my jaw falls open. “And byus, I meanyou. If that wasn’t clear.”
“That’s not—” Is that really what she thinks? More concerning, is that really what Ido? “I’m not…It isn’t like that!”
“Really?” Jacklyn looks me up and down before her eyes skirt pointedly around the room. “This”—she gestures at my piles ofstuff—“isn’t you.”
“What? I’m packing for Iceland.”
“No, no, no. This isn’t packing. This is spiraling.” She sits up again, pulling her legs off my lap. “Where are your lists? Your carefully curated printouts on your locations? Your neatly folded stacks of freshly laundered clothing?” She picks up one wool sock that’s missing its mate, holds it aloft like she’s displaying a piece of evidence for a jury that will deliver a verdict on my love life. “This is clearly about Ben. You’re a goddamn mess.”
“Pffftt,” I sigh, but even at the mere mention of his name, my stomach clenches. “It’s not.I’mnot. Why aren’t you at work anyway?”
“Turned in my article late last night and took the day off. Don’t change the subject.” Her stare is a laser beam scanning my brow, my cheek, finally shifting back to meet my eyes. “And don’t try lying to me, either.”
Left with no choice, I tell Jacklyn about my encounter with Ben Friday night, leaving out the small detail that I’ve replayed it over and over in my head a thousand times since. That I can’t seem to focus on anything else. That the thought of seeing him again tonight, of traveling across an ocean to cover this assignment with him, has me more nervous and on edge than I’ve been in my entire life.
Which is completely irrational because anything Ben and I shared is solidly in the past. That book is closed. This is a professional business trip and nothing more. A business trip that could define my entire career from here forward. This is not the timeto get distracted by something that happened well over a decade ago, or a guy who has proven before that I never meant to him what he means to me.Meantto me.
This is the time to focus on my job. Which is exactly what I’m going to do. As soon as I remember how to pack.
When I finish my recollection, Jacklyn looks downright horrified on my behalf. “Oh. My. God. You’re going to Iceland with your sexy-as-hell ex—I’ve seen his photos on Insta, don’t try to deny it—who showed up at your parents’ house and remembered your birthday.” She tsks her tongue and shakes her head. “You’resogoing to fuck him.”
“I am not!” Even the suggestion makes my face flame as if I’m fevered. My eyes drift about the cluttered room. “It’s fine. I’m fine. No worries at all. I have this situation under control.”
Jacklyn grabs my hand with an earnestness that makes me startle. “Listen to me, Mona Miller. I’ve heard you talk about this Ben guy more times than I can count over the years. I know what kind of hold he has on you. Fuck him, don’t fuck him. Just don’t get distracted and let him ruin this opportunity for you. I mean it.”
Jacklyn’s right, and her words echo the exact worry that’s kept me wide awake every night this weekend. “I won’t. I promise.”
She sighs and releases my hand. “Come on, let’s get you packed then. Less than twelve hours till wheels up and we know what a little freak you are about arriving to the airport three hours early.”
While Jacklyn mostly packs for me, I stand next to her and pretend to pay attention to what she’s stuffing in my suitcase, but my mind is elsewhere. I’m exhausted and restless at the sametime. Even the deep-breathing techniques I learned in Jacklyn’s yoga class can’t seem to clear my mind or slow my heart to a normal pace.
Going to Iceland is intimidating enough. Throw Ben Carter in the mix and it’s a downright mindfuck. Jacklyn’s right; there’s too much at stake here. I can’t afford to get distracted, but I think I’m already there.
How am I supposed to pretend Ben is just any other professional coworker when he’s the boy I’ve known since before I had memories? The boy who slept over so often that my parents put an extra twin-size bed for him in Mason’s room so that he had a proper place to sleep. The boy who taught me how to drive when my father and brothers lost their patience at my ineptness and worrisome lack of depth perception. The boy who was my first kiss that summer, and then so,somuch more—
Jacklyn snaps her fingers in front of my face, rescuing me from that dangerously nostalgic trip down memory lane. “Hey, are you even listening? Should I pack some sexy lingerie for you? Just in case?”
“God, no!” I reply.
Sexy lingeriedefinitelywon’t be needed.
