Chosen by a Stranger (Craved Series #5) (6 page)

"What mystery woman?" I asked, trying to buy myself some
time. My Mom's brand of interrogation was swift and thorough, like many people
who've spent the last decade watching Law and Order religiously.

"Your Father told me you left town to go woo some
woman."

"I didn't tell him that," I said, wracking my brain.

"Does that mean it's not true?"

I took a sip of my lemonade and looked out the kitchen window.
Tip. She must’ve heard me talking on the phone to Jin before he gave me a ride
to the airport.

"Is she American?"

I sighed, figuring that being honest wouldn't have any negative
consequences. After all, it wasn't like I was fifteen and my Mom had the time
and energy to meddle in my affairs. On the contrary, she was merely starved for
gossip about my love life.

Though it was impossible to tell exactly what shape it was in at
the moment. There was only one woman on the planet who knew that and she was eight
hundred miles away… probably cursing me and staring at her ringless finger.

"Jack?"

"Yeah," I said. "She's American."

"How did you meet her?"

"She was on vacation with a friend," I said. "A few
weeks ago."

My Mom put her chin in her hands.

"I dug some coral out of her foot."

"I'm sure that got her attention."

I smiled.

"What are you not telling me?"

I laughed.

"Seriously, Jacky." She furrowed her thin brows.
"You seem nervous. That's so unlike you."

"I'm not nervou-"

"You must really like her."

"I do," I said.

"What's her name?"

"Audrey."

"That's pretty."

"It suits her then cause she's absolutely gorgeous."

"You never did like the butterfaces."

"Who taught you that word?"

She smiled. "Travis."

I shook my head.

"What does she do?"

"She's an artist,” I said. “A graphic designer."

"Interesting," she said. "And is it serious?"

"I want it to be."

"And what about her?"

"I think I might be farther along that road than she
is."

"I see." She wrapped her hands around her glass. "I
guess that's okay. You did say you only met her a few weeks ago, right?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't feel like that. Not to me."

"How does she feel about the fact that you’re a professional
beach bum?"

I rolled my eyes. "I think she's okay with it," I said.
"She’s never complained to me anyway."

My Mom sighed.

"But I'm only on hiatus. I think I might actually go back to
work soon."

"Yeah?"

I nodded.

"Doing what?"

"Practicing medicine."

"Good. I think you miss it more than you realize. You know
I've always thought that."

"I know."

"And how are you going to solve the problem of having a long
distance relationship," she said. "I can't imagine that's something
you'd be any good at."

"Why do you say that?" I said, leaning back in my chair.

She shrugged. "Cause you're an action man and long distance
relationships involve too much waiting around."

"I suppose you have a good point," I said. "Even
thinking about the time I'd have to spend in airports is depressing."

"But she's worth it?"

"No question."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"About the distance?"

"Yeah," she said. "Are you going to move
back?" Her eyes lit up at the possibility, but I could see her trying to
restrain her excitement like a little kid at Disney World whose been told to
keep their butt in their chair when Mickey walks in the room.

"I don't know yet."

"Haven't you talked about it?"

"Sort of."

She leaned back in her chair and swirled her glass so the ice
cubes stirred the sugar up from the bottom. "What do you mean sort
of?"

I was too emotionally exhausted to try and withhold information
from her anymore. Besides, sometimes she actually gave decent advice which is
something I was in no position to turn away at the moment, especially
considering I had no idea where I stood.

"Jack?"

"I asked her to marry me."

Her eyes went wide and she cocked her head. "You what?"

"I proposed."

Her fingers splayed across her shock white hair. "Oh my god I
knew you were hiding something! You never were a mastermind when it came to
withholding information."

"Yeah, well-"

"Congratulations, honey! That's wonderful news!" She
slid her sweating glass out of the way and grabbed my hands again. "When
can I meet her?"

"She didn't say yes."

"What?"

"Yet," I added, feeling a little bit better. But
somehow, despite the fact that I was a grown ass man who'd been living away
from home since I was eighteen, I felt about as small and embarrassed as a
fourteen year old with a lisp who can't get a date to homecoming.

"Hold on a second," she said. "I'm confused. Are
you saying you asked her to marry you and she didn't say yes?"

"That's what I'm saying."

Her face fell. "Did you get on your knee?"

"Yeah."

"Was it the ring? Was it not-"

"There,” I said. “It wasn't there. It was kind of
spontaneous."

"I'll say," she said. "After just a few weeks?"

I wished I could take it all back.

"So what did she say?"

"She said she needed time."

"I see."

"Which, logically, I understand," I said. "But at
the same time I feel like the wind's been knocked out of me."

"Hmm."

"I wasn't planning on asking her when I came to visit. It
just sort of happened."

"Yeah, well, love can make you do some pretty crazy
things."

"But you know better than anyone that I've never been in a
hurry to get married. For a long time I wasn’t convinced the whole thing was
for me." I tilted my glass, drinking the rest of my lemonade apart from
the ice cubes. "But there's just something about her, Mom. She makes me
want to hurry up and be with her. I honestly feel like every moment I'm not with
her is falling short of its potential."

"Wow."

I raised my eyebrows, waiting for the deluge of motherly advice.

"I've never heard you talk about a woman like this."

"Cause I've never met a woman like this."

"So what are you doing now?" she asked. "Playing
the waiting game?"

"Basically."

She nodded slowly. "Not an easy place to be."

"That's an understatement."

I wrung my hand around my wrist where my watch was supposed to be.
"When I asked her, though, it was just my way of telling her I was willing
to rearrange my life to be with her, my way of saying I wanted to give us a
chance, ya know?"

"Uh-huh."

"All I needed was for her to say she felt the same way."

"But she didn't?"

I shook my head. "She said everything but."

"And you haven't heard from her since?"

"No."                             

"When did you ask-"

"Yesterday."

"Oh Jack. I'm sorry. You must be going crazy."

"So much for coming here for some much needed
distraction."

"I'll distract you in a minute," she said.

"Deal."

"You said you only met her a few weeks ago?"

"Right."

"I don't think you should take it personally," she said.
"The fact that she asked for more time."

"No?"

She shook her head. "Not at all. Needing time isn't a
no."

"I should hope not," I said, sounding more confident
than I felt.

"The important thing is that she knows how you feel."

"I suppose."

"I'm sure she'll come around," she said. "And one
day you'll laugh about how she tortured you."

"I
want to believe that," I said, finding solace in the fact that at least I
hadn't told her I proposed twice.

"You should," she said. "Besides, what's really
more important in the end: getting an answer or getting the girl?"

"Good point."

"I thought so."

I smiled. "Maybe we could keep this between us?" I
asked. "Just until I get an answer. Or the girl. Preferably both."

"Of course," she said. "But in the meantime, get a
ring."

The thought of slipping a ring on Audrey's finger made my heart
swell in my chest.

"Cause when you see her again," she said.
"Something tells me you'll want to be ready."

Follow your heart.

Megan's advice echoed in my mind all day.

Meanwhile, Jack's presence continued to haunt every shift of my
seat, every blink of my eyes.

He'd only been in my apartment for one day and yet everything was
different now- strange, new, more exciting. Like the other side of the bed and
the shower head lying in the bottom of the bathtub.

And even though the flowers he brought remained in the corner of
the kitchen, resting against the cabinets in my popcorn bowl, it wasn't just
that spot that seemed brighter.

All the colors around me seemed more intense somehow, like I'd had
all the windows cleaned or something.

It was tangible, this effect he'd had by breezing through my life.
In fact, comparing him to a breeze seemed like the perfect analogy in every
way. After all, he'd come out of nowhere and seemed to make everything fresh
and new.

Follow your heart.

I went to my jewelry box and opened it, reaching past the necklace
he got me for a ring I had, a piece of costume jewelry that I just happened to
know was exactly the size of my ring finger.

It had a cubic zirconia in it and looked like an engagement ring.
I never did much but try it on, though I must've done so a thousand times. Of
course, there was never a man in my mind when I did it so it was mostly just
for the strange sensation of having a ring on that finger where there never was
one.

But this time when I slipped it on, it felt different. Maybe it
was because there was a legitimate proposal on the table. Maybe it was because
when I stuck my hand out in front of me, I could imagine what it would be like
if he slipped it on, his big hands dwarfing mine as he slid it down to the base
of my finger, nudging it just farther than it would go to be sure it was on.

And for the first time, it didn’t seem awkward or like something I
could never get used to.
On the contrary,
it was a good feeling to think he
wanted me to be his in that way and that he was crazy enough to want to be
mine.

I mean, the emotions I was experiencing now weren't exactly the
ones I expected to have when I imagined what it would be like to be proposed to
as a little girl. I was more contemplative than ecstatic.

But there was an inner calm coursing through me ever since he laid
his cards on the table, and I regretted the fact that I hadn’t given him the
same peace of mind.

But he was confident to a fault. He wouldn't be rattled. He
probably just figured I was intimidated. And he was absolutely right.

Surely, there were three kinds of proposals a girl could get.

The first was from someone you didn't love, didn't desire, and
couldn't see a future with. That would be easy to decline. Uncomfortable
certainly, but easy.

Then there was the Goldilocks proposal from a man you've dated for
ages so the mystery is long gone but the love remains. In that case- when
you're marrying your best friend- it's probably easy to say yes, not least because
you see it coming.

Finally, there's a proposal like Jack's where an amazing man takes
you by surprise, and you're instantly overwhelmed by the idea that you might
achieve a happiness so far beyond your wildest dreams that you completely
panic.

And now that I wasn’t in it- now that I’d had a chance to step
back and assess the situation from a safe distance- I could clearly see that
there was a right answer to a proposal like that.

But it wasn't the answer I gave.

I slipped the ring off my finger, set it back in the box, and
closed the lid.

In reality, the ring wasn't important to me. It was just the
sentiment I liked, the fantasy of being marked as his in a public way. The only
reason a ring would be nice was because it would keep me from having to
constantly pinch myself.

Of course, I hadn't said yes yet, and even though I wasn't sure I
felt ready, at least I knew I didn't want to say no.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd choked, that letting the
man of my dreams propose to me- twice!- and then walk out of my apartment
without a smile on his face was up there with the cruelest things I'd ever
done.

Of course, he was the one that walked out. I didn't ask him to
leave. In fact, I couldn't imagine ever asking him to leave. He was by far the
best company of anyone I'd ever met and even though I hadn’t known him long, I
knew in my guts that I would never get sick of him.

Not his jokes, not the way it felt to be around him, and not his
body.

And not his face. Never his face. I could've stared at that face all
day every day and hung on its every movement.

Speaking of which, I wondered what kind of face he was making now.

Hopefully he wasn't angry with me. Hopefully he understood.
Hopefully, when I finally gave him my answer, we could celebrate just as fully
as if I'd gotten it right the first time around.

But only time would tell.

I looked at the clock. It was over six hours since he'd left.

Did my asking for time mean we couldn't have dinner again?

Perhaps.

After all, his question would be like an elephant in the room. It
would have to be addressed or dealt with or kept at bay somehow.

I tried to imagine myself in his shoes.

I was glad I wasn't in them. If I asked someone to marry me and
they didn't say yes right away, I think I'd feel an overwhelming urge to be
sick more than anything. In fact, that urge probably wouldn't go away until the
situation was sorted.

And I hated the thought that I might have hurt his feelings or
made him doubt my feelings for him.

Especially because I didn't doubt them. It was my ability to make
decisions that I doubted, the quality of my judgement that worried me.

Follow your heart.

Every time the thought crossed my mind I realized that if I
followed my heart, it would lead me straight back into Jack's arms. That was
the place where I felt safest, happiest, and most optimistic.

In fact, I wished I was wrapped in them right now.

And it was my fault that I wasn't.

I had to make things right.

The sooner I put us both out of our misery the sooner I could be
back at his side where I wanted to be, running my fingers through his coarse
blond hair and kissing him on that magic mouth of his.

I sighed.

Initially, I thought this was going to go down as the least
productive day of my adult life, but if coming to terms with my feelings for
Jack was all I got done, it was actually closer to being the most productive. Or
at least, the most important.

I slid behind my desk and did a quick search on my laptop for The
Drake. When the homepage popped up, I copied the number directly into my phone.

"Thank you for calling The Drake. How may I help you?" a
warm voice said.

"Hello," I said, clearing my throat. "I was
wondering if you could connect me with one of your guests."

"Certainly," she said. "What's the name?"

"Jack Quinn, please."

"One moment."

Her typing was so loud she must've set the phone down beside the
keyboard.

"I'm sorry," she said. "There doesn't appear to be
anyone by that name staying with us."

My brows clashed together. "I'm sure he's there," I
said. "He would've checked in yesterday. Would you mind checking
again?"

Her fingers punished the keyboard once more.

"Oh yes," she said. "You're right."

I let out the breath I was holding.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Quinn checked out this afternoon."

"He checked out?"

"That's right."

"Did he say where he was going?" I asked, realizing how
stupid that sounded only after the words left my mouth.

"Not to me," the woman said. "I'm sorry dear."

My heart sank in my chest. Where did he go?

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" she asked.

"No," I said. "That's all."

"Have a nice day then," she said.

But I didn't see how I could now, not when my fiancé to be was
missing.

I hung up the phone and dropped my head.

A moment later, the doorbell rang.