Flirting With Forever (18 page)

“I’ll conference with Erin and Sylvia first thing tomorrow, while you play the part of the invisible man. I’m thinking we put together the biggest interview we can get, shoot for Barbara Walters and settle for Matt Lauer. I know I can get People to do a story. Whatever they do, Us will do too. But none of this will happen in Charlotte. She’ll have to go back to New York. Alone.”

“She won’t do that.”

“She will, if she wants her career to survive this mess. She’s filed for divorce, she needs to get the hell out of Charlotte and get her ass to New York to explain to America what happened and beg their forgiveness.”

“She won’t do that. She promised her husband she’d help him through his recuperation, and that’s what she’s going to do.”

“But why? He dumped her and made her fair game for you.”

“Trust me, I don’t want her with him anymore than you do, but Tara believes it’s the right thing to do.”

“Oh, she’ll go to New York, all right, if I have to drag her, and without her hottie boyfriend by her side.”

“Tara’s as sick of hiding our relationship as I am. Besides, she’s good on camera, even with all the bad press, I know she can turn this around.”

“You’re delusional, Jake, or at best, you’re too close to this to make any rational decisions. All the press has to do is put your picture beside her sickly husband’s and you’ll have everyone in America who doesn’t already hate her on the wrong side of this.”

“If this is what you want Tara to do, you can have Erin try to talk her into it. I suggest she not mention that it’s your plan, but I’m telling you Tara won’t go for it. She’s done things on everybody else’s terms her whole life, but not anymore.”

“She’s been a celebrity for five minutes and already she’s a prima donna? Not on my time. She’ll do what I tell her if she ever wants to publish again.” Lou rubbed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m going to bed. Alone apparently. I’ll see you in the morning.”

‡

J
ake settled into
Lou’s guest room and texted Tara.
Are you up?
His phone buzzed a few seconds later. “I sleep like shit without you, Tara.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“God, I miss you.”

“I’m wearing your sweats. Wish I hadn’t washed them. They don’t smell like you.”

Jake laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing bad. But I do miss you, and I’m scared, Jake. The setup next door is crazy. They must think I’m still home because they haven’t budged.”

“We’re going to sort this out.”

“What did Lou say?”

Jake weeded out the snide remarks and innuendo and told her the plan.

“Won’t heading to New York be an even bigger media circus?”

“I can promise you that.”

“And you think this is the only way to salvage my career?”

Jake was quiet for a beat. “The way things stand, yes.”

Apparently not much
of the media thought I would show up at Charlotte Medical Center the next morning, and I was grateful for that. The dozen or so reporters who were there shouted questions while texting the rest of the sharks my whereabouts. The hospital was prepared with extra security to keep them off of Jim’s floor. He was still in the cardio care unit and was watching the news when I arrived.

“Hi,” he said turning off the TV. “You came back.”

“I said I would, so I’m here.”

“I’m sorry about all of this,” he motioned to the TV.

“Yeah, me too.”

“I heard them on the news talking about you like you were some kind of snake oil salesman.”

I shrugged. Maybe I was. Maybe everything was over, my marriage, my very brief writing career. But Jake and I had each other. “Your color looks good. How are you feeling?”

“Better than I thought I would. I can breathe easier. The doctor claimed the surgery was minimally invasive, but I’m sore and getting out of bed that first time was a bitch.” He pulled his gown down to show me the small incision on his chest. “At least I won’t have one of those huge scars like my dad did.”

It was odd talking like this. It felt more like I was talking to a long-time friend rather than my husband.

“I saw the doctor at the nurses’ station. He said your prognosis is good, you should be home in a couple of days. He expects your recuperation to go fast.”

“And you’ll be there for me?” I nodded and he looked away. “You could have let me die, but—”

I shook my head. “I didn’t save you, Jim. Jake did.”

He didn’t say
anything for a long-time. The fluid in his IV bag ran low, setting the alarm off. The nurse came in and changed it, checked his vitals, and then left us alone again.

“Those things you wrote about in your book, did we ever have any of that?”

“Some, in the beginning, but I was so young, Jim. I let you shape me into the person you wanted me to be. By the time I wrote the book, I wanted those things so badly, writing them down made them seem real.”

“And you never felt you could be yourself with me or tell me what you wanted? Jesus, Tara, I’m sorry.” He shifted in the bed to face me. “I’m sorry I let my ego get the best of me, but most of all, I’m sorry I didn’t stay and fight for you.”

“I’m not blaming you for our marriage ending. It’s just that somewhere along the way I lost sight of who I am. Your leaving was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, but it was also the best thing.”

“Because of him.”

I watched the blood pressure numbers on the monitor rise. “Because it forced me to throw myself into the dream I’d always wanted. It forced me to grow.”

“When I left, I did it to hurt you, to annihilate you. But I was wrong.” He noticed I was looking at the monitor and took several deep breaths. The numbers came down, closer to normal. “You love him, don’t you.” I wouldn’t answer. “It’s okay, Tara, you can just say it.”

“Yes, I love Jake.”

“I have to admit that when you agreed to see me through the surgery, I thought that maybe—” His voice trailed off. “But this is my fault. Things started to go wrong when I let you think you couldn’t have kids. I knew how much you wanted a baby, and I was so afraid if I told you the truth, you’d leave me. Every day the lie got a little easier to swallow until it seemed real.

“Then the book came out. At first I didn’t read it because I knew we didn’t have the perfect marriage, nobody does, but I also knew ours was based on a lie.” Jim watched his hand run along the bed railing. “I’m sorry for everything, so sorry. I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Tara, and I don’t want to—”

There was a long silence. “You don’t want to what?” I said softly.

“Let you go.”

“Jim, I told you I’d stay until you’ve recovered, and I will.”

He shook his head. “I asked the hospital liaison to recommend a good home care nurse for me. I had Mike wire your half of the money I took into the new account Marsha set up for you. I know I made a mess out of things and I’m sorry. Go take care of things on your end. I’ll close out the house and send your stuff wherever you want.”

“Thank you.”

“You can take Lilly with you. She always was your dog more than she was mine.”

“Jim, Lilly passed away months ago.”

“I’m sorry, honey—” He reached for my hand and I surprised myself by taking it. “She was a good dog.

“I’ll always love you, Tara. I hope you know that.” I started to cry, and Jim pulled me into him. “But I want you to be happy.”

Jake got to
the Charlotte Medical Center just as the news trucks were setting up. He parked illegally on the doctors’ level of the parking garage and went into the hospital without anyone recognizing him. He asked one of the nurses what floor the cardio care unit was on and then texted Tara he was on his way. She’d texted him back saying she couldn’t wait to see him.

He still hated the idea of Tara waiting on that bastard hand and foot while he recovered from surgery. Jake didn’t understand why it was important to Tara, especially after everything Jim had done to her. But he respected her decision and tried to keep his bitching to himself.

He walked down the hall on the seventh floor like he knew where he was going, glancing in each room with an open door. And then he saw her, holding the old guy’s hand. She was crying. She kissed Jim on the forehead, and in that moment, Jake was sure he had lost her.

She came out of the room swiping at her tears and stopped when she saw Jake. Her chin was quivering, living up to her claim that she doesn’t cry pretty. She fell into his arms like she’d just finished a marathon. Jake didn’t know what any of this meant, but he was never letting go.

One of the nurses caught Jake’s attention and nodded toward an empty room. He sat down in the recliner, pulled her onto his lap and let her cry. A box of cheap hospital tissues later, she was better.

He stroked her back. God, he loved everything about this woman. He even loved the way she cried. “You okay?”

“I am now.”

“What happened, Tara?”

She pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. “You know the last chapter in a romance? When the girl gets her guy, and you just know—you just know their life together is going to be wonderful?” He pushed her hair away from her face and smiled. “I’ve written a lot of those happy endings, Jake. Twenty-six, and now I get to write my own.”

‡

“G
ood evening, I’m
Barbara Walters, and we’re here to take a look at eight of the most fascinating people of this year.

“Recently, British writer E.L. James shattered book sale records with her Fifty Shades of Grey series and nobody thought her accomplishments could be equaled. But not so fast. A Charlotte, North Carolina housewife named Tara Jordan wrote a little book called Thirty Days To The Perfect Marriage, and it has taken the publishing world by storm. Her nonfiction title was at the top of bestseller lists all over the world and four of her twenty-six romance novels that followed hit the big time on those coveted lists as well. But that’s not what makes Tara so interesting.

“While her dreams were coming true, her personal life was falling apart. Before the royalties started pouring in, her husband of fifteen years left her with a staggering debt and no money; she had no choice but to promote the already successful book.”

Jake had prepared me well for the interview. I tried to look relaxed, being on the View a few months ago was surreal enough, but now this?

“Tara, you were a housewife, you lived in a little lakefront community in Charlotte, you wrote, played a little tennis, and then your book hit the lottery and did so well, your publisher put out—twenty-six of your romance novels? You’re a prolific little thing. Tell me what it was like to finally grab that brass ring.”

“When I didn’t get published, like most writers, I just kept writing and hoping, which is hard. When you’re trying to publish, you get accustomed to rejection so that when the big yes finally comes, it’s almost too good to be true. And then you have to sell the book which was terrifying, but that went well too.”

Barbara raised her eyebrows. “That’s an understatement. So okay, your wildest dreams have just come true, but your then husband of fifteen years leaves you, and you find yourself on a book tour to promote your marriage self-help book that includes theater dates reading to thousands of people. During that time, did you ever feel like you were living a lie?”

“When I was first approached about the tour, I did. But the truth is, I lived the lie before I wrote the book. Like a lot of couples, I just kept going in my marriage, I was neither happy nor unhappy. Jim and I were more like business partners in a lot of ways. But I always imagined something better. That’s what I wrote about, and by the way, Thirty Days To The Perfect Marriage was the publisher’s title, not mine.”

“Really? What was your working title?”

“Making Your Marriage Work.”

“But yours didn’t work, your ex-husband left you with no money and disappeared for months, and then you had to promote this book about marriage to the American public just so you could get out of serious debt? That must have been hard.”