MISTAKEN - The Complete First Season (16 page)

T
he town car
dropped me off at my apartment after the disastrous dinner. I was dying to talk to my best friend, Mel, and tell her about our new jobs and about the man my parents wanted me to marry.

My two guards walked me up to the apartment and remained outside the door. Mel was sitting in her favorite spot, splayed out on the couch with a book propped up on her knees.

She sat up as soon as I entered. Her eyes sparkled when she saw me and a grin lit up her entire face. "Well, did you ask him about working for the campaign?"

I returned her smile and took a seat in the chair across from her. "Nope." I let the sound pop from my mouth.

The smile fell away from her face. "No? Why not?" The look of disappointment was almost heartbreaking.

I felt a little bad about toying with her. My grin widened. "Because he asked me first."

The smile returned to her face, even bigger than before. "Really? So we're going to Florida to campaign?" She stood up. "I need to find my bikini."

I motioned for her to sit back down. "Not Florida."

She sank back into the cushions of the sofa. "Not Florida? Somewhere with a beach, though, right?" She bit at her bottom lip, giving me a hopeful look.

I gritted my teeth together and hoped I wouldn't disappoint her too much. "No, not exactly. We're going to Iowa." I saw the look of disappointment deepen. "I'm sure there are places to swim there." I smiled at her, hopeful.

Her face fell. "Iowa," she repeated. She chewed her inner cheek for a moment. "Not exactly what I had in mind, Jenna."

I forced another smile for her. "I know. But it's only until August, after the straw poll."

"And then we can go somewhere else, right?" She sighed and leaned back into the cushions, shaking her head. "Iowa. Crap." She sighed.

I plastered another phony smile across my face. "Uh, there's more."

"More?" She pulled her body forward and rested her elbows on her knees. I saw the hopeful sparkle return to her eyes. "What more?"

I looked down at my fingers and studied my nails before returning my gaze to hers, forcing my lips to turn up into a small smile. "Do you know William Howard?"

She gave me a short shrug. "Never heard of him."

I nodded, unsurprised. "He's a state rep from Iowa. He's going to be campaigning with us."

She gave a loud groan. "Ugh, I can see where this is going already. This is the new guy your parents are fixing you up with? Is he cute at least?"

I looked back down at my nails again. "He certainly seems to think so." I looked back up at her with a weak smile.

A look of horror crossed her face. "You met him?"

I nodded and chewed on my lips. "My father invited him to dinner. Will hates Japanese food. Just so you know."

She looked amused. "Oh? Unlike your last arranged marriage who actually
was
Japanese?" She suppressed a giggle.

"Funny." I gave her a serious look. "He also thinks I'm a mouthy bitch."

Her eyes widened in shock. "What! Where the hell did that come from?"

I nodded again. "Yep, I'm apparently a mouthy bitch that he won't be putting up with."

She fluttered her lashes in amazement. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

I gave another brief shrug and returned my stare to my fingernails. Meeting her gaze would have pushed me over the edge to tears. "Your guess is as good as mine. I was about to read him the riot act, but my dad came back in the room."

She shook her head from side to side and looked like she might cry herself. "Aww, fuck no. That's no good, Jenna."

I bit at my bottom lip again. "I know." I looked at my fingernails again, unable to meet her gaze. Looking at her would mean admitting I knew what I had to do.

"You have to tell your dad. He won't make you go through with it with someone like that. What's the guy gonna do? Beat you?"

I shrugged my shoulders up again. "That's kind of how it sounded."

"That's bullshit, Jenna. I'll talk to your dad if you won't."

I sighed and looked back at her. My mouth twisted into a wry grin. "Like you'd be able to influence his decisions."

She shrugged and gave me a grin. "Well, we mouthy bitches have to stick together."

I managed to choke out a laugh, despite how nauseous the thought of another arranged marriage was to me. "I guess so."

"Damned straight." She stamped her foot on the ground and stood up again. She reached out to me and pulled me to my feet. "So what's my job going to be? Secretary to the Senator? Or to your new dick head fiance?"

I gave another small shrug. "We didn't really get that far. I think you're just going to help me get to my appointments on time."

"Ohhhhh." She gave me a knowing nod. "So I'm
your
secretary." She elbowed me in the arm and grinned like a Cheshire cat. "That should be fun." She walked over to our little kitchen, just a few steps away.

"I didn't say that." I followed her over and stood at the counter separating the kitchen from the dining area. "I didn't get a lot of details. This is all happening so fast."

She nodded and pulled a bottle of wine from the cupboard, then reached into a drawer for a corkscrew. "I guess anything is better than San Francisco for the moment. I just need to get away from here." She shook her head and went to work on opening the bottle.

"I know, and I'm so sorry I lost us our jobs. I was such an idiot." I sat down on one of the bar stools. "I can still try to get my dad to talk to yours…"

She cut me off with a wave of her hand. She poured some wine into two plastic cups and slid one across to me. She lifted her cup to me in a toast. "To new beginnings."

I lifted my glass and took a sip of the wine and made a face. "Ugh, nothing like cheap, warm wine."

She grinned. "That's the best kind." She drank the contents of her cup and poured another for herself. "This is going to be good for both of us, Jenna. I can feel it." She took another sip of her wine. "And there's no way you're going to marry some douche bag who wants to keep you quiet. It'll be better for him to have to put up with both of us for the summer."

I couldn't argue with that.

T
he next morning
, I asked the town car to leave a little early before we headed up to Sacramento for my father's announcement. There was somewhere else I knew I needed to go first.

I had the car stop in front of a coffee shop that I had been to a few times. I walked out of the car with one of my guards following close behind me. Mark always followed just a little too close—I thought I could smell his breath behind me. Coffee and bacon, I was sure he must have had both for breakfast. I walked the few steps into the restaurant and stood in line. He followed right behind me, nipping at my heels.

He leaned his head in toward me; his voice lowered. "Miss Davis, there are a lot of coffee shops on the way to Sacramento. I don't really think we need to be at this one." His gaze darted around the restaurant, like he was weighing the possibility of me being in danger.

I turned around and smiled at him. "You're probably right. Let me just use the bathroom and we can go drive through a Starbucks."

A look of relief swept over his face and he nodded me toward the back of the store where the restrooms were.

I walked with confidence to the door of the women's restroom. Mark had stopped at the end of the narrow hallway and hadn't followed me all the way back to the door. I'm still not sure how I managed it, but instead of going into the women's restroom, I went out the nearby back door of the restaurant.

I hurried around the corner to go to the building next door. I knew I'd need to be quick or the entire Secret Service would be out looking for me within a matter of minutes.

I went up to the floor where Brandon's apartment was located. I wasn't even sure if he'd be there—it had only been a few days since he'd been in Hawaii with me. I just knew I had to take the chance before everything changed.

I looked up and down the hall before rapping my knuckles on his door. I picked at my fingernails and gave my lips a nervous chewing while I waited for him to answer.

"What now? Haven't you asked me for enough?" I heard him bellow through the door.

I cringed and wondered whether I'd made a huge mistake. What had I asked him for? I bit again at my upper lip and knocked again, softer this time, then looked back over my shoulder to see if my guard had found me yet. For all I knew, he might have had a location tag on me.

He opened the door with a start; it swung on the hinge and the knob hit the opposite wall.

I jumped, startled and gulped hard. It only took a moment for the jittery feeling to melt away. Just seeing Brandon brought such a sense of relief to me, like I knew everything would be okay. I was overwhelmed with how much I wanted to be near him. I wanted to throw myself at him, wrap my legs around him. I just wanted to touch him, to feel his body next to mine again. The butterflies that seemed to always be in my stomach around him fluttered without mercy. I could feel my eyes sparkle as his gaze finally met mine; the attraction pulsing between us. I wanted him more than anything I had ever wanted.

The stern look on his face melted away and he almost smiled. He looked into my eyes for a long moment, drinking me in. His eyes then dropped lower taking in my whole body. He stepped closer to me, his body almost touching mine, and peered over my shoulder and out the door. His voice lowered to almost a whisper. "Where's your guard?"

Electricity pulsed through me when his chest grazed mine. It was all I could do not to grab him around the waist and pull him into me. My lips twitched up into a smile. "I ditched him at the coffee shop. Aren't you going to invite me in?" I looked back over my shoulder to make sure the coast was clear, too. There was no sign of Mark. My voice lowered. "Please?"

He stepped to the side and allowed me into the apartment, closing the door behind me. He turned his back and walked toward some boxes that were on the dining room table. "You shouldn't be here, Jen." He said it in such a matter-of-fact way that it caught me off guard.

My brow furrowed with disappointment. I thought he would have been happy to see me. "I needed to see you." I took a step toward him. "I needed it."

He kept his back turned to me, but I could see him shake his head. "I should have said you
can
'
t
be here."

"Well I am here." I took another step toward him.

He turned around and I could see he was startled by how close I was to him. He backed away from me, bumping into one of the chairs that surrounded the table. A veil of sadness hooded his eyes. He reached back and grabbed the table. "I'm leaving, Jen. And so should you." He turned and picked up one of the boxes from the table.

I took another step toward him. "Where are you going?" I lifted an eyebrow at him. I couldn't understand his cold response.

"Not important. This isn't my place, anyway. It was a short term rental while I waited for my grandmother…" He trailed off. "I'm leaving today. So are you." I could see the fear in his eyes, as though someone was watching.

"Your grandmother. She was at the hospice." I finally understood why he had been there, but I didn’t understand why he hadn’t been able to tell me. "Where are you going to go?"

He shook his head. "Not important." He backed around me with the box in front of him, almost like it could protect him. "Walk with me." He motioned with his head toward the door.

I opened the door for him and we walked down the hall to the elevator. We entered and he pressed the button for the ground floor. We stood in the elevator in silence. He pressed the button to stop when we were between the second and first floors and turned to me. "Jen, this is the hardest thing I've ever had to do." He set the box on the floor. “You need to know that.”

I took a step toward him and he backed away toward the wall, almost as though he was afraid of me, afraid to touch me. "Then don't."

He shook his head at me and I could see the sadness that hung over his body. And it wasn’t just sadness; there was something else. Fear.

"Brandon, just tell me what's going on. Please?" I felt the tears begin to sting at my eyes. He couldn't sentence me to a life with the jerk from Iowa. He just couldn't. Why couldn’t he see that I was here because I wanted him? Because I had made my choice—and it was him.

He chewed at his bottom lip, averting his gaze away from mine and his face softened a moment later. He took a step toward me and reached out and touched my hair.

A thrill of electricity ran through my body when his hand grazed my cheek. "Brandon…" My voice lowered to a whisper. "Please." I hated begging him. I hated it, but I wanted him, needed him. I couldn't understand why he couldn't see it. Why he wouldn't acknowledge me at all.

"You went blonde again. Daniel would like it." He made a sound through his nose and his face showed something that I couldn't recognize. Jealousy, maybe. His finger traced down my cheekbone.

I closed my eyes at his touch, my body pulsing with anticipation. I’d let him take me right here in the elevator, and I wanted him to know it. I took another blind step toward him. I felt the elevator start again and I opened my eyes to see that he had pushed the button to resume our trip to the lobby.

He backed away from me and retrieved his box from the floor, refusing to meet my gaze. I was stunned, unable to say anything. This was about the last reaction I expected from him and there was nothing I could do to understand.

We walked through the glass doors to the sidewalk. He looked up and down the street, then began walking in the direction of the coffee shop I had escaped only a few minutes earlier. I followed him like a lost puppy. I just wanted him to look at me, to see that I was willing to leave everything behind for him. But he never looked back at me.

Mark was standing in front of the car, talking on his cell phone.

Brandon walked up to him and motioned with his head behind him, where I was standing. "Be sure to tell her that she came to me. And tell her I returned her to you immediately, with nary a touch." His expression was a mask of stone. He refused to look at me, keeping his gaze firmly on the guard.

"Nary a touch?" I repeated. I looked down the street with a dazed expression, hoping for anything that would give me a clue to what was going on in his head. "What the hell is going on?" I could hear the hysteria rising in my own voice. I was going to lose it.

I felt Mark's hand on my shoulder, guiding me back to the car. I didn't even resist. I felt something shoved into my hand as I ducked my head into the back seat.

I felt the ice in Mark's stare. He tilted his head down to speak into my ear, his voice lowered. "Don't ever do that again, Miss Davis." He gave my shoulder a tap before letting it go.

I managed a curt nod without looking in his direction. Mark closed the car door and I stared out the window without seeing anything. The car began to move, but my heart was left back there, smashed to bits on the San Francisco sidewalk.

I clutched the object in my hand for what seemed like hours before I was able to look down at it. When I saw what it was, I felt my broken heart crushed again under the weight of what felt like a bulldozer.

It was the painting I had made the night we met. He had kept it all this time and now he didn’t want it. He didn’t want to remember. The tears that had been hiding behind my eyes came tumbling down in a never ending river of sadness. One thing was clear to me in that moment if nothing else.

It didn't matter what I wanted. Brandon was done with me.