The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(118)
So I tried not to let any of the bitterness seep into my voice when I answered, but it certainly wasn't an easy feat.
And I must admit I wasn't doing the greatest job.
"Are you all right?" Jamie asked less than a minute into our conversation.
"Yeah, fine," I replied shortly. "Just a rough day at work."
"Ah," he replied, "the bank running you around?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yep, definitely getting the runaround."
"I'm sorry, baby," he said with such genuine compassion that I almost wanted to throw up .... again.
This guy was quite the actor. D in drama? Yeah, right! I was surprised he wasn't acting for a living. Who needs marketing consulting when you can pull off Academy Award–winning performances like that?
"Yeah, well...I guess that's the nature of the job," I responded.
"But they're still letting you off for Paris, right?" he asked with concern.
"Yeah," I said. "I'll probably just end up having to bring a little work with me to make up for lost time."
"Okay, good."
I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle him. But the hardest part about it – even though my perspective had completely changed – was Jamie was exactly the same. He was the same sweet guy he always was. Caring, considerate, real. It baffled me. As much as I hated him right now, there really wasn't anything hateable about him...at all. (Well, minus the stashed-away wife part.) He was just the opposite. Nothing but lovable. And that made me hate him even more!
"So, do you want to have dinner this week? One last time before we leave the country."
"Well, it's not like we're not coming back," I said matter-of-factly. And then almost added, "Although you might be coming back in a body bag."
Jamie laughed. "I know. I just thought it might be fun."
Yeah, super fun! I thought. Me staring at your wedding-ring finger all night as a phantom gold band fades in and out of my imagination, and then picturing you in bed with Karen Richards as soon as you drop me off at my door with your usual "let's take it slow" good-night kiss. That sounds like a total blast. Even better than getting my cervix poked at the gynecologist's office, if you can believe it.
I took a deep breath and calmed my voice. "I don't think I'll be able to go...baby." I choked back a small amount of vomit rising up in my throat. "I have so much work to do to make up for the time I'll be gone."
"Ah, right. That makes sense," he conceded, and then an awkward silence followed. It was honestly the most awkward I'd ever felt with him. We always clicked. It had always been so easy between us.
"Are you sure everything is all right?" He finally broke the silence.
For a small moment I almost felt sorry for him. He had no idea why things were suddenly different. He had no idea why I was suddenly different. Because as hard as I tried to hide my anger, some things you can just feel. You didn't have to be a psychic to sense the obvious shift in energy between us. But that small moment passed quickly, when I reminded myself of why I was suddenly different.
"Yes, everything's fine," I replied, lying back on my bed. "I'm sorry. Work's just been crazy. What time are you picking me up for the airport on Saturday?"
Jamie cleared his throat. "Well, the flight is at one-thirty, and because it's international and all, we should be there two hours ahead of time, so I'll come by your house with the car around ten o'clock. How does that sound?"
"Sounds good to me," I said hastily.
"Great."
"Yeah. Well, I better run. Lots of stuff to do. I guess I'll see you then."
"Yeah, okay. See ya," he replied with uncertainty.
I shut off the phone and laid it across my stomach.
"I don't have a choice," I repeated softly to myself. "I have to know the truth. I deserve to know the truth. Don't I?"
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what it would be like when I got into that car. And onto that plane. And into that hotel room. Suddenly, doubt clouded my mind. How was I ever going to get through this? I could barely even make it through a three-minute phone conversation. There was no way I was going to be able to keep up this unsuccessful charade for five days while gallivanting around Paris, remarking on Impressionist art and sipping overpriced café au laits. I was too hurt. Too affected. Too involved.
This bandage may not have been brightly colored with images of Elmo and Big Bird, but it would certainly be hard to miss.
There was really no other choice. If I wanted to get through these next few days without Jamie suspecting anything was wrong, I was going to have to bring in an expert. Someone who could get through this without becoming emotionally involved. Someone cold, detached, indifferent. Someone who could care less whether or not Jamie was married and failed to tell me about it. Because honestly, when has she cared about the marital status of any man before?
As much as I never wanted this moment to come, it was really the only option I had.
It was time for Jamie to finally meet Ashlyn.
28
From Bags to Baggage
THE PACKING process for my trip to Paris turned out to be quite the emotional roller coaster. All the cute outfits and sexy underwear I had once mentally selected with excitement and giddiness, before the news of Jamie's marital status, were now being bitterly thrown into my bag even though I knew that they would be used not as fun props for our romantic Paris getaway but rather as pieces of a uniform for the challenging and nauseating assignment that awaited me in the city of love deceit.