Baumgartner Generations: Janie

CHAPTER TEN

I crept back to bed barefoot from the bathroom, avoiding the loose boards—after four days in the cabin, I knew where they were now. My mother wasn’t kidding when she said they had plenty of room! There were four bedrooms downstairs and five upstairs. TJ and I had an upstairs corner one and the view from the window was incredible.

I stopped to peer out in the early morning light, seeing the sun just coming up over the lake, spreading over the horizon like honey drizzled from heaven. The water was clear and cold-I knew, because I’d been in it a few times already, but it was nothing like swimming in the warm waters of Key West, where we’d vacationed for years. The lake was now still and calm, like a sheet of glass, and as I watched, a deer and her fawn appeared out of the woods to drink at the rim.

Breathless, I made a noise in my throat, something to wake Josh, so I could share this moment with him, but then I heard him snort and start to snore. That made me smile and drop the curtain, moving away from the stunning beauty at the window to climb back into bed with him. I snuggled up close to him, nudging him a little, making him roll to his side so he’d drool on the pillow instead of snore in my ear.

“Janie?” he mumbled as I lifted my shirt, so we were pressed skin-to-skin, belly-to-belly.

“I saw a deer,” I whispered, the wonder of it still in my voice. “It was magical.”

“Really?” he murmured, not opening his eyes. “Where’s my gun?”

“Ooo you’re mean.” I hissed, nudging him playfully on the arm. “I’m telling you, it was magical.”

He smirked. “Why? Did it fly?”

I giggled, sliding my hand over the bare expanse of his chest. “That would be a rein deer.”

“Good eatin’,” he said, grinning and opening his eyes, his reflexes quick enough to stop the knee coming for his crotch.

“I’ll give you good eatin’.” I rolled him onto his back, pulling my t-shirt off and tossing it aside as I straddled his face.

“Mmmmm!” He spread me wide with his fingers, digging in, his mouth already busy.

“How do you like that?” I teased, rocking my hips back, making him stretch his tongue out for it.

“I love it.” He clasped my ass and pulled me toward him. “Like butter. Sweet as honey. All I need now are some pancakes.” He made me moan softly as he explored me with his tongue and fingers, parting my lips and paying special attention to my little clit. He almost had me distracted enough not to care when he stopped to add, “And maybe a venison steak or two.”

“You’re so bad.” I laughed.

“And you taste sooo good,” he said, delving back in.

I groaned, rocking, spreading my thighs wider. “Keep eating.”

“Oh I intend to.”

“That means you need to stop talking.” I grabbed the back of his head, shoving his face against my crotch, and he groaned, burying it there, sucking and licking and

growling like a hungry dog. It wasn’t long before I was flooding his face with my cum, riding my clit against the ridge of his chin as I quivered above him.

He was gasping for breath when I eased my way down to straddle his hips. He grabbed me and kissed me, hard. “Now that I made it all wet, you have to let me fuck it,” he panted.

“You want to feel what you did?” I grabbed his cock-oh god, so hard-and putting it quickly inside of me.

“Oh that’s nice,” he breathed as I began to rock.

“Just nice?”

His eyes were closed. “Shh, I’m concentrating.”

“On what?”

“On not coming inside you right now like a teenage boy.”

“Oh that would just be awful,” I teased, rolling my hips. “Especially since I could come at least three or four more times just doing this.”

“Diabolical, I tell you.” He opened his eyes, his expression pained.

I grabbed his wrists, pinning them over his head as I fucked him, catching an easy rhythm. “I’ve got you now.”

“Oh what shall I do?” He grinned.

“Lay there and take it.”

He nodded, closing his eyes. “That’s a brilliant idea.” I leaned in to whisper in his ear, “And don’t come.”

“Right,” he panted.

“Whatever you do…” I murmured, my pussy clenching him. I made it as tight as I could and then released, doing that again and again, punctuating each of my words with a hot, wet squeeze. “Don’t shoot a hot…wet…sticky load of cum…deep into my cunt…”

“Fuck,” he cried, his eyes flying open wide.

“I said no.” I pressed his wrists to the bed, still riding him for all I was worth.

“Don’t do it, Josh.”

“I heard you,” he gasped. “But my cock doesn’t have ears.” I sat up then, reaching behind me to cup his balls in my hand. “Oooo there’s so much cum in there.” I rolled them around, making him clench his teeth. “Just waiting.” He started making that noise, the one at the back of his throat, that I knew meant he was close. Really close.

“Nooo, Josh, don’t you fucking do it,” I demanded, slowing, but just a little. I squeezed his ball sack gently, making his hips buck. “Ooooo, baby, all that hot come in there for me.” He nodded, watching me through dazed eyes. “Tell me, it’s all for me.”

“It’s all for you,” he croaked, crying out when I reached out and squeezed both of his nipples-hard.

“Give it to me,” I panted, slamming my hips against his, our bodies slapping together furiously.

“Now?” He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me close and driving his hips up, burying his cock deep.

“Now!” I insisted, biting his earlobe, and he did just as I asked, giving me every bit of his cum in long, shuddering waves, his hips rising so far up off the bed I felt like I was riding a bucking bronco.

I snuggled beside him and let him pull the covers back up over us. “The deer really was amazing…” I whispered. “Just beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful. And amazing.” His eyes were closed, but he was smiling. “And really, really good eats.”

“She had a baby,” I told him. “A sweet little fawn.”

“You know.” He cleared his throat. “They say veal is a delicacy, but baby deer—” I slapped my hand over his mouth, feeling his chest shaking with laughter. “Go to sleep, you evil man.”

“I-muff-uu.”

I took my hand away from his mouth, sitting up on my elbow to look at him. “What did you say?”

“I love you,” he repeated, his eyes soft.

I blinked. “That’s what I thought you said.”

“But can you name that tune in three notes?” He grinned.

“The Wedding March?”I quipped.

“Yikes!” He slapped his forehead.”Let the old marriage burn out before we start talking about phoenixes rising from the ashes, shall we?”

“Scared ya,” I teased, tucking my head under his chin.

“No.” He traced his fingers over my lower back, as if he could see my tattoo in the dimness. “I don’t think there’s anything you could say now that would run me off.” I didn’t say anything, but part of me wasn’t so sure about that. “Do you really love me?”

“Beyond words.”

“I love you, too.”

He held me close, breathing me in. “It’s about time.”

“Josh, quit eating all the chocolate,” I complained, snatching another Hershey’s from his hand. My favorite part of the whole vacation so far had been making s’mores around the fire. That, and the sex with Josh. They practically tied.

“It’s the best part.” He snuck another one from the pile.

I sighed, handing a marshmallow fork to my brother. “Henry, will you tell him how you’re supposed to do it?”

“Watch carefully, Josh.” He demonstrated. “Graham cracker, chocolate, marshmallow, graham cracker. Then, and only then, do you eat.” Josh scowled. “I think you took too many steps between chocolate and eat.”

“Let the man eat what he wants, Janie,” a voice called from across the campfire.

“Yes, Mother.”

I glanced around the fire, feeling content and really relaxed for the first time in a month or more. Since Ronnie went to the hospital, I realized, I’d been living from one breath to the next, waiting for the world to collapse again. But there she was, sitting in a chair next to TJ, happily roasting marshmallows and passing them to Gretchen, who had Catherine breaking up chocolate so my dad could put them on graham crackers before passing them to my mother to put on paper plates. It was a whole assembly line of s’more-making that made me ridiculously happy to watch.

Josh was doing nothing-except sneaking chocolate-and Henry was roasting.

Me, I was just supervising. I realized, looking over at my brother, that he was the only one there who wasn’t paired up. My mother said his girlfriend couldn’t make it, but I wondered. He’d been awfully quiet.

“I have something for you,” I said to Henry. We’d been here five days already and I kept forgetting to give it to him. “Remind me.”

“You got a Porsche in your pocket?” He smirked. “Did you bring it on the private plane you flew in on?”

I flushed. Josh had insisted-the three of us, TJ, Ronnie and Gretchen, had all cashed in our American Airlines tickets and had flown in on Catherine’s private plane.

Ronnie could actually lay down for the whole flight, and she did. She always slept on flights and she’d slept the whole way. Gretchen hadn’t even bought a ticket yet, and Catherine invited her to fly on the plane, of course.

So far, it hadn’t been strange or awkward. Josh said it was going to end amicably between them, and I believed him. Catherine didn’t seem angry or vengeful. In fact, watching her feeding Gretchen little pieces of chocolate, she looked deliriously happy.

She laughed more. That hard edge to her had softened.

“It’s better than a Porsche,” I told Henry, ignoring him sneaking Josh another Hersey bar.

He scoffed. “Not possible.”

“What would you say if I told you…” I dragged it out, knowing they were all listening. “I got Jim Carrey’s autograph.”

Henry jumped up, Hershey bars flying. “You what?”

“Hey!” Josh protested, snatching candy bars from the fire. “Don’t waste the chocolate!”

I grinned up at my brother. “It even has your name on it.”

“I am so sorry for anything bad I have ever said or done to you,” Henry exclaimed, reaching down and pulling me into a hug. I laughed as he swung me around.

“I’m sorry I stole your Bratz dolls for target practice.” He kissed my cheek. “And I didn’t mean to ruin your cashmere sweater, even though I was sure it would be perfect for cleaning my bike chain.” He kissed my other cheek. “Oh, and I should have told Mom it was me who was riding off the roof on my BMX into the pool and not let you take the blame for it.”

“I told you it was him!” I exclaimed, pointing at my mother.

“Oh, Doc, I’m gonna pee my pants!” My mother cried, clinging to my father, laughing so hysterically she couldn’t stand up. He was laughing, too, supporting her.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if Janie said, ‘Psych!’ right about now?” Josh asked casually, leaning back in his chair and opening yet another Hershey’s bar.

Henry’s face fell. “You…” He looked between the two of us, his eyes wide.

“Wouldn’t…”

“Psych.” Josh grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

“It’s upstairs.” I smiled, nudging Josh with my sneaker. “You are so bad!”

“Wow.” Henry sat down, looking over at Josh admiringly. “You’re good.” I ran upstairs to get the autograph, still tucked away in my wallet, and when I got back, Josh and Henry had joined the assembly-line, both of them roasting marshmallows side by side and contemplating their shapes like some people look at clouds.

“Mine looks like Buddha,” Henry said, turning his stick sideways.

“I’ve got Lindsey Lohan.”Josh held his up, the marshmallow goo running down the poker. “Before rehab.”

That cracked everyone up, and I knew, then, that Josh was really part of the family.

I wish I’d never looked out the window to see them, standing in the same place I saw the deer and her baby drinking at the water’s edge. Josh was holding Catherine’s hands, both of them, in his. They were talking. Closely.

They’re still friends, I told myself. Hell, they’re still married. Of course they still care about each other. But the rationalization didn’t take. When he leaned over and kissed her-not on the cheek, but on the mouth-I’d had enough.

I was curled up on the bed when he came into the room. He smelled like pine trees and sap as he sat next to me.

“Taking a nap?”

I made a noise, but didn’t really answer him.

“Want me to join you?” His hand moved in my hair, down my back, and I winced away from his touch.

“Why don’t you go take a nap with Catherine?” I snapped.

I felt him stiffen and grow quiet. “It wasn’t what you’re thinking.”

“What?” I rolled over, my arms crossed over my chest. “She’s your wife, after all.

Go ahead. Go sleep in her room.”

“Janie.” His eyes flashed a warning, but I ignored it. “We were just talking.”

“Oh, I didn’t know talking involved putting your tongues together like that,” I spat.

“Is that like the new math?”

He half-laughed. “It was just a friendly kiss.”

“Go ahead.” I waved my hand toward the door. “Go sleep with your wife, if that’s what you want….oh wait, that’s right-she’s a lesbian. She doesn’t like men. Or maybe it’s just you she doesn’t like.” The words were out before I could even think about them.

My mouth was always, always the thing that got me into trouble. I put my nail in my own coffin when I half-sat, my eyes blazing, and asked, “Did you ever wonder if you were the one who turned her?”

Josh looked like I’d hit him. He stood, taking a deep breath, and moving toward the door. I wanted to call out, tell him I was sorry, but something caught in my throat.

“I don’t want to fight with you.” He didn’t turn around, his hand on the doorknob.

“And I definitely don’t want to fight dirty. I’m going to—”

“Why not?” I interrupted him, snarling. “Too good, too rich, to get your hands dirty with the rest of us?”

“Well, Janie, I think you’ve taken full advantage of that fact.” When he looked at me, his eyes were narrowed and dark and full of anger. “You’ve had no problem availing yourself of Catherine’s hospitality—or mine. I’m actually surprised you didn’t choose her instead. She’s the one with all the money.”

I wanted to go after him, but I didn’t. Instead I curled up on the bed, dry-eyed, trying to find a way out of the circles my head was running in until my dad called me down for dinner.

“How’s my baby girl?”

“Mom,” I admonished, rinsing the last dinner dish and putting it in the dishwasher.

“I’m not a baby anymore.”

“I know.” She slipped her arms around my waist, kissing my cheek. “But you’ll always be my baby.”

“Does every parent say that?” I rolled my eyes, drying my hands on a dish towel.

“Probably.” She laughed, giving me a squeeze and letting me go. I turned to face her and she searched my eyes with hers, her brow knitting. “Are you okay, Janie? You don’t seem… happy.”

“I’m okay.” I shrugged, leaning back against the counter. “Things are just… complicated.”

“Josh?” she inquired.

“Mom…” I sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Will you let me know when you do?”

I shrugged, agreeing just to make her stop. “Okay.”

“I’m here,” she insisted.

“I know.” I cocked my head, listening. The house was quiet-no laughter, no television or music. “Hey, where is everybody?”

“Ronnie and TJ went upstairs to take a nap,” she said, turning to tend to the coffee pot. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m going to be a grandmother again. I can’t stop touching that sweet belly of hers! Did you see it?”

I wasn’t going to tell her just how many times I’d seen in, and the various positions from which I’d seen it, either. “Mom, you’re not a grandmother. She’s not your daughter.”

“She might as well be.” She turned to stick her tongue out at me. Must be where I got it from.

“Where’s Henry?” I peeked out into the family room-the cabin was huge, with high ceilings, and the living area had a vast fireplace, not that we needed it this time of year-but there was no one in there. “I promised him I’d give him a chance to save face at Scrabble.”

“Out on the lake.” She waved her hand in that direction.

“He seems quiet,” I mused. I knew my little brother well enough to know when something was up. “What’s going on?”

“He’s having trouble at U of M.”

That surprised me. “He is?”

“We got him a tutor—Toni Franklin. Do you remember her?” My mother took a coffee mug out of the cupboard. “We were on the PTA together when you were little.”

“Wow, how is Mrs. Franklin?” I blinked. I remembered her clearly-she and her husband had played bridge together on weekends with my parents. “I haven’t seen her in years.”

“Divorced.” The coffee was done and she poured it. “She’s got a belly ring and two tattoos.”

“Mrs. Franklin?!” I exclaimed. “Really?” Poor Mr. Franklin. I just remembered him as a tall, balding man with glasses and a goofy laugh.

“Do you want coffee?” she asked, putting sugar in hers.

I shook my head. I didn’t need any caffeine. With Josh next to me at night, I’d slept like a baby.

“So what’s going on with Catherine and Josh?” My mother lifted her cup, looking at me over the rim as she blew on the liquid’s surface.

I glanced at her sharply. “What do you mean?”

“I overheard them talking.” She shrugged. “Something about a pre-nup?” I swallowed. Had she overheard them at the lake, I wondered? Had she seen them? I contemplated lying, but decided I’d been doing enough of that. It was just getting me into more trouble.

“Josh and Catherine are married,” I said flatly.

Her eyes widened. “Oh Janie…”

“This is a very long story, Mother, and I really don’t feel like telling it right now.” I walked away from the sympathy and concern in her eyes. “I’m going to find Josh.”

“They all went out on the lake,” she called.

I stopped. “Who?”

“Everyone but TJ and Ronnie.”

So Josh was out on the boat with Catherine. I was sure he went to punish me.

We hadn’t even sat next to each other at dinner or said, ‘Pass the salt.’

I’d intended to go apologize after I finished doing the dishes—I always did housework when I was mad, it expended my energy and made me feel better—but now he was gone. Out on the boat. With Catherine.

And it didn’t escape me, the irony that I was jealous of a woman that I, myself, had been with. That I had no room to be jealous in the first place, considering that I was still involved with Ronnie and TJ. What in the hell was wrong with me?

“I’m gonna go take a nap,” I said, heading up the stairs.

“Janie.” My mom called from the bottom and I looked back over my shoulder with a sigh. I knew she was trying to help, but there were just things you couldn’t tell your mother. “I love you,” she said finally.

“Ditto.”

I closed our bedroom door and stretched out on the bed, hugging Josh’s pillow because it smelled like him. “Oh Josh, I’m sorry,” I whispered, letting the tears I’d been holding back finally burst out. I cried into his pillow, I didn’t know how long-until that horrible, stuffed-up, sleepy, after-crying feeling came over me and I fell asleep.

I didn’t hear TJ come into our room. I didn’t know he was there until I felt him behind me in bed, spooning me, his hand moving over my hip.

“You okay?” he murmured, kissing my cheek. “I thought I heard you crying.”

“M’okay.” I sniffed, snuggling back against him, so warm and solid, taking comfort in his arms.

“You can tell me.”

I shook my head. That felt like even more of a betrayal to Josh than anything.

“Janie, we’ve been talking.”

I turned to face him, frowning.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” He swallowed, tracing my jaw line with his finger. “Maybe it’s time we stopped being Janie-and-Ronnie-and-TJ… so you two can be just-Janie-and-Josh… and we can be just-Ronnie-and-TJ.” I didn’t know if it was hearing the phrase “just-Janie” or the realization that he was actually talking about ending things, but it brought my tears, already close to the surface, welling up again.

“Is that what you guys want?” I choked, images of the times we’d spent together flashing through my head-Ronnie and I trying on dresses together in Neiman Marcus, knowing we weren’t going to buy anything, but admiring each other just the same; the time TJ stole me a whole bunch of lilacs from the tree down the block just because I said they were my favorite flower; the three of us rolling around in bed, tickling each other, trying not to laugh so loud we woke Beth.

“Maybe it’s not what we want.” He sighed, leaning over to kiss my cheek. “It might not even be the best thing… but maybe… maybe it’s the right thing.” I knew what they were doing. They were setting me free. Loving me enough to let me go. Isn’t that what Ronnie had said? Still, it hurt. It hurt so bad I couldn’t breathe.

“TJ.” I gasped out his name, cupping his face in my hands and kissing him. It was a thank—you kiss, a goodbye kiss, an I will never forget you kiss. It was our last kiss, and it would have been, I think, even if Josh hadn’t opened the door to our room and walked in to find us.

He didn’t say a word. The look on his face said more than enough.

I sat up, calling after him—he was already halfway down the hall. “Josh! Wait!”

But he was already down the stairs, out the front door. By the time I’d crawled over TJ and made it to the hallway, Ronnie was there, doubled over and clutching her belly.

“Teej!” she cried, reaching for him blindly. “The baby!”

“Fuck!” He was over to her, supporting her, before I could take my next breath.

“Janie, get Josh.”

Get Josh? That’s what I’d been going to do. Josh would fix everything. But Josh had left me. He didn’t just storm away, like he had before when we were fighting. He’d walked away, disappeared, like he’d never been there at all. And why not? I’d lied to him. I’d betrayed him.

“Hurry!” TJ yelled as Ronnie clutched him, gasping for air. “We need to get to the nearest hospital! Now!”

“Okay.” I felt like I was moving in slow-motion, reaching in my back pocket for my phone. “I’ll call 911.”

“Oh god,” Ronnie whimpered. “It’s pre-term labor. Just like with Beth.” Her eyes were wild when she looked up at her husband. “Not again. Please. Not again!”

“Goddamnit!” TJ swore, pulling her close, cradling her. “I told you we shouldn’t have come!” he snapped, proving to me once again that even people who love each other, maybe especially people who love each other, said awful, horrible things.

“No signal,” I whispered, punching at my phone, staring, incredulous, at the one bar showing in the corner.

That’s when Ronnie screamed. It was a primal thing, something that came wrenching up from deep inside of her, and then the hallway was crowded with people.

Henry grabbed the house phone and called 911 while TJ carried Ronnie down the stairs-my mom got her a blanket and even thought to put shoes on her feet. And it wasn’t Josh’s arms I found myself in this time, but my father’s.

I stood on the porch and watched as the ambulance came and took Ronnie and TJ away. And then I collapsed, sobbing in my father’s arms instead of Josh’s.

Because Josh was already gone.

“Janie, you need to rest.”

I looked at Ronnie as I tucked a tray with my red-roasted pepper and tomato soup and gourmet grilled cheese on it around her legs. There were four kinds of cheese on the sandwich. I’d made one for Beth, too. She was sitting in the kitchen scarfing it down.

“I’m fine,” I told her. “Do you need anything else?”

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

I nodded. “Sounds about right.” It had been that long since we’d been back.

“He’ll call.” She touched my hand as I tucked the blanket around her.

I just shook my head. “I wouldn’t blame him if he never did.”

“He loves you.”

“Yeah, well…” I went to the door, pausing with my hand on the knob. “Love doesn’t solve everything.”

“I’m sorry, Janie,” she whispered, and I looked back to see tears brimming in her eyes.

“It’s not your fault.” I wanted to crawl into bed with her, to cry in her arms, but I couldn’t. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetie.”

I noticed the mail stuck through the slot in the door and grabbed it, taking it with me to the kitchen. Beth was sitting with her feet tucked under her, picking the crusts off her sandwich and singing, “Rockabye Baby” under her breath.

“Interesting song choice,” I said, tossing the mail on the table and pouring myself a cup of soup. I’d been all about comfort food this week-macaroni and cheese, lasagna, chocolate chip cookies and, of course, tomato soup. Beth thought she’d died and gone to heaven.

“I’m practicing.” She took a long drink of milk. “To sing to the baby when he’s here.”

I smiled, swallowing past the lump in my throat. It had been a close call. That’s what TJ’d said. They’d given her I.V. medication that made her horribly sick but might work to stop the contractions, had even tilted her bed so her head was pointed toward the floor to take the pressure off, doing everything they could think of to stop her labor.

And, miraculously, after two hours, it had.

Beth’s little brother or sister was just fine. For the moment. Of course, Ronnie couldn’t get out of bed except to pee, and she was still on meds that made her feel awful, headachy and nauseous.

“Think it’s gonna be a boy?” I asked, sipping my soup.

“It’s a boy,” she said definitely, making her crusts into letters-an M and then an O. “But I don’t want it.”

“No?” I didn’t believe it for a minute. She practiced singing and rocking and diapering and carrying babies constantly.

“When the baby comes…” She made another M out of her crust and I realized she’d spelled MOM. “No one is going to have time for me.”

“Do you think so?”

“No one will have time for me, or room for me, or…” Her eyes were filled with tears when she looked up at me. “No one will love me anymore. Not as much as they love him.”

“Come here.” I held my arms out. She came to sit in my lap, letting me cradle and rock her, and I had a memory of sitting on my own mother’s lap just like this, saying the words I was about to say.

“You love me, don’t you, Beth?”

She nodded against my shirt, her thumb in her mouth, preventing a verbal assent.

“And you love your mommy, don’t you?” I heard her breath hitch, and she nodded again. “And your daddy, too?”

I felt her growing still on my lap. She was older than I’d been, hearing these words, and she was making connections faster. I could feel it.

“But how can you love so many people at once?” I pulled out the punch line, letting it sink in.

She took her thumb out of her mouth and looked up at me in wonder. “It’s easy.”

“I know.” I smiled, squeezing her tight, remembering my mother’s words and repeating them to her. “Our hearts are so big that we can always love someone else, no matter what.”

“I love you, Janie.” Her words made my heart ache.

I kissed her dark head. “I love you, too, kiddo.”

“I’m going to give mommy my crusts,” she said, hopping off my lap and sliding her grilled cheese onto the table to make room for the crusts that spelled MOM on her plate.

“She’ll like that.”

I flipped through the mail when Beth had gone upstairs, separating out theirs from mine. I didn’t get much-mostly credit card applications and rejection letters from publishers. I almost tossed the letter aside because I figured it was another rejection.

And then I saw the return address. Wickham Agency.

Josh.

My hands trembled as I tore the envelope open, reading the first few lines in confusion and wonder:

But how? Josh had never once read any of my work. I never wanted him to think I just wanted an agent out of everything after all, so I’d actually refused to let him.

There was a note stuck inside, handwritten in Josh’s bold, brash scrawl:

There was a number on the stationary-his work phone. I’d never called him at work before.

I pulled my cell out of my pocket, my fingers shaking so badly I had to dial slowly to make sure I was pushing the right numbers.

“Josh Wickham.”

Oh my god. Didn’t he even have a secretary? I wasn’t ready yet. I tried to say his name, but it only came out as a hiss of breath.

“Hello?”

“Josh.” My voice was strangled and I closed my eyes, the sound of his voice filling me with a familiar warmth.

“Janie.” He sounded surprised, even happy, and my heart soared. There was a moment of silence, and then he was all business. “You got my letter?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He cleared his throat. “We need to sign some paperwork, but if you’re interested—”

“How did you get your hands on that book?” I blurted.

He was quiet for a moment. “TJ gave it to me.”

Ah. That explained it all. Ronnie had probably snuck my laptop into her room and printed it out for him. I couldn’t imagine it wasn’t a joint venture.

I was grinning from ear-to-ear. “Isn’t it illegal for you to represent me if I haven’t even signed a contract with you?”

“Probably,” he agreed casually. “Want to sue me?”

“No. I want to kiss you,” I confessed, holding my breath.

“We can arrange that.”

“Can we?” I closed my eyes.

“I’m still at the Plaza,” he told me. “It’s not the Presidential Suite, but…”

“It could be a tent for all I care,” I breathed. “It was so never about that.”

“I know.” He paused, sounding sad. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” I insisted, the tears I’d been holding back now spilling over. “I’m sorry I lied, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Ronnie and TJ, and I’m sorry I—”

“Janie, you’re mine.” His voice stopped me. “You’ve been mine since the first day I met you. I won’t share you with anyone else.”

“I know,” I whispered, hot tears falling. “But I don’t want anyone else, Josh. I just want you. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry you had to find out that way. I’m so sorry—”

He interrupted me. “Doesn’t love mean never having to say you’re sorry, or some sappy thing like that?”

“No.” I sniffed, remembering what TJ had said to Ronnie when he was holding her in the hallway—I told you we shouldn’t have come-and all the hurtful things I’d heard my parents say, the horrible things I’d said to Josh at the cabin. “No, love inevitably means saying ‘I’m sorry’ a whole lot—and meaning it.”

“Then I’m sorry a whole lot,” he said. “I’m sorry times a million. I’m sorry up to the moon and back. I’m sorry times infinity. I’m sorry—”

“Okay, love doesn’t mean being pathetic.” I laughed through my tears.

“Yes it does.” His voice sounded as choked as mine. “I’ve been dragging my heart and my pride around behind me since I met you, girl. Don’t you know that? God, I love you so much. I’d do anything for you.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You’ve done everything for me.”

“Sweetheart, I haven’t even started yet.” He gave a short laugh. “Now, put on something sexy and come down to my office. I want you to sign some paperwork and fuck you on my desk.”

“I’m coming,” I said breathlessly, already out of my chair.

“Not yet you’re not.” I could hear him-not smiling, but grinning, from ear-to-ear.

“But you will be.”