Unforgettable, Linda Barrett [books to read to be successful TXT] 📗
- Author: Linda Barrett
- Performer: -
Book online «Unforgettable, Linda Barrett [books to read to be successful TXT] 📗». Author Linda Barrett
His steady gaze traveled from her eyes to her nose, mouth and back. It went through her. “I can’t do that,” he said softly. “I’ve never forgotten you.”
Her heart beat in syncopated rhythm like a wild tarantella. “Too late…”
“I’m not arguing now,” he replied. “Go back on stage, finish the rehearsal. You know I love kids. Maybe Bobby and I will sing along.”
“I can sing. ‘Row, row, row the boat…’” The boy wasted no time.
It was Doug’s laugh that grabbed her bruised heart. His personable, warm laughter, his easy way with her nephew. He glanced at her and winked. “Another ham in the family.”
This was the Doug she remembered. Sweet. Funny. It would be so easy to pick up where they’d left off. So easy to pretend the last five years hadn’t happened. Too easy. In less than twenty-four hours, he’d managed to reawaken something in her. A yearning, perhaps, that she’d refused to recognize. A yearning she’d allowed no one else to satisfy.
Too bad she didn’t trust him to stick around. For a beginning playwright, New York was the place to be. Too bad also, that she needed her family as much as they needed her. Her brothers and sisters leaned on each other. They were tight, and she wasn’t leaving them. She sighed deeply. Nothing was simple.
##
They left the theater together, and Doug apologized for needing to take off. “The house-hunt is on. So you live nearby, huh? The Downtown, area? Maybe I’ll look there.”
“If you can afford it. You should probably get a roommate or find a neighborhood further away. In fact, you can even go back to New York!”
“Are you kidding? After I juggled a million balls to arrange this year at BU and the theater? Besides, I can’t make the single habit too easy for you.”
“The-the—what?”
“I’m reaching for the gold ring, Jen. Remember this?”
His mouth covered hers, his kiss a surprise that felt so familiar, yet so new. Different. Her pulse raced, and she leaned in, enjoying the familiar sensation of his lips on hers, the familiar fragrance of his after-shave lotion before pulling back, flustered. “No, no. I-I can’t go through this again.”
“Neither can I, Jen.” His voice sounded hoarse. “So, I’m taking a chance here, a chance on a different ending.” He kissed her again, this time a quick good-bye, and left.
His words lingered in her mind—his words and her memories—as she made her way with Bobby toward Boston Common. Doug took risks all the time. He was a talented writer—she’d known that years ago—but how many writers, even brilliant ones, really earned a living? Anyone who believed that love paid the bills was a fool. Now where had that thought come from? She’d never been curious about the financial side of him. She’d only noticed the talent side.
What was he really doing back in Beantown? That kiss…tears started to run down her face. “Damn, damn, damn…and just when I had it all figured out.”
She and Bobby watched the swan boats, played catch, and ran after the football. She called Lisa for a medical update on her and her new daughter and was relieved at her sister’s calm words. The afternoon turned to early evening by the time Jen returned Bobby to his dad—a dad they found sound asleep on the living room couch.
“Shh…” warned Jen with a finger on her lips. “Just give a gentle hug. Let him sleep.”
“Dad-dy!!”
Mike rolled over, grabbed his son, and bestowed dozens of kisses on the boy’s neck and belly. Giggles ensued before the man stood, child in his arms, and looked at Jennifer.
“Thanks for taking him, Jenny. After two bad experiences, I don’t think Lisa will ever agree to another nanny. My folks are driving in tomorrow, but you have been a lifesaver. Don’t know what we’d do without you.”
Jen shrugged. “No worries, Mike. I’m not going anywhere. Families take care of each other, don’t they? Just like you and Lisa took care of us.” The past seemed to haunt her today, and unexpectedly, her lips began to tremble. Pressing them hard together, she tried to divert Mike. “Uh — tell me all about the baby.”
He grabbed the bait, and for the next five minutes, she heard all about the perfect, but miniature Brianna Grace Brennan. “I swear, she’s no bigger than a football.”
“I’ll run to the hospital for a quick visit and then head home,” she said. “You okay with Bobby?”
“Of course. Right, son?”
They high-fived each other. “I played ball with a big man today. Auntie Jen was singing, and I played.”
Mike’s quizzical gaze found her, and Jen sighed. “Okay. Emily would have mentioned it anyway.” She looked him in the eye. “Doug Collins moved back—he’s teaching at BU and putting on a play at the Commonwealth— and the first thing he did was track me down, and I don’t know how I feel about it because I’m afraid…I’m afraid….” She felt tears well and pushed them away. “I’m afraid to get involved again, and that’s all I know for now. I’m an idiot for even talking to him.”
She stepped toward the hallway. Mike’s voice followed her. “I used to like the guy. But not at your expense. Want me to pay him a visit?”
“Oh, God, no!” she replied, twirling toward him again. “I’m a big girl now, Mike. I’ll handle it.”
“Sometimes, honey, an interception’s in order. At other times, getting to the end zone simply takes a lot of running plays, a lot of zig-zagging.”
She inhaled. “I get it. But you can’t reach the end zone if you don’t trust your players.”
Doug signed a one-year lease for a studio apartment on Devonshire Street, in the downtown area of the city. It might or might not be near Jennifer’s place—he had no idea exactly where she lived but was content with his choice. Not far from both the theater and university.
On Sunday morning, Evie had stopped by as he unloaded his clothes, computer and books from his car, making several trips inside with his arms full. It was good to have his own place again, and even though his sister’s hug had felt extra-strong a little while ago, he was sure she felt the same. In her scrubs and white jacket, she’d looked every inch a physician.
“The folks are very proud of you, Eve. I can just hear Dad saying ‘my daughter, the doctor.’” His grin was warm with his own pride.
She shrugged. “I suppose. But I just wish—” She shook her head.
“Forget it, Evie. He’s not going to boast about his son, the writer. Been there, done that, with our parental units. I’m over it.”
“But you’re so smart. Your work is so good. A full-length play and a one-act on Broadway, and now you’re here with something new to work on. I just don’t understand them, and I’m sorry.”
He wrapped his younger sister in his arms. “It doesn’t matter. Writing is who I am. Sometimes, getting it exactly right drives me nuts, but… in the end, I love it.”
Her smile reassured him. “I love my work too,” Eve said. “Not so crazy about the hours, though.”
“It’s the love part that counts more. Trust me. If you’re going to spend your whole life doing something, be sure it makes you happy.”
“Good advice, Doug. I’m so glad you’re back.” She gave him a quick kiss and left for the hospital.
He could have done worse than having Eve as a sister. They’d forged a better relationship since they’d grown up and moved away from home. He hung up the last of his shirts and ran down the two flights to the ground floor, out the front door of the building and smack into Jennifer Delaney.
“Wow. How lucky can one man get? Do you actually live in this building?”
“You’re not that lucky, kiddo. I’m up about two blocks, but you’ve got a great coffee shop on your corner.” She held up her large to-go cup and continued to walk.
“No time for a friend?”
“I’ve got a busy day.”
“Will every day be too busy for us?”
That stopped her. She turned slowly toward him, her brow furrowed, eyes shadowed. “There is no ‘us’ anymore. You were gone for a long time.”
“It was a five-year residency, Jen.”
She nodded. “Five years in two separate worlds. I know circumstances were lousy, but life went on, and we owe each other nothing. Couples break up every day. Let’s say we each had a clean slate after the visits stopped and phone calls became fewer. A clean slate after you were gone for a while.
“Figured it all out, huh? As easy as that.” He snapped his fingers.
“I didn’t say it was easy,” she protested. “But I’m not going backward.”
He could live with that. But she’d given him an opening that he wasn’t going to ignore. “Then how about starting over? As you said, the slate’s clean.”
##
Whew! If he weren’t so sincere—and cute—at the same time. If his eyes didn’t implore, if he didn’t sound as though the future of civilization depended on her response…. And his mouth—she loved his mouth.
“My imagination isn’t as good as yours. I can’t simply forget the past.”
“Then put it in a box on a high closet shelf out of the way. Examine it from time to time if you have to, but don’t let it be a barricade now.”
What a picture. “I keep forgetting…”
“Forgetting what?”
“…how good you are with words.”
“Normally, I’d say thanks. But somehow, I’m not taking that as a compliment right now.”
Her building was just ahead, and she glanced at her watch. “I want to visit Lisa and the baby. Then hit the books.”
“Going for an MBA?”
“Already have it. But I’ve got in-house training this week and want to be prepared. My career means a lot to me, and I don’t want to screw it up.”
His eyes shone, and a grin appeared. “Henny-Penny, I’ve always had full confidence in you and still do. You are one smart lady, and I’m sure you’ll be fully prepared.’”
Startled, she stepped back. “Thanks, I guess. But I don’t take anything for granted. I’ve worked hard. Frankly, I’m terrified of failing.”
She heard his “whoa,” and then silence settled around them.
“Terrified is a strong word,” said Doug.
“A true word. I want to make my parents proud of me.”
“I think,” Doug said slowly, “that might be overkill.”
“Why?” she asked, her voice rising in defense. “Because they’re gone?”
“Not at all.” He stepped closer and framed her face in his hands. “I’m twenty-eight years old and have two shows running in New York at the same time. That’s rare—very rare—and my folks could care less. So, what does their approval mean in the end? Nothing. You go after your dreams because inside, you know it’s the right path.”
“I like numbers,” she whispered. “Always have. And that liking morphed into a dream career with a world-renowned investment firm.”
“I know. And numbers give me a rash.”
She smiled. He’d always been able to make her laugh. Seemed he still could. And maybe that was not a small thing.
“You know what gave me a rash in the old days?” she asked.
“Of course, I do. Writing those personal essays. The insult of revealing your thoughts and feelings to a bunch of strangers. I’ll never forget the fire in your eyes when you stalked toward that door, ready
Comments (0)