Suddenly, my chest feels tight.

  I take a swig of orange juice, press a napkin on my lips, set the glass on the side and rest my elbows on the table, my fingers clasped.

  “Okay... See, this is reason why I’m not good for you, Jagger,” I say, serious, and his smile withers away.

  “What are you talking about?” he asks with a different voice.

  I sense he’s irritated, and suddenly defensive.

  “Even if this is nothing, there can’t be other women,” I continue, and his eyes darken.

  “There are no other women,” he says, rushed, and I raise my hand.

  “At the same time, it’s not fair to ask that of you. I don’t want you to waste your time with someone like me,” I say with a clear, firm voice.

  “I don’t want other women,” he says, frustration edging in his voice.

  I slip my hand on his arm.

  “I believe you... I really do, but this is what you’re thinking now. Things can and will change, and then, when I'm no longer enough for you, Jagger... you’ll regret all this. The time you’ve wasted. I don’t want to end up being resented by you.”

  His brows knit in a ragged line, his eyes glinting with anger.

  “You can’t possibly believe that. Everything has a shelf-life, Violet, and you must know it. Your perfect marriage didn’t last. You, I, the people we fuck... We all come with an expiration date. Why are you so fucking stubborn and can’t even give me a fucking chance? Why do you have to be so fucking scared?” he bursts out.

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you fucking are. Why can’t you just follow your heart?”

  His eyes drill deep into mine, and I realize he may have seen more of me than I thought.

  “Because... I can’t rely on it, right now.”

  “Really?”

  He shakes his head, a scornful smile stretching across his lips, and my heart sinks. His chest expands with a sharp breath as he pushes up to his feet.

  “Jagger?”

  He kicks his chair back and storms out of the terrace. A moment later the front door slams closed.

  My stomach ties into a double knot.

  11

  Tilting his head slightly to the side, he gives me a slow smile, his fingers tracing down my cheek, light pouring in his eyes.

  A smile lights up his face, pushing the world I know away, making time stop.

  Only for me.

  Spellbound, I drink him in, relishing the emotion in his eyes, the promise on his lips, and the warmth coming from his heart.

  Fascinating, his eyes reveal a world of deeply buried secrets and only one truth.

  What if I’m his, and he is mine?

  What if I have to change a hundred times?

  What if I have to carry scars?

  What if he is, indeed, the one?

  “Hey. How was your weekend?” Liv asks, trampling into my office.

  My eyes shift away from the computer.

  A floor length crochet dress hugs her body, an eye-catching bird pendant dangling on her chest. She wears flat sandals and a dozen of gypsy style bangles that slide up and down her arm every time she moves her hand.

  “Good... I think,” I say, and her smile dies out.

  “What happened to you?” she asks, examining my face.

  “I had a strange couple of days,” I confess.

  “You wanna talk?”

  “Probably not,” I say, rueful, and close the laptop.

  My eyes follow her as she sinks into an armchair.

  A moving silhouette snags my attention as Jagger slows down briefly in front of my office and casts a glance inside before he vanishes out of sight.

  By the time Liv flicks her eyes to the hallway, he’s gone.

  “Who was that?”

  “No one.”

  “You want to grab some lunch? Maybe it will cheer you up,” she says.

  “Sure.”

  I grab my purse and sashay around the desk, tall on my stilettos.

  “Hmm... Someone’s on the prowl today,” she says, nodding softly as she takes me in.

  “What’s the occasion?”

  “No occasion,” I mutter, sullen.

  I wear a caramel tailored dress with beautiful stitching and short silver zippers on my shoulders, a longer matching one running down my back.

  I wait in front of Liv’s office as she cleans up her desk and picks up her backpack. A stare burns the back of my neck.

  I turn and scan the corridor.

  Propped against a windowsill, Jagger scalds me with his blazing eyes. He jams his hands into his pockets, crosses his legs, and runs his eyes down on me. He’s far, but the effect he has on me is the same.

  My heart flutters.

  “Ready?”

  I grip Liv’s arm and haul her in the opposite direction making sure she doesn’t see him.

  Minutes later, we occupy the corner table of a small terrace tucked between two skyscrapers. A canopy of vegetation shields the space from the scorching sun and blocks some of the rumbling noise of the city.

  The server sets the salads on the table.

  “How’s your new column doing?” Liv says, shoving lettuce in her mouth.

  “It’s good. I can’t complain,” I say with a faint voice.

  She studies me for a moment.

  “Are you gonna talk or sob? What the hell happened to you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “It doesn’t look like nothing to me. You look as if you lost your dog or something, and I know for sure, you don’t have one. Is everything okay with your family?”

  “Yeah, yeah... It doesn’t have anything to do with them.”

  “Then what is it?”

  I shake my head and briefly look away.

  “I don’t even know how to say this. It’s stupid.”

  She smiles.

  “That’s fine. I like stupid.”

  “Well, I’ve never felt deeply for someone. Romantically, I mean.”

  She tips her chin down to catch my eyes, no longer smiling.

  “My husband wasn’t that sort of relationship. I never felt the butterflies or a deep connection with him. He wasn’t my world or anything, and the feeling was mutual.”

  “Okay.”

  “So, when it happens, how do you know if it means something or it’s just some short-lived feeling?”

  She looks at me with thoughtful eyes.

  “You just know...”

  “Have you ever felt that way for someone?” I ask.

  “There were a couple of times when I thought I felt that way, but the feeling wasn’t reciprocated, so it didn’t count. And then there was someone who meant the world to me, and for a moment I thought I meant the world to him, and maybe I did, but life swept him away, so yeah... You kinda know.”

  She takes a sip of water, pausing for a few moments before she speaks again.

  “If he’s your man, you’ll know. We all know it when we see it. That’s not the mystery. The problem is that sometimes we lie to ourselves and let them go and then regret it, later on.”

  I shift my focus to my salad and slowly chase a cranberry off my plate.

  “So what exactly bothers you, Violet?”

  I let out a long exhale.

  “He’s much younger than me,” I say, visibly conflicted.

  She puts the fork on the plate and clasps her hands under her chin.

  “Why is that a problem?”

  I flick my eyes up.

  “You don’t see it as a problem?”

  She smiles.

  “How young is he?”

  “Twenty... one.”

  A slow smile stretches across her lips, and for a moment I’m not sure how to interpret her reaction.

  “Good for you.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I ask, grinning.

  “He must be a good lay.”

  The heat of a blush spreads across my face.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “You wouldn’t be so torn if he weren’t. You question the way you feel for him because he’s young and hot. If he were older, and so-so in the sack, you wouldn’t have second guessed yourself.”

  “Maybe... I don’t know,” I say, not sounding very convincing. “There’s another thing... I can’t get into something serious right now, and he’s fine with it. He probably doesn’t want that either. But the way I feel, I might want more from him and in the end I might get hurt...”

  She searches my eyes for a moment.

  “Anyway, my point is if this thing doesn’t work out, we’ll both get hurt.”

  I put the fork done.

  “The other thing is, even if this turns out to be more, I don’t want to rob him of his youth. I don’t want him to feel trapped. I’ve been through that, and it’s horrible. I wouldn’t want to do that to anyone, especially someone I care about.”

  “It’s his life. You can’t make that decision for him,” she says.

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. You don’t know enough about him to figure out exactly what matters to him and what doesn’t.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “I don’t think you know what you want right now, Violet,” she says. “Or maybe you do, and you’re too afraid. The thing is, whichever way you go, don’t waste your time musing over different scenarios. In the end, nothing matters as much as you think it does, and you might lose him if you drag your feet too long.”

  She pauses for a few moments before she speaks again.

  “I used to know this guy when I was eighteen. He was one year older than me. He was full of life and hot as hell. We fooled around a lot...”

  A grin splashes over her face.

  “We liked each other, but we were too young to think about the long-term shit. We had big dreams. Marriage, family, and kids were never something we had talked about. Even so, the closer I’d gotten to him, the harder my mom pulled me away. She knew we’d end up going down that road despite the fact that we had no idea at that time. She could tell there was so much more than I thought there was, and she resented the idea that I’d get serious with some guy, so early in my life, so she kept saying I needed to focus on my education, career, independence... All that crap. And it all made sense. Right? She said eighteen is not the age to think about marriage, that we should get to know other people too...”

  She takes a long breath, staring vacantly at her hands.

  “We spent a whole summer together. It was the best year of my life. When the fall came, he went away. He was part of a band, and they began to get more gigs and started to travel. Soon he made good money, and new people came along. He became a celebrity in his own right. In the spring, he hooked up with some girl he brought to his hotel room one night. Older than him, by the way. She lied to him she was on the pill, and he trusted her. She got pregnant that first night. She said it was an accident. As it turned out, she didn’t give a flying fuck he was young, barely out of school, just starting to make a name for himself. His fame and money were more important to her. She robbed him of his youth, changed his life in the blink of an eye, and dumped a lot of responsibility on him in a very short time. She couldn’t care less. He stuck with her, and a couple of years later, they got married. They have a lovely girl. Does he love his daughter? Of course he does. I would assume he loves his wife too. So there you have it. That’s life, Violet. Smart people don’t wait for the perfect anything, and that’s exactly why they end up with a lot more than those who analyze everything to death.”

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur.

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for. My point is, don’t plan too much. Nothing waits for you to make up your mind nor does it come twice. Life slips away through our fingers away faster than we think.”

  I glance at the phone, checking the time.

  She registers my gaze and motions for the check.

  I drop the blinds and turn the lights on just as Jonas and Liv walk down the corridor and head for the exit. They stop briefly to say goodbye.

  “Are you gonna stay much longer?” Jonas asks.

  “I’ll finish in an hour or so,” I say, and they wave me goodbye and walk away.

  Close to seven o’clock, I call a local restaurant and order dinner. A half hour later, Roxane brings in my food.

  “The answering service is on. I think you’re the only one left. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says.

  “Okay. Good night. You can close the door. Thank you,” I say.

  “Sure.”

  She swings the door shut, and I set the bowl of salad next to the laptop. I take the first bite and barely type a paragraph when the door bursts open with a big noise.

  I raise my eyes.

  Blood drains out of my face.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I shout.

  Unfazed, Jagger slams the door shut and paces to my desk. His face strikes me as unusually pale, his eyes glittering, dark.

  “Why are you here?” I ask, raising my voice.

  He throws his tablet on the desk, right in front of me.

  “What is this Violet?”

  I read the title.

  What if he’s the one?

  “Something I wrote,” I mumble. “An article...”

  “What? I can’t fucking hear you!”

  “Something I wrote today.”

  “Is it true?”

  I evade his eyes.

  His fist hits the desk.

  “Is it??” he thunders.

  His voice bounces around the room like a crazy bird.

  “It could be,” I say quietly.

  “Hmm, it could be... You’re fucking playing with me, aren’t you?”

  “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention...” I start meekly, exasperation growing on his face.

  “Oh, you’re sorry...”

  He shakes his head, his face washed with disbelief.

  “You’re such a fucking liar, Violet,” he says, and tears come to my eyes.

  “I’m not a liar.”

  “Oh, yes you are... I didn’t ask for much did I? But even before I did, you made damn sure I shouldn’t expect anything from you. I get it. I fucking get it. I don’t want shackles either. All I wanted from you was to listen to your damn heart. And you know why? Because I feel differently for you, and I know you do too, but I also know that you pull yourself back with all those little lies you tell yourself. And then you write shit like this as if it matters to you. As if I matter to you. As if you have the kind of courage you write about, but don’t fool yourself. You’re not that kind of woman,” he says, his finger pointing at the tablet, a cold smile bleeding on his lips.

  “That’s not for you to say,” I retort, swept by anger.

  “Why’s that, little princess? Because you still think I’m some kid who doesn’t have a clue? Is that what it is? Well, I’ve got news for you. I’m not, and I can see right through you. I saw you from that first day in the elevator. I know how you feel. I know how much your body craves mine. I know you’re torn, but the only reason you are is because you feel for me, and you hate the fact that you have no control over your feelings. That’s not what you’ve planned. Am I right? I know I fucking am. You want to only fuck? I’m all for it, baby. But if we do, and we feel something, I don’t want to kill that. I don’t want to pretend it’s not there. I don’t want to fight over stupid little things. I don’t know about you, but feeling for someone doesn’t happen to me often. So that’s fucking that. But you know what? If that’s the way you think, I’m not gonna beg you. It’s not my business to change your fucking mind. I just wanted you to know, I’m not a fucking idiot. You may be able to fool yourself, but you can’t fool me.”

  “I think you should go,” I say, cold, and his eyes narrow with unbridled fury.

  “You do?” he scoffs, his eyes tearing away from me for a moment, looking down.

  With one swipe of his arm, he sweeps my desk clean, all my stuff landing on the floor, my phone buried under two slices of red pepper.

  I leap up to my feet.

  “Get out!” I shout, my finger pointing to the door.

  He flashes a sardonic smile.

  “Oh, please... Just give me a fucking break, will you?”

  He makes a few steps back, his eyes glistening with pain.

  “I was such an idiot to believe in you. You may be older, but you’re so fucking clueless.”

  “How dare you!” I growl through gritted teeth, and his arched lips pull into a bitter smile.

  “If you can’t see what we are for each other, you really know nothing Violet. And guess what. I’m no longer willing to wait for you. I can find this kind of crap at any bar or beach or party. Your age group or mine. It’s all the same. And honestly, I don’t need to stay hard for you until you make up your mind...”

  His eyes turn cold in an instant, his words cutting deep into my heart. By the time he scoops up his phone from his pocket and slides his finger over the screen, I stare at him through a veil of tears.

  “Yeah... Can you come tonight? Uh-huh. Okay. My place is fine,” he says on his phone as he swings the door open.

  He slams it against the wall and walks out of my office.

  Moments later, I’m still staring at the havoc left in his wake.

  12

  It takes me an hour to clean up the mess, and finish my article, and then another half hour to get home. I glance at his house. There are no cars in his driveway.

  I push the door open and walk inside my home. The house is quiet, the back doors cracked open, a warm breeze rolling in. I change my clothing, and barefoot, walk on the patio.

  Half of his house is lit, the other half is sunk in darkness. Holding my breath, I listen. The French doors are wide open, and muffled music wafts through the air, coming from inside his room.

  I stroll across his lawn and enter his house.

  All the doors are closed. As I stand there, expecting to hear voices or laughter or even the moans of a woman caught in the throngs of pleasure, sadness and a pang of desperation roll through me.

  I call his name. A few times.

  “Jagger?”

  My voice is soft at first, and then louder, and louder. The music keeps blaring through the walls, the beat, haunting. My heart races as a cocktail of emotions flows through me. Anger, frustration, sadness.