Chapter 1
It’s high time to end the pity party. That was the thought Jared James woke up with on the fortieth day after the love of his life turned down his marriage proposal.
On that Friday morning in late July, Jared woke to the sound of seagulls and surf pounding against the rocks that abutted his property on Gansett Island—and to this somewhat major development in the midst of his retreat from real life.
As he did every morning, he thought of his girlfriend, Elisabeth—“with an S,” she always said. His ex-girlfriend now…
He’d called her Lizzie, a nickname she’d always hated until he decided she was his Lizzie.
Over time, he’d convinced her she loved the nickname as much as she loved him.
As he had every day since it all went so bad, he thought of the night he’d taken her to a rooftop restaurant in Manhattan, which had been reserved just for them.
He recalled his carefully planned proposal and the look of utter shock and dismay on her face when she realized what he was asking.
She’d shaken her head, which meant no in every language he spoke.
She actually said no. That was the part he still couldn’t believe more than a month later.
He hadn’t seen that coming. It hadn’t occurred to him for a second that she’d say no.
When he’d gotten down on one knee, he’d pictured an entirely different outcome.
He’d imagined a tearful acceptance, kissing and hugging and dancing.
There’d been champagne chilling for the celebration that hadn’t happened. He’d had the company Learjet waiting at Teterboro to whisk her off to Paris for a romantic long weekend. She’d always wanted to go there, and he was set to make all her dreams come true, starting with that one.
She’d said no.
He hadn’t heard much of what she said after she shook her head in reply to his heartfelt question.
The movement of her head in a negative direction had hit him like a fist to the gut.
There’d been tears, not the happy kind he’d hoped for, but rather the grief-stricken sort, the kind that come when everything that could go wrong did.
He knew about those tears. He’d shed a lot of them over the last five weeks.
In all his thirty-eight years, he’d never shed a tear over a woman until he’d finally given his heart to one, only to see it crushed to smithereens after the best year of his life.
He had vague memories of standing up, of staring at her tearstained face as she continued to shake her head and tried to make him understand.
But he hadn’t heard a word she said. It was all noise that refused to permeate the fog that had infiltrated his brain.
He’d walked away and taken a cab to the garage where he kept his car.
He’d driven for hours to get the first ferry of the morning to the home he’d bought on Gansett Island a couple of years ago and had barely seen since.
He’d been too busy to spend time on the island.
Now he had nothing but time after taking an indefinite leave of absence from work.
Lizzie had called him a couple of times since that night, but he hadn’t taken her calls.
What did it matter now? What could she possibly say that would make a difference?
He’d erased her voice-mail messages without listening to them.
The last thing he needed was to hear her voice and be set back to day one, when he’d honestly wondered if he was going to be able to continue breathing without her.
Yeah, he was a mess, and he was sick to death of being a mess.
He was sick to death of himself. He got up and pulled on shorts and a tank, shoved his feet into an old pair of Nikes and headed out to run on the beach, something he’d done nearly every day he’d been here.
What the hell good was owning waterfront property if you didn’t take advantage of the chance to run on the beach?
He hadn’t taken the time to appreciate most of the perks of making a billion dollars before his thirty-fifth birthday.
He’d been too busy making more money to enjoy what he’d already accomplished.
Those days were over, too. In the weeks he’d spent on Gansett, he’d been able to breathe for the first time in longer than he could remember.
Without the constant pressure of work, work and more work, he’d discovered he had absolutely no life away from work.
He didn’t have a single hobby, and he didn’t have many friends who weren’t affiliated in some way with his job.
His clients were among his closest friends.
How screwed up was that? Lizzie had been the exception.
He’d met her at a benefit for the homeless shelter she ran for women and children in crisis.
One of the guys from work had talked him into sponsoring the event, which was how he’d ended up in a monkey suit on a Wednesday evening, working the ballroom in the Ritz-Carlton at Central Park.
If he lived forever, Jared would never forget the first time he saw her. He’d been talking with some friends, guys he knew from the financial rat race, while his gaze swept the room and landed on her. She’d worn black—slinky, sexy black—that showed off her subtle curves.
However, her curves, as captivating as they’d been, hadn’t been the thing that made him walk away from a conversation mid-sentence.
No, it had been her smile and the way it lit up her entire face that had him making his way across the crowded room, like a magnet drawn to the most precious of metals.
“Why am I thinking about that?” he asked himself as he pounded his footprints into the sand.
“I’m done thinking about her, reliving every minute I spent with her.
It’s over, and it’s time to accept that and stop acting like a pussy-whipped, pathetic, ridiculous fool.
She doesn’t want you. Plenty of others do. ”
Except… He didn’t want anyone else. He’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted her, and it was going to take a lot more than forty days for the yearning to subside. Still, that didn’t mean he had to walk around like a lovesick dickwad in the meantime.
He barely noticed the gorgeous scenery that unfolded before him as he hit the mile mark and turned back, a plan forming as he went.
He’d invite some people over for dinner.
They’d have a cookout like normal people did this time of year.
David and Daisy would come, and he’d ask Jenny Wilks and her fiancé, Alex Martinez.
He’d tell them to bring others who’d like a free steak and a couple of beers.
People, he thought. That’s what he needed.
David and Daisy had been exceptionally good friends to him, dragging him along on many a date night and letting him be their official third wheel.
The least he could do was make them dinner to thank them for their extraordinary compassion as he nursed his broken heart.
He came to a halt at the stairs that led to his house, bent at the waist to catch his breath and then walked slowly up the stairs and across the lawn, past the inground pool he’d never used.
A guy came out from the mainland every week to tend to it.
Perhaps it was time someone actually swam in the crystal-clear water he paid a small fortune to maintain.
Grasping the hem of his tank, he brought it up to wipe the sweat off his face. When he let the shirt drop, he noticed David coming down the stairs from the garage apartment.
“Off to save some lives, Doc?” Jared asked his friend, who was dressed in khakis and a blue dress shirt—or what Daisy called his doctor uniform.
“You know it,” David said, his face lifting into the engaging grin that had become familiar to Jared in the last few weeks.
“Hey, so why don’t you and Daisy come for a cookout tonight? You can take a swim and have a steak. If you want to.”
David eyed him skeptically. “Who’s cooking?”
“I am,” Jared said indignantly. “I’m not totally useless.”
Laughing, David said, “No comment. Daisy will want to know what we can bring.”
“You don’t have to bring anything.”
“That won’t fly with her. How about a salad?”
“Sure.” Jared had come to know Daisy well in the last few weeks and recognized defeat when he saw it. “Sounds good.”
“Great. What time?”
“Six thirty?” That sounded like a good time for a cookout, didn’t it?
“We’ll be here.”
“If there’s anyone else you want to bring, feel free.”
“Maybe I’ll ask Victoria at the clinic. She’s fun.”
“Not a fix-up, right?”
David tossed his head back and laughed. “Hardly. She’s hot and heavy with an Irishman.”
“Tell her to bring him.”
“I’ll do that.” David gave him a perusing look. “You seem better.”
“I think it’s more that I’m sick of feeling like shit. That gets old after a while.”
“Yes, it does.”
David had shared what he’d gone through after he’d screwed up his relationship with his fiancée and then had to sit on the sidelines and watch while she married someone else.
“Does it ever stop hurting like hell?” Jared asked.
“Eventually.”
Hands on his hips, Jared nodded. “Good to know. See you tonight?”
“We’ll be there. Thanks for the invite.”
“Thanks for everything. You and Daisy have been… You’ve been great. Really great.”
“I’m glad to finally get to know the guy I’ve been sending my rent checks to all this time,” David said with a smile as he headed for his car with a wave from Jared.
Clinging to the upbeat attitude he’d woken with, Jared went to the outdoor shower to rinse off the sweat and sand. He’d owned the house for three years but hadn’t discovered the outdoor shower until he’d arrived earlier in the summer.