CHAPTER 20 JESSALYN #2
Gosh darn, even Ridge refused to pay more than a hundred bucks for a nice red.
With my money, Saylor would remind me. When I spoke to her before dinner, she confessed that she’d been stalking Ridge’s BuzzHub page, and he hadn’t mentioned my leaving at all.
Not once. But he’d posted pictures of himself at a tennis tournament, at an industry dinner, and standing beside his new Mercedes.
Oops. Guess the Lexus didn’t make it. I should have felt bad about that, but the guilt and the numbness were gradually being replaced by anger. Ridge had hurt me in so many ways.
Saylor had also been spitting mad on my behalf. “You’re sleeping in a clunker with Shiro, and he’s showing off his heated steering wheel? Who do you think paid for that, huh? Because I’m telling you, Ridge isn’t that good of a lawyer.”
“I doubt my blog made that much money.”
“Well, I found an article where your publicist said you got a six-figure advance for that cookbook you’re writing.”
“What? I didn’t get a six-figure advance.” Did I? “I don’t even have a publicist.”
“Apparently, you do. What’s happening with the cookbook, anyway?”
“How should I freaking know? I mean, obviously I was working on the recipes, but most of them are still in the notes app on my phone.”
“And you have the phone with you?”
“Yes, but I don’t dare to turn it on in case Ridge can use it to find me.”
“Good. If you have the recipes, he doesn’t. Either you can get in touch with the publisher and deal directly, or he can have fun explaining why there’s no cookbook.”
“I don’t even know the publisher’s number.”
“They must have a website.”
Maybe someday I’d be brave enough to look into that, but right now, I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. Not in the real world. Not with folks who also knew Ridge and could tell him where to find me.
“I just need breathing space at the moment,” I’d told Saylor.
And now here I was, far away from Maine, sharing a bottle of obscenely expensive wine with a man who wasn’t my husband, and you know what? It felt good.
“Yikes.” I held the scarlet liquid up to the light and studied it. “Now I’m scared to drink it.”
“Don’t be. Nolan can always make more. This year is his first harvest of a new variety of grape, and he’s already talking about expansion.”
“Have you visited the vineyard?”
“Spent three weeks there right after he got the place, helping him to fix the leaks in the winery roof. Now I try to get there for a couple of weekends each year. It’s worth a trip if you’re ever near the Sierra Nevada.
The tours are invite-only because too many tourists just wanted to take pictures rather than buy anything, but Nolan will show you around if you ask. ”
“Oh, I doubt I’ll be taking a vacation any time soon. I did visit a vineyard last year, but it was in Maine rather than California.”
“The winemaking process is fascinating, huh? I had no idea it was so complicated until Nolan took over at Dionysus.”
“I didn’t get to see much of the actual winemaking. It was a promo thing. I had to cook a three-course lunch on a freaking campfire, and Ridge spent the whole time complaining about camera angles and bad-mouthing the client. Oh, and it rained.”
“Rule number one in business—never bitch about the client, at least not anyplace they might overhear you.”
“I think Ridge forgot that rule. He accused the client of paying me too much attention, and they got into an altercation while I was making the entrée.”
What he’d actually slurred was, “So you like my wife’s ass, huh?
” and then he shoved the guy. I’d been so relieved when the contract got cancelled, because the campfire was too small to cook the chicken properly, and I’d been secretly worried about giving everyone food poisoning, even though Ridge assured me it would be fine.
“I’m not hitting on you, but I can understand where the client was coming from.” Justin swirled the remains of his wine in the glass. “Okay, maybe I’m hitting on you a little bit. Fuck. I should get the hell out of here.”
“Don’t,” I said quickly. “I…”
What was I supposed to say? Strangely, I appreciated his honesty.
Was this flirting? It felt like flirting, not that I had much experience with that.
I’d been twenty-one when I met Ridge, too focused on my studies to have much of a social life, and he’d kind of…
taken over. Dinner dates in fancy restaurants, always at a quiet table in the back; weekends away in Boston and New York; expensive gifts and cosy evenings in his apartment.
In the beginning, it had just been the two of us.
He said he didn’t want to pressure me with social engagements, that I had enough stress from losing my family and picking up the broken pieces of my life without meeting lots of new people.
It was only later that Saylor had said, “Duh, the asshole just didn’t want to get disbarred for sleeping with a client. ”
And even though I’d attended college on a scholarship—before I dropped out, anyway—I’d felt so freaking stupid. One of my peers described me as “book smart, not street smart,” and at the time, I hadn’t understood why she’d said it like an insult. But now I did.
“I don’t hate being hit on,” I blurted. “Not by you. But I’m not gonna lie—the idea of following through freaks me out. I mean, I’m still married.”
“If you want me to hire you a lawyer, you only have to say the word.” Justin’s tone stayed light, but I wasn’t entirely sure he was joking.
“For now, I just need space to breathe.”
“I get it.” He sighed heavily. “I do. I still need to box up the rest of Melanie’s stuff and ship it to New York.”
“Do you want me to help with that? Or would it be weird?”
“This whole situation is weird.”
“The only good thing about it is that I ended up here,” I whispered, and it felt as though the words stripped me bare.
“Yeah.” A smile flickered across Justin’s lips as he stood. “Yeah, you did. Get some sleep, Jessie.”
I shivered as he leaned in to kiss me on the cheek, the touch lingering long after he left the room. This arrangement with Justin was only temporary, a stopgap until I got my life back together, so why was this place starting to feel like home?