I can wait.” She stretches across the table and takes his hand. “We’re worth waiting for,” she says earnestly.
There is a long pause and then Michael shakes his head. “Jordana, I think you’re amazing. I think you’re beautiful, and clever, and funny and talented . . .”
“Oh my God,” she groans, her eyes widening in disbelief. “I know there’s a but coming.”
“In another life you would be everything I would look for in a woman, but we come from such different worlds. It isn’t just that you’re married, and I work for you, and I like your husband. That’s bad enough, but there’s more. You’ve always talked about not meshing your world and mine, creating one that both of us can live in, but I don’t see it. I don’t see how we do that.”
“We can,” Jordana insists. “I’d love to live a simple life with you. I don’t need all this stuff. I’d give it all up for you.”
“But I don’t want you to,” Michael says. “You wouldn’t be true to yourself.”
“I’ve got many different sides.” Jordana’s desperation is becoming evident in her voice as she tries to reason with him, tries to refute all his arguments. “You just know one limited side, and you think that’s all there is but that’s not true.”
“I don’t think you’re limited, but . . .” He sighs. This is so difficult. In such a short time they have become so incredibly close, but he knows, finally he knows, there is no way they belong together, and this has to end now. How does he tell her without destroying her?
“Jackson loves you,” he says, trying to convince her. “And you may have your hard times but who doesn’t? You’ve been together for years, and I don’t think you should throw it away for me. I think the two of you belong together. I think you owe him a second chance. Maybe this was what was needed, a catalyst to bring the two of you closer.”
“You have to be fucking joking!” Jordana’s voice is hard as she sits back in her chair and looks at him with disbelief. “I’ve blown up my life for you and now you’re telling me to go back to my husband because you don’t want me? I don’t fucking believe this.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you.” Michael feels pathetic in the face of her anger. “It’s just that I don’t see us together, and I don’t want to be responsible for this.”
“You’re a fucking coward,” she stands up and hisses. “You just loved screwing the boss until it became serious. I can’t believe I fell for this. I can’t believe I fell for you. Jesus Christ.” She runs her fingers through her hair as she looks around the apartment frantically. “I’ve been so fucking stupid.”
“Please don’t leave like this.” Michael stands helplessly in the doorway as Jordana throws the last of her things back in her suitcase, refusing to look at him, refusing to say anything. “Can we talk about this?”
But she doesn’t say a word to him. Zips her bag shut as tightly as her lips, then shoves past him and slams the elevator button, turning her back as he shuts the door of the apartment gently, not sure how he feels. Upset. Sad. Relieved.
The phone rings at 3:02 a.m.
“It’s me.” Jordana’s voice is husky down the phone. She has been crying, the rage of a few hours ago having worked itself out of her system by the time she reached her hotel room.
“Yes?” Michael is cautious.
“I’m sorry,” she says, and this time she breaks into sobs. “I love you. I really do. More than I’ve ever loved anyone, and I know we belong together. I know we can make this work. Please don’t do this to me, Michael. Please give me a second chance, give us a second chance.”
“It’s late,” Michael says eventually. “It’s been an exhausting day. Why don’t we both go to sleep and talk again tomorrow morning? Everything will be clearer in daylight.”
“Okay,” she says. “And I do love you.”
Michael puts the phone down and goes over to his computer. He opens a blank document in Word and starts to type.
Jackson sits in his offIce and tears open the envelope after looking at the return address on the top left-hand corner. Why would Michael, his jeweler, be writing to him? He unfolds the piece of paper and starts to read, shaking his head in disbelief, then he lays his head in his hands.