hurt me, that I don’t care.
But he has hurt me.
And I do care.
I care very much because nobody has ever made me feel dirt cheap before, yet Ward Maddox has accomplished this so easily. Except he’s wrong to think I instigated this turn of events. He can’t know, and won’t ever know that the reason I didn’t rat out Jamie was to protect him.
And yet, I haven’t been an angel myself. I didn’t help things with my look-at-me-in-a-bra-move.
Somewhere between Dale cheating on me, and Ward having some inexplicable crazy-as-heck effect on me, I’ve lost my self-esteem and become a needy woman. I have become the type of woman I used to scorn; a woman who uses her sexuality to attract men.
But it’s less about the attraction and more about the power. Having someone like Ward—a rich, famous and reclusive man who barely knows me—take an interest in me, is great for my self-esteem.
After this exchange, I revert to how I was before, with my previous keeping away from him stance. I don’t hide from him like before.
These stupid games we play have to stop, but I wasn’t prepared for him to stop them now, so soon.
In the days that follow, I keep my distance again. He does, too. He’s gone quiet, and back to his reclusive self, only without him hanging around in the TV room, slouching all over the couch, making a mess with all the chip packaging.
We both get on with this new state of affairs.
When Jamie asks me again about Raleigh’s party a few days later, I tell him I can make it. As well as getting me out of the house it’s going to be a great opportunity to see what my friends are up to, and to see if I have better luck looking for jobs where they work.
On Friday, before he leaves, Jamie confirms about the party tomorrow and offers to come by in a taxi to pick me up at eight o’clock. I catch a glimpse of Ward walking past the door, and a sense of smug satisfaction comforts me.
I’ve already made up my mind to wear my sexiest dress, and I hope he’ll be skulking around to see me in it.
WARD
“When can I expect it?” Rob asks when I tell him that I’m still stuck on the ending. I clutch the phone tighter. “Soon.” But I don’t know how I’m going to get any writing done today, knowing that Mari is going out with Jamie tonight. I’ve not been able to make any progress all day.
“That’s what you said last time.”
“I’m working on it. There are still some things I need to iron out.”
“Sure, thing, buddy. I was under the impression that you were almost there.” I sense an unasked question lingering behind his words.
“You’ll have it as soon as it’s done.” I hang up. I have made no progress ever since I warned Mari that we had to stop. But now I realize the real issue. It’s not that I’ve stopped thinking of Mari. In fact, the problem is much worse. I have blue balls and I am even more frustrated than ever.
The solution wasn’t to avoid one another, it was to get together and talk it out. It was to do something about it. The pent-up frustration is now at exploding point and my manuscript is no further along. I grow more miserable and frustrated with each day.
She’s doing exactly as I asked, she’s keeping her distance, but not seeing her is killing me. Things are so much worse, not better.
I slam the phone down and squeeze the soft padding near my eyebrows. It’s full of tension. My eyes feel sore. My neck feels stiff. I can’t sleep properly. My brain churns with plot points that I hate again, and characters who are too stupid to live.
I hate my story. I told Rob I was almost done, and I was, but now I detest everything I’ve written. It stinks. It’s boring. It’s drivel.
Worse, Mari is going out with Jamie tonight.
I blame Rob for putting these two people in my life.
They’ve caused me more problems than I care to count. Everything about this current situation, about her and him, messes with my mind.
I should burrow away in my writing cave but if I do that my mind will be on Mari leaving. Jamie said he was coming at eight to pick her up. I resolve to be in the gym at that time, working up a sweat and venting my frustration,