I excuse myself from the couch to get a napkin to wipe off the blood, but it keeps bleeding. When I return to the couch, Jane has fallen silent and refuses to look at me. I sit next to her, but she moves from the couch and onto a chair.
“Babe, let’s keep this professional—”
“Professional?” Jane cuts me with a scoff. “I’m not the one fucking every woman they know.”
“That’s not what I—”
“Forget it.” Jane stands from the chair. “I can’t deal with this right now. I can’t.”
“Please just listen to me, babe.”
“God, stop calling me babe,” Jane retorts. She storms out of the room, slamming the door shut. I come to the door, but Jane locks it.
“Jane, please open up,” I plead. “I’m just as hurt and pissed as you. Please open the door so we can talk.”
Jane doesn’t answer me. Instead, I hear drawers opening and clothes being toss around.
I knock on the door. “Jane, please. Jane!”
After a few minutes of waiting, the door opens, and Jane comes barging out with a suitcase. She nearly hits me with the door, but I’m sure that’s not her intention.
“I can’t be here right now,” Jane states.
“Jane, please.” I take her arm, but she easily pulls away from me. “Jane, just listen to me for one minute. Just one.”
Jane simply scoffs and heads for the door. She shakes her head as she mutters something under her breath, but I can’t pinpoint what it is. I can only watch as Jane opens the door and slams it behind her. The slam causes me to flinch, and I sink back into the couch.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” I mutter as I run my hands through my hair. God, it can’t get any worse.
I go to the window and see Jane standing outside, waiting for a cab. I want to open the window and tell her to come back in, but she won’t listen. She didn’t bother to listen when I tried to explain the situation. Why are women so difficult to talk too?
Suddenly, I notice Jane scurrying off, as if getting away from something—well, other than me. I look in the close distance to see the press hurrying down the street. They stop near the hotel with cameras in hand, and somber looks on their faces.
Shit, it definitely can get worse. My reputation’s spiraling down the drain in the blink of an eye. As I stand here in my bathrobe, I feel utterly vulnerable. That cut on my chin is bleeding again, but my body is hurting either way.
I hear them calling me down for questions, but I can’t see them. I can’t see anyone. I feel trapped in my own room. God, I really do feel vulnerable. I can only stand by the window, hoping not to catch the attention of the hungry press. How the hell can they have turned on me so quickly? Everything was in my control not too long ago, and now, everything is falling apart. Falling apart, just like that.
31 Jane
It’s never good when your boss calls you into his office, but I have a feeling I know what this is about. Terry sits across from me, looking like she isn’t sure how to approach this. I’m not sure how to approach this either. This silly plan of Riker’s has gotten way out of hand. This was supposed to be something that could help me get on a winning streak. Now, here I am looking like a fool. I want to hate him. I don’t know why I can’t.
“Jane,” Terry starts. Her brow is furrowed. She knows that there isn’t a right answer to this. “I wanted to check in with you. I want to know how you’re feeling about… everything.”
She says the last word as if he’s talking about an incoming rainstorm when I’ve forgotten my umbrella. It’s casual, but filled with concern for my well-being. Unfortunately, this isn’t as simple as running to the store to buy again what I’ve forgotten.
“Well, Terry,” I start. “It’s difficult, as you can imagine…” I trail off. How do I explain heartbreak and humiliation to my boss?
“Please, Jane. There’s really no need to hold back. This is an unusual situation. You’re smart and a good lawyer. I want you to stick around. You’ve been such a trooper through this.”
I’m surprised by the amount of softness in her speech. This is the same woman who pushed me to take Riker’s case and who is always pushing me to win. I always wondered if she was simply dangling a partner position in front of me to just keep me around. Could she have been trying to push me to succeed?
I feel so many overwhelming and conflicting emotions. Part of me is furious while other parts of me want to forgive. Yet another part of me is confused about Terry’s sudden change of heart.
“Jane,” she continues. “No one would blame you if you called this whole thing off.”
“Oh… They wouldn’t?” I ask.
“No, not at all. Riker has… Well, he’s made plenty of choices in his life. I know that better than anyone. This might not be as good for your future as we originally thought, Jane.”
Her last comment hits me like an arrow through the heart. If Riker isn’t good for me, then why do I feel so conflicted? I pride myself on doing what’s best for me. I’m driven and ambitious. Ever since I had Nia, I knew that I was in charge of making a better life for us. Was I a fool? Did Riker charm me like he has so many others before?
Riker.
His name fills me with so many thoughts and emotions. I remember all of the good times—having dinner with Nia, going out on the town, making love all night—and the bad—Ana, Ana, his slew of personal and legal issues. How could I have been so blind? But I still don’t believe it. This doesn’t feel like
