Jealousy Junction by Cathryn Grant (rosie project .txt) 📗

have to figure out how to support herself, relaxing into his money.

As if she’d read my mind, she said, “He earns an excellent income, but he spends it even faster than he brings it in. When we sold mom and dad’s house, I thought we’d invest in something that belonged just to us. But he wanted all kinds of fancy toys—a new car, more cars than he could possibly drive, and the boat…He cared more about making sure our condo had a prestigious address than buying a home that suited us.” She moved the stick of olives around her glass, swirling the liquid. She took a sip and put the glass on the coffee table.

“It sounds like you wanted to end it. I thought he dumped you?”

“He did, but I’ve been thinking a lot more clearly since I got here. I mean, I miss him.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I think I still love him, but I don’t know if I like him that much or if I could live with him for the rest of my life. If that makes sense. So maybe, in the end, it was a good thing.”

I nodded. “What are you going to do?”

She shrugged and stared at me blankly.

“I guess the first thing is to get this nut case out of your life?” I nodded toward the front window, wondering if he was out there now, but for the first time in a while, not caring all that much. The martinis were having their desired and predictable effect.

Tanya jumped up. “That was an excellent idea to put on this music. It makes me feel great. Why are we talking about the two worst guys in my life? We should dance.” She picked up her glass and took several large swallows, leaving the olives untouched. She moved away from the couch and began dancing.

I swallowed the rest of my drink, suddenly wanting to move. Maybe it was the drinks, maybe it was how cooped up we’d been. Or maybe, I sort of hoped Dave would see us and realize he wasn’t scaring us. We were going to live our lives and have fun, and we didn’t care what he thought about it.

As we bounced and spun and wiggled closer to the window, I glanced out and saw him. Just as I looked, a car passed by, moving slowly as the driver hunted for a house number. The headlights drifted slowly across his face. The look they exposed was one of complete shock. His mouth was open, and he was staring right at me as if he’d seen a ghost.

Chapter 18

In the end, I took a sharp and sudden turn from my original plan, but the martinis had affected my desire for action more than they did Tanya’s desire for truth.

She hadn’t spoken a word of truth about what Dave was really after, and maybe that was my fault. I hadn’t pushed her hard enough. I’d let the floating sensation of vodka take over my thoughts. I’d let my desire to move my body consume me as if I were driven to do some sort of cleansing, mystical dance to rid myself of the hurt from Jerry’s disappearance.

Tanya had gone to mix a third round of drinks while I spun around the living room by myself, feeling freer with my body now that she wasn’t there to critique my dance moves, and now that I’d backed away from the window.

After a few minutes, I felt slightly dizzy, so I stopped. I went into the kitchen and got a glass of water. Tanya looked well on her way to being wasted, and I wondered if I looked as bad as she did. As I sipped my water, watching her slop alcohol all over the counter, I noticed a second shot glass behind the bottle of vodka. She’d supplemented her martinis. I sighed and went back into the living room while she continued mixing and sneaking additional shots. At that point, I didn’t care. I liked feeling my thoughts dulled and numbed. I liked that my body felt loose and drained of tension.

Staying well back from the window, I continued dancing slowly, my eyes closed. After a minute, I heard Tanya leave the kitchen and go into the bathroom off the front hall.

I stopped moving my feet and stretched my arms over my head. I lowered them and walked to the window. Dave was staring up at me. Without thinking, I raised my hand and waved at him.

His face was hidden by the darkness—no conveniently passing cars to illuminate his expression. Thanks to a complete letting go of my analytical brain, for the first time since he’d invaded my life, I felt like I had the upper hand. I laughed.

With that wave, and that short burst of laughter, something changed. I couldn’t let him control my life for another moment. I turned away from the window and walked casually back toward the couch. Then, making sure I was not moving closer to the spot in the room where he could see me from where he stood, I dashed toward the stairs and ran down. Without bothering to put on shoes or a jacket, I tapped the code into the alarm panel and eased open the front door. I darted across the street, not caring that a few scattered pieces of gravel pierced my tender skin.

Oddly enough, he didn’t move. I was so used to his disappearing act, I hesitated for a moment. Then, my alcohol-infused blood flooded over my inhibitions, including my fear. “Who are you? And why the hell are you watching me?”

“I should ask you the same question.”

“I asked first.”

“You aren’t Tanya.”

“Nope.”

“You look just like her.”

“What you’re doing is illegal.”

He laughed. “Don’t talk to me about illegal. Are you her twin or something?”

“No.”

“Interesting. But sisters, right?”

“I’m not answering any questions until you tell me what you want, Dave.”

“So she told you my name?”

Now that I was standing in his presence, there was nothing