Alexis laughed, her brown eyes shining. “You mean we’re not sampling the freebies at every bar’s happy hour and saving on dinner?”
“Oh, geez. I’m not that bad, am I?” Jen protested.
Her friends simply stared. “When it comes to spending money, let’s just say—
you’re frugal,” said Alexis.
She held up her hands. “Okay, okay…guilty as charged.”
“Not that we’re complaining,” chimed in Liz, with a chuckle. “Living in Beantown is expensive, and saving is a challenge.”
“Well, I’m conceding right now,” said Matthew. “Some of us need real food! Not just peanuts.”
“Then go home to your mama, and get a good meal,” said Liz, reaching up to pat him on the shoulder.
Everyone laughed as they piled into the elevator, but Jen sensed new vibes. Matt and Liz. The young woman’s gentle teasing, her tender touching was becoming a habit.
The elevator deposited them in the spacious marble lobby of the building, and the group headed toward the plate glass doors leading to the plaza outside.
“The days are getting longer and warmer,” said Matt, holding the door open for the others, “which means our playtime is longer, too.”
The chatter continued, but when Jen stepped outside, she heard nothing more, and saw nothing except the tall man with a hank of dark hair falling over his forehead, the man whom she’d once labeled skinny but wasn’t anymore, the man who’d once held her heart. Surprise held her frozen until a slow anger warmed her up.
She watched him, and by his stillness, identified the moment he spotted her. One second, two seconds. He waited, but made no move toward her, as though afraid she’d disappear.
Then came the smile, the smile that once had melted her heart. She used to run her fingers over his mouth, outlining his lips, kissing them. But that was then…
Her hands clenched into fists as he finally approached. She moved closer to her friends.
“Hang on a sec,” she whispered, her throat dry.
They halted instantly.
“What’s wrong, Jen?”
She couldn’t speak. Doug was only six feet from them now, filling her vision.
And suddenly, he was there. Right in front of her.
“Hello, Jennifer Grace Delaney. I’ve missed you.”
No! Taller, bigger than in her memory. And his eyes, still so dark, darker than a moonless night is how she used to think of them. A kaleidoscope of remembrances hit her at once, and her initial anger ebbed, replaced by an eon of past loneliness and disappointment. And right now, fear. She wouldn’t survive a repetition of the past.
“Who is this guy?” Her four friends surrounded her.
She gulped some air, raised her chin. “Someone I used to know. An old college…uh…classmate.”
##
Her friends were astute. Their eyes focused on him, then Jen, their curiosity apparent. He didn’t care about her friends—what they saw, heard or thought.
Only Jen was real. And more beautiful than in his dreams.
“An old classmate, huh?” he repeated. “That’s a funny way to describe what we had.” He focused on her face. “This guy,” he said, echoing her friend’s question,
“is the man who can’t forget you.”
Her eyelids slammed shut, her mouth trembled before tightening. When she opened her eyes again, however, her gaze was steady. “It’s been years, Doug. As the saying goes, ‘that was then, this is now.’ Maybe you need to try harder to…
ah…forget.”
“I’ve moved back, Jen.”
“No, no, you haven’t,” she countered, her surprise laced with confusion.
Returning didn’t make sense at all. “Playwrights live in New York. We tried once, and it didn’t work. I’m sorry, Doug, but I’ve moved on. She turned toward her friends. “It’s time to leave. We’re all starving.”
Not yet. Not without him. He held out both hands, palms up. “Eight million people in New York,” he said, slightly bouncing his left hand. “And one Henny-Penny here.” He lifted his right arm high. “No contest.”
She shrugged. “You didn’t think so back then. You’re very good with words, images and make-believe. While I, in case you’ve forgotten, deal with real people.”
“I know.”
She stepped toward him, her purse falling to the ground, her friends closing ranks behind her. “Real people, Collins, like the Delaney family. Not your ordinary kind of family. Just a bunch of kids trying to survive.”
Good. Talk to me. Keep on talking. Communication is everything.
Before he could say a word, she turned to her friends again. A girl handed her the purse. “Sorry for the drama,” Jen said. “It’s the way he makes his living.
