But she’d walked out first thing in the morning with her own plan in place, already cleared by Salvatore. A solid plan. As good as any he could come up with himself. Boothe would take her to the airport where Hillary would meet her.
Jayne was a smart and competent woman.
He tipped back his glass, not even tasting the fine whiskey, just welcoming the burn in his gut.
The rumble of an approaching car launched him to his feet. Then he recognized Boothe’s vehicle and dropped back down to sit on the dock. He must be returning from taking Jayne to the airport.
Just what he needed. His old “friend” gloating. He topped off his drink.
Boothe’s footsteps thudded down the embankment, rustling the tall grass. “You’re still sitting around here feeling sorry for yourself. Damn, and I thought you were a smart guy.”
Conrad glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t need this crap today. Want a drink?”
“No, thanks.” Boothe sat beside him, a handful of pebbles in his fist.
“Always the saint.”
He pitched a pebble in the water, ripples circling outward. “People see what they want to see.”
“Is there a reason you came by?”
“I’ve been thinking about offering your wife a job. Since you live here and own the clinic, I thought I should run the idea past you first.”
Boothe surprised him again, although hadn’t he had the same thought about moving Jayne to Africa and settling down? Would she actually take the position even though their paths would cross? “And you’re asking my permission?”
“She’s a Hospice nurse. She’s already on unpaid leave from her other job because of what we do. Only seems fair to help her out.” He flicked a couple more pebbles into the water. “Or did you just plan to assuage your conscience by writing her a big fat check?”
Damn, Boothe went for the jugular. “You’re offering her a job to get back at me, aren’t you?”
“Contrary to what you think, I don’t dislike you...anymore.”
“So you concede you hated my guts back then, even if you had the occasional weak moment and shared your cookies with a soulless bastard like me.”
Boothe’s laugh echoed out over the river, startling a couple of parrots and a flock of herons. “Hell, yes, I resented you. You were an arrogant bastard back then and you haven’t learned much since.”
“Remember that I write your paycheck.” Conrad knocked back another swallow. “I fund your clinic.”
“That’s the only reason I’m here, because I’m grateful.” He flung the rest of the pebbles into the water and faced him. “That woman is the best thing that’s ever going to happen to you. So, because I owe you a debt, I’m going to give you a piece of advice.”
“Thanks. Can I have another drink first?”
Boothe ignored him and pressed on. “In the work world, you’re aggressive. You go after what you want. Why the hell haven’t you gone after your wife?”
The question stunned him silent through two more rolls of his pet hippo out there.
Disgusted with himself, Conrad set aside his glass. “She wants a divorce. She’s waited three years. I think that’s a good sign she’s serious.”
“Maybe.” Boothe nodded slowly. “But is that what you want? You made her come to you again and again. And if you do get back together again, she’s stuck waiting for you, repeating the old pattern that wrecked her the first time.”
“You’re more depressing than the alcohol.”
Boothe clapped him on the back, Salvatore style. “It’s time for you to quit being a stupid ass. I’ll even spell it out for you. Go after your wife.”
“That’s it?” Just show up? And he hadn’t realized until now how much he’d been hoping Boothe might actually have a concrete solution, a magic fix that would bring Jayne home for good this time. Even though he’d told her to leave, the quiet afterward had been a damn hefty reminder of how empty his life was without her. He’d made a monumental mistake this time and Boothe thought that could fixed with a hey, honey, I’m home? “After how badly I’ve screwed up, that doesn’t seem like nearly enough.”
“For her, that’s everything. Think about it.” He gave him a final clap on the back before he started walking up the plateau again.
Conrad shoved to his feet, his head reeling from a hell of a lot more than booze.
“Boothe,” he called out.
Rowan stopped halfway up the hill. “Yeah, brother?”
Conrad scratched along his collarbone, right over the spot that had once been broken. “Thanks for the cookie.”
“No problem.” The doctor waved over his shoulder.
As Boothe’s car rumbled away, Conrad let his old classmate’s advice roll around in his brain, lining up with memories of the past. Damn it, he’d fought for his wife. Hadn’t he?
But as he looked back, he had to accept that he’d expected the marriage to fail from the start. He’d expected her to walk every bit as much as she’d expected him to follow the pattern of her old man. And when she didn’t walk this time, he’d pushed her away.
Except Jayne wasn’t like his parents. She couldn’t be any further from his criminal of a dad or his passively crooked mother and he should have realized that. Countless times he’d accused Jayne of letting the past rule her, and he’d done the same thing. Convinced she would let him down, because, hey, he didn’t deserve her anyway. So he’d pushed her away. He might not have been the one to walk out the door, but he hadn’t left her any choice by rejecting her so callously. He hadn’t left physically, but no question, he’d emotionally checked out on her.
She deserved better than that from him. She’d laid her heart out, something that must have been tough as hell for her after all they’d been through. He should have reassured her that she was his whole world. He worshipped the ground she walked on and his life was crap without her.
And his life would continue to be crap if he didn’t get himself together and figure out how to make her believe he loved her. He’d panicked in telling her to leave. He realized now that even though he wasn’t good enough for her, he would work his ass off every single day for the rest of his life to be a man worthy of her. No matter what Salvatore uncovered, regardless of whether Conrad had a career or not, he wanted to spend his life with Jayne. He trusted her with anything. Everything. He would even answer her million questions, whatever it took to make her trust him again.
To make her believe he loved her.
Twelve
The Bahamas shoreline was wasted on Jayne.
She lounged in a swimsuit and sarong on the well-protected balcony with Hillary. Most people would give anything for a vacation like this at a Nassau casino with a friend to look out for her. Her new gal pal sure knew how to nurse a broken heart in style. But for all Jayne’s resolve to stand her ground, this split with Conrad hurt so much worse than the one before and she was only one day into the new breakup.
The familiar sounds drifted from the casino below and wrapped around her, echoing bells and whistles, cheers of victory and ahhhs of disappointment. Glasses clinked as the drinks flowed in the resort, while boaters and swimmers splashed in the ocean. This place had its differences from Monte Carlo, a more casual air to the high-end vacationers in sarongs and flowing sundresses, but there were still plenty of jewels around necks, in ears...and in navels.
She wasn’t in much of a gambling mood. Besides, she’d left her rings behind.
What had Conrad thought as he looked at them? Did he have any regrets about pushing to finalize the divorce? How could she have been so wrong to hope he would come around this time and fight for their marriage the way he tackled every other challenge in his life?
God, she wanted to scream out her pain and frustration and she would have had she been alone. She turned to Hillary, who was stretched out on a lounger with a big floppy hat and an umbrella to protect her freckled complexion.
“Thanks for taking me in until Salvatore can clear everything up. Once he gives the go-ahead, I’ll be out of your hair and back to work.”
Hillary looked over the top of her sunglasses, zinc oxide on her freckled nose. “You know you never have to work again if you don’t want. I don’t mean to sound crass, but your divorce settlement will be quite generous.”
Jayne hadn’t wanted Conrad’s money. She wanted the man. “I don’t see myself as the dilettante type.”
“Understandable, of course.” Hillary twirled her straw in the fruity beverage, not looking the least like an undercover agent herself. “During my years planning events, I met many different types of people—everything from conspicuous consumers to truly devoted philanthropists. It’s amazing to have the financial freedom to make a difference in such a sweeping fashion. Just something to think about.”