“Hes interested, thats all.”
“Of course hes interested. Jordan, this is wonderful. Youre going up to have a meeting with him? A meeting with a New York literary agent!” She let out a crow of delight, then noticed the two suitcases, the duffel, the packing crate.
Slowly, with that first trickle of alarm, she slid off his back. “Youre taking an awful lot of stuff for a meeting.”
“Im moving to New York.” He didnt turn to her, but tossed another sweater, a pair of jeans into one of the open suitcases.
“I dont understand.”
“I put the house up for sale yesterday. They probably wont be able to turn it until spring. Guy at the flea markets going to take most of the furniture and whatever else there is.”
“Youre selling the house.” When her legs went weak, she sank onto the side of the bed. “But, Jordan, you live here.”
“Not anymore.”
“But… you cant just pack up and go to New York. I know you talked about moving there eventually, but—”
“Im done here. Theres nothing for me here.”
It was like having a fist punched into her heart. “How can you say that? How can you say theres nothing for you here? I know, Jordan, I know how hard it was for you to lose your mother. I know youre still grieving. This isnt the time for you to make this kind of a decision.”
“Its already made.” He glanced in her direction, but his eyes never met hers. “Ive got a few more things to deal with, then Im gone. Im leaving in the morning.”
“Just like that?” Pride pushed her back on her feet. “Were you planning on letting me in on it, or were you just going to send me a postcard when you got there?”
He looked at her now, but she couldnt see into his eyes, couldnt see through the shield hed thrown up between them. “I was going to come by later tonight and see you, and Flynn.”
“Thats very considerate.”
He raked his “fingers through his hair, a gesture she knew reflected impatience or frustration. ”Look, Dana, this is something I have to do.“
“No, this is something you want to do, because youre done with this place now. And everyone in it.”
She had to keep her voice low, very low. Or it would shrill. Or scream. “That would include me. So I guess the past couple of years havent meant a damn thing.”
“Thats bullshit, and you know it.” He slapped one suitcase closed, fastened it. “I care about you, I always did. Im doing what I need to do—what I want to do. Either way it comes to the same thing. I cant write here. I cant fucking think here. And I have to write. Ive got a chance to make something of myself, and Im taking it. So would you.”
“Yeah, youre making something of yourself. A selfish bastard. Youve been planning this, stringing me along while you planned to dump me when it was most convenient for you.”
“This isnt about you, this is about me getting out of this fucking house, out of this goddamn town.” He rounded on her, and the shield cracked enough for her to see fury. “This is about me not busting my ass every goddamn day working in a grease pit just to pay the bills, then trying to carve out a few hours to write. This is about my life.”
“I thought I was part of your life.”
“Christ,” He dragged a hand through his hair again before yanking open a drawer for more clothes.
He couldnt be bothered to stop packing, she thought, not even when he was breaking her heart.
“You are part of my life. You, Flynn, Brad. How the hell does me moving to New York change that?”
“As far as I know you havent been sleeping with Flynn and Brad.”
“I cant bury myself in the Valley because you and I had thehots for each other.”
“You son of a bitch.” She could feel herself beginning to shake, and the stinging tears gathering in her throat. Using all her strength, she channeled the hurt into rage. “You can make it cheap. You can make yourself cheap. But you wont make me cheap.”
He stopped now, stopped packing and turned to look at her with regret, and what might have been pity. “Dana. I didnt mean it that way.”
“Dont.” She slapped his hand away when he reached ...