He wore jeans torn at one knee and a Henley, the sleeves pushed up at the elbows and exposing the lean lines of his forearms. His skin was deeply tanned, no doubt the result of his latest tropical destination as a tour guide for the extreme adventure company he co-owned with a friend, his hair like spun gold under the soft lights. He looked both exactly as she remembered him from the disastrous last time they'd spoken, and somehow completely different.
Was he still angry with her? It was hard to tell, considering how tight his expression still was as he gingerly leaned forward to pick up a bunch of grapes. Could be her presence he was wincing at, or it could be the twinges of pain that used to render him immobile.
"Do you need your pills?" she asked tentatively.
"Didn't bring them," he said, his tone short. He cocked his head toward her. "Didn't think I'd get cannonballed on the way there."
Two years ago Kate would have known he was joking and would have shot back a quip of her own about how an athlete should stay agile and ready for anything. But right now all she could remember was the last time she'd seen him, his normally open and friendly expression twisted in anger, the accusatory words coming so hot and fast she couldn't keep up with them. He didn't look like he was about to unleash another tirade on her, but athletes had to stay agile. Even mental ones.
"So, you're here!" Kate said, trying to sound cool and breezy and landing closer to maniacal. "And not in Borneo. I mean, was it Borneo? Did you say? I thought I heard... probably read it... somewhere. Or maybe Burma? I get those mixed up, when I think about it. And Burbank, though I think that's a city in California. Was that where they taped The Tonight Sh—"
"Kate," Jake said, putting up his hands in exasperation. "Stop. I know what you're doing, and we don't have to do this."
Oh boy, here it comes. He was still pissed, and he was gearing up to tell her all the ways she'd failed him as a friend, just like last time. She had enough to worry about this weekend without adding Jake Freaking Hawkins to the mix. She had to get ahead of this.
"You're right," she said, squaring her shoulders. "You are right. We're just gonna... face this head-on. No games. No playing around. No saying one thing and meaning—"
"Kate!" Jake said, wincing again. This time she was pretty sure she was the pain in his backside, though.
"I know we're not friends anymore!" she blurted out, staring hard at the sweating bottle of champagne and feeling a kinship with its discomfort just then. "Or at all, maybe ever. And that's fine, really. I'm... super cool with that. You have moved on, I have moved on. Time has moved on—"
"Time has moved on?" Jake said, somewhat disbelieving.
"You know what I mean," Kate snapped, irritated that she hadn't been allowed to practice this at least a dozen times in the mirror. If she'd known he was coming this weekend, if she'd even so much as suspected he might be in attendance, she would have planned—and packed—very differently. She didn't do well under pressure, as evidenced by the last time they'd spoken. Jake opened his mouth as if to speak, but she held up her hands to stop him; she needed to get this out, her way.
"We aren't friends," she said, this time with a gravity to her words that carried all the weight of the past two years without him. "As far as anyone this weekend knows, we are just...former work colleagues."
Jake's gaze was nearly intolerable. "Former work colleagues?"
"Yes, who amicably parted before their last project could be completed," Kate finished, feeling pretty good about the story she was concocting in real time. She might not have a grip on Loretta, but maybe she could still salvage this weekend. "So I think we just...we call a truce. For the weekend. Pretend...pretend we're still..."
Still what? Still harboring fantasies about the other person when we're two glasses of wine and half an episode of The Bachelorette into the evening? Still have their phone listed in most frequent contacts because we keep typing up long, weepy, apologetic texts and deleting them the next morning? Still can't go to the dim sum shop on the corner without our hearts stopping if someone with tousled blond hair is occupying the back corner booth?
But no, Jake had been off traveling the globe, chauffeuring wealthy adrenaline junkies on extreme adventure tours. Probably leaving a trail of heartbroken women in every far-flung locale he visited. He hadn't given a second thought to Kate in all those years, she was sure of it.
"Pretend we're still what, Kate?" Jake asked, his voice soft and even, an underlying intensity to the words making her skin feel tight and prickly.
"Pretend we still care," Kate said. "About each other."
