Page 44 of Misadventures With The Mistaken Twin

“Just go. Do the right thing,” I said softly, afraid my voice might break with the emotion welling up.

I couldn't miss the sadness I saw in Jack's eyes, the wariness to clean up his mess. He just nodded, gave me a quick kiss and turned away, handing his boarding pass to the agent.

Once cleared, he turned back and waved, gave a weak smile.

I waved back, gave an equally weak smile, and left.

“Guess what?”Goldie asked when I rolled back into the store thirty minutes later. “Lorraine's agreed to write a romance novel with me! I'm so excited. She's such an interesting woman and full of unusual stories.”

She finished ringing up a customer and handed over the bag.

I raised my eyebrows, a little in acknowledgement, a little in surprise. The combination of Goldie and Lorraine was going to be like Mo and Curly from the Three Stooges writing romance. That was fine as long as they didn’t expect me to be Larry.

“That's great,” I said, my voice flat. I hadn't cried yet, but the lump the size of a baseball in my throat wasn't receding. My eyes burned from the effort to keep the tears at bay. I pulled off my hat and gloves, unzipped my coat.

“Miss him?” Goldie asked. She had on her reading glasses, the little rhinestones sparkling from the display lights by the counter. Her hair was in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, a big blingy style hair tie stood out about two inches. It, of course, matched the angora sweater.

I put my handbag behind the counter, turned to her. A woman was browsing in the lingerie section, but seemed self-sufficient. “I...I'm not sure. It's not like I really had him in the first place. He was only here, what, four days?” It was hard to play down what I felt for Jack.

Goldie pursed her lips. “You've loved him since you were sixteen.”

I shrugged my shoulders, afraid to answer that question out loud. “I'm in a funk. His being here changed me and now I don't know what to do with myself. That's why I'm here. I'm afraid if I go home, I'll smell him on my pillow and I'll break down.”

I swallowed around the huge lump. Tears threatened even worse.

“You can always go stay with Violet.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed weakly. “I'd rather shoot myself in the foot.”

“You can stay with me and Paul tonight.” Goldie rubbed my shoulder with her manicured hand.

Nice gesture, but in the morning I'd smell like my Great-Aunt Betty's rose perfume from staying in Goldie's floral scented guest room. I truly believed they used the same garden scented laundry soap.

“Nah, I'll be fine.” I gave her a small smile which took tons of effort to make. “Why don't I close up for you? Head home to Paul and tell him 'Hi', for me.”

Goldie shook her head from side to side considering. “Well, sure. But listen, while you're here, I've put the latest installmentof my story by the register. Read through it for me? I want it to be error free before I share it with Lorraine tomorrow.”

For once, I was thrilled to read Goldie's word porn. If there was anything that could distract me from Jack's departure and the void he left, it was really bad romance writing. And I figured she asked me to do it as a distraction, the only way she could comfort me right now. I had a feeling she knew a hug would only make me fall apart.

“Sure. I'd love to,” I told her.

Goldie grabbed her coat, bundled up and headed out with a backward wave.

The shipwreck left them, clothes shredded, sprawled across a tropical beach. Her turgid body was coated with sand and salt, one bosom exposed to the midday sun. I knew I had to have her then and there. The sand on my hands would only enhance her pleasure as it coarsely rubbed her nether lips and the dew naturally found there.

I shook my head. Unbelievable. What woman would want sandy hands rubbing her nether lips? I put down the papers and helped a customer. It was going to be a long night. A long rest of my life.

20

Two weeks later, I'd had yet to confront Violet, delaying the inevitable. I couldn't leave her high school meddling in the past where it belonged until we'd had it out. But I felt it was something that should be done with Jack, or at least offer him the opportunity to confront her as well. I wasn't able to figure out how to accomplish that since I hadn't heard a peep from the man.

I could've called. Asked after him, the progress on his case. But I didn't. He needed to focus on the Jack in Florida, not the Jack in Montana. I fell in love with Montana Jack and I felt I didn't have a place in Florida Jack's life. I wasn't sure if I really wanted one.

Besides, I believed in the days he was with me, he’d been slowly realizing he wasn't really, deep down, Florida Jack. I think he recognized his old self when he was here in Bozeman and truly wanted to be the guy he once was.

Uncle Owen had sent me a check for my work. He must've talked to Jack and got the invoice and happily paid me in full. I heard through the construction grapevine the counters were going in this week. A little behind, but his remodel was almostdone. I'd given my dad the last installment on buying him out, the business now mine. He was officially retired and would now fill his days torturing my mother.

It felt good, no, so much better than that, to have a job I loved and knew was all mine. I thought of Jack and how he'd been stripped of his profession through, admittedly, some fault of his own. But being forced to be the fall guy must've ripped at his gut. It ripped at mine for him.