From Now On (4 page)

             
“Oh,” Jo said as her befuddled mind slowly processed this news. “I’m sorry,” she finally said.

             
“It’s a long, sad story that I won’t burden you with right now,” Mark told her as his eyes slowly took in the black shift dress she was wearing. “You look really nice, too nice to be wandering the streets alone.”

             
Jo smoothed a hand over her hip, pressing the soft material closer to her body in a move that brought a glint to Mark’s eye. “It’s a long story.”

             
“Hmm, then I guess we both have stories we don’t particularly want to dwell on tonight.” Mark stepped back and gestured toward the deli. “In that case, why don’t you let me buy you a sandwich?”

             
“You don’t have to do that.”

             
“I know,” he said, that grin again bringing out the dimple on his cheek. “But I want to.”

             
“In that case,” she said, gesturing for him to open the door.

             
They took a table in the back, away from the other late evening diners. Jo bit hungrily into her sandwich the moment it was placed in front of her, sighing as the complex flavors of roast beef, spicy mustard, and rye bread rolled over her tongue. Nothing like comfort food to temporarily repair what ails the heart, she thought, mildly surprised at her sudden hunger after the nightmare…she wouldn’t think about that anymore.

Mark watched as though it was the most fascinating thing he had seen in a long time.

             
“Sorry,” she muttered, pressing a napkin to her lips to hide any misplaced mustard.

             
“Don’t be,” he said. “I like to watch a woman eat.”

             
That made her smile. “Most men prefer their women to eat salads and rabbit food, if they eat at all.”

             
“Not me,” Mark said, taking a hearty bite from his own sandwich. “It just makes me hungry to watch a woman pretend to get pleasure from some little pile of lettuce and carrots.”

             
Jo laughed, an image of her sister and her gorgeous friends popping into her head with Mark’s words.

             
They enjoyed their sandwiches in silence for a few minutes, both too busy satiating their hunger to concentrate on conversation. It should have been awkward, but somehow Jo felt more relaxed with this man she barely knew than with the roomful of relatives she had just left. She snuck glances at him from time to time, taking in everything she could: the deep dimple on his cheek, the soft laugh lines scoring the edge of his eyes, the hint of a dark beard on his jaw, his sharp chin, the chestnut-colored hair that was only a little longer than the regulation military crew cut. She found herself wondering what he looked like in his uniform. She could imagine the pride in his eyes, the pride in his stance.

             
“How long have you worked at BerCo?” he asked after a while.

             
Jo sat back, thinking. “About five years, I think.”

             
“Do you like it?”

             
“The work is interesting and the pay is competitive, but the personnel are a little wanting.”

             
Mark nodded. “I’ve noticed.”

             
“Do you like it?”

             
He shrugged. “It pays the bills.” He studied her for a second. “And it has a few perks.”

             
Jo glanced down at her sandwich, hiding the sudden blush on her cheeks.

             
“Plus, it was the only thing I could find in this recession,” Mark said, gesturing behind him toward the street beyond the deli’s windows. “Kids can be expensive.”

             
“Do you have custody?”

             
He nodded. “Primary custody. Their mom has visitation rights. They’re actually with her now.”

             
“That must be tough.”

             
“Sometimes.” A wistful look came into Mark’s eyes. “But they’re great kids.”

             
“Tell me about them.”

             
Mark smiled. “You don’t want that. I could talk all night about my kids.”

             
“So talk,” Jo said.

             
He shook his head. “I’d rather know about you.”

             
Jo shook her head, gathering her trash just to have something to do. “There’s nothing to tell, really.”

             
Mark reached over and touched her hand lightly, stilling it. “I’m sure there is plenty. And I really want to know.”

             
Jo bit her lip as she looked up at him, unable to resist the interest in his eyes, the kindness. “What do you want to know?”

             
He shrugged. “Where did you go to school? Who are your friends? What do you do over long weekends?”

             
Jo shook her head. “Again, very boring stuff.”

             
“Oh, come on. Surely you went to school somewhere.”

             
Jo laughed. “Of course. I went to a little school in Houston. You’ve probably never even heard of it.”

             
“So you went away for school?”

             
“Yes. I wanted to go to California or New York, but Houston was as far as my budget was willing to let me go.” Jo picked up her napkin and began to shred it in her lap as memories of the past swept over her. College was…freedom.

             
“I had this roommate,” she said quietly, “who grew up in a strict religious family, so when she got to college it was like she was a prisoner just released from death row. She wanted to do everything: eat ice cream and French fries, go to clubs and drink alcohol, date a dozen different guys and not introduce them to her pastor.” Jo laughed at the memory. “It was a real experience following her around and seeing all those mundane things through her eyes and experiencing the clubs and the boys with her.”

             
“I knew some guys like that in the military,” Mark told her. “But somehow they always managed to get themselves, or me, into trouble.”

             
Jo nodded, glancing at him under her eyelashes. “She eventually had to go home because her parents got wind of some of the things we were doing. They blamed me.”

             
“Of course. People like that can’t imagine that their sainted children could turn bad on their own.”
             

             
“I often wonder what happened to her.”

             
“She probably wonders the same thing about you.”
             

             
Jo balled her napkin in her hand and tossed it on the table. “I don’t know. But she changed my life. I had never really dated until I met her.”

             
“I bet you had a lot of admirers in college.”

             
Jo blushed again, the familiar heat rushing across her face. “There were a few,” she admitted.

             
“But no soul mates?”

             
“No soul mates.” Jo grew wistful for a minute. “A few really great practice runs, though.”

             
Mark shifted in his seat and rubbed his palms against the rough fabric of his jeans. “I always wondered what it would have been like to go to college instead of the military. Not much opportunity for clubbing and dating in the Army.”

             
“How did you meet your wife?”

             
“Hmm,” he sighed, tension causing him to sit up a little straighter. “We were high school sweethearts.”

             
“Romance over Algebra books, huh?” Jo asked in what she hoped was a light tone.

             
“Something like that.” Mark glanced at his left hand, as though looking for the wedding ring that should have been there. “We dated all through high school, but she ended it when she found out I was joining the Army. That lasted about six months. Then we got engaged when I came home on leave. A year later, we were married. Would have been eighteen years last August.”

             
“I’m sorry,” Jo said quietly.

             
Mark glanced around the deli, as though he had just realized where they were. “I should go,” he said abruptly.

             
“Mark, I—”

             
But he was gone.

             
Jo was scrolling through the movies on her DVR when the phone rang. She groaned when she saw her mother’s number on the caller ID. She knew it couldn’t be good, her mother calling her this early in the afternoon. Her mother believed in sleeping until noon and spending the afternoon having facials, manicures, and whatever else it took to keep her looking the way she did. Therefore, a call before four o’clock always meant bad news.

             
“Hello, mother,” Jo said formally into the phone.

             
“Where did you go last night? Did you know we ran out of champagne? Do you realize how embarrassing it is to run out of champagne at your daughter’s engagement party? How could you allow that to happen?”

             
“Emily ordered the champagne.”

             
“So, it’s Emily’s fault? It was her party, how can you suggest that she should have worried about stupid details like that? You were supposed to be in charge of things.”

             
“Emily insisted—”

             
“When are you going to learn, Jo? I expect so much from you and you constantly leave me disappointed.”

             
“I’m sorry, Mother,” Jo sighed.

             
For the next fifteen minutes, Jo listened to her mother complain about the party. Not only had they run out of champagne, but apparently the centerpieces Jo worked on with Emily had the wrong color roses in them even though Emily had chosen them herself. The posters with Emily and Ryan’s pictures on them also had been constructed of paper that was too thin, the streamers were too plentiful, and the food was too cold, or hot depending on the treat, and the cake was too dry.

             
And, of course, it was all Jo’s fault.

             
“Are you really so petty that you would go out of your way to sabotage your sister’s happiness, Jo?”

             
Jo wanted to scream as she listened to those words. Hadn’t she spent weeks planning the party with Emily? Hadn’t she made the centerpieces, ordered the posters, and decorated the space herself? Hadn’t she taken time out of her own schedule to do everything Emily asked of her? And paid half of everything in her mother’s name when she insisted that Emily and Ryan shouldn’t have to pay themselves? She had done it all without complaining, had done it for Emily. How could her mother accuse her of such a thing?

             
But she was.

             
Jo heard herself apologize despite everything.

             
“There will be no more problems in the future. I want this wedding to go perfectly. Do you understand?”

             
“Of course, Mother. I’ll do whatever I can.”

             
“Good. Then you’ll meet Emily and me for dinner next Thursday?”

             
“Yes, Mother.”

             
“Oh, and about the rent—”

             
“I’ll go to the bank on Monday.”

             
Finally, her mother hung up. Jo dropped the phone on the couch cushion beside her, threw back her head, and screamed at the top of her lungs.

             
She felt marginally better.

             
Jo slipped out of her bulky shoes and pulled her feet up under her as she settled in her desk chair to work. Meetings all morning had kept her out of the office, but now she had nothing scheduled for the rest of the afternoon. Just her, the computer, and her list of facts and numbers. Sanity.

             
Jo hadn’t seen Mark since their impromptu meeting on Friday night. She’d thought about him frequently. On Monday, she heard that he had called in sick. On Tuesday, they said he spent most of the day locked in Kathleen’s office.

Jo didn’t usually listen to the office gossip, but she found herself perking up whenever Mark’s name was mentioned. Everyone seemed to be talking about him, and it was no wonder. He was single, good-looking, and charming. At the same time, he seemed to avoid talking about himself, making him an enigma that most of the women in the company wanted to crack.