No Time Like Mardi Gras (15 page)

“But I didn’t
know
about her ex and all that trauma when I did it.”

“That doesn’t matter, honey. My point is, you should have asked her first if she wanted your help.”

He couldn’t really rebut that, considering the current situation he was in. “I meant well. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Of course. But here’s a news flash for you, Colin. You don’t always know what’s best for people. They don’t always need you to swoop in and save the day. It’s sweet and all, but it’s also
really
annoying. And sometimes it makes things worse. You have to learn to let people ask for help. Or at least offer first and give them the opportunity to decline the assistance.”

“So I’m supposed to stand there and watch them fall on their asses.”

“Sometimes that’s what you have to do. I know it’s hard, but that’s how some people learn. Sometimes they want—or need—that experience. I know I did.”

“You failed pretty spectacularly.”

Callie’s mouth twisted. “Yes, and thank you for the reminder. But the thing is, life is messy and chaotic. People screw up and make mistakes and you can’t always stop them. And you can’t always save them either. But everyone who knows you knows that they can count on you. And that’s awesome.”

Mollified and feeling less like the bad guy, he patted her leg. “Thank you.”

She smacked him in return. “But that doesn’t make it less annoying when you cross that line. And it certainly doesn’t put you in the right when you do it, either. Jamie has every reason to be pissed at you.”

He should have known that was too good to last. “Well, she did the same thing you did when I crossed that line. She dumped me.”

“Yeah, but you refused to apologize to me. That didn’t help.”

“I’ve already apologized to her. It didn’t help.”

“Then apologize again. Sincerely. Explain—without getting huffy—why you did it and ask her to forgive you. I have a feeling she wants to.”

He looked at her sideways and snorted. “And exactly how do you know that?”

“Because I read her blog entry. Maybe you should, too.” After another of those slightly condescending pats, she stood and put her bag over her shoulder. “I came here as a friend, because I think Jamie makes you happy, and I really want you to be happy. But this is on you to fix. Maybe
fix
is the wrong word,” she corrected. “This is
on
you because you were in the wrong. Take responsibility for that. You can’t change what happened, but you can apologize, and promise to do better from now on. So do that.” With that, Callie smiled encouragingly and let herself out.

He locked the door behind her and went back to his office. There were still bots and scripts and hackers needing his attention, but he ignored them for the moment. He had a lot to think about.

It was interesting that Callie hadn’t asked him the same question he hadn’t asked himself: Did he want Jamie back in his life?

Callie obviously assumed the answer was yes, otherwise she wouldn’t have offered him advice on how to go about it.

He was miserable, but he’d blamed lack of sex and too much work—mainly because he didn’t want to think about Jamie. Because the truth was, he missed her terribly.

He respected the way Jamie had taken control of her life, walking away from what she knew and starting over from scratch. And while it had made her a little crazy, she’d had good reason to be. She’d faced the fear and the uncertainty and gotten through it without ever losing faith in herself.

Her wholehearted embrace of her new life was inspiring and her enthusiasm for it was contagious.

Callie was right. Life was messy and chaotic, but that was just a fact he had to deal with. Not all chaos and mess were necessarily bad anyway. They made things interesting.

He’d lived in his own bubble, head down and nose to the grindstone, for so long he’d forgotten what it was like to not be like that, and it explained his dissatisfaction simply. It wasn’t the lack of a life he was missing; it was the lack of Jamie in his life.

He liked Jamie’s chaos. And her special brand of crazy.

Actually, he loved it. And he loved her.

And that brought the realization that it wasn’t her baggage that was the problem. It was his.

Could I have screwed this up worse?

Jamie’s blog post wasn’t up on the site, but it was easy enough to find in the scheduled queue for tomorrow.

My name is Jamie Vincent. That won’t mean anything to many of you, and I’m glad of that. For those of you thinking “that Jamie Vincent?” the answer is yes, that Jamie Vincent. And for those of you who just went and looked me up, now you know why I was glad you didn’t know who I was. I don’t have anything to add to what’s already out there, other than to, once again, insist that I had no knowledge of what was going on. You don’t have to believe that, but I’m not going to revisit that subject ever again. It’s over. It’s done. I’ve moved on.

I always felt a bit dishonest whenever I gave advice on people’s lives on this site—much less about their love lives—because, deep down, I felt like I was in no position to offer good advice after the mess I’d made of my own life. But I look back over those posts now and I think I did pretty well. Maybe because I was talking to myself in some way, saying the things I really needed to hear.

The one thing I’ve learned from all of this is to trust myself. There’s very little in life that can’t be fixed if you’re willing to really try. And you have to be willing to not only trust yourself, but others, too.

Never be ashamed of what’s driving you, but don’t be driven by shame. It’s true that what doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger, but you might just have been stronger than you thought all along. And while it’s near impossible to truly forget, much less forgive, all the wrongs that were done to you, holding onto those wrongs gives them the power to hold you back and hold you down.

If you’re trapped by your past, you miss the present and the future.

Life’s too short for that.

Well, one thing was clear: Jamie wasn’t hung up on her ex. And she certainly didn’t have plans to go back to him now that the investigation was over, as she was still in town and every celebrity gossip website had pictures of him out with another woman.

He could see Callie’s point. He wasn’t going to pretend Jamie had written that solely for his benefit, but if this was an honest piece, there might be a way for him to apologize and explain.

Because while they weren’t supposed to be anything at all, somewhere along the line they had become something. To him, at least.

He wanted that back.

Because he wanted to see where else it would go.

And now he just had to convince Jamie of that.

* * *

Jamie limped along Bourbon Street, blood streaming out of a leg wound. She needed to find a doctor—and soon—but first...

The zombie hit her from behind, sending her to her knees. She tried to roll, but it had her by the legs... The picture on the screen froze, turning red, then black. She was dead.

Again.

She pulled off her headphones in frustration, tossing them onto the table beside her laptop. “Ah, damn it.”

“It’s a tricky level.” Colin’s voice came from behind her, causing her to jump. He stood in the doorway between the living room and the dining room, hands in his pockets, looking uncomfortable. “Kelsey let me in,” he said by way of explanation.

She had no idea what to say. The little spark of happiness that had flared in her chest at seeing him here was damped by the questions of what and why and all the embarrassment and...this was more than a little awkward. It would have been awkward to see him for the first time after she stormed out no matter what the circumstances were, but having him catch her playing his game—and sucking at it—just added to that feeling. “How long have you been standing there?”

He smiled slightly. “Long enough to see the mistake that made you zombie snacks.”

At least she could cover some of the awkwardness. The game gave her a safe topic of conversation while she searched for her composure. “So you could tell me what I did wrong?”

“I could.” He paused for a moment, and then said, “Or I could wait and let you figure it out on your own. I know how that can make things much more satisfying.”

One of the knots in her stomach loosened. But it figured that he’d work that nugget of wisdom out only when she was completely stymied by his oddly addictive and utterly frustrating game. “This is the fourth time I’ve died on this exact spot. I don’t think I’m going to ever figure it out.”

An eyebrow went up. “Fourth? That’s not good.”

“Why?” She looked back at the screen, where her character had regenerated five blocks from Bourbon Street. She’d lost more experience points, of course, but everything else seemed— “No! It took my flamethrower!”

“And your spare shotgun shells, if you had any.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “And I guess I should warn you, that if it catches you a fifth time in that same spot, you’ll get bitten and start to zombiefy yourself.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. This is impossible. How the hell am I supposed to get past it?”

“Are you asking for help?”

This conversation would actually be funny if it weren’t so serious and layered with all kinds of personal hang-ups. “Yes.”

Colin pulled a chair over to sit next to her and reached for the keyboard. At the last second, he pulled his hand back. “Do you want me to tell you what to do or just give you a hint?”

Another knot in her stomach untied. That was kind of sweet. Maybe he really had learned something. “How about you give me a hint.”

Colin thought for a second. “Choose stealth over aggression.”

Based on everything that had happened in this level to this point, that seemed counterintuitive and a good way to die again. “Are you sure?”

He laughed. “Um, yeah. I designed the game, remember?”

He did have a point there.
But since they weren’t—or at least she wasn’t—talking strictly about the game... “I’m not sure I like the idea of stealth. I prefer facing things head on.”

“I like that about you. And I’ve come to appreciate it myself. However, at the time I put this game together, my views were a little different. I’ve changed—some might even say grown—since then.”

“I see.”

Colin took a deep breath. “I was a jerk. And I’m sorry. I should have asked you before contacting Kate. While I had only the best of intentions, that doesn’t make it right. I have a tendency to step in before I’m asked to do so. It’s a habit. My mom was—is—bi-polar and was unmedicated for years. When I said things could get chaotic and bad, I meant it. I didn’t like the uncertainty or the constant picking up of the pieces. Callie says I now tend to try to get control too quickly and start to sort things out before I’m asked for my help.”

She hadn’t been ready for that big of a revelation.
That explained a lot
. Not only his annoying habit of trying to fix everything, but also his need to control things in his life. She was only surprised he hadn’t been worse about it. “I know you meant well. But I’m not in need of help. Or fixing. Regardless of how big a mess my life might be.”

He shrugged. “I realize that now. And I can only promise not to butt in unless I’m asked to in the future. It’s a hard habit to break, but I’m going to try.”

She nodded.

Colin cleared his throat. “And while I’m apologizing...I should have respected your privacy and not looked you up online. But once I did, I should have told you.”

That was embarrassing, but not only for the reasons he thought. He’d been honest with her, though, so she owed him some in return. “I’m starting to realize that I was a bit oversensitive about Joey and what happened. I was trying to forget it all—and afraid people might judge me for it—and I went a little too far. I can’t actually blame you for looking me up, considering how evasive I was about it. In your shoes, I probably would have done the same thing.”

“But still...”
Boy, he really was in apology mode.
“I should have trusted you and respected you enough to be honest. Not only about—” He stopped. “Actually, I should have been honest about everything.”

The knots that had been loosening tightened up again. She didn’t want there to be an everything. The building hope in her chest didn’t have a place for an everything that might screw this up. She didn’t want proof that she’d been wrong about Colin, that he had secrets—bad secrets—that she’d been unaware of and that he now felt the need to confess. She didn’t want to believe that she’d been blind or played for a fool again.

Every nerve ending in her body was reaching out for him, and only sheer force of will was keeping her hands in her lap. Obviously, part of her didn’t care what he’d done or not done, and it was more than willing to forget about everything that had happened if he would just touch her, hold her.

She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. She had to know. “Everything?”

“Well, one thing, mainly.”

“And that would be...?”

“I wasn’t completely honest with you—or myself, actually. I think when I found out your ex was a famous athlete, I became unsure of myself. Like there was no way a geek could ever compete with a jock and win the girl.”

Jamie had to bite her lip to keep from saying anything.

“And then when you found out what I’d done, I should have apologized and told you that I’d done it because I was falling in love with you. It wouldn’t have made it right—or even less wrong—but it would have been the truth, and you deserved that.”

Jamie had gotten stuck at the falling-in-love part. Colin had never seemed to be that invested, and the news shocked her at the same time as it sent a glow through her veins like a healing balm. Her chest was tight, making it hard to breathe, much less get enough air to respond. Even if she could figure out what to say.

Then he smiled crookedly. “I tried stealth, but that didn’t work. And aggression doesn’t seem like the right thing either. So I’m going to have to go with straightforward and simple.”