Page 101 of Legally Mine

"I feel bad about what happened on Saturday," Jared said. "Let me make it up to you? You have to eat anyway."

His brown eyes looked so earnest, like a puppy dog. Jared had always been a nice guy. He didn't deserve to be treated like a pariah, and I didn't want him to feel used either.

My stomach rumbled loudly.

"Sure," I said. "Let me put my stuff away while you park. Want to get sandwiches at Angelo's and eat by the water? The breeze would feel really nice today."

Jared nodded. "Sounds good. I'll meet you there."

Twenty minutes later, we were sitting on a park bench looking out at the harbor, watching seagulls swoop around the tourists throwing breadcrumbs. The gorgeous June day invited me to wear sandals and a sundress. Summer was well on its way, but not quite at the point where Boston was hideously humid.

Jared had been doing his best to make pleasant small talk, and he was a lot better at it than I was. We'd covered all the basic topics: the weather, our class, the instructor's funny haircut. But as we tucked into our Italian subs, the conversation hit an awkward lull that was only partially filled by the squawking gulls.

"So about the gala," Jared said finally.

I swallowed my bite and gave a grim smile. "Yeah?"

"Everything okay there? I saw you run out."

I flushed red. "Um, yeah. It's okay now."

"It really doesn't bother you he's married?" Jared asked before taking a large bite of his sandwich.

I sighed. "They're separated and going through a divorce, like I said."

Jared raised a light brown brow. "That's not what Miranda says."

"They are," I insisted. "I've seen the papers, and I work for his divorce attorney. Miranda's supposed to sign them in a few weeks."

My stomach fell as I realized that almost certainly wasn't true anymore. And this was a conversation I was going to have to keep having every time someone brought up Brandon's marital status. I sounded like a pathetic cliché, like the other woman who was constantly trying to convince everyone that her married lover really did love her.

Except Brandon did. I was sure of it, just as I was sure he was doing everything to extricate himself from a very difficult situation. But that knowledge didn't always make dealing with it much easier.

Jared didn't say anything for a few more moments, just looked at me with something dangerously close to pity. I focused on the worn planks of the pier, hoping that I could pass off my watery eyes as the effect of the wind coming off the water.

"Look, it's really none of my business, Skylar," Jared said, "but I care about you. And well, I think you deserve more than just to be on the sidelines. You're the kind of girl who should be shown off."

He reached over carefully and took my hand in his. I stared down at our clasped hands with indifference. His compassion was nice, but something about the way he talked about me, like I was some sort of trophy prize, irked.

I turned to say that to his face, but ended up turning into a kiss likely meant for my cheek. His lips collided awkwardly with mine, and I froze. Three things immediately went through my brain: One, I felt absolutely nothing. Two, Jared was putting his arms around my waist to pull me closer. Three, this time he couldn't blame it on alcohol.

I set my hands on his chest and pushed him away firmly. His arms fell down, and he scooted several inches down the bench.

"Jared," I said. "What are you doing? At the party, I just wrote it off as you being drunk, but this..."

"I was trying to kiss you on the cheek," he said lamely.

"You shouldn't be trying to kiss me at all! I'm involved with someone. You know this."

"Someone who treats you like crap. I know loads of guys like him, Skylar. They use girls like you as sidepieces. He doesn't care about you!"

I stood up, sweeping my sandwich off the bench and putting it back into its plastic bag. "I need to go."

"Skylar, wait!"

Jared followed me across the pier, leaving his food to be attacked by seagulls. He caught up with me as I turned down one of the cobbled streets leading back to the North End, where the crooked brick buildings blocked out the noise of the city.

"Look," I said, although I didn't stop walking. "You've been a good friend. You are nice, and you deserve to find someone special. But that someone isn't me. I'm taken. So really, don't waste your time."