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pizza and washed it down with a swallow of beer. “The last time we talked, when you were leaving your job in California, do you remember what you said to me?”
    Jordan remembered as if it were yesterday, yet still she paused, playing with the straw in her drink. She’d packed up her office, preparing to leave Los Angeles to return to Texas for her law school reunion. With her mother gone, the only thing remaining in California was a bunch of failed dreams, and she had amends to make in Texas. She’d hoped to make a quiet exit and never look back, but as she waited for the elevator, she ran into Jake, and he’d flashed that adorable smile and told her he ’d landed a contract role on General Hospital . “I told you not to let that town—Hollywood—kill you. I saw too many talented people fall prey to self-destructiveness and addiction,” she said. “I didn’t want that to happen to you. I didn’t want it to happen to me, either. That’s why I had to get out.”
    Jake nodded as he took another bite of pizza. “Do you want to talk about it now; about what happened? Because I don’t think I got the full story at the meeting the other day.”
    He hadn’t, no. She’d said a little, used it as a segue to get the others talking, and it made for an effective meeting. It didn’t, however, give Jake the explanation he deserved. “How much do you remember about the last night we spent together?” She figured it was a fair question, considering the amount of Absolut Citron they’d imbibed that night.
    “I remember I’d come from another failed audition,” Jake said. “ Passions was going off the air, and I didn’t know what my next job would be. I was afraid I might have to go back to Iowa and get a job at the tractor plant.” He leaned back in the booth. “You called me up, asked me to come over. If I recall, your mom was sick. Alzheimer’s, right?”
    “Yes.” Jordan had to give him credit. He remembered more than she expected. Maybe she’d been too quick to dismiss him as the Hollywood party boy. “On that particular night, I’d gone to see her in the nursing home. She had no idea who I was.” Jordan blinked hard, the memory still vivid in her mind. “I needed to drink to forget it. I did that a lot back then, usually with very little success,” she said wryly. Jordan reached for another slice of pizza. She’d be at the gym at 6 a.m. ready to work it off. She was seven years sober and still fit into a size six. Something must be working.
    “We hit it a little hard, and you were late for work.”
    ‘A little hard’ was an understatement, but Jordan didn’t correct him. “My boss called me into his office, gave me the what for. He probably should have fired me,” she said. “Instead, he put me on leave and told me to get help. I started treatment a week later.”
    “And every time I went by the office after that, I met with a different attorney.”
    “I didn’t trust myself with you.” Jordan thought about the number of times she ’d wanted to call him, but didn’t follow through. “My recovery was fragile for a long time.”
    Jake nodded. “Okay, I can accept that. It sucks, but I can accept it.”
    “Four years ago, my mom died. There was nothing left for me in California, so I came back here,” Jordan explained. “I went to school here, and it was time for my class reunion. It gave me a purpose.” At the time, she needed to focus on the making amends part of her program. It worked, because she now counted Beth as one of her closest friends. “I decided to stay.”
    “And you’re happy?” Jake asked. “Doing okay?”
    They weren’t the same question, but Jordan nodded. “I’m fine now. My law practice is going well.”
    “And this doesn’t bother you?” Jake pointed in the direction of the beer bottle.
    “Not really, no.” If she were feeling weak, depressed, vulnerable, staring at that bottle might be one hell of a trigger. Sitting here with Jake, sharing a pizza