Dancing Barefoot Read Online Free PDF Page B

much had happened in too short of a time period. All she wanted to do was escape behind closed doors for the rest of the weekend.
    “ Tell us about the book.” Jane scooted over into the chair Marc had vacated.
    “Tell us about the photographer.” Sela studied Jacques’s picture. “Damn, he's sexy as sin.” She held it up for Jane to see. “Can you believe she left him and Italy to come back here?”
    Jane grabbed th e book from Sela and whistled. “I don’t think I can be friends with you anymore, Jessie, if you have such poor judgment.”
    “Me either,” Sela said.  “What were you thinking?”
    “Let's not rehash all of that, it's over and done.”  She poured another glass of beer. 
    “What’s wrong?” Sela asked, wide almond eyes forever observant.
    “I just saw him, he hates me, that's that.” She spun the now empty glass between her fingertips. 
    “Who?”
    “Jacques.”
    “ Jacques Sinclair is in Boston? Your Jacques? What do you mean you saw him? Did you talk to him?” 
    "I shouldn't have said anything." She shifted in the chair, unable to be comfortable.  “He’s not my Jacques, for the record.  He made that clear.” 
    “And?”
    “And he saw me. That’s it. We talked…a little. I didn’t know what to say.”
    “I suppose you didn’t.”
    "I asked for a do-over. Those exact words. He stared at me like I'd gone crazy, maybe I am, I don't know. A do-over . Who says that? I'm about to be made an associate partner in one of the premier architecture firms in New England and I blurted out the words 'do over' like a kid playing a game in elementary school. What the hell was I thinking?" Again, she shoved her hands through her hair and looked at her friends for support.
    They stared back. Silent. Mouths open. Eyes wide. 
    "Yeah, I know. It's embarrassing, right?" She looked between each of them, hoping they'd somehow make it better
    "I'm shocked," Sela said. "Do you?"
    "Do I what?" she asked, scanning the crowd for a sign of Marc who was taking far too long with the alcohol.
    "Want a second chance?" Jane leaned close. "Do you want him back? Do you miss him? Do you wish you'd stayed in Italy?"
    She looked at the cover of his book, and rubbed her thumb over the title. She had been so in love with Jacques, Italy, art, life, and love itself. Every day had felt like an overdose of euphoria, but that day had been different. That day had been the day she had decided to stay. He may think she lied then but...at the time she had meant it.
    “I wasn’t the person he wanted me to be. I’m still not. That sums it up, I guess.” She spun the now empty glass around on the table. 
    “You aren’t making any sense.” Jane grabbed the glass before it spun off the edge.
    “Don’t you see?” Frustration clawed inside her skull. “It wouldn’t have worked out. We wanted different things from life. He lives like some kind of nomad.  Can you see me living like that?  No roots.  No plan.  You know how I am. I need...this. There’s nothing wrong with stability, is there?”
    “Then why are we talking about him?” Sela, the human lie detector, looked at her with eyes that declared I-See-Right-Through-You. 
    “Sela, you need to lighten up.  She’s had a shock.” Jane touched her arm.  “What would you do if Bill showed up in your courtroom one day?”
    “Bill.” Sela snorted and rolled her eyes.  “He wouldn’t dare.”
    “Jacques is having a showing at Miranda’s gallery, can you believe that? Next week. He’s having dinner with her right now.” Her gaze landed on Marc who balanced a tray full of shots as he walked toward their table. 
    “I don’t know why you’re sitting here instead of texting Miranda to find out where she’s having dinner.”  Sela pulled her cell phone from her purse.  
    “You want me to stalk him?”
    “Oh, you wouldn’t be stalking him. A stalker is some scary loner.  I’ll go with you,” Sela’s smile widened, “and I’m a respected