For All of Her Life by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page B

to the publishing company’s president, Marty Rothchild, but at least a half-dozen books in various editorial stages required her close attention.
    “Kathy?”
    She hadn’t realized that she had just stopped and was staring into the limo when the driver hopped out to open the door for them. She stepped in, Jordan followed her. The young driver quickly closed the door.
    The limo—spacious and long—suddenly seemed too intimate. She found herself with a wild desire to run, and at the same time, looking across at Jordan, she felt an equally strong desire to burst into tears and ask him how so much could have gone so wrong. She wanted to fall into his arms, to experience his secure touch once again.
    No. Oh, no. This was such a trap. This was why she had run. She had to admit it. Chicken.
    But then, things had changed. He had changed. The rumors after Keith’s death, the subtle, hurtful things that had been said had torn at them all. Relationships had been undermined. Jordan could have held the group together, Kathy had always thought. But he hadn’t chosen to do so. He had wanted to be out of the limelight. He had continued to write, and had put out several solo albums, but he had never gone on tour alone, and Kathy was certain that he never would. He didn’t like touring and, financially, didn’t need to go out on tour.
    “May I offer you something?” he asked. “The limo is fully stocked and neither of us is driving.”
    She shook her head. “No, thank you.” She seemed to be very close to him. It was a big limo. Comfortable. Black interior, TV screen, video box, nice bar. Her knees were still brushing his. She pulled them back in.
    “You know,” she murmured, “maybe a—”
    “Jack and ginger?” he suggested.
    “If they have it.”
    He didn’t reply. She suddenly realized that, of course, there would be Jack Daniels Black and ginger ale in this car because he would have ordered it. She might know him; he knew her.
    He fixed two drinks, the same, while the car moved into traffic. Kathy heard street noises. The honking of horns, the shouts, the screeches when the zillion cars still on the roads no matter what the hour nearly bumped into one another.
    She took the drink from him, meeting his eyes once again. She lifted her glass.
    “Cheers,” she murmured.
    “To a good reunion.”
    “Jordan, I really don’t want to come.”
    “Why not? If it’s because of personal differences, I’ll stay out of your way. I’ve done so very well over the last ten years, don’t you think?”
    Oh, damned well, she thought. Yes, he had done well. He had obliged her every wish. He had kept his distance. He had been a good father to the girls, while bowing to all her decisions. Not that they had ever quarreled over their children. The girls were beautiful and bright and warm, and loving to both of them; and they always had been. The divorce had hurt them badly, both parents knew, and so they had been very careful. If they had been noble at all, it had been in making sure that they had never spoken a negative word about one another to their children.
    They hadn’t communicated, though, in anything other than a few terse letters. He had probably thought her unreasonable at times. She hadn’t thought it was possible to make him understand that, to survive, she’d needed an absolute severance from him.
    “Jordan, honestly, I’m not trying to be mean or uncooperative. I’m busy,” she said evasively. “Just because you’ve suddenly decided that we should all get back together doesn’t necessarily make a reunion a good idea for the rest of us.”
    “Everyone else is coming.”
    She shrugged. “What are you trying to do?” she insisted.
    “Kathy, besides everything else, we have two children who have weathered the past decade exceptionally well. Christmas Eve with me, a fast flight to New York with a million other holiday travelers for Christmas with you. Easter in Florida one year, Thanksgiving in New York the