Jack's Surrender (Holiday Cove 5)

“How are you?” she asked, giving me a polite smile that I knew was two seconds from being a sympathetic (code for pitying) frown.

“I’m good,” I replied, still forcing a smile. “Just stocking up. I’m moving back into the house.”

“Oh? Well, that’s good. Right?”

I hated how no one knew what to say to me or how to act around me. Why couldn’t everyone go back to normal? Was it too much to ask that they all hold their shit together?

“It’s great,” I said too firmly. “I mean, I’m happy about it.”

Gemma smiled. “Good. That’s great. Are you still working for Scoville Properties?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Fifty plus hours a week.”

She laughed. “Been there.”

“Well, I hardly think I can complain when my job is mostly spreadsheets and long planning meetings. Not quite the same level of pressure as an ER nurse!”

Gemma waved a hand. “I can deal with a little blood. Spreadsheets would have me losing my mind in ten minutes.”

We laughed together and I relaxed. The bubble of anxiety and pressure in my stomach deflated. It was nice to laugh and smile again. The breakfast with Carly had gone a long way toward taking the edge off the fears and doubts in my mind and while I knew it wouldn’t last forever, at the moment, I was almost back to normal.

“Listen, would you want to come over for dinner one of these nights?” Gemma asked, raking her fingers through her long, dark hair. She’d been growing it out in anticipation of her wedding. She had her heart set on a really complicated updo that required several more inches of hair, but knowing her, she’d chop it back to just over shoulder-length as soon as she got back from her honeymoon. Maybe even during…

“Aaron and I were talking about having Carly and Nick over for a BBQ now that the weather is getting nicer and it’s staying lighter at night. We’d love to add you to the guest list.”

Great, third wheel times two.

“I don’t know,” I started, shifting my weight back and forth between my feet. I hadn’t been at the Air Museum since the breakup and I knew that seeing it again, driving up that hillside, would only flood me with memories. Ones that I would prefer to push as far away as possible.

“Well, think about it. I’ll text you when we set a specific date. Probably next weekend.”

“Could I bring someone with me?”

I didn’t know where the question came from. It popped out of my mouth before I could even consider the implications. Gemma’s eyes went wide for a moment and I realized what it sounded like. Then quickly decided I didn’t care.

Gemma recovered quickly and nodded—a little too enthusiastically. “Of course! Yeah. I guess I didn’t realize you were—or you’d—” She stopped herself and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Holly.”

“It’s fine, Gemma. This is weird for everyone.”

She considered me for a minute. “Maybe so, but it’s hardest on you. I shouldn’t add to it.”

I reached out and touched her arm. “You didn’t. It’s really okay. I’m just trying to move on as best as I can.”

“Right. Of course.” Gemma smiled warmly. “We’d love to have you and whoever you’d like to bring.”

“Thanks. I’ll text you.”

“Okay.” She started to backtrack to the start of the aisle, narrowly missing another customer. “It was good to see you, Holly! Take care of yourself.”

I waved and she disappeared around the corner of the aisle. The store was busy and I suddenly felt like the walls were closing in. I abandoned the rest of the items on my list and made a beeline for the checkout.

20

Jack

“You missed out on a really good night.”

Peyton was going out of her way to rub in the fact that she’d gone home the night before with one of the Englishmen in the pub. I don’t know what she expected me to do. Did she want me to get jealous? Fly into a rage and track the man down? Or did she just want to provoke me into fucking her? I couldn’t quite tell and after another sleepless night, I was too damned tired to care.

Our clients decided to bump up their flight home to New York and though I’d chugged down two cups of coffee prior to take off, I was going to consider it a job well done if I made it to Heathrow without falling asleep in the cockpit. Peyton’s prattling wasn’t helping.

We’d been flying for a little under an hour and she hadn’t stopped talking. Finally, I shot a cold stare in her direction. “What’s your point, Peyton? You want me to grovel before your feet and beg for a second chance? Sorry. It’s not happening. I wasn’t interested last night and I’m not interested now. I just want to get this damn plane on the ground and go home and sleep.”