That Jeremy understood so completely came as a relief. “Yeah. There’s just one problem, Jer.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m in love with her.”
Jeremy let out a huge breath. “Well, doesn’t that make the cheese more binding.”
They both laughed a little.
“I couldn’t admit it when she was here. I mean it when I say I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t over Jennie. I don’t know if I’ll ever be over Jennie. How is that fair?”
Jeremy frowned. “I’m not sure this is ever anything you are ‘over.’ I think it’s a decision to leave it in the past, and be brave enough to embrace a future. It’s a big thing.”
“It’s a huge thing. She wants a family, Jer. And she should have one. You’ve seen her with Rose. She loves that little girl. She should have babies of her own if that’s what she wants. And I just don’t know.”
“All love carries risks.”
“I know.”
“And rewards. But only you can decide where that balance lies. If being without her is easier than taking the risk, then you know letting her go was the right thing.”
“But if it’s not?”
Jeremy shrugged. “You have to sort that out on your own. All I’m going to say is that I loved Jennie, but Jess had a way of making you smile that was just...different. There’s no question in my mind that she fell in love with you.”
Tori shifted and he moved with her, smoothing her hair off her face while she slept on. Bran marveled at the tenderness he saw in his friend’s expression.
“Love changes a person, you know?” Jeremy looked away from his wife’s face and smiled. “It made me a better man. It made me want things I didn’t feel worthy of asking, but somehow...she makes it right. You found it once, Bran. If you are lucky enough to have found it a second time, think long and hard before letting it slip away.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JESS HAD NEVER been so glad for air-conditioning in her life.
Chicago was stifling. A late July heat wave was making things miserable, and she cringed to think of her power bill with how much her AC was running, but at least she was comfortable. Most of the time.
Living alone had never been this difficult. Ana had been the one to move into the loft with her, taking the second bedroom and bringing her boundless energy and kindness with her. After she’d gone, it had been hard to live in the apartment without hearing Ana’s voice, singing in the shower, or the way she’d stay up on Saturdays watching old movies.
But this loneliness was different. Because it wasn’t the loft that was quiet and lonely, it was her whole life. It was like taking one of her paintings and suddenly only seeing it in black and white. There was a vibrancy missing that she knew had one cause: Bran.
She missed him. It seemed impossible; they’d been together such a short time. But time didn’t matter. What was time, anyway? Measurable in months, days, hours, minutes...and yet it moved slowly and quickly. Her time in Nova Scotia had been too short, and now her days were too long. And yet the clock ticked on at the same pace.
So she worked. She buried herself in it, putting all her feelings and thoughts and longings and regrets on canvas. It was the neglected door and the determined daisies, the lighthouse strong and sure, and the waves and wind that battered it relentlessly. It was a long, white beach that stretched on forever, and a man standing on a bluff overlooking the ocean, lost.
Her agent had seen most of what she’d done and raved over it. Jess had come away from the meeting glad he was happy, but personally caring little about the commercial appeal of it and more concerned with the process.
The only thing she could think to do was paint him out of her heart. So far she wasn’t succeeding.
Had she been wrong to leave? Should she have given him more time? Maybe. Though in her heart she knew staying would have just prolonged the inevitable.
A quick glance at the clock on the microwave showed just after one o’clock, so she decided it was as good a time as any for a break. She turned on the kettle to make coffee. She’d picked up some bagels at the market a few days ago, so she popped one in the toaster. A bagel with cream cheese would suffice for lunch.
The kettle had just boiled and she’d poured the water into the press when a knock sounded at the door.
She frowned. A courier, maybe? She certainly wasn’t expecting anyone. She padded to the door in her bare feet and peeked through the hole to see who was there.
Bran.
Her paint-stained fingers flew to her mouth. What was he doing here? Her first thought was that something had happened to Rose. Oh, God, she hoped not. But would he fly all the way here to deliver that news?