Never Got Over You

“What?” My heart dropped. “What the fuck happened to her?”

“We had a little boating accident, but she’s totally fine. Like, it’s just a little concussion and some hypothermia. There’s also a severe sprain and a bruise here or there, but I’ve totally got this under control.”

“What hospital is she in?”

“Mercy.”

“East or West?”

“West.”

I ended the call and immediately called my pilot.

But Now That You’re Back

I WOKE UP IN IMMENSE pain.

My head was throbbing, my chest hurt, and my legs felt far more sore now than they did after the night that me and James had sex.

I opened my eyes and realized that I wasn’t in the same stark white hospital room where I’d been placed the night before. This one looked more like a hotel room.

There was a seating area for seven directly across from me, a wardrobe rack with hanging white robes, and a glowing fireplace to my left.

I slowly turned my head to the right and saw James staring at me. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned, the grey tie hanging loose from the collar. Still gorgeous as ever, he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. Summer was sitting at his side, tapping her fingers against her notebook and looking absolutely terrified.

“James?” I croaked.

“Oh. My. God!” Summer stood to her feet. “She has amnesia!”

James gave her a blank stare, and pulled her back down to her chair.

“In this delicate time of need, I’d be more than happy to serve in her place.” She smiled. “I mean, just until she comes back to herself.” She waved at me. “Hi, there! My name is Summer. Sum-mer.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” James said. “I think she’ll be fine.”

“Oh? Do you have a specialist on hand that you’ll be getting her?” She crossed her arms. “Because I was in the hospital last year with pneumonia and you didn’t fly to be by my side. You didn’t even send me a card.”

“My apologies.” He smiled. “Can you excuse me and Miss Kennedy for a minute, please?”

She nodded and lifted the brownie off my tray before leaving the room.

James moved his chair closer, trailed his finger against my arm. “All those days on the lake with me, and you don’t remember how to fix a stalling engine?”

“Depends. Are you finally admitting that you knew me in the past?”

“Just for today.” He smiled. “What type of boat was it?”

“Yamaha 212.”

He nodded. “Did the boat really flip over, or is Summer exaggerating?”

“She’s exaggerating. I fell off and hit my head.”

He caressed my hand. “I need to talk to you about something when you feel better.”

“Is it about sex?”

“Of course not. I’m a gentleman.”

“You’re an opportunist.” I cleared my throat. “But for the record, I won’t ever sleep with you again, James.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because—” I paused. “Because you’re you, James. We have history, and after you left me this weekend, all I could think about was how we used to be. How I still want us to be.”

He was silent.

“I’m being honest,” I said. “It’s all or nothing. Or, maybe with time, we can be friends.”

“You know we can’t be friends.” He looked into my eyes. “That won’t work either.”

“So, you’re going with Option B? Nothing?”

“I’m not saying that at all.” He leaned over and pressed a light kiss on my lips. “I’d like to go with Option A. I think we should try to start over.”

…

Kate

~ January 7, 2009 ~

I DROVE SLOW AS THE lane twisted around the mountain, holding my breath as cars on the other side sped by. There was only one lane going in either direction, and since I was driving twenty-five miles under the speed limit, the line of cars in my rearview had been honking at me for the past half hour.

You’re almost there, Kate. Don’t pay attention to what’s behind you.

My heart was in my throat and my anxiety was running higher than ever. I’d made my choice, and I was going to stand by it.

I pulled off the main road five minutes later and double checked the address. As I drove into a private cove, my jaw dropped.

The beautiful white house that matched James’s address was the only one on this street. It sat right at the edge of Lake Tahoe’s clear, sparkling waters and was nestled behind a row of pine trees.

I parked behind the row of repaired luxury cars in his driveway, and walked into the garage.

“Hey,” I said, stepping in front of the engine he was fixing.

“Hey?” He turned off his drill and tilted his head to the side. “Shouldn’t you be on your way to the symphony right now? Your performance is in a few hours. I was about to head there when I got finished.”

“I’m done with the cello now. Professionally, anyway.”

“What?”

“I’m taking your advice,” I said. “Driving down my own lane instead of riding in someone else’s. I’m going to start graduate school in the early fall and cancel the rest of my cello touring days.”