I nod, waiting until I’m sure I’ve won the battle against the tears pressing at the backs of my eyes before I say, “I was wrong. You shouldn’t have been a lawyer, you should have been a therapist.”
She smiles. “Nah. I only talk feelings with people I really love. The rest of those losers can keep their money.”
“I love you, too,” I say, with a tired smile. “And you’ve given me a lot of good things to think about.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” She stretches her arms over her head and props her sock feet on top of a stack of nearby boxes. “So, what do you think? More tea? Or should we move on to beer?”
I shake my head, suddenly realizing how very exhausted I am. “Actually, I think I might hit the sack. I’m beat.”
“Yeah. Feelings are exhausting,” she agrees, grabbing my mug and heading for the kitchen. “Let me get you set up with a spare toothbrush and PJs and you can get some rest. The kids and I have school in the morning anyway, so I shouldn’t stay up too late.”
She helps me get settled and hugs me goodnight, leaving me to flick off the kitchen light and crawl onto the futon alone.
I expect to be out the moment my head hits the pillow, but I find myself lying awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling, hoping Jamison is okay, worrying how today’s drama will affect his future with his brother and the rest of the department.
I wish I could wave a magic wand and make everything as simple as it seemed that night on the beach, when I didn’t have a care in the world but enjoying a night of passion and adventure with a man who made my blood rush and my heart beat faster.
But real life isn’t like that. There comes a time when you have to sober up, deal with the consequences of your actions, and decide how to move forward.
I’ve never felt more sober in my life, but I’m not sure how to move forward from here.
All I know is that when I curl on my side and close my eyes, I miss the warmth of Jamison’s body and the feel of his arms wrapped around me so much it’s like a part of me has gone missing.
Chapter Twenty
Jamison
This is going to work. It has to work.
I repeat the silent litany over and over again as I wait in the tiny beige Chevy Spark outside Joe’s on the Lake, watching the sun sink lower behind the trees, trying not to think about all the people I care about celebrating inside the restaurant without me.
I’m going to make things right with Jake, but first I have to make things right with Maddie.
I hope I can make that happen tonight.
At least she’s given me a sign that she cares whether I live or die.
I glance down at my phone, pulling up the text from earlier today, the one I’ve read so many times it’s probably pathological. I’m thinking about you, and hoping you’re okay. I’m sorry I can’t be there for you right now. I just need some time to sort things out. Maddie.
The message came from her friend, Dawn’s, phone, so I didn’t feel comfortable responding with more than—Thank you. Love you. Happy birthday—but the text is still encouraging.
It isn’t a promise we’re going to pick up where we left off, or a vow of undying love, but it’s a start, and I can work with that. And I have a plan.
As soon as Maddie emerges from the restaurant, I’ll call her and ask her to step over to the Spark parked at the back of the lot. I borrowed Lucy’s car in hopes that it will make it easier to avoid being spotted by Jake or our dad—who isn’t thrilled that I caused a scene at the firehouse, though he isn’t nearly as angry or disappointed as Jake.
But then Dad being so laid back and not intense about anything is probably the main reason my big brother ended up so far in the opposite direction. He felt he had to be rigid and controlling to make up for all the times our single father dropped the ball.
Anyway…once Maddie’s in the car, I’ll ask her to take a drive with me out to my aunt’s property, where we had our kinky night in the tent, for a talk.
I have a boxed cake from Icing in the backseat and the engagement ring tucked into my jeans’ pocket. If things go well, we can celebrate her birthday with the cake. If things go really well, I can follow the cake with a proposal and make damned sure she knows how serious I am about building a future with her.
And if she tells you it’s over, you can drop her off and go home and eat the entire cake alone, knowing everyone who cared about you has flushed you down the toilet.