Page 81 of Take Two

“You need to eat,” he says after catching me push the same piece of broccoli through the rice for the third time.

“I’m trying,” I say with a forced smile.

His gaze holds mine for a moment before he reaches across the table and turns my hand over beneath his. “I know.”

I manage several more bites for him, though the tightness in my throat makes each one difficult to swallow.

After lunch, Jamie takes me upstairs and pulls me into bed. I don’t intend to sleep and neither does he. I only want to lie beside him for a while, to listen to his heartbeat and feel the weight of his arm around my waist while there is still time.

I rest my head against his chest, and his fingers move slowly through the short curls at the back of my head. The steady rhythm of his breathing begins to loosen the tension that has lived inside me since Jasper appeared outside the arena.

“We should set an alarm,” I murmur.

“I did,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head.

I close my eyes and when I open them again, the bedroom is washed in the fading amber light of sunset.

For several seconds, I don’t understand why panic is clawing through my chest. Then I see the clock on the nightstand and realize how many hours have disappeared while we slept.

“Jamie,” I say in alarm.

“I see it.” He tightens his arms around me before I can move, holding me against him for one final minute neither of us can afford.

“I didn’t mean to sleep that long,” I say, hurt and disappointed at myself for the rest I know I needed.

“Neither did I,” he replies.

“We wasted half the day,” I say, turning in his hold to face him.

“No.” His voice remains soft, though the certainty in it stops my protest. “We spent it together.”

The distinction shouldn’t make me feel better, yet somehow it does. We stay there until the alarm he set for the evening finally sounds, forcing us apart.

Dinner comes too quickly. I sit on the kitchen counter while Jamie moves between the stove and the island, preparing salmon and vegetables because cooking gives his hands something to do. Every few minutes, he steps between my knees and kisses me, sometimes briefly, sometimes long enough that I forget about the pan on the stove until he pulls away and returns to it.

I watch him move through the kitchen with the ease of someone who belongs in this space, and the realization that I won’t be here tomorrow, has the damn tears returning in full force.

I wipe them away quickly, when he turns, jumping from the counter to sit on the stool as he places a plate in front of me. It all looks delicious, but I can barely eat.

Jamie notices, though he doesn’t comment this time. He just rests his hand on my thigh in silent support while I force down enough food to keep him from worrying.

By the time the sky outside the windows turns fully dark, my suitcase is waiting near the front door.

Cameron texts to say he is outside.

Jamie carries my luggage to the SUV before I can stop him. I follow him down the path, watching the muscles in his back move beneath his shirt as he lifts the suitcase into the cargo area and closes the door.

Cameron waits beside the rental SUV parked behind us, giving us as much privacy as the driveway allows. Jasper is already on his way to Boeing Field, and the pilot is preparing the plane.

Everything is ready. I am the only one who is not.

Jamie turns toward me and for several long seconds neither of us speaks. The porch light catches the planes of his face, the tiredness sitting quietly beneath his eyes, the emotion he has held together all day because one of us needed to remain steady.

I step closer and take his face between my hands, his skin warm against my palms. “I don’t want you wondering.”

His brows draw together, a small crease forming between them. “Wondering what?”

“Whether this is real to me.” My thumbs move slowly across his cheekbones as I search for the courage to say the words that have lived inside me for longer than I have been willing to admit. “Whether distance changes any of it. Whether I’m going to get on that plane and decide this was only something we did for the summer. Something convenient and temporary that we dressed up as something more.”