by Kelly Rimmer
My four friends all stare into their phone screens with visible shock.
“Jess,” Abby croaks, tears springing to her eyes. Her face crumples, and the tears are already leaking out. I know all too well what she’s doing—processing how hard the day of her birth must have been for me, and then she’ll be imagining the panic and the pain I must have felt when I knew she was sick. “Holy shit. Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I couldn’t,” I say, then I give her a sad smile. “I wasn’t ever ashamed of Tristan, but to survive, I had to hit the ground running here and I guess . . . Maybe I tried to build a wall between that life and this one. The thing is, I’ve actually realized that I don’t need that wall anymore and maybe now it’s just keeping the people I love at a distance I don’t want.”
“Thanks for telling us,” Izzy whispers. She wipes at her eyes. Paul tilts his head as he stares into the lens.
“What’s sparked this, Jess?” he asks me quietly. “Is this because of Marcus and Abby’s girls?”
I shake my head.
“No. This is because I’m in love with your brother and I’m hoping that I’m about to start another new chapter of my life. I don’t want to stay in my old patterns.”
There’s a collective gasp. I sigh.
“Don’t be overdramatic. It’s not that shocking.”
“It actually is that shocking,” Isabel says, blinking. “You and Jake?”
“Called it,” Marcus says triumphantly, elbowing Abby meaningfully, and she shoots him a look.
“We both called it. You don’t get credit for noticing what was right in front of our faces for the last two weeks.”
“What have you guys been up to while we were away?” Paul laughs softly.
“I . . . I need to talk to him first so please don’t say anything to him just yet. I just wanted you guys to know. I wanted to be open with you and I had to explain because . . .”
I’m starting to feel uncomfortable now, but I can’t wind the conversation down yet because I need to talk to Paul and Marcus. I clear my throat.
“Actually, Abby, Izzy . . . can we have a moment of business chat now?”
“Yeah, I’m not going anywhere,” Abby tells me pointedly. “Not when bombshells are raining from the sky like this.”
“If it’s boring, we’ll just tune out. Go right ahead,” Isabel says. I sigh.
“So, the thing is, you know I’ve been thinking about ways to build some buzz about Brainway in the Silicon Valley set in the lead-up to an IPO . . .”
“Holy shit,” Marcus says, blinking. “Is this why you didn’t want to work from the West Coast office? Because you and Jake . . .”
I swallow.
“It was a factor,” I say, but that’s a lie. I sigh. “No. Yes. It was the factor. I was avoiding him, and I put my personal shit before the company’s needs. I’m really sorry.”
“And now . . .”
“I’m going to work from Palo Alto part-time for a few months. One week of the month there, three back here.” I draw in a deep breath. “Starting immediately. I’m going to fly back with him tonight.” Paul and Marcus both nod easily. I frown at them. “Seriously? You’re just nodding along like this isn’t completely out of left field? I’m talking about your CEO working from the other side of the country. Immediately.”
“On a business level, it makes perfect sense and one of us should have done this sooner,” Marcus says easily. “On a personal level . . . It’s you and Jake. Why would I hesitate? I’m so excited for you both.”
“Ditto.” Paul shrugs. “He’s my brother. I want the best for him. You’re the best, so it’s a no-brainer.”
Stupid, hot tears fill my eyes.
“Thank you,” I croak.
“You seem surprised, Jess. How did you think we’d react to all of this?” Isabel asks me softly.
“I don’t think I was sure I was doing it until you guys picked up the video call.”
“We’re just happy for you.” Paul shrugs. “And we’re a tech company, for fuck’s sake. Whether you’re in Palo Alto or the moon you can still lead the company, and besides, that office is a mess. Get in there, crack some skulls. Win-win.”
“When are you talking to Jake?” Abby asks.
“In a few hours,” I say. My throat is suddenly dry.
“Go get him, Jess,” she says softly.
“I have to go,” I say, my voice cracking. “Talk to you all soon.” At the last second, I point to Abby and Marcus. “Give Clem and Jessie a cuddle for me!”
I RUN HOME to pack. I have some very aggressive butterflies in my stomach. It’s an odd feeling; less a gentle fluttering, more of a violent thumping sensation.
What if I’ve got it wrong? What if he doesn’t want me to come? What if he treats me like shit and I can’t get out? What if, what if, what if.
The suitcase is soon full, and I look down at it, then realize what a bad job I’ve done. I definitely do not need four pairs of jeans for seven days in California in late summer, and it seems I’ve managed to cram the suitcase full . . . without a single pair of underwear.
On the one hand, I’m going to spend time with Jake so that’s probably perfect, but on the other hand, I am going to be working at the office this week during the day, so I definitely do need panties.
I groan in frustration as I tip the suitcase out onto my bed. Riffling through it, I realize I’ve managed to pack pretty much everything I don’t need.
I draw in a deep breath, then turn to my wardrobe and start again.
BECAUSE IT TAKES me over an hour to pack my fucking suitcase, then another hour to get dressed because I have to redo my eye makeup twice because my hands are shaking, I’m running later than I’d like when I finally slip into the back of a car and head to JFK. I open my laptop and spend the first thirty minutes of the drive emailing my team.
Gina, sorry I didn’t get to tell you this in person, but I’m going to be working from Palo Alto part-time for a little while . . .
Kiah, great news! You’re getting a promotion. Now for the fine print . . . I’m really going to need your help.
The next challenge is getting a ticket on the same flight as Jake, but this proves to be easy when I see that only one airline is flying out to San Francisco at nine fifteen tonight. I also remember that Jake, as a general rule, flies first class. Not because he’s flashy, but because his legs are longer than most human bodies, and modern planes are not designed for legit giants.
I know we probably won’t be seated together, but I figure if we both wind up in first class, I’ll be able to sweet-talk someone into swapping, so I load the airline website and try to buy a ticket.
As soon as I hit Purchase, the website crashes. I curse furiously and swap out of my own browser into one of the inferior ones that comes with my operating system by default. I plug in my details all over again and an error flashes up.
You have already purchased a ticket for this flight.
I figure the ticket must have gone through before the website crashed, and I check my email, expecting to find the details there. But there’s no email from the airline, and when I check my credit card, there’s no transaction there either.
“For fuck’s sake,” I groan, and the driver glances back at me.
“You okay there, lady?”
“Airlines,” I mutter, and he nods.
“Oh, I hear that.”
I decide to try again on my laptop. The flight is now showing limited seats available, so I hastily type in all of my details again.
You have already purchased a ticket for this flight.
“No I fucking haven’t!”
I call the customer service number and I’m warned that after the recent system outage, the expected wait time is forty-six minutes . . . by which time I’ll be at the airport. I hang up in frustration and stare out the window. I’ll have to sort this out when I get there and hope this isn’t some kind of sign from the universe that I’m about to make a god-awful mistake.
Maybe he’s relieved to be going home, back to his quest for a soul mate who can give him everything.
I tell that voice to shut the fuck up and try to plan my speech.
Jake. I know you want forever, but that’s going to take me a while to get my head around. In the meantime, can we take it one day at a time? I want to be with you. It’s you—it’s always been you. So, I can’t promise you the rest of my life just yet, but I can promise you this: I choose you today. I will choose you tomorrow. And maybe if we keep choosing each other day by day for a while, I’ll be able to give you more.
It’s all clear in my head by the time we get to the airport. But the flight will close in half an hour, and I don’t even have a fucking ticket. I’m wearing amazing emerald green heels because they match this green-and-white sundress and I wanted to look my best, and I do. I’m going to blow his fucking socks off.
The only problem is that I’m sprinting through what’s possibly the world’s worst airport in three-inch heels and maybe it’s possible that Jake’s impulsivity has rubbed off on me, because I clearly haven’t thought this through. Still, I make it to the customer service counter, then groan loudly when I see there’s a long line.
“Computer problems,” the senior citizen in front of me mutters. I stifle a curse, and the woman turns and glances at me, then smiles. “Special occasion?”
“I’m trying to . . . There’s this guy . . . I . . .” I groan and wipe my hand over my face. “God. I’ve got to make this flight. He’s been waiting fourteen years for me to get my shit together.”
“That’s quite the wait. I guess I should stop complaining about this line when you put it like that,” the woman chuckles, then glances at me. “What’s your name, darling?”
“Jess. What’s yours?”
“Yolande.”
“Yolande, I need to get on this flight,” I say desperately. “I’m out of ideas. What can I do?”
Yolande drops slowly and carefully down onto the floor.
“Oh my God,” I say, crouching beside her. “Do you need me to call—”
“I need you to shout for help, and then when the airline staff comes to assist me, stay with me. I’ll do the rest,” Yolande says, and I realize she’s helping me. I grin at her.
“Is this going to make you late for something?” I whisper.
“I just flew in from my grandson’s place in Idaho. But I left my iPad on the plane and I’m hoping these nice people can get it back for me.”
“Right. It’s go time. Try to look old and frail.”
“I am old and frail.”
“Please, Yolande, you were scheming evil ways to skip this line the second you met me.” I wink at her, and she grins. “Can someone help?” I call, waving toward the airline staff. Two women come running right away.
“Ma’am? Are you okay?” one of them says, crouching beside Yolande. “We’ll call the paramedics—”
“I’ve just been on my feet for so long,” Yolande says, throwing her hand against her forehead dramatically. “And I’m so worried about my granddaughter here. She’s going to miss her flight.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing, ma’am. Jenny here will get you somewhere you can sit down and take a breath and I’ll help your granddaughter,” the other attendant says. She glances at me. “Will she be okay on her own while we go to the computer?”
“Of course I will,” Yolande says, voice already back to normal strength, already sitting back up. “Come on, then, Jenny. Help me somewhere I can rest. And Jess—go get your man.”
“I want to be just like you when I grow up, Yolande,” I whisper to her, just before I rise. She winks at me, and I follow the attendant past the long line to a spare terminal.
“I just need to buy a first-class ticket for the nine-fifteen flight to San Francisco. I tried to do it online but whenever I hit Purchase, I was getting an error.”
“The computer went down for about ten minutes earlier but it’s all back up now.” The attendant smiles at me. I hand her my ID and credit card, and look around impatiently, as if the bustling airport can speed this up for me somehow. The woman hits a few keys on the keyboard and frowns. “Oh, I’m sorry. Our first-class section is sold out for that flight. Can I suggest premium economy?”
“No, I really need to be in first class,” I say, hands gripping the counter.
“Sorry, Ms. Cohen. Premium economy is the best I can do, and the flight is closing soon so . . .”
Does it matter if Jake and I can’t sit together on the flight? Of course not, and every second I stand here trying to change what can’t be changed, I’m wasting precious time. I take a deep breath and nod.
“Okay. Premium economy it is.”
The clerk smiles and starts to type, then pauses.
“Well,” she says, then she flashes me a smile. “Your purchase on our website must have been successful after all.”
“No, it definitely wasn’t,” I tell her, frowning. “I checked my credit card.”
I hear the printer working, and she hands me a boarding pass.
“Maybe the funds will come off later, because you’re definitely already booked into first class,” she tells me. I open my mouth to argue but as I take the pass, it finally hits me.
“Am I seated with Dr. Jacob Winton?”
She glances at the screen, then nods.
“You sure are, ma’am.”
“I see,” I say slowly. Then I draw in a deep breath and begin my march toward security.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Jake
I’M SITTING IN my seat on the plane, staring at a medical journal, but I haven’t read past the headline. There are two untouched glasses of champagne on the tray below the window to my right. Both are probably flat by now.
The flight will be closing soon and if she’s coming, she should be here.
“I can’t tell if I’m pissed or impressed,” Jess says abruptly. I drop the journal and shoot to my feet, forgetting to duck my head and almost giving myself a concussion in the process. She looks amazing in that green-and-white dress, with shoes so high she almost reaches to my nose. I rub my head ruefully as Jess raises her eyebrows and demands, “Got anything to say for yourself?”
“Do you know how much I’d pay just for the chance to have six hours with you at my side?” I say. My voice is hoarse as I stare down at her. I’m overwhelmed by emotion: relief, fear, anticipation, excitement, anxiety. “Because I can now put an exact dollar figure on how much those hours would mean to me. Apparently, I’m willing to buy a superexpensive last-minute ticket that may have gone to waste, just on the off chance you decided you wanted to come home with me.”
Jess gnaws her bottom lip.
“It’s just . . . Did you trick me into coming here? I can’t figure out how you did it.”
I reach to take her hand. “If you didn’t come, you’d never have even known about the ticket, right? I wouldn’t ever have told you. I decided this morning that I’d listen to you and watch you walk away. I just had this feeling that you wanted us, but I knew that if we were going to be together, you had to figure out how to make it happen.” I tug her closer, until we’re standing chest to chest—or perhaps more accurately, chest to eyebrows. “You’re pretty smart, you know. I knew that if anyone could solve the problem of how to make us happen, it would be you.”
“I can’t give you forever,” she whispers, but the sting of those words is softened by the fact that she steps even closer to me. “But I can give you this week. And then . . . When I’m back in Palo Alto next month, I’ll give you that week too. I don’t know if I can do this,” she says, raising her chin. But then her gaze softens. “But I want to try, Ja
ke. I’m sure it’s not going to be pretty and I’m also sure this won’t be the last time we crash headlong into my baggage, but I want to give it my best shot.”
“That’s all I ever wanted. We’re going to crash into my baggage too—that’s just how relationships work. But I really need you to know that I don’t want to own you, sweetheart. It’s your life—you’ll always be in control of it. All I ever wanted was to share it with you.”
She reaches up on her tippy-toes, and I wrap my arms around her as I bend to kiss her. She’s really here, and we’re really doing this. As it finally sinks in that we’re going to get a real shot to be together, I find myself overcome . . . completely, hopelessly undone. And so is Jess, because I can feel the tremors in her body quaking in time with mine.
“I love you,” I choke out as I close my eyes and run the tip of my nose down over hers, then over her jawline, just breathing her in. “Jess. Jess. I love you. I love you.”
“I love you too,” she whispers back, and I think my heart is actually going to stop. I open my eyes to stare at her.
“You do?”
“Oh please,” she says impatiently. “You totally already knew that.”
I grin at her.
“I mean, I suspected, sure. But it’s still pretty fucking good to hear you say it.”
She links her arms around my neck and stares up at me. I can see the affection in her eyes. I can see the cautious hope.
She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts.
“I think we’re going to make it,” I say softly. Jess rolls her eyes.
“I think you’re going to drive me insane.”
I grin, then reach into my back pocket.
“Let me say before I show you this, it will never, ever be an engagement ring,” I say. Jess stiffens, so I add pointedly, “I’m never going to propose to you. I don’t need to. I don’t even want to get married unless you change your mind one day.” I slip the ring out of my pocket and hold it between us in the palm of my hand. She stares at it as if I’m offering her toxic waste. “So take it. Or don’t. But if you do take it, I don’t want you to wear it on your left hand.”