by Amelia Stone
God, I missed him. I missed the way he’d hold me at night, his arms encircling me like I was the most precious thing on the fucking planet. I missed the feel of his beard against my skin. I longed for his kisses. I felt empty without him.
I just felt empty.
Her eyes were filled with sympathy. “Of course you couldn’t lie to him. You’ve loved him since what, the second grade?”
I chuffed. “Something like that.”
She sighed. “Okay, so now what? How do we fix this?”
I shook my head, blinking rapidly. “I can’t fix it.” Not without fixing myself. I swallowed thickly. And there went the tears. “I don’t know how.”
“You have to fix yourself first,” she said, her shrewd gaze uncovering my every secret as usual.
I made no answer. I was trying not to keel over in my seat and bawl my eyes out in the middle of Elmer’s Tacos. The place was a fucking institution in this town. I had at least that much respect left.
She frowned. “Well, I’d say step one is not shutting off your damn feelings. Because clearly that doesn’t work.” She handed me a napkin.
I winced. Another direct hit. She’d probably sunk my battleship by now.
She took another sip of iced tea. “And step two is getting out of your fucking bed for reasons other than the best enchiladas in Phoenix.”
I huffed, wiping my cheeks. “Don’t forget the strips.”
She rolled her eyes. “Like I could. Weirdest fucking thing I’ve ever heard of, un-melted nachos.”
I chuckled. “But they’re like crack.”
She laughed. “That they are.”
I bit my lip, the tears spilling out again. “I don’t know what to do, Han.”
She reached across the table, squeezing my hand. “Do you want to get Sam back?”
I nodded. I wanted Sam back more than I wanted my next breath. More even than I wanted enchiladas.
“But you need to get yourself straightened out first, huh?”
I stared at the wall again. Maybe I should offer to fix the dang mural for them. “Yeah.”
When I looked back at her, she smiled. “Okay, then let’s come up with a plan.”
I ventured a tiny smile. I liked plans. Plans made me feel better, made me feel like I was in control. “Okay.”
So we ordered sopapillas, even though I hated feeling like I was coated in powdered sugar, and we sat in Elmer’s until they closed, putting together a plan for me to get my life right.
I smiled dutifully, cheering along with my family and friends as my best friend kissed my sister for the first time as man and wife.
I’d been going through the motions all day. Don’t get me wrong, I was genuinely happy for Hannah and Brian. I was thrilled that my best friend had now become my brother-in-law. And my sister looked absolutely radiant, her smile beaming as she looked at her new husband. I knew that they’d have a long, loving marriage.
And it really was a beautiful ceremony. All the hard work had paid off. But it was hard not to feel that the celebration was a little bittersweet. My eyes drifted to the woman standing next to Hannah. I knew better than anyone that almost all the success of the party today was due to Jamy.
But all the stress of her acting as my sister’s makeshift wedding planner had caused our relationship to fracture. It had taken everything I had not to let it implode. I could only hope she’d get some kind of satisfaction now from knowing everything had gone off without a hitch.
And I fucking prayed, now that all the stress was gone, she could find her way back to me.
I stared at her, leaning around my new brother-in-law to get a better look. I hadn’t seen her at all since that last argument. I texted her every day, just to remind her that I loved her. But I hadn’t gone to her apartment, hadn’t visited her at work, hadn’t called her just to hear her voice, no matter how much I wanted to. I was giving her the space she needed, finally.
Christ, what a blockheaded thing I’d done. What was I thinking, surprising her with a fucking house? Even people who didn’t have all the issues Jamy did would be thrown for a loop by it. I knew better than to throw her a curveball like that.
But as usual, I’d been so eager to do it, so excited to cement our future, that I jumped in head first, completely ignoring the consequences of my actions. I’d done exactly what I’d vowed not to do anymore. And as if to reinforce just how stupid the whole thing had been to begin with, it backfired spectacularly. Rather than securing our future, I’d pushed her away.
I’d been torn these last few weeks between kicking myself for being such an idiot, and trying to convince myself that this break was a good thing. She obviously needed the space, needed the time to get herself together, to work on loving herself. She’d never love me until she did. It was a necessary evil. And it would work.
Assuming she actually came back to me.
So it happened that the first time I’d seen her in more than a month was earlier today, when the wedding party gathered to take pictures.
To say she took my breath away would be an understatement. When she walked in the room, I’d nearly tripped over my feet again. She wore a navy blue dress with long, lacy sleeves and a shape that maximized her deliciously full figure. Her hair and makeup were done to perfection, and she stood tall in high heels.
But as I watched her walk toward me, I couldn’t help but think I’d seen her look better. The most beautiful Jamy, to me, was the one who woke up beside me every morning. Her hair would be mussed, her cheeks creased by the pillow, her eyes soft and sleepy. And every time, I’d think I’d never seen anything more beautiful than her.
I hadn’t had a chance to talk to her, since the photographer kept us constantly moving, constantly posing. By the time we were done, it was time to separate for the ceremony. The bridal party would be walking down the aisle, while the guys would wait at the altar.
I hated that I hadn’t had a moment alone with her. I’d been antsy for the rest of the day, itching to be near her again. I needed to hear her voice, needed to know she was alright.
“Here Comes the Sun” piped through the speakers now as I watched Brian escort Hannah back down the aisle, the pair of them laughing and grinning like a couple of love-struck fools. Then I stepped forward, holding my arm out for Jamy. She flashed me a nervous smile as she took it, and we followed my sister and her husband down the white carpet.
“Hi,” she said, looking up at me shyly through her lashes.
“Hey.” I looked down at her, unable to keep the grin off my face. She was here with me. And she looked amazing. Even beyond the fancy get-up, she looked happy. Genuinely happy. I loved it.
I loved her. I still loved her, so fucking much.
“You look gorgeous,” I told her. “But then, you always do.”
She smiled. “Thank you.” And for once, she didn’t look uncomfortable at the compliment.
“It was a beautiful wedding, huh?”
She squeezed my arm. “Yeah,” she replied, her voice happy. “It really was.”
The hotel had provided a small room for the wedding party to cool their heels in while the guests moved to the reception hall. When we reached it, I continued to steer her until we were standing in the corner, away from everyone else. I knew I was being rude, that I should have congratulated Hannah and Brian.
But I needed to talk to my woman. I couldn’t wait one second longer. I’d had all these plans to be patient with her today, to give her some space.
But that all flew out the fucking window once I saw her. She was here with me, standing right next to me. And I wasn’t going to let her go again.
I spun to face her, but she spoke before I could even get a word out.
“How are you?” she asked. “You shaved,” she added before I could answer, stroking my now-naked cheek. She seemed nervous, and I put my hands on her arms, rubbing soothingly.
I smiled. “She finally wore me down,” I replied, nodding in Hannah’s direction.
S
he gave me a rueful smile. “I’m sad to see it go.”
I locked eyes with her. “I’ll grow it back.”
She bit her lip, which was painted a deep red that was just begging to be smeared by my mouth. “I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes briefly. “For the beard. For what I said. For everything.” She opened her eyes again. “Sam, I am so sorry that I hurt you. That I hurt us.”
I raised a hand, sliding it behind her neck, rubbing my thumb along her throat. “It’s okay.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not okay. You were right. I wasn’t ready to give us a chance. I was so scared of myself, so scared of messing it up. I was scared of loving myself.”
I leaned forward, resting my forehead on hers. “I know.” I kissed her, unable to resist the siren call of those crimson lips anymore. “I know, my love. But listen. I was serious when I said I would love you enough for both of us.”
She reached a hand up, running it gingerly through my hair, like she didn’t want to mess it up. “But you shouldn’t have to. A relationship is a partnership. We both need to pull our weight.”
“It doesn’t all have to be equal. We can each do what we’re capable of. You can clean, and remember to send Christmas cards, and buy birthday gifts for our families, and make sure I take my medications when I’m old and senile as fuck.” She laughed, and I closed my eyes briefly, savoring the sound. “And I’ll carry the emotional burden for us both. I can handle that much.”
She shook her head, looking up at me with sad eyes. “I can’t let you do that.”
I pulled back, glaring at her. “Don’t do this to me,” I growled. “Don’t you fucking dare try to break up with me again. Not now.” We were at my sister’s wedding, for fuck’s sake.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not,” she huffed, though she didn’t really seem mad. “I’m just trying to tell you that you don’t have to pick up my slack. I’m working on loving myself.”
I blinked. “Yeah?”
She nodded, though she looked nervous again. “Yeah. I mean, I’m going to fuck it up. A lot. I don’t really know what I’m doing. And I’ll totally understand if you decide you don’t want to wait around for me to figure it out.”
“Not gonna happen,” I growled, kissing her again, deeper this time. I groaned when her tongue met mine, tasting her toothpaste and… ha! She must’ve snuck a Kit Kat before the ceremony. I nipped her lower lip once before pulling back.
When I opened my eyes, I was disappointed to see that her lipstick was still intact. I really wanted to see the evidence of our kiss on her mouth.
“Kiss-proof,” she whispered, correctly interpreting my frown.
I chuckled. “Sounds like you were planning this.” I rubbed my thumb along her lower lip.
She smiled. “Maybe just planning for your inevitable impatience.”
I laughed. She knew me too well. “I love that you plan for every scenario.”
She kissed me again, softly, barely brushing her lips across mine. When she pulled away, her eyes were shining. “I love you.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “Yeah.” She cupped my jaw. “I love you so much, Sam.”
“Jesus, finally!”
I turned, looking for the hooligan who’d shouted that, only to see that all our friends were watching us. Todd, Celia, Hannah, Brian, and Sabine had near-identical grins on their faces.
“Are you two gonna fuck right here? Because I left my cell phone with my mother.” Sabine pouted, her hand on her hip. But then she winked at Jamy, who blushed furiously.
“Ew.” Hannah wrinkled her nose. “That’s my brother you’re talking about.”
“Eh, everyone’s-”
“A sexual being, yeah, yeah.” Celia rubbed her back. She looked about ready to pop out of her dress. “Can you not, though?” she asked, scowling at me. “Because morning sickness does not actually go away after the first trimester.”
“Does this mean you both have your heads out of your asses now?” Brian asked, grinning like an idiot. He’d been doing that all day, actually. I guess marrying the love of your life will do that to a guy.
I smiled down at Jamy. I’d find that out for myself soon enough. “Yeah, I guess we do.”
“Finally.” Todd nodded happily.
“Hang on, let me note this day down in my calendar,” Jamy said, pulling out her phone.
“As what, the happiest day of my life?” Hannah teased.
Jamy shook her head, smiling impishly. “No, as the first time in a decade that I’ve heard Todd speak.”
We all laughed, even Todd. “Special occasions call for special speeches,” he grunted.
Jamy groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“I’ll be right there with you,” I rubbed her back. “You’ll be great, babe.”
I heard a chorus of awws, though the ones from the deeper voices sounded a little sarcastic.
She looked up at me, a slow smile spreading across her face.
“You know,” she said, “I think I will.”
THE END
Acknowledgments
I could never have finished this book without the help of about 643 people. I’ll attempt to thank some of them.
To my beta readers, Amy Lyn, Amy M., Jamy, and Alicia (AKA the not -amy one), I am eternally grateful for your valuable feedback and insight. You helped make this the best book it can be, and I can’t say thank you enough. (Maybe I should say it in Portuguese, since there is a literal translation for that. So, obrigado meus amigos.)
Speaking of Portuguese, thank you to my Brazilian sister, Milena, for the better-than-Google translations of key parts of Sam’s dialogue. Any errors are my own.
To Kevin, who is possibly the worst beta reader, but inarguably the best sport, thank you for being so generous and understanding.
To Jamy – again – thank you for absolutely everything. Like, literally, everything. I’m not really sure where I’d be without you. Possibly Maui. But probably not.
To Christine, Ian, and Alisha, thank you for opening your home and your hearts to me while I was in Seattle. I look forward to the day when we can all bask in our mutual awesomeness again.
To Melanie Harlow, thank you for your generosity, kindness, and willingness to go above and beyond to help a newbie. I will pay it forward one day.
To the Harlot Authors, thank you for your camaraderie and support, and for answering all my kinda dumb and always frazzled questions. I am especially grateful that my blurb no longer needs Jesus quite so desperately.
To my family, thank you for always being there.
And finally, to my readers, thank you for taking a chance on a new author. Your continued support, gifting of my book, and word-of-mouth recommendations mean so much more to me than I can ever say. I’m glad you loved Hannah and Brian, and I hope you found some room in your hearts for Jamy and Sam, too.
Amelia Stone is the author of the Time for Love series. She knew at the age of five that she wanted to be a writer, and she wrote and illustrated her first book in the third grade. (It was about kittens, of course.) When she’s not writing, she can usually be found eating Mexican food, listening to New Wave music, or attempting to co-opt someone else’s dog. She lives in Michigan with roommates who are only slightly less cool than Sabine.
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Also by Amelia Stone
A Time For Love:
One More Time
The First Time
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