“I don’t know.” I shrug, jumping off the counter. “You want this last slice?”
“No.” I throw my crust in the box and close the lid while Holden says, “I’ve just been thinking about it a lot the past few days. Seems odd to me. I mean, it makes sense that she’d leave it to you, but I haven’t been in contact with her since the day you left here. She could’ve given it all to you or split it with her church, but me? It doesn’t make sense. Unless…” he trails off.
My shoulders stiffen. “Unless what?” I ask, my eyes focused on the red and blue squares on the pizza box.
“Unless… you talked to her about me?” His voice is louder now, closer, and I can almost feel the heat of him along my back. “Did you tell her you wished we could be together?” he asks, his hand on my hip, urging me to face him. His tone turns teasing when he adds, “And about how much you love me?”
I turn to him slowly, his hand going from my hip to my back. He smiles—a wicked, cocky smile—and I…
I push him away, put my arms up between us. “Yeah, I did, Holden,” I admit. I look him right in the eyes and tell him the truth. “I spoke of you a lot and how I wish things were different between us. But that’s the thing about wishes. They don’t always come true. And even if they do, there’s no guarantee that they won’t disappoint.”
His hand falls to his side, his smile dropping altogether.
“I have some more packing to do, so…”
“I can help,” he says, and now he’s the one who can’t look at me.
For the next hour, we silently fill boxes with items that we can donate and trash everything else. I work in Esme’s bedroom, and he… I don’t really know what he does.
I’d saved her bedroom for last because I knew it would be the hardest. This is the room where she kept her most prized possessions: jewelry, photo albums, marriage certificates. I start with the drawers, creating two separate piles on the floor. Personal things and things I feel have no sentimental value.
I keep two skirts and a blouse for myself and put all her remaining clothing in bags. Until I get to the last item hanging in her closet. It’s in a garment bag, and I know what it is the moment I start to unzip—white lace and pearl buttons done all the way to the top. I’d seen her in it in the framed photographs she kept on her dresser. I push the top of the unzipped bag over the hanger and let it fall to the floor.
Esme’s wedding dress is timeless and classically beautiful, and I bring it to my chest, hold it up in front of me as I turn to the full-length mirror behind the door. But I don’t see myself when I look at my reflection. Instead, I see Esme standing at the altar in front of her forever, with hopes and dreams of the children she’ll never have, but a life far greater than she could have ever imagined.
“I’ve gone through every drawer and cupboard and…” Holden’s words die in the air when my eyes catch his in the mirror. “You look…”
I focus on my reflection again, at the A-line skirt flowing down to the floor, covering my toes. “Ridiculous?” I ask.
“Captivating.”
My breath halts in my lungs, and my eyes snap to his. I watch him watching me…
A million
reckless
fleeting
emotions.
I look away, try to keep my voice steady. “Yeah, well, I feel ridiculous.”
“Jamie…”
I hang the dress back on the rack and start covering it again. “I don’t know what to do with all this stuff,” I grind out, trying to keep my emotions in check. “She has all these things. So many things. And they all meant something to her, but they mean nothing to me, and she doesn’t have any family to pass them on to.” A sob almost escapes, but I rein it in. “And I can’t take them with me because I have nowhere to take them to.”
“Whoa,” Holden says, stepping toward me. “These aren’t decisions you have to make right this second, Jamie. We can—”
“No, I need to do it now!” I insist.
“Why?” he asks, his shoulders deflating.
“Because the sooner this house is empty, then the sooner it’s sold. No more packing. No more worrying. No more—”
“Having to deal with me?” His words cut through the air, slicing me right open for him.
I stare at him, right into his eyes, hoping he can’t see the damage caused by our destruction. “I need to move on, Holden.”
31
Holden
Jamie left me with the task of taking all the many boxes from each room and piling them into the living room before excusing herself to the pool house under the guise of needing to work. She also told me that there aren’t any beds, so if I planned on staying overnight, I should probably book a room at a hotel. Meaning: there’s no fucking way we were sleeping in the same bed.
Classic Jamie—never really been one for subtlety.
I fucked up.
It seems to be my go-to action lately.
The truth is, I’ve never been this fucking nervous in my life. It started when I got to the airport and amplified the second I stepped on the plane. By the time I landed, I was a mess. And then came the car ride. Now I know what Jamie meant when she said how hours in the car, alone, with nothing but your thoughts and your guilt, can drive you crazy. Insane. And that insanity can make you inept, because, really, I had no idea what her reaction would be to my being here. It’s not as if I expected her to greet me with open arms, kiss me, strip me, and fuck me raw, so I don’t know what the hell I was thinking by touching her, teasing her about what she may have said to Esme in the past.
“You’re an idiot,” I mutter, rolling my eyes at myself as I dump the last of the boxes on a stack against the wall. My phone alerts me to a text, and I retrieve it from my pocket.
Mia: So?
Holden: I fucked up.
Mia: Already?
I don’t book a hotel room. Instead, I strip off my shirt, change into sweatpants, and find a trash bag filled with clothes to use as a makeshift pillow.
It… blows.
But I don’t want to leave and have Jamie take off in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye. Because that’s a likely occurrence.
Just as I’m about to lie down, a splash from outside has me squinting, listening harder for the sound. Another splash, this one quieter, followed by many more.
I make my way to the kitchen sink, where the window above overlooks the yard. Jamie’s in the pool, swimming laps, and I hesitate about going out there for all of a second.
The concrete pavers leading from the back door to the pool are still warm against my bare feet, and I slowly stalk my way over. When I get poolside, I pull the bottom of my sweats up to my knees and sit on the edge, my feet in the water, and I watch her, entirely captivated by her every move.
The first time we’d swum in this pool, I’d pushed her in. She’d faked being unable to swim, and I went in after her. It was the first time I asked her out on a date. My brow knits as the realization kicks in—I never asked her out again—because Jamie and I never really dated. We just… were.