I forced down a few more mouthfuls before setting aside my fork and wiping my fingers on my napkin. That stupid envelope would haunt me until I satisfied my curiosity. The man knew that when he left it. He got me. Understood my silly little quirks. Opening it was irresistible, even with hurt and anger clouding my viewpoint, something Jake surely counted on.
I stomped toward the table and plucked the letter from my bag. “You win, Jakob. You always win.” It stared me down, the looping script smirking at me as I smoothed the envelope between my fingers and set it on the coffee table. Maybe I’d open the bottle of wine after all. Yup, I definitely needed a liberal dose of a pain reducer.
Three minutes later, I settled on the couch again, sipping the rich red liquid, tapping a fingertip against the crystal, inspecting each and every letter. Finally, I slid a fingernail under the seal of the dreaded envelope, slitting it open one tiny bit at a time. Inside was a single sheet of paper. I unfolded it slowly, staring at it for a moment, pressing my fingertips to my lips.
An itinerary. The dates and times of the flights blurred together. The handwritten note read:
“I’ll be at the airport waiting for you when you arrive. That is, if you decide to accept my invitation and spend a week with me and Sari. I hope you will. Love, Jake.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, clenching the paper in my fist. Now he wanted me to be there? How could he just book this without asking me first? I crumpled the note, shuffling into the kitchen and slinging open the lower cupboard. The note landed in the white trash bag, the lid of the can thunking as it closed.
Then I refilled my glass. Time for a movie. Something light and funny. Or at least something hopeful.
My eyes popped open in the darkest hours before dawn. I’d curled into a ball on my couch, and now I trembled and sobbed, fat, scorching, salty drops flooding down my face and smothering my every attempt to catch a breath.
Jake. The charmer. Wiggling back into my heart only to rip it straight and unceremoniously from my chest. He had no right. None whatsoever. Toying with me and my fragile psyche was beyond cruel.
It took an ultimatum and a solid ass dumping before he admitted wrongdoing and acknowledged my feelings. Where had I seen that jackass move before? Right. My ex-husband. Exed-ex-boyfriend and shithead-ex-husband. Two exes, each intent on messing with my hard-gained perfect system in their own mind-fuck ways. Yet, only one had true power over my decimated heart. Considering all the possible outcomes and how he could strip me, take it all, leaving nothing but an echo of who I’d fought so hard to become, left me weak and weary.
The moment I’d seen Jakob Cavallaro and that dimple so many years ago, I’d been lost. Hopelessly and deeply in love. Nothing had changed. Maybe it never would. A picture of the perfect life swirled into formation and danced along, slightly beyond my grasp. A return to our past and the forty-two months that sealed my fate.
Mornings of floating into his kitchen, blissful, wearing nothing but a t-shirt that smelled like him, cuddling against his firm chest as he handed me fragrant coffee to be sipped on the tiny deck. Days of sailing up the coast on the tiny borrowed boat, the stops in the small bays, salt on the breeze as we explored the beaches. Long leisurely paddles in the kayaks from the boat rental where Jake worked, our budget-friendly escape from the daily demands of part-time jobs and full-time studies, just for a little while. Walks along the waterfront boardwalk at sunset, hand in hand.
More than that, the remembrance of being held, valued, loved for exactly what and who I was—that was the missing factor in my entire life.
The impossible dream taunted me. Him holding me as our child snuggled close to my chest. That miracle he’d witnessed without me, the birth of his child shared with another.
I clenched my jaw, tears still seeping from under my lids, soaking my cheeks until I felt I might drown. I hugged his jacket around my shoulders, sucking in the warm earthiness of him while struggling to breathe, to grip reality. My heart filled, not with joy, but with cavernous, starless pain.
How could I fit into the life he’d built with his beautiful daughter? Such a huge mistake to have met her. Too soon. Far too soon. The fatal mistake; allowing total captivation by wave of tiny fingers, bright smiles, amber eyes, and that mop of curls. No mistake. Sarina was Jake’s child, not mine, and he simply didn’t want me interfering in that part of his life.
Too late for retreat. I was spinning. Tumbling deep down that rabbit hole, maybe never to be seen again.
I swept away my tears along with my nonsensical half-awake brooding and rolled from the couch, landing hard on my knees. Wrapping myself tighter in the leather, I stumbled toward the kitchen, retrieving the crumpled paper from the bin. I pressed it flat against the counter, sweeping my palm across it, then tracing his familiar script with a fingertip. I’ll be waiting for you.
Perhaps he would be, but why subject myself to further heartbreak? Maybe this time it made actual sense to avoid the entanglement, rather than me reacting to a situation. I balled the paper up, cramming it into the pocket of Jake’s jacket. The buttery leather slid easily from my shoulders, and I hugged it to my chest, savouring the smell of him for a final time.
With a sigh, I rolled up his coat and shoved it into the storage basket
