My wobbly voice petered away, and all I was left with was the soft ukulele strum of Tammy’s favorite song and a brain full of bittersweet memories to torture me.
Memories of what I once had, what I’d just experienced, and what I’d let slip through my fingers. Any decent man would have jumped from his bed and raced to the airport, pulled off one of those dramatic airport kisses that made the girls swoon.
But I couldn’t chase Jane.
She didn’t want me to.
And if I was honest, I didn’t know if I had the heart to try.
Losing one woman had been hard enough. If I let myself fall completely in love with Jane, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to get over her.
The right thing to do was to let her go and move on while I still could.
We’d had our two utopian weeks, and they’d have to be enough.
Chapter Eleven
Jane
“So your trip was amazing, then?” Sarah probed a little more as she drove me home from the airport.
I nodded and gave her a closed-mouth smile. I was worried if I opened my mouth the truth would spill out, and I didn’t want to utter a word until I could figure out what the hell I was feeling.
“Can’t believe you were so adventurous.” Sarah’s eyes sparkled. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you too.” Patting her leg, I tried to veer the conversation away from me. “You and Justin.”
Sarah’s smile was pure relief. “I know.”
“Glad he came to his senses.”
“Me too! Although, he had every right to take his time.” Sarah’s face crested with sadness and guilt.
Great, so now we’re both feeling that way.
I spent the entire flight stressing over the fact I ignored Harry’s words. It was mean and rude and…
But I didn’t know what to say!
I never expected him to fall in love with me, and I never expected to…
I closed my eyes.
No, I didn’t love him.
I was in love with Blake.
I shouldn’t have felt guilty at all for ignoring him. I saved us both an awkward conversation.
So why did I feel so restless…and sad?
“Anyway.” Sarah shrugged as if trying to bump the nasty business she and Justin went through off her shoulders. “That’s in the past and we’re moving forward. We’re never going to put ourselves through that again. Living without him sucked on so many levels.”
“Well, I’m glad you’ve found your way,” I murmured, gazing out the window so she couldn’t see my face.
“More importantly, have you found your way?”
I bobbed my head. “Yeah, yeah, I think so.”
Sarah expelled a breathy giggle. “Your accent has kicked in big time. You’re sounding all British again. Which surprises me because didn’t you spend most of your break in Europe? Did you hang out with some British tourists or something?”
I whipped back to look at Sarah, my eyes bulging, but she was too busy wiggling her eyebrows and watching the road to notice my giveaway blush.
Tucking my bangs behind my ear, I turned to look back out the window and scrambled for a casual sounding explanation. “You know me. It only takes an hour of British company to get me speaking like this. The flight attendants were enough.” I pushed out a laugh.
“Oh man, I was really hoping you were going to say you met some sexy guy on a beach in Spain or something.”
“What?” I squeaked.
Sarah laughed and glanced at me. “Come on, wouldn’t that have made a great story? Some European affair to get your blood racing again.”
“Sarah Louise Doyle, wash your mouth. I’m not interested in some foreign tryst. I went to figure out how to live on my own.”
“And did you?”
I forced my head to bob up and down, although I couldn’t deny that I’d failed miserably. I learned to live with Harry…and I absolutely loved it.
Couldn’t believe I’d spent all that money to travel halfway around the world only to be right back at square one. I’d forever miss Blake, but now I was missing Harry too.
Leaning back against the headrest, I held in my sigh as my apartment building came into view.
Here I was again, about to start a new school year and wondering how I was going to survive it.
*****
My classroom was empty.
The desks were bunched in groups of four, ready for the students to arrive the following week. I’d redone the walls with new posters, and everything was looking neat and tidy, just the way I liked it. My new students wouldn’t keep it that way for long, but I’d do my best.
“To Make You Feel My Love” played from my stereo, filling me with nostalgia. Blake used to serenade me with the song, making me swoon and sigh. Tears would line my lashes, and then we’d kiss and make love.
A year ago, I stood in the same spot, listening to the same song…setting up for a new class, a new life without Blake. I didn’t know how I’d survive, but I managed. I wanted my second year to feel different. My Europe quest had been about finding my joy, learning to live like an actual human being.
Well, I’d kind of done that.
After Sarah dropped me home from the airport, I took a shower, then fell into bed and slept until nearly midday. It’d been exactly what I’d needed. A chance not to think. I woke up feeling a little brighter, like maybe I could do this second year at Strantham Academy and not feel like I was suffocating.
Blake and I had our special tree in Rye. We were joined in spirit, and I had hoped I wouldn’t feel so lonely.
But as the days ticked by, I wasn’t sure the lonely ache in my chest would be so easily conquered.
While I set up my classroom and listened to our songs, Harry kept walking through my mind. I missed him. I wanted him beside me with his mischievous smile and twinkling eyes. He’d make some joke about one of my posters or tell me a story about one of his clients. He’d pick up the broom and turn it into a microphone just to make me laugh.
I tried to tell myself that he only acted that way because he was relaxed, on holiday, and determined to make my two weeks the best they could be.
It was a lie though.
Harry had shown me who he was while we traveled, and I knew it was real.
He was the first thing on my mind when I woke each morning, which was really unnerving, especially when I’d turn to find a picture of Blake smiling at me.
I glanced down at the picture of Blake on my desk, my insides coiling as I lifted it up, kissed the glass, and popped it into my “take home” box. He was inside me; I didn’t need a photo of him on my desk anymore.
I frowned at my rationale, then startled when my door clicked open.
“Sorry, did I surprise you?” Troy’s voice was deep and friendly, a soothing sound that could relax anyone. That’s why he made such a good child counselor.
“No, that’s fine. Come on in, Troy. How’s it going?”
“Good.” His smile was so broad it kind of dominated his large face. It matched perfectly with the rest of him. He was a tall, powerful man with soft, contradicting eyes. His taut muscles and bulky frame housed the kindest heart in the world. The kids he worked with adored and trusted him, and they had every right to.
Troy Baker was good to his core.
“So, what brings you into 7GB today?”
He smiled at the number and letters on my door, then ambled in. “I need to talk to you about one of the girls you’ll be teaching this year—Brandy Hiseman.” He passed me a manila file, and I flicked it open to see a beautiful girl with dark brown eyes and olive skin smiling up at me. I touched her photo, then skimmed the notes.
“Her parents are getting a divorce and it’s turning ugly.” Troy sighed, perching his butt on the edge of one of the desks. “Her mom wants to take her to Chile so she can be with her family, and the dad’s fighting like a hellhound. Brandy’s caught right in the middle of it. Now that she’s twelve,
she has a right to say where she’d like to go, and she’s completely torn. She spent half the summer hiding in her room and the other half in my office.” Troy scrubbed a hand over his face, looking tired and sad. “Anyway, she’s going to be in your class.”
I slapped the file closed and crossed my arms. “And why do you look so hesitant about that?”
He cringed, his sharp nose twitching as he looked to the floor. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you were a robot last year. You were efficient, thorough, polite, and you didn’t notice one of your students.”
My jaw worked to the side as I absorbed his insult, knowing he was right. Flicking Brandy’s file open again, I stared at the contents, but the ink blurred on the page. As much as I loved and admired Troy, I hated how observant he was.
“I tried to get her into Sharon’s class, but she’s already got a couple of special needs this year, and you were the next pick.”
I cleared my throat, keeping my hazy eyes on the file.
“Jane…” Troy’s soft voice forced me to look up at him. “This girl, Brandy, she really needs to be seen right now. She’s feeling torn and frightened. The last thing she wants to do is come to school and face all her friends again. But she needs to be here. She needs to get out of that house and do something normal. And she really needs teachers who are going to support her through this process. It’s going to be a hellish year.”
I lifted my chin and looked him right in the eye. “I know all about those. I understand pain and loss, Troy. I know what it’s like to feel ripped in half. So don’t worry. I can be there for her. I can help her.”
I finished with a pointed glare that made him smile. His lips quirked up at the side, his pale eyes gleaming. “You seem brighter.”
I grunted and got busy cleaning my already tidy desk. I moved the stapler from the right corner to my top drawer then realigned the notepad and pen holder.
He chuckled and walked across to me. “You know, this is good. I mean, you’re showing real emotion. Last year you gave me nothing, but now I’m getting a whole lot of angst going on. Straightening up your desk with your shaky little fingers and that look on your face.”
“Would you stop?” I slapped Brandy’s file down and glared at him. “Don’t look at my face.”
I got a good view of his straight white teeth as he planted his feet and grinned at me. “What’d you do this summer?”
“I went away and tried to discover myself,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes and willing myself not to open up about Harry.
Both Sarah and my mother had tried and failed to find out details. I basically left the gorgeous Brit out of my holiday retell. As far as my parents and best friend knew, I’d adventured around France, Spain, and Portugal all by myself…in a rented yellow Bambino. I only showed them photos of me on my own, moving all the Harry and Jane selfies into a separate folder so I could keep him a secret. I didn’t even know why I was doing it. I guess I just wasn’t ready to talk about him.
“So…” Troy wriggled his eyebrows, bringing me back to the present. “What’d you find?”
I bit my lips together, my throat too thick to respond. I wanted to tell Troy. He was a safe bet. He wasn’t close to any of my friends; we knew a few people by association, but we only ever chatted in a work environment. The chances of him bumping into Sarah and then telling her what I said were slim to none.
Clearing my throat, I spit out the truth…sort of. “I discovered a girl desperate to live it up and have fun but who’s petrified of feeling…anything.” I ended in a whisper, but Troy heard me.
His gaze softened with compassion. “Feelings hurt.”
I nodded. “But that can also be good. I mean, the good ones… They’re amazing.” My insides squeezed as I recaptured the waterfall moment and the crazy dancing in the restaurant.
I locked my jaw against them while Troy’s smile grew bright and hopeful. “Wow. Jane, this is great progress. I’m so glad you felt something again.”
“I don’t know if I am or not,” I grumbled.
“Who is he?”
I paused, wondering how he knew. I hadn’t mentioned a guy.
But I was talking to Troy—the man could get anything out of anyone.
Picking a pen out of my holder, I rolled it in my hands, focusing on the spinning tip so I didn’t have to look at the counselor. “You don’t know him. A guy I met in England, and…” I shook my head and smiled. “It was crazy. We just went on this whirlwind vacation. Two complete strangers just having a blast together. I’ve never done something so out of character and I’ve never felt…”
My voice petered out.
I’d never felt that way before?
What about Blake?
My heart jerked and sputtered, making it hard to breathe.
“Sounds awesome.” Troy’s voice was so upbeat. “Can you figure out why you’re feeling upset?”
A little lightheaded, I slumped into my seat and dropped my pen. It rolled to the edge of the desk, balancing precariously before tumbling over the side. Troy let it clatter to the floor. It stopped against his flip-flop, and then he bent down to pick it up. Placing it lightly in front of me, he gave me a knowing smile and waited for me to voice what he probably already knew.
“He whispered that he loved me when we were saying goodbye, and I just…bailed. Pretended I didn’t hear him.”
“What are you so afraid of?”
“Really?” I snapped. “You seriously don’t know!”
His smile was calm and I sighed, recognizing his technique. It was up to me to voice my feelings.
“Blake’s been my one and only. He was my soul mate, and I never thought I’d have feelings for another man. Maybe that was naive and overly romantic, I don’t know!” I flicked my hands up. “But he’s owned me for years. He was the keeper of my heart. How do I give it to someone else?”
Scratching his eyebrow, Troy leaned back against the desk again, crossing his ankles and looking so damn relaxed, considering the turmoil going on inside of me. “You know, I’ve never felt that way about a woman before. I really hope I do one day, and until then I’m probably no authority on this kind of stuff. But I’m pretty sure I’m right when I say that the heart’s an amazing thing. It’s always bigger than we think it is, and it has this magical ability to keep expanding.” Standing tall, he gave me one of his classic smiles, then turned for the door. “It all comes down to you and how big you’re willing to let it grow.” Stopping at the door, he glanced over his shoulder and winked at me. “If the Grinch can do it, I’m one hundred percent sure you can too.”
I snickered and watched him leave, my erratic heart desperately trying to find its rhythm. Troy’s words sank into me, working like a soft balm to take the heat from my fears and maybe help me believe that there was room enough for two.
Chapter Twelve
Harry
Jane left ten days ago and it didn’t matter how hard I tried, I was bloody miserable without her. She was in my dreams at night. Memories haunted me while I worked. It didn’t help that I couldn’t stop playing “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic.” I’d become obsessed with the song. It fueled my memories of her, and I was trapped in this vicious cycle of torment.
Even buttering my toast for breakfast, I remembered how she liked to spread her jam all the way to the edges. It was like watching an artist paint, the way she’d glide the knife over her bread and get it just right. She’d then cut two perfect triangles, and I’d be mesmerized by her mouth as she ate. Thank God it’d been summer and I was able to hide behind a pair of dark shades.
Did she sense me watching her?
Did she know how much she’d really captured me?
I guessed not.
She hadn’t tried to call or track me down, and I didn’t feel right about pursuing her. I didn’t want to be some kind of stalker.
We’d made a deal: Adios. Thanks for a good time. Go our separate ways.
No one warned me she’d linger after
it was done.
But I guess I should have known better. Tammy was still nestled into a corner of my heart, wedged in tight and not going anywhere.
With a heavy sigh, I walked up Mum’s front path and curved around the rose bushes. Since turning our house into a bed and breakfast, I’d gotten into the habit of using the back door. Guests would sometimes read in the living room, and I didn’t like to stride through and disturb them.
As soon as I’d moved to London for design school, Mum had reformed our house. Dad had re-entered our lives by that stage. Mum refused to take him back, in spite of all his groveling, but they seemed to have found this weird kind of happiness between them. He lived a block away in a tiny studio apartment and spent most days at the house doing maintenance, garden work, and being the husband he should have been fifteen years ago.
I nudged the door open with my arm and was welcomed with the smell of roasting beef, frying onions, and Mum’s mashed potatoes. Peas and carrots were boiling in the saucepan on the stove, and I had to give in to a little smile. I loved Mum’s roasts.
“Darling.” Mum turned from stirring the gravy, her round cheeks red from the heat. “How are you?”
“Good.” I pecked her cheek, staying low so she could give me a proper kiss on my dimple.
She patted my cheek. “You need to shave.”
“It’s called stubble, Mum.” I ran my fingers through my short bristles. “It makes me handsome.”
“It makes you spiky and un-kissable.”
I made a face behind her back, pulling a beer from the fridge as Dad wandered in.
“Hello, my boy. How was Spain?” He slapped my arm as he walked past, nicking the beer out of my hand. I rolled my eyes and opened the fridge for another one. It was actually the perfect excuse to avoid the question.
I’d told Nan everything, of course, but I didn’t really want to dish it out to my parents. They wouldn’t get it the same way Nan did.
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