Page 58 of When Love Is Lost and Found

"Most people would say you're too young to think about that, but I can relate. You said you wanted daughters."

"After Noah was born, I realized I wanted to be a dad someday. I'm old enough to be his father, and before I joined the military, we were attached at the hip. He's been more like a son than a brother."

"That's sweet," I say.

"What about Jimmy?" he asks. "What was Jimmy like?"

"You knew Jimmy," I say.

"I only knew him for eight weeks."

"He was my childhood friend. My high school sweetheart. I would have married him, and we would have lived happily ever after. What we had was special, safe, and forever."

"What else?" he asks.

"What else?” I ask, turning to face him. "What do you mean? What more could there be? I think forever covers everything."

He angles his entire body towards me so he can face me. He's relaxed with one elbow still resting on his knee, but his eyes are studying me with so much intensity that I feel a wave of excitement wrap around my heart and squeeze.

"Was it strong, scary, exciting?"

"What?" I ask, feeling at a loss for words.

"Did he take your breath away?" I feel his gaze slowly, meticulously sweep over my face and settle on my lips.

"When you were with him," he continues, "did you feel like you were standing on the edge of a precipice? Scared but excited, knowing what awaited you on the other side would be the happiest moments of your life?"

I don't think of Jimmy when I try to find an answer, and that hurts. I admit it. I think of Jon and me standing atop the Empire State Building. The view from up there is something I'll always remember. It was spectacular, but what was more thrilling was standing on the edge with him.

His nearness is dizzying, and the scent of his cologne is inviting, but what has left me breathless is his question, which is more intimate than the kiss we shared last night.

"Jon Linder," I say when it finally dawns on me, "you're talking about sex."

"No," he says calmly. “I’m talking about chemistry."

"Chemistry is overrated," I say, almost defensively.

"We're sitting on the dirty floor of a broken-down elevator. I haven't touched you, but what I feel is happening between us is scary, exciting, and strong enough to set us both on fire."

"It's just you, Jon," I lie, defiantly tilting my chin. "I don't feel a thing."

I quickly stand to my feet and fold my arms across my chest.

Jon stands and looks down at me. I feel cornered because I can't exactly walk away.

He grins and curls his fingers around my arms.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Jimmy and I had chemistry. We loved each other, and I resent anyone who has the gall to question my feelings."

"I'm sorry," he says, sounding genuine.

When I refuse to look at him, he lifts my chin with his finger until our eyes meet. My resolve to be angry is strong, but my knees betray me and instantly go weak. When his thumb sweeps over my bottom lip, all my senses, including my common sense, go up in flames, and I speak two little words I might regret later, "Kiss me."

Chapter 12

Jon

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