Page 73 of Love and Other Lost Things

“Damn it.”

They were in his mother’s kitchen with their friends and family in the next room. And all he wanted was to be alone with her.

Jane took a shaky breath and climbed off the counter, back onto her feet. “I guess this isn’t the best time for this.”

He slumped against the cabinets, raking a hand through his hair. “Probably not.”

Jane’s gaze slid down to the zipper of his jeans, where he was sure it had never been more obvious that he was turned on. “I’ll go grab some more dishes and let you finish cleaning up in here.” She gave him a sideways smile, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed.

This wasn’t the right time, but soon, they were going to find a time that was right. There was no denying that this was happening between them, and nothing was standing in their way. Jane had left Matteo and she’d said there was nobody else. Maybe she had a life in LA, a job, Scarlett’s school to get back to, but they could talk about it. They could work it out. He only had a year left in his residency program. If he couldn’t convince Jane to move back to Linden Falls, he could get a job out there. He was willing to do anything to put the past behind them and convince her that wherever they were, their future was together.

Nik was never going to lose her again.

TWENTY-EIGHT

All Jane could think about for the rest of the night was Nik’s mouth pressed against hers, his hand sliding down her spine… the truth that she would have had her clothes off and on the floor in about two seconds if it weren’t for their friends and family in the next room. She felt like a giddy teenager with a crush all over again, her face flushing and butterflies taking flight in her stomach every time Nik walked into the room.

Even a phone conversation with Matteo the next morning couldn’t take away her happiness. He barely muttered an obligatory “Merry Christmas” before he started complaining about the staff at the club. Jane made all the right noises to soothe him, agreeing that it sounded incredibly stressful. But maybe it was the thousands of miles between them, or maybe it was the memory of being surrounded by her old friends last night, because she just didn’t feel the same anxiety when he started getting worked up. His anger didn’t have quite the same power over her.

We don’t have to live like that anymore.

She ended the call as quickly as possible and headed to the living room, where Scarlett was drawing in the sketchpad that Jane had given her for Christmas, and Mom was reading the newspaper. Or at least Mom had been reading the newspaper. Now it appeared that she was glaring at Dad’s old recliner. “I hate that thing.”

Jane took in the ugly brown color, the worn spot on the arm where Dad liked to rest his drink and the remote control, the sag in the seat cushion. Jane had always hated it, too. That chair had been Dad’s favorite, it was where he used to sit when he got home from work. Though he hadn’t smoked in the house, the tobacco scent had seeped from his clothes into the fabric, and she’d always thought that the chair smelled like the bottom of an ashtray. Nobody had sat there since Dad had died, and it almost seemed like they all gave that chair a wide berth. Even Scarlett made a face when she walked by it. Maybe the scent of it reminded her of the stale tobacco smell that lingered on Matteo.

“It’s ugly,” Jane said.

“And old,” Mom added.

“And it stinks.” Scarlett held her nose, confirming Jane’s suspicions.

“It definitely stinks,” Jane agreed, glancing over at Mom. “Why don’t you get rid of it?”

Mom eyed the chair for so long that Jane wondered if she were getting sentimental and missing Dad. But then Mom stood, brushing off the front of her pants. “You know, I think I will.” She set her hand on the back of the chair and gave it a shove, as if she were testing how sturdy it was.

Jane raised her eyebrows. “You’re going to get rid of it right now?”

Mom shrugged. “No time like the present.” She gave the chair another shake. “The garbage men come tomorrow. I think we ought to have that chair on the curb for them when they arrive.”

Jane looked at Scarlett, whose mouth twitched in a smile. “Okay.” Jane mirrored her mother’s movement, standing up and brushing off the front of her leggings. “Let’s do it.”

“Yay!” Scarlett yelled, jumping to her feet.

Getting the old recliner out to the curb for the garbage men proved to be more difficult than anticipated, though. For one thing, it weighed about five hundred pounds and was impossible to lift. Together, Jane and Mom managed to shimmy it inch by inch across the living room and through the doorway into the hall.

Jane eyed Mom, who was panting heavily. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Maybe it’s too much for you.” She remembered Mom’s old wrist injury.

But although Mom looked tired, her eyes shone brightly. She shook her head. “Are you kidding? I’m just getting started. Only a little farther now.”

By the time they got it to the front door, they were both red-faced and gasping. And then they hit upon the next problem. The chair wouldn’t fit through the front door. They tilted it to the left, then right, and then Jane tried to lift one end to slide it diagonally through the frame. She nearly threw her back out and almost dropped it on Mom’s foot.

“This is not going to work,” Jane grunted, setting it back on the floor as gently as she could.

“We started this,” Mom panted. “I want that chair out.”

Jane shoved her sweaty bangs out of her face. “Maybe we should call someone to help? A moving company?”

“That will take days to arrange.” Mom gave the chair a kick. “I’m not moving it back into the living room.”

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