Page 49 of Those Two Words

If we’re done healing, what do our hearts want?

Mine wants her. It never stopped yearning after Johanna Thomas.

Now all I have to do is convince her to give this another chance.

To give us another chance.

twenty-one

JOHANNA

“Okay, you bring the crackers, I’ve got the cheese.”

“Gotcha!” Quinn says to me as I walk out of the bakery.

Waving goodbye to her, I shut the door and step out into the street. In five short steps, I’ll be at my front door. Exhaustion hit me like an 18-wheeler about an hour ago, but when Quinn spotted me climbing out of the cab, she called me inside. I ran up to my apartment to get changed out of Patrick’s clothes and headed back down to see her, and time got away from us planning our wine and cheese night next week.

Now, I’m ready for bed, the aches in my muscles quickly setting in from my attack. I’m so relieved I’m not scheduled in the restaurant until Monday, because despite the long sleep in Patrick’s bed, it always takes a day or so to fully recover.

Reaching for my keys, I spot a large paper bag sitting at the base of my front door, my name written in large, messy letters. I hesitantly pick it up, worried about its contents—I’ve read enough crime thrillers to know how this goes. Only, once I open the bag, there’s nothing inside that scares me. It does make my heart gallop in my chest, though.

Bath bombs, scented candles, trashy magazines, a couple of DVDs. It doesn’t take a genius to guess who left this here, but the brand-new jigsaw puzzle confirms it.

My phone buzzes in my purse and I pull it out, juggling the contents of the bag in my other arm, and I’m surprised to see it’s a text from Patrick.

Patrick: Hope you can use some of these things for a relaxing weekend.

I’m still confused, but I’ve had time to cool down, and I understand why he would react the way he did.

Johanna: I love How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. Thank you.

It’s a lame response, but what else do I say?

His next text has me blinking repeatedly at my screen in confusion. It also makes my stomach dip. Like when you reach the top of a long, drawn-out incline on a rollercoaster before falling over the edge. It’s scary. Has your heart racing like crazy. Leaves you breathless.

But it doesn’t stop you getting right back on it, to experience all those things again.

Patrick: I don’t regret kissing you. I regret not doing it sooner.

Patrick: I’m not trying to send mixed messages and I’m sorry for how I reacted today. Can we talk soon?

I want to tell him he is sending mixed messages, and I’m now suffering from whiplash.

Johanna: I want to talk too. I need to recharge after last night and then I’m working most of next week.

The speech bubbles dance across my screen, disappearing and returning for a few minutes before he finally replies.

Patrick: Okay. You tell me when and where and I’ll be there.

Patrick: You look really pretty, but you looked better in my T-shirt.

My head snaps up and I scan the street for him. My eyes land on his blue Chevy and I can’t help the laugh of disbelief when I spot him.

Patrick raises his hand from the steering wheel, before pulling out in the street and driving away.

“Oh, Jo. You’re in trouble,” I whisper to myself.

Do I let the fear of Patrick seeing me for all that I am stop me from getting back on the roller coaster, or do I take the chance that this trip could be the best decision of my life?

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