Page 89 of Just This Once

When we were both worn out and breathless, I pulled her close to me and buried my nose in her hair. Sated and spent, my gaze wandered to the walk-in closet at the far end of the bedroom. Tucked away in a corner, a denim jacket haunted me like a scratch inside my skull I couldn’t reach. Talking about my mother was something Ineverconsidered, but in the quiet moments with Emily, it almost felt safe.

“Can I tell you something?” I whispered in her ear.

She hummed and looked at me with sleepy eyes.

“There’s a woman’s jacket hanging in my closet,” I started.

Emily looked up at me. “I wondered where that came from.”

I raised a playful eyebrow. “Jealous?”

A grin crept onto her face. “Of course not. I’m much too mature for that.”

My arms squeezed her tighter. “You never have to worry about that. Actually...” Fuck, my gut ached even saying the words. “The jacket was my mother’s.” Emily’s sea-blue eyes held me in place, allowing me the space to continue. “Bug found itin some random box in the basement along with some other things.”

“What other things?” she asked.

“The jacket, a few photos, her driver’s license...” My voice trailed off on the last bit of information—the piece thatstilldidn’t sit right with me.

Emily frowned. “Kind of hard for someone to leave town without that.”

Her simple statement confirmed what I already suspected, but I shoved it down. “I remember Mom wearing that denim jacket. She used to cuff the sleeves.” I laughed at the mundane detail that was seared into my brain. “I don’t know if I really remember it or just recall it from pictures. I was pretty young when she left.”

Emily’s fingertips gently traced across my eyebrow and down my face. “I don’t understand how a mother could leave like she did. I’m sorry you had to endure that.”

Emotion thickened in my throat. I didn’t want to think about my mother or why I couldn’t seem to forget about her anymore. I didn’t want to worry that my moments with Emily were hurtling by too quickly.

Instead, I wanted to savor every second, so I pulled Emily closer and cuddled into her warmth. It was soul crushing to think that this thing we found—this magic—could come to an end over something as simple as a job.

There has to be another way.

THIRTY-THREE

WHIP

The next morningI awoke to find Emily’s half of the bed cold. I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and went in search of her. She was sitting at the kitchen island—hair styled, makeup applied, and dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. Her feet were bare and propped on the rung of her stool.

“Morning.” I made my way to the coffee maker.

Her head jerked up, as though I’d ripped her from her thoughts. She cleared her throat. “Hey.” She smiled. “Good morning.”

I eyed her as I poured my coffee and watched her as I took my first sip. Something was off, but I didn’t know what. “Everything okay?”

She frowned as if to say,No, dumbass, everything is not okay.

Instead, she blinked and quickly replaced her downturned mouth with a bright smile. “Of course.”

Gone was the raw and very real version of Emily I had experienced last night. In her place was the polished, always-ready-to-face-the-day Prim that she often presented to the world. While I had fallen head over heels with all versions of her,I couldn’t help but feel like this fake cheeriness was a step in thewrongdirection.

“What’s on the agenda today?” I asked, propping my elbows on the countertop next to her.

Emily slid from her stool, noticeably avoiding my touch. “Busy day.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her soft eyes. “I have plans with my mom and then”—she shrugged—“I’m not sure after that. Keep looking for a job, I guess.”

I glowered into my coffee cup. “Today’s my day off. Am I going to get to see you?”

She smiled. “Maybe. I can let you know what I’m up to later.”

My eyes narrowed in her direction. “Prim... am I misreading this here? Are you giving me the brush-off?”

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