Page 61 of Wrapped in You

"Hi," Jeremy said when she got to him.

Sophie couldn't smile. "Hi." Her hands shook as she removed her keys from her pocket and unlocked the door. She consideredtelling Jeremy he couldn't stay long. Maybe she needed to draw the boundary immediately.

The minute they entered the foyer, Jeremy said, "I didn't do it." His hands hung loosely.

Sophie closed the door behind her and stared at him. He looked frantic and frozen. How long had he been waiting for her on the front porch?

"I didn't try to hurt Brent on purpose. I genuinely forgot to put down the salt," he offered, bowing his head. "I know what they're saying about me on set."

Sophie felt a touch of sorrow and pity for him. These were new feelings for her when it came to Jeremy. Always, she thought she'd feel ashamed when around him. Always, she thought she'd think of the fact that she wasn't enough for him.

But now, she just wanted him to be okay.

"I believe you, Jeremy," she said. "Come on. I'll make you some tea."

It had been years since she and Jeremy had sat in this kitchen. As their mugs steamed between them, Sophie reckoned with the fact that a part of her had been waiting for him to return since he'd left.

He was back because he wanted her again.

He'd made that very clear since her father's retirement party.

Sophie wrapped her hands around her mug and considered a future with him. She considered expanding Culinary Tastings to all corners of Upstate New York, marrying Jeremy, and having children in this very house. But her tongue tasted sour.

It just didn't fit.

Not anymore.

Suddenly, Jeremy spoke. "It's too late, isn't it?" His voice was soft and tender. His eyes were kinder than she remembered them.

Sophie raised her shoulders. "It's been three years."

Jeremy bowed his head. "I wish there was a way to tell you how sorry I am."

Sophie reached across the table and touched his hand. "We loved each other for as long as we could," she offered. She didn't add,I loved you longer than I should have.

It was best not to rub salt in the wound.

Jeremy sipped his tea. He looked older than thirty-four. "Are you happy with him?"

Sophie was surprised. "With who?"

Jeremy gave her a look. "The director. Derek Brownlee. He was here when I came by. And I've seen the way he watches you on set. He looks at you like he's in love with you. I should know."

Sophie's cheeks burned.

"Derek's a Hollywood director," she told him, her voice wavering. "We don't have anything in common. We certainly don't have a future together."

Jeremy's eyes glinted. "But you have 'right now' together."

Sophie's stomach spun.I don't know about that.

But Sophie didn't want to talk about Derek anymore. Instead, she redirected Jeremy, asking him about his family, about what he was going to do now that he'd been fired from set. Like she'd thought, he was going to go back to his father's carpentry workshop, where he built elaborate and beautiful furniture for hotels and bed-and-breakfasts across New England. He was tremendously talented.

Sophie had once thought him to be the most capable and handsome man in all of New York. The very best man in all of the world.

When he left, they hugged gently. Sophie didn't cry.

"Thanks for clearing the air," she said.

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