Page 48 of If Tomorrow Never Comes

Only God knew what made her ask the next question. “Are you? Fine?”

He regarded her, eyes searching her face. Maybe trying to determine just how honest he could be. “I’m not sure yet.”

She had a disturbing urge to step forward and hug him. This had been a bad idea, inviting him up here. Where it was quiet and they were alone. Where his glasses-framed hazel eyes were kind and gentle and not at all demanding.

Instead, she blurted, “I can’t date you. If that’s why you broke up with her, thinking we’d, um ...” She folded her arms across her chest. “I won’t do that to Carly.”

“I understand,” Jamie said, sincerity dripping from his words. He hadn’t moved a single step from where he’d stopped when he first entered her apartment. His entire face turned downcast, the cheerful dimple nowhere to be found. “I didn’t expect anything from you. I made the choice myself, regardless of whether anything was possible between us or not. I get that the connection you have with her makes this ...”

“Impossible.”

He winced slightly at the word. The finality of it. His mouth opened as if he’d say something, then closed again. He adjusted Hank’s leash in his hand.

She folded in on herself. “Part of me wishes I’d never moved here. All I’ve done is cause problems.”

He shook his head, frowning. “None of this is your fault. I made the choice to get back together with Carly when I wasn’t ready, and that’s on me. You’ve done nothing but good since you’ve been here. Carly was so happy to meet you, and you’re doing incredible work for my sister. Her business will flourish because of it, and so will everyone else you work with. And you’re doing something you’ve always wanted to. Going after your dreams.”

He reached across and gripped one forearm as he spoke. “I made myself crazy last year, wondering what happened to you. Wondering if maybe I should have pushed a little more to make sure you were okay ... Worried you’d kept yourself a secret because you were scared or sick, or worse. I can’t tell you how glad I was to learn you were alive and well and ... happy. Especially after learning what you’d been through and why you’d come back. So, I ... I hope you stay. If for no other reason than you deserve something good. No—something incredible. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re just now living the life you want to live, and you should have nothing less.”

It took everything in her not to let the tears burning beneath her lids fall. She would the second he walked out that door.

Happy, comforting tears at his kind words and encouragement to focus on herself and what she wanted.

And lonely, brokenhearted tears because she wasn’t living the life she wanted to. She wanted him in her life in a way he never could be. How long would she grieve the loss of that particular dream—one she’d held close for an entire year?

Her bones were like iron, her entire body weighing her down. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I left you like that. With nothing.” It was nouse thinking about how different things might be if she’d given him a number, an email, something. But she wished she had, all the same.

“You had a lot on your mind.”

Hank let out a slight whine, probably wondering why they were all just standing around. Jamie gave him a pat on the head, never releasing her gaze.

“Even if I wanted to ...” What? Be with him? Try? She couldn’t make herself say it out loud. “I’ll never do anything to hurt her.”

He exhaled an audible breath. “I wouldn’t want to, either.”

She believed him.

“I’m not expecting, or asking for, anything,” he said for the second time.

She nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

Hank stood up and barked impatiently, and when Jamie shushed him, he barked again. “I’d better get him out of here.”

“Okay,” she repeated, suddenly and inexplicably sad.

“Elliott?”

Her eyes met his. “Yeah?”

“Do you think we can be friends?”

Friends.

She turned the question over in her mind, inspecting it like a pending contract. From the minute she’d realized he was Carly’s boyfriend, being friends with Jamie is what she’d tried to be. And while externally she thought she’d done pretty well, deep down she’d crashed and burned.

Could she be in the same room with him and not want to touch him? Catch a hint of his soap and stop herself from leaning in, just a little, for a second hit?

Would she ever stop wishing she was funnier so he’d laugh more and flash that adorable dimple?

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