Page 80 of If Tomorrow Never Comes

“If what you and Jamie have is the real thing—even if itcouldbe the real thing—I just worry you’ll never forgive yourselves if you let it pass you by.”

Mrs. Underwood’s sentiment about Tristan felt timely.She lived every second of this life to the fullest. She experienced love, happiness, and joy.

Something shifted. Something deep and irrevocable and meaningful, and Elliott had the urge to jump out of this chair and run to Jamie’s apartment right this second.

She wanted to.

Sheneededto.

Standing, she grabbed her bag and circled the table, bending to give Blythe a hug. “Thanks for the coffee,” she whispered, and headed straight for the door.

Blythe’s words scrolled through her brain as she drove straight to her apartment complex.

Love is messy and inconvenient, and you’ll never forgive yourself if you let it pass you by.

And Jamie’s from several weeks ago, sending a shiver through her, even now.

I want you, Elliott. If you decide you want to give this a try, I’ll be waiting for you.

Of course she wanted to give it a try. She’d pined after this man for over a year, and her feelings had only deepened since he’d come back into her life. Jamie was everything she never knew she wanted in a man.

Kind, thoughtful, intelligent. Observant, reserved, and a good listener. A dog lover and a tree hugger. A beer-drinking, salsa-eating runner, who brought flowers and left books on her doorstep.

After the shock of losing Tristan, it was clear no one knew the time they had left on this earth, and Elliott didn’t want to waste any more time.

She didn’t even go home first and headed straight for his building. Unable to wait for the elevator, she took the stairs to his floor and knocked, forcing her feet to stay flat on the ground as anticipation built in her chest.

Jamie opened the door. Her breath hitched at the sight of him, barefoot in jeans and a gray T-shirt, his glasses slightly crooked on his ridiculously handsome face.

He regarded her with lonely eyes and ran a hand through his thick hair. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she said, and stepped forward until her lips met his.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jamie

Jamie died the second Elliott kissed him.

He came back to life when she didn’t stop.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her against his body to carry her inside as the door swung shut.

Her arms clamped around his shoulders in a viselike grip, as if she was worried he’d disappear. She kissed him with urgency and impatience and without finesse, and it was utterly perfect.

Vaguely he wondered what had changed. What had happened to bring her here and kiss him like this?

He didn’t care enough to ask.

Disoriented, he took another step back as he lifted his head to figure out which way he needed to go to get her somewhere—a couch, a bed, a fucking table—and he tripped over his overly excited dog.

Jamie went down with a crash, his hip hitting the coffee table and his flailing arm pushing the remotes to the floor. His glasses went flying. He landed on his back with a grunt, and Elliott ended up on top of him in a tangle of limbs.

They looked at each other and burst out laughing. Hank shoved his wet nose between them and went back and forth, licking their faces.

“Um,” Jamie said.

Her eyes dropped to his lips, and she came at him again. He elbowed Hank out of the way and dropped his head to the carpet, burying his fingers in her hair and inhaling her scent as he tasted her. Her tongue entered his mouth as she straddled him, and he’d never cared less that he was on his back on the floor. They could be rolling around in the dirt as long as Elliott’s lips were on his.

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