Page 9 of I'm Not Yours
“Why did you leave? I wanted to check on you again.”
“I left because I have hungry animals at home who get annoyed when they’re not fed on time, and I had to pick apples.”
“For my apple pie that I’m getting soon?”
“Your apple pie?”I’ve missed you. I’ve missed eating apple pies with you.
“I’d like to bring you lunch, then we can eat the pie together.”
“What?” I feigned outrage, though my hands started to shake as I petted the dogs. “You can’t see a patient outside of the hospital. It’s against the rules!”
“You’re not my patient anymore, and I like to break rules. Where are you?”
“I’m at . . . I’m at my dad’s home in the country.”
“Can I come over?”
“No.”Oh yes. Please come over. I want to hug you. I want to be with you. I want to make love among the apple trees.
“Why not?” Jace was a forceful, take-charge sort of guy.
“Because, I think . . . I think it’s better that way.”
“Better for us not to see each other?”
“Yes. It’s . . . it’s too complicated . . .”
“It was a long time ago, Allie.”
“I know. But, but why . . . why see each other?”
“Because I’d like to see you again. How’s that for honesty?”
It had always been like this between us. Raw, amazing honesty. Unless it was about my childhood or my father.
Those parts I hid. I held my head in my hands.
“It’s lunch, Allie—only lunch.”
“I can’t, Jace. I can’t do it.” I heard that zinging silence.
“Are you seeing someone?”
“What? No. No, I’m not seeing anyone. Just because I’m saying no, it doesn’t mean that I’m seeing someone.” I paused. “Are you?”
“No, I’m not. If I was seeing someone, I would not be asking to bring you lunch. Or dinner. Or to walk through your apple orchard with you to pick apples for my pie.”
Loneliness radiated from my heart. Without sounding whiny and pathetic, that loneliness has been lodged there for so many years. “I would have thought you would be married by now.”
“I would have thought so, too. I wanted to be married with loud, rowdy kids running around, but it didn’t work out that way.”
I didn’t respond to that one; I couldn’t. My voice would have been all trembly and emotional and he would have known I was crying.
“I thought you would have married Zack, Allie.”
“Who?” Who was Zack?
“Zack.”
