Page 132 of Playing A Risk
He wants to give me the world and would. All I have to do is ask. He’s tried hard for me and if I walk away now becausethings are getting tough, what kind of person does that make me?
But I love Jami. In a perfect world, we would be together. He’s been my best friend over time and my lover for a brief moment.
He allows me to be me and isn’t afraid to call me out when my poor behavior takes center stage. We’re natural together—slower somehow.
He wants me to have everything I desire, but he pushes me to get there by the path I want to take. Never would he just hand it over, and that’s because he expects more from me. He knows that contributing to the achievement is part of my core values.
I place my palm on his scruffy, handsome face. “Jamison, you’re one of the good ones. Someday you’re going to make the right woman so fucking happy.”
He twists away and opens my drapes. The bright light shines in, making me squint.
He comes back to me. “Stop this. Stop punishing yourself for making a decision and wanting to change your mind. You don’t have to be a martyr. You can be a little selfish once in a while, as long as it’s for the right reasons.
“Hunter’s having a kid with someone else. How long will it take for you to realize it will devastate you to stand by and watch?”
“Damn, Melanie. I told her that was private.”
“Melanie didn’t tell me. I figured it out on my own. There was only one reason Isabella would need to talk to Hunter bad enough to pull him away at the launch party, so it didn’t take much to figure it out. All I had to do was ask.”
I hit the side of my head with the heel of my hand. “Then call me stupid because he had to spell it out for me.”
“It’s not stupid. You didn’t want to see or admit it. It’s kind of your schtick.”
I laugh out a cry that’s threatening to become a full-blownsob. “My schtick is not wanting to see or admit that my boyfriend got another woman pregnant?”
“No. When something is too hard to acknowledge, you pretend it doesn’t exist.” He marches over to my closet. “Let’s find you some clothes to change into.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m taking you to lunch. You look like you’ve lost ten pounds since I last saw you. You’re sitting in a cold, dark loft in a robe on a Friday afternoon. Don’t argue with me because I’m not leaving here without you. I love you, Dori, but I don’t love your pity party. Now get dressed.”
“Jesus, you’re in a mood.” I take some clothes out of my drawer and go change in the bathroom. While I’m in there, I mindlessly talk to myself. “Pity party. Like I don’t have the right. If anyone does, it’s me.”
I come out of the bathroom, where I find him wide-eyed and staring at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Did you just get dressed in there and justify having a pity party for yourself?”
“Um…no,” I say, even though he probably heard me. “Can’t a woman have a little privacy?”
“It wasn’t like you were whispering. I could hear you as if the door was open. I actually turned around to see if it was. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Let’s decide where we should eat.”
“Jami, I’m not hungry. If we go somewhere, I’m just going to sit and watch you eat.”
He peeks out the window. “The weather looks nice enough for a walk, so grab a jacket.”
My posture relaxes. “You won’t stop until you get your way, will you?”
“Nope. We can consider it your birthday present to me.”
I coil into myself. “Shit, Jami. I’m sorry I forgot. Happy Birthday.”
“Thanks.”
“You must think I’m a terrible friend.”
“What I think is you’ve been under a ton of stress and got lost in it all.” He pulls out his phone and checks something, then glances back at me. “It’s fifty-seven degrees out. Do you think you’ll be warm enough?”
