Page 42 of Chasing Stars
Miles:
I can’t stop thinking about you.
Miles:
I hope you aren’t tired of me.
Miles:
Jenna…
Miles:
Did I do something wrong?
Without thinking, I dial his number.
“Jenna,” he answers on the first ring.
“Hi,” I say sleepily. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” I smile into my phone.
“Sorry. I might have come on a little too strong,” Miles says sheepishly, his voice low.
“Just a wee little bit,” I tease but I’m smiling. It’s been a long time since a guy has fallen for me first.Is that what this is?It’s almost always me liking someone more than they like me. I need to pump the brakes though. I have no idea if Miles has fallen for me. The last time I even went on a date, my mom was still healthy. Then she got sick, and it was like I pressed pause on my life. It felt selfish to want something just for me. The only consistent relationship I have had the past few years waswith my mom’s oncology nurse. I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.
“I got worried when you didn’t answer. I thought maybe you were having second thoughts about yesterday.” Miles’s voice sounds tentative, as if he’s waiting for me to reassure him.
“I’m not having second thoughts, Miles,” I assure him quietly. “In fact. I was dreaming about you until about five minutes ago.”
Miles laughs. “Dreaming, huh?” His voice turns sultry. “Was I making you come in the dream?”
I let out a husky laugh. “No. It was much more intimate than that.”
“Maybe you can tell me about it over lunch?” His voice is brimming with hope.
“I would love that.”
An hourand a half and three outfit changes later, I’m standing outside The Mad Batter waiting for Miles. I have never put so much effort into my appearance for a man—but here I am. Nothing I tried on felt right. Up until yesterday, I never cared—or even thought—about what I looked like around him. I didn’t expect things to go the way they did. I finally landed on a pair of slouchy jeans cuffed at the ankle, a gray thermal, and my Birkenstock clogs. Casual and comfortable. Like I didn’t try too hard, even though I absolutely did.
I’m leaning against the railing when he walks up. He’s dressed impeccably in a pair of navy slacks and a pinstriped button-down cuffed at the forearm. His wavy hair is tousled and pushed off his forehead. He smiles as he approaches, like his dayjust got better. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to believe that I could have that effect on someone, but it is.
Miles stops in front of me. “Hi,” he says quietly. He tips my chin up to his mouth and plants a soft kiss on my lips. “I couldn’t get here fast enough,” he breathes against my lips. At those words, my whole body tingles. In truth, I couldn’t wait to see him either.
It’s cooler out today but still unseasonably warm for October this week. Mid-week in the off-season means no wait, even at one of the most popular restaurants in town. Miles grabs my hand and leads me up the wooden steps of the old Victorian house-turned-restaurant. Inside, the restaurant is colorful, bright, and airy.
“Hello!” The cheerful hostess greets us. “Welcome to The Mad Batter. Where would you like to sit today?”
“How about the garden room?” Miles asks, looking at me for approval. I nod, giving him a smile. It’s warm enough outside for the terrace today but if I know Miles, he’s worried I’ll be cold.
The hostess takes two menus and leads us to a small table in a quiet part of the restaurant, where the walls feature art by local artists and rainbow checkered stained glass windows brighten the space. The warmth of the sun shining in feels amazing. Then we’re alone again, and my stomach twists itself in knots.
We quietly peruse the menu without speaking. Then Miles reaches across the table for my hand. All of this is perfect—except for the quiet thrum of anxiety beneath the surface. I haven’t yet figured out why Miles still makes me nervous, despite everything that happened yesterday and how attentive he is being to me.
Am I terrified of being hurt, or am I terrified of being loved?
I don’t think a man has ever truly loved me. At least not the way my father loved my mother. My mother never loved anyone else after we lost him. The strange thing is, when we found outher cancer was terminal, I think she was at peace, knowing she would get to see my dad again. I’d love to find a love like that—someone who would always wait for me—but I don’t know if Miles is it. I don’t know if it’s in the cards for me.
My last relationship ended with him being unfaithful to me—right before my mom got sick. At the time, it was a relief to have something else to focus on. A reason not to take him back. I threw everything I had into caring for my mom. How could I be worried about a breakup when my mom was suffering from terminal cancer? Still, I’ve always had this nagging voice in the back of my mind that maybe I wasn’t enough. That if I had been, he’d have stayed. He’d have shown up for me when it mattered most. He just didn’t love me enough. That’s what scares me about Miles. He’s been nothing but patient and kind. And if I let myself believe that someone could love me like that—like my dad loved my mom—I’d never survive it if I were wrong.
