Page 32 of Yours to Lose
Jordan pauses, too, and studies me for a second before nodding like he agrees. “So, you said something about breakfast?”
“You bet I did.” I link my arm through his and walk towards the front door. “Follow me, J.”
Twenty minutes and a cab ride later, we’re being seated in the booth of a tiny diner on the corner of 103rd Street and Broadway. Ordinarily, I would have walked, but Jordan looked tired. As the waitress comes to take our drink orders and he requests another coffee, I take in his red rimmed eyes and wonder if maybe I misjudged.
“Are you sure you’re okay to have breakfast?” I ask after the waitress walks away. “I didn’t think about how tired you would be after working overnight. I should have.”
He shakes his head, taking a sip of his water, and his throat working as he swallows is ridiculously attractive. Gah. “It’s fine, really. I’ve been a doctor for a long time. I’m used to working overnight. I can crash after breakfast.”
“Okay, but feel free to always tell me if you want to sleep or something instead of going along with whatever crazy idea I come up with. For some reason, I’ve never needed as much sleep as I’m supposed to, which makes my people insane half the time. I’d rather do almost anything except for sleep.”
He looks down, drawing circles in the condensation on his water glass, and when he speaks, he doesn’t look at me, his voice quiet. “It’s nice, having company after a night shift. It’s been a while since I’ve had that.” When he finally looks up at me, his eyes are a little unfocused, like he’s lost in a memory. I wonder if Allie is the last person he spent the morning after a night shift with, and my heart aches a little for him. Then he snaps out of it, shaking his head a little and huffing out a breath.
“I sleep like shit most of the time anyway.”
“Working overnights sometimes and days other times can’t be good for sleep hygiene.”
Jordan studies his menu as if the answers to all of life’s most important questions can be found between pictures of omelets and waffles. “It’s not that. I got used to that years ago.” He pauses briefly and seems to be arguing with himself in his head before he speaks again. “I haven’t really slept well since Allie died.”
His head snaps up like he can’t believe he actually said those words, and I get that same murderous feeling toward anyone who made him feel like he can’t say her name. I decide to take a chance.
“You don’t have to do that, you know.”
“Do what?”
“Gauge my reaction every time you mention Allie’s name. It’s okay to talk about her. To me and to anyone else.”
The gratitude in his eyes almost knocks me over. “Sometimes I feel weird saying her name, like I’m not supposed to, and no one else does either. I guess maybe they think it makes me sad or something.”
“Does it?”
Jordan toys with the little dish of sugar packets, taking them out and putting them back in color order. “Sometimes, but sometimes I just want to say the name of the woman I loved for five years and talk about her without worrying I’m making someone uncomfortable, you know? Just because she’s not here anymore doesn’t mean she’s gone. Those years still mean something, even if they’re over.”
I lay my hand over his briefly and feel the little zing. He does too—I can see it when he lifts his head, and his eyes meet mine. “They don’t just mean something, J. They mean everything. You loved her, and that love doesn’t just disappear. You can always talk about her with me. Or even just say her name if that’s all you feel like doing. You don’t have to hide that part of your life. From anyone, but definitely not from me.”
Jordan closes his eyes briefly, and when he opens them, they’re swirling with emotion. “Thanks, Jo. You’re the only person ever to say that to me. It means a lot.”
I take my hand away from his and pick up my water, letting his words hang for a moment before I lighten the mood because I think it’s what we both need. “Listen, everything said during the J’s Summer of Fun is sacred.”
One side of his mouth quirks up just a little in the closest to a smile I’ve ever seen from him. “You’re really calling it that?”
“Uh, yeah. Not only am I calling it that, but I’m getting T-shirts made for both of us, and we’re wearing them on one of our excursions. Now, we have an important decision to make.” I tap the menu in front of him. “What are you having for breakfast? Because it’s really important that we don’t get the same thing.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “You’re going to tell me what I can and can’t have for breakfast?”
“I mean, only if you were planning on getting the same thing as me.”
“And if I was?”
“I would tell you that would make sharing breakfasts really hard.”
“What if I don’t want to share?”
I gasp. “Are you one of those people who hates sharing food? Because if you are, this friendship might be doomed from the start. I don’t decision well, and I can never pick just one of anything.”
“Nah, I don’t mind sharing food, as long as you don’t get runny eggs. There is nothing worse than runny eggs.”
I put my hand on my heart and speak seriously. “I solemnly swear never to order anything with runny eggs which are, in fact, the most disgusting food on the planet. I’m getting French toast.”
