Page 79 of Never Forget
Rosie beamed. "It's just right."
We found a salesman and arranged the paperwork. When Jamie reached for her wallet, I was already handing over my card.
"Sam, no."
"Consider it a housewarming gift."
"A couch is not a housewarming gift. A candle is a housewarming gift. A plant. Not a?—"
"It's already done." I signed the receipt and handed it back to the salesman. "Delivery tomorrow work?"
Jamie looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read, something between frustration and gratitude.
"Thank you," she said finally.
"You're welcome."
Rosie tugged on my hand. "Can we get ice cream on the way home?"
I looked at Jamie. She shook her head, but she was smiling.
"Ice cream it is," I said.
That weekend, Jamie wanted to do something special for Rosie.
I was halfway to her place when my phone buzzed. Amber.
Amber
Did you finish the application?
I pulled over. Stared at the screen. She was still holding onto the idea that we were together. I shook my head as I typed my response.
Sam
I meant what I said. It's over.
I turned off my phone and kept driving.
Jamie met me at the door with Rosie already bouncing behind her.
We built a pillow fort in the living room with cushions from the new couch and blankets draped over kitchen chairs. Rosiehanded me things and told me where they should go. Jamie strung the Christmas lights through the ceiling of the fort until the whole thing glowed soft and warm.
We made grilled cheese and tomato soup the way we used to after school with Jack. Jamie at the stove, me slicing bread, Rosie on her step stool helping stir.
"Am I doing it right?" she asked.
"Perfect," Jamie said. "Keep going."
Rosie stirred with intense concentration. Tomato soup splashed onto her shirt, but she didn't care.
We ate inside the fort. Plates balanced on our knees, Rosie wedged between us. She talked with her mouth full about school, about her friend Gigi, about the dream she had last night.
I caught Jamie's eye over Rosie's head. The Christmas lights caught the auburn in her hair, the freckles across her nose. When she smiled at me, it was the same smile that used to make my stomach flip when I was sixteen.
She'd looked at me like that on the couch in my apartment, the record still spinning, the two of us talking about Jack. I wanted to kiss her then. Would have, if Megan hadn't knocked.
I wanted to kiss her now.
