Page 11 of Just One More Thing

I don’t know what comes after it because she’s already moving.

We pass each other in the narrow space by the door, close enough that I feel the heat of her. Her shoulder nearly brushes mine.

Not a touch.

Worse.

The absence of one.

And then she’s gone. Just like that.

By the time the bell over the door stops jingling, I still haven’t moved.

I could go after her.

Say her name again.

Stop her this time.

I don’t.

Because I know how long a man can live with one wrong moment.

So I stand there in the middle of Tall Tales with my bulldog at my feet and my whole chest pulled tight enough to hurt.

And I watch her walk away.

And I let her go.

Again.

CHAPTER 5

EMORY

Idon’t stop walking until I’m outside.

The bell over Tall Tales gives a cheerful little ring behind me, as if it didn’t just witness an emotional crime.

The heat hits hard, humid and pressing, but it’s nothing compared to the tightness in my chest. I keep my eyes forward because that is, unfortunately, one of my oldest skills. Looking composed while actively coming apart.

I tell myself I didn’t run. I exited like a reasonable adult who suddenly remembered she forgot something very important.

How to breathe.

I cross the path and toss my latte into the trash without taking a sip. The cup lands with a hollow thunk, which sounds about the way I feel. I keep going past the patio tables and the white ruffled umbrellas, past the little black iron fence, until I reach the row of oversized planters tucked along the side of the brick wall.

It’s not exactly hiding, but it’s the closest thing available.

My back hits the brick, and I let it hold me there. Solid. Unmoving. Thank God, because I’m not sure I am.

I tip my head back and close my eyes.

Immediate mistake.

The second I do, all I hear is his voice saying Mo.

Only Jake.