Page 44 of Just One More Thing

I like that.

“So,” she says, turning toward me. “You and Jake.”

I let out a breathy laugh. “You don’t waste time.”

“Life is short.”

I take a sip, then glance at the photo behind the bar—the one of Jake with his parents and granddad. He can’t be more than eight. Sunburned nose. Sand in his hair. Missing front tooth smile.

“I don’t know if there is a me and Jake,” I say carefully.

Bethany studies me for a long moment, then takes a sip of her own beer. “If you wanted there to be, there would.”

I plunk the pickle into my glass because that feels safer than responding.

“I’ve known Jake a long time,” she continues. “I’ve never seen him want anything the way he wants you.”

I don’t know what to do with that. I look down at the foam rising in my glass, hoping maybe it does.

It does not.

“Do you know what happened?” I ask instead.

“I know you broke his heart,” she says gently. “I don’t know how.”

“It wasn’t intentional.” I leave it there. I don’t say I panicked. I don’t say I was twenty and scared and didn’t trust happiness. I don’t say that I’ve spent ten years building a life where I never had to face that kind of vulnerability again.

“There’s no rule that says you can’t start again,” she says. “If you both want to.”

I open my mouth to respond when the door thuds open.

Hank trots in first, his tags jingling together in his own personal theme music, followed by Jake. He stops when he sees me.

Just stops.

His eyes widen, and there’s something in them that isn’t their usual bright blue. Something quieter. A sadness. But then he smiles.

“This is a surprise.”

“I was going to jump out of a cake,” I say. “But I couldn’t find a pan big enough.”

He laughs, which makes me breathe a little easier. Bethany slides off her stool.

“I’ll start closing,” she says. “You two behave.”

“I’ve got it,” Jake says. “Head on home.”

“You sure?”

“I am.”

She squeezes my arm as she passes. “Coffee sometime? Or another beer?”

“I’d like that. A lot.”

Jake watches her go, then looks back at me. “Should I be worried?”

“No. Why?”