Page 62 of All That Glitters

“No, you don’t want anyone to take care of you.”

“Semantics,” I mutter.

He chuckles. “You love semantics.”

I scrunch my nose up and don’t reply, because he’s right. I do love diving into the meaning of words and how they relate to one another. I could spend hours dissecting the combination of context and tone within one sentence in a book. It’s one of those things that comes naturally to me. Sometimes I wonder if it stems from how often I did it growing up. My parents never said what they meant, so I had to learn to pick up on cues and piece the puzzle together.

“My mom texted me,” I blurt out as my building comes into view.

Jameson is quiet for a moment.

“Is that what upset you? Paisley said she found you crying.”

“I changed my mind.” I cross my arms. “I’m going to kill Paisley, then you.”

He laughs a little and bumps into my shoulder lightly.

“Come on, Goldie, she was only trying to help. She’s worried about you.”

I shake my head. Everyone is overreacting about how I’m doing, but if a few hours of rest helps ease their minds, then I can manage that. It’ll put me severely behind—again—but oh well.

“So, what did she say?” Jameson presses as we walk up to the lobby doors.

He holds open the door and I walk through.

“Told me ‘good job’ about the paper.”

“I’m guessing she did that in a way that made you feel worse, not better?”

I nod. We walk to the elevators and I press the up button. I don’t say anything more, since I don’t want to admit I told her about cutting him off.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know that’s hard on you.”

I shrug. “It is what it is. Some people have moms who celebrate them and support them. Others don’t.”

We step onto the elevator. Jameson’s expression is lined with concern.

“You’re allowed to be upset, Goldie. You don’t have to pretend it’s okay.”

I look down at my oxfords. I do get upset; I just prefer to do so in private. To let everything out in the form of words in a manuscript.

“Thanks, but I really am okay. I’m used to it by now. I was just tired—that’s why it got to me more.”

“I won’t press you about it,” Jameson says softly. “But you know you can talk to me if you need to.”

I swallow down the emotions rising in my throat. He’s trying so hard to go back to the way things were, but we can’t. Not after the kiss. I don’t have the energy to fight him, though, so I just nod.

We’re quiet as the elevator stops on my floor, and stay that way as Jameson walks me to my door. He passes off my messenger bag to me, and it’s then that I realize he carried it all the way here.

“Thanks.” My voice is small.

He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll let your friends take it from here. Nash told me to tell Paisley her dream man says hi, but I don’t think I want to face the wrath of two feisty women today.”

I laugh. “Smart choice. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Jameson dips his chin. “Tomorrow.”

He turns and walks away. I can’t help but think of his text from earlier, the Anne of Green Gables quote. If only that could be true.