Page 44 of Every Time We Touch

“Yeah.” I have no choice but to lie now, although it’s a perfectly plausible reason to break up with him. But it’s not the real one. Kissing his daughter is the reason I broke up with him. “It’s a bit too much for me.”

“I get it.” He sends me a warm smile. “Look at you.” He holds up his hands. “I’m sorry. That makes it sound as though I only fell for you because of how you look. I hope you know that’s not the case. You’ve been such a bright spot in my life. You’re so full of life. Just being in the same room as you instantly lifted my spirits.” He emits a sigh. “I understand why it could only last as long as it did.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, for something very different than he probably thinks I’m sorry for. “That it didn’t work out. You’re a lovely man, Eric. I just—” I shake my head. I’m not sure I should say much more, for fear of it being held against me later. “You’re not the man for me.” That’s true, at least.

“Yeah. I know.” He makes for the door. “I guess I just wanted to be sure. Although I kind of already knew.”

My gaze keeps skittering away as I look at him. Although I feel for him, I just want him to leave as quickly as possible.

“Would you consider one last hug?” He tilts his head a fraction.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Oh, no. I’m not going to hug Jen’s dad after last night. To even touch him now seems wholly inconceivable.

“Okay.” Eric is a sweet man who sends me the sweetest—but also saddest—smile. “Goodbye,” he says, then walks out the door.

My heart rages as though I’ve just had to fight off an intruder. I’m of half a mind to text Jen and cancel our plans for tonight. Seeing Eric should be more than enough incentive—and I don’t have to see him on a regular basis any longer. For Jen’s sake, I should take this opportunity—use this mortification—to call things off. I fill a glass of water and slowly sip it, trying to calm myself down. But if anything, seeing Eric, a decent, kind guy, also reminds me of how much more I want what Jen has already given me.

Last night was not ordinary. That kiss last week was not a random fluke. What I feel for Jen simply doesn’t compare to what I felt for her father. And yes, it’s utterly selfish of me that I don’t use the aggravation I just felt to save Jen from much worse with her family. But sometimes you have no choice but to be selfish. To want what you want more than anything—and be willing to fight for it.

I will have to tell her Eric came to see me, though. And face the possible consequences. But I refuse to make that decision for her.

The irony is not lost on me that Eric might be feeling for me exactly the same as what I’m feeling for his daughter. I wish I was able to take his feelings into consideration—but I can’t. Because what happens when Jen and I are in the same room is too special, too promising, too spectacular.

I can only count down the hours until I see her again.

Chapter 25

Jen

When my sister calls, I don’t pick up. I can’t speak to Heather today. She’ll be able to tell, just from the inflection in my voice, that I’m going through something. I need to talk to Clancy first. I text Heather that I’m in meetings all day, which is technically true although only my body is present. My mind is still in Clancy’s bedroom.

The day goes by slow and fast at the same time. Minutes seem to drag into hours, but then, all of a sudden, it’s six p.m. and I’m on my way to North Hollywood again. As though I can only go to Clancy and not the other way around. A member of my family—my dad included—might turn up at my house any time, so it is safer. It makes me feel like we’ve started our secret relationship already. I guess we have.

Halfway there, my mother calls. I haven’t spoken to her in a while, so I pick up. Talking to my mother is not the same as talking to my twin.

“I’m back in town, darling,” she says. “I just wanted you to know and make sure you’re free for brunch on Sunday. I need to see my brood.”

“Sure, Mom.” It’s always good to hear her voice. “I’ll be there. How was the shoot?” Better to ask her a question than to have her simply ask me how I am.

She talks about her movie and how amazing Avery Hall is and, for a few minutes, as I make my way up the 405, my life feels normal. Like I’m not heading to meet my secret lover.

“Hey, Jen,” Mom says as our conversation comes to a natural stop. “I was just talking to Heather.”

I don’t respond, hoping she’ll tell me something about the kids I didn’t know yet.

“She claims that something’s up with you. Something you can’t tell her.”

More silence from me.

“I just want you to know that you can always come to me. Okay?”

Not with this, I think, stretching my silence to the limit.

“I’m your mother. You can tell me anything.” Mom’s only repeating what she’s told us all our lives. “I’m sure the same goes for your dad, if that’s easier.”

I nearly hit the brakes too hard.

“Sorry, Mom,” I manage to say. “Traffic’s hit a snag. Thanks and I’ll be there on Sunday.”