“Oh, yes, you would, but it doesn’t matter.” He faced her then, took her head gently between his hands. “They don’t matter. This is about you and me. Not the extra players on the set. Because in the end, when you go to sleep at night, only one person will be sharing your pillow.”
Her breath caught on the truth of his words. Only one person…or, it seemed, no one.
He leaned over and touched his mouth to her lips. One touch, and whatever fire she’d tamped down through the years blazed again. She kissed him with a hunger that surprised her. Stunned her. But filled her with well-being.
His embrace tightened. “Jen?” He pointed at her building. “You know how I feel about you, but it’s your call.”
My call. Only a man who cared for her—perhaps really loved her—would toss that ball into her court. Living in limbo had to end. It seemed she’d put her life on hold for five long years. “Maybe I’ve been waiting…all this time,” she whispered, as she took his hand and led him inside. Together, they ran up the one flight to her door. And to her bed.
##
The right decision. Afterward, amid the tossed blankets and clothes, amid the renewed and new knowledge of one another, Jen cuddled next to him, one arm around his waist while his lay around hers. “So glad you came back,” she
murmured, “home to Boston, home to me.”
“Home,” he sighed. “A simple word that’s sometimes not so simple.”
“It is now. You’re here.”
He grinned. “I am. And maybe my love story has found its ending after all,” he said.
“Huh?”
“The new play I’m working on. The ending hasn’t been clear.”
Surprised, she tipped her head to see him better. “I thought you had to know the ending before starting the first page.”
“You remember me saying that?”
“I-I remember too many things….” His quick smile, the lick of hair he brushed from his forehead, the spicy fragrance of his aftershave…the study sessions at school. And singing together one Christmas in her hometown. Doug had mentioned it weeks ago. That memory had stayed with them both.
He brushed a kiss on her temple. “You sound sad and I’m sorry.”
She twisted positions so she could see him. Slowly, she stroked his cheek.
“Doug…I’m happy you’re here. Don’t doubt it for a moment. But we need to go slowly.”
He grinned. “I think it’s a little late for ‘slow.’”
She waved her hand at the room and down at the bed. “You and I…? We have a history, and this—this is only one part of it. We were happy then, and it’s easy to fall into old ways.”
“We were simply interrupted, Jen, but I hear you. If you want slow, then okay.
What are you doing tomorrow night?”
She laughed. “That’s your idea of slow?”
“Weekends don’t count.”
“Oh, Doug. It’s all so familiar, and yet so new. I need to get to know you again.”
“I haven’t changed. Still ambitious, still love what I do. And still…”
She read the unspoken thought in his eyes. Eyes that shone with love for her. She squeezed his hand.
“The thing is…I need to know not only you, but myself a little better, too. How can I give my heart if I don’t know what’s in it?”
She heard him draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Maybe,” he began,
“you’ve been spending too much time taking care of everyone else and forgotten about yourself.”
A week ago, she would have protested. She would have argued loudly. Tonight, she let his words sink in.
Chapter 7
A new beginning with Doug. She wanted it and she wanted it to be right this time. But too much introspection always made her nervous. Those diary entries she was forced to make, and that shrink they’d gone to…all good for the others, but none of it did a thing for her. She’d just gone through the motions and coped by keeping herself busy.
Like now. She extended her hand to her first clients of the day, a couple about her parents’ age when they’d died, and prepared to assist them, explain options and help them plan for a secure financial future.
Her siblings and she had inherited nothing after the accident. Just a house with a mortgage. Not even a car. Tough when the supermarket was two miles away.
Lisa had dropped out of law school and gotten a teaching job as a way to earn a salary, while Jen worked out a budget. And six months later, Mike and Lisa had married. For all their sakes. God, why was she thinking about this now?
“Let’s talk about your goals,” she began, “and the type of investments you’re comfortable with.”
“Not too much risk,” said the woman. “Someday one of us will be alone, and we don’t want to be dependent on anyone, especially not on our kids.”
Jen had been dependent. Sixteen years old and caught in a whirlwind of uncertainty. Her friends couldn’t handle it and had stopped coming by. She’d wanted to run away…had a plan to emancipate herself. But Lisa and Mike had stopped that.
