“Ohhh… do tell!” Rory’s enthusiasm is almost more demanding than Brent’s, but at least I know hers comes from a selfless place.
“It’s different, and I don’t know if I can pull it off, but I found this box of my grandparents’ old love letters. They’re letting me read them and… I think I want to write their love story, or a version of it.”
“Hold up. You’re going to write a romance? Jameson L. Murray, best-selling adventure fiction author—”
“Oh stop it.” I groan and let my head thump back against the headboard, but she just keeps talking.
“—is going to write a romance? Hell yes, I amsohere for this!”
I bark out a laugh and it loosens everything that’s felt strung too tight. “You are ridiculous.”
“I know, it’s part of my charm.” I hear her clap her hands through the phone. “Well, this sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all day—and you just solved my personal housing crisis. I want to read it, and don’t you dare tell me you’re keeping this one to yourself like you did with your short story.”
“You mean the short story I wrote about me and Avi…” I guess I’m spilling all my secrets tonight.
“Pardon me? Did you. Just say. That story was aboutyou and Avi?” Rory yells into the phone, and I have to yank it away. Again.
“Christ, Rory, you just ruptured my eardrum,” I say, rubbing the offended ear.
“Andyoukeep dropping all these bombs on me. What do you expect me to do?!”
“I don’t know… Not scream at me?” When she stays silent, clearly expecting me to keep going, I reluctantly do. “Yes, I wrote that story, andmaybesomeday I’ll let you read it, okay… But right now, it’s very late here and I should probably get to bed.”
“Fine, I’ll let you off the hook…for now. But I need more details, sir.” She huffs, then her voice softens. “Goodnight, Jamie. I love you.”
“I love you too. Talk soon.”
“Yeah. Bye.”
We hang up and I feel lighter than I have in weeks. Both because I got to talk to my best friend and because I finally got some secrets off my chest.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jamie – Twelve Years Ago
She has a boyfriend.A boyfriend.
I probably should’ve seen this coming considering I was the one who came to Skye last year with a girlfriend. But I made a point to be single coming into this summer, and I stupidly assumed she would be too.
I’m jealous… So jealous I’m likely turning green like the leprechauns that are a terrible mockery of my mother’s Irish heritage.
“What’s his name?” I ask Avi from where we’re once again propped on the inn’s roof.
She bites her lip and I hate the way it draws my attention to her mouth. A mouth I won’t be kissing this summer, even though I’ve had grand ideas of doing just that for weeks now… maybe months.
This is probably better though. We’re friends, always have been, always will be, and kissing all summer would only lead to heartache for one or both of us, so what would be the point?
Yeah, this is definitely better.
“Ian,” she finally answers, and her eyes flit across my face like a caress—like she’s trying to get a read on me.
“Huh. How long have you guys been going out?”
“Three months.” She shrugs like this information means nothing. But three months at sixteen… That’s not a small amount of time. It’s way longer than any of my past relationships, unless you count the one with Cat last summer… but seeing as we didn’t see each other for two-thirds of it, I don’t.
“Cool.”That’sit, Jamie? The best you can do?Cool?“How’d you meet?”
“He plays rugby. A mutual friend wanted to go to a match and we all went out for fish and chips after. I started going to all his matches and…” She tucks her chin and averts her gaze before clearing her throat and changing the subject. “What about you? You’ve probably got a whole gaggle of girls trailing you.”
