Page 57 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

I hesitated, biting my lip. “You can stay for dinner, like we planned. But no kissing, no touching. Just talking.”

He nodded, stepping back to give me space. “Fair enough.”

“Maybe you should, uh, wash your hands,” I said and gestured to his bloody hands.

He looked down. “Must have broken open on the way over.”

“Go wash up and then you’re going to tell me what happened,” I said. “You’re walking and talking, and you don’t look like you have anything wrong with your brain, which meant you were wearing your helmet. I won’t rush you to the hospital, but I do want to know what happened.”

“Fine. Can you help me get my jacket off?”

“Of course.”

I gingerly pulled the coat off, peeling the sleeves down and getting a glimpse at the extensive road rash on his elbow. Surprisingly, the other arm seemed untouched. I had an unpleasant vision of him sliding across the highway and had to shake it off.

As he began to wash his hands, I turned away, unable to watch as he winced with each touch of water on his broken skin.

“Thank you,” he said softly, reaching for a towel.

I prepared a plate for him and popped it in the microwave. The meal had been great an hour ago. I collected my own plate and reheated it as well. The small card table I bought sat in the dining room. I brought over the other folding chair for him to sit in. I realized my mistake of selling all of the furniture and then deciding to live in the house for a month. But it did make it easier for me to get all the work done.

“So,” I said, breaking the tension. “What have you been up to for the past ten years?”

He chuckled softly, his fork twirling absentmindedly in his pasta. “You first.”

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “Okay. After college, I landed a job with a consulting firm. My mentor was incredible—tough but fair. She pushed me to be better, and I kept climbing the ladder until I landed where I am now.”

“And where is that?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“A senior consultant. Stable, secure, independent.” I shrugged. “All the things I wanted. I have a good job and have the opportunity to keep climbing.”

He smiled faintly, nodding. “I’m glad you found what you were looking for.”

“Are you?” I asked, meeting his eyes.

His jaw tightened for a moment before he answered. “I am now. But a few years ago? No. I was bitter as hell that you left and never looked back.”

I flinched at his honesty but didn’t look away. “When I first left, I did call you a few times.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Were you mad that I moved to Florida?”

He paused, considering his words for a moment. “No, I don’t think it was ever about you moving to Florida. I think I was more upset that you didn’t ask me to come with you.”

My heart skipped a beat, the regret welling up in my chest. I hadn’t expected him to be as bitter as he’d been ten years ago. I reached for the bottle of wine that was supposed to be part of our fancy dinner. Now, it felt like a necessity. I poured each of us a glass, feeling like this was the kind of conversation that required some alcohol.

“To be honest with you…” he started, then stopped. He picked up his glass but didn’t drink from it, merely held it, turning it absently in his hands. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me to be part of your new life.”

“Why would you think that?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just felt like you were moving on. You got your ticket out of here and you weren’t going to look back.”

“I hate that neither of us made the first move,” I said.

“I thought marrying another woman and starting a life with her would force me to leave you behind,” he said, his voice quieter now as he twirled his fork. “But all arrows have always pointed to you, Merritt Jacobs. My sanity be damned.”

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t think or speak. It was the thing I had been waiting to hear forever. I had long ago given up on ever hearing him say he wanted me.