Page 92 of Smoke and Glitter

I stare at him. "Sam is not my mother."

"No. But you're still you."

"He could see me. He knew me."

"Yes, and I understand why you thought he should know when something changed. But he knew your routine, Autumn. That's not the same as knowing you'd changed the terms in your head."

I hate that sentence almost immediately. "He thought we wanted the same thing."

"For a while, he probably did. You gave him reasons to think that." Jake pauses. "You need to own that."

My throat tightens.

"Summer told you."

"Enough of it. She told me what you overheard, and she told me you went back afterward."

I look down at my plate. "I did ask him."

"Yeah."

"I stood in front of him and asked what I was to him. I told him what I needed. I asked if he wanted me."

Jake nods. "And he answered you."

The answer leaves one clean line through all the months before it: the night I finally asked. I gave him the information. He had it. Jake reaches toward my plate, and I slap his hand away before he gets there.

"Those are mine."

He laughs as he pulls his hand back. For some reason, that tiny interruption is what lets the rest of the thought finish.

I should've told Sam sooner that casual had stopped being enough. I should've told him about London. What he said to Bex was still fucking shitty and his to own. So was the answer he gave me when I finally asked.

I sit with that for a while.

Jake doesn't try to fill the silence. He goes back to his dinner, and when I finally push the plate toward the middle of the table, he glances at me before taking a chip.

"One."

He takes two. I should've known better.

"You came all the way to London to steal my food."

"I came all the way to London because I missed you."

He says it without hesitation. I look at him across the table.

"I missed you too. I like it here but I miss you and Summer so much."

His expression softens, just a little. Then he eats the second chip.

"Still a thief."

"Never claimed otherwise."

We don't talk about Sam again. This time Jake actually keeps his word.

He stays through the weekend. By the time I take him to the airport, the weekend feels both longer and shorter than it should. We stop near the entrance with his bag between us, people moving past in both directions.