Page 79 of One Last Gift

“I’m so sorry, Jessica.”

“So you’ve said,” she said wryly. And he had, over message, but still…

“I mean it,” he said. “I shouldn’t have hurt you like that. If I could take it back, I would.”

She nodded slowly. “Would you go through with it, if you could do it again? The wedding,” she clarified, when he stared at her.

“I…” He swallowed. “I would do things differently.” It wasn’t the whole truth. He knew now, as he’d known then, that marrying Jessica was not the right thing to do. But it felt callous to say it out loud, and he didn’t want to hurt her any more than he already had.

She nodded again, processing. Then she picked up her tea, took a sip. “I was so mad,” she said. And for a moment, the calm expression dropped and her eyes flashed. “God, if you could’ve seen. I smashed up the wedding cake.” She laughed a little, even though there was nothing remotely funny about it.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, wishing that he could come up with something more adequate. But there was nothing, really. Nothing that could take away what he’d put her through.

She set down her tea. “I know you are.” She ran a hand through her waves, then shook her hair out, the auburn shimmering. “And I know I kept pushing. After Tom, when you fell apart like that, I didn’t know what else to do but pretend it was fine and push ahead with it.” Fell apart like that. He supposed that was what had happened. She drew her shoulders up. “And so, I have things I’m sorry about too. I’m not saying it’s my fault,” she said. “At all. But it wasn’t right, to have the wedding then, and I should’ve acknowledged that sooner, should’ve tried to be there for you in the way you needed, rather than just thinking about what I wanted.”

God, she really was something. How many people would be able to deal with being left at the altar and stay so calm, so rational?

“For a while, afterward,” she continued, staring at her tea, “I thought that we should get back together.” His stomach lurched a little, though he said nothing, let her continue. Closure, she’d said, when she asked to meet. She wanted closure. So the least he could do was listen to what she had to say. “After I got over the mad part, I mean.” Her eyebrows pulled together. “Well, mostly over it, in any case.” She looked up from her tea. “But I’ve had some time to think and I…” She blew out a breath. “I don’t think we were right together, not really. I don’t think I was the one for you.” It was what he’d said to Cassie—or a version of it, anyway, when she’d accused him of not sorting things out with Jessica.

Jessica cocked her head at him, all beautiful angles and sculpted cheekbones. “I think…I think I was trying to make you fit with what I wanted.”

“And I wasn’t? What you wanted?”

She laughed, and it sounded so genuine. “The problem is, I think you were trying to make yourself fit too. Even now…” She leveled a look at him. “I love my job. I love what I do, and I want to stay in London, stay with my dad’s firm. What about you?”

“I don’t…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t say that the vision she’d just conjured up in his mind made him feel all itchy and sticky, like he needed to get outside for some air. She nodded, and he knew he didn’t have to finish. She got it.

“I was hoping I’d be enough, in the long run, to make you stay, but I’ve realized, with a bit of time—and maybe, OK, a bit of therapy…” she shot him a grin that he did his best to return, “that it wasn’t fair, on either of us. You didn’t love me, not in the way that I need.”

“You deserve better,” he said. “I was never good enough for you.”

She reached out across the table, laid her hand over his. “It wasn’t just you. I don’t think I loved you in the way you deserve, either. Because if I had, I wouldn’t have pushed ahead. I would have seen what you needed. I thought…I thought I understood about Tom, but really, I just wanted to make it better the way I thought it should be, the way I wanted it to be, and I…” She shook her head as she broke off. “You’re a good person, whether you believe that or not, and you do deserve to be happy. And me…I wasn’t going to make you happy.” She paused, then said, “This life, it’s not going to make you happy, either.”

He let it settle. Wondered briefly what would have happened if Tom were still here. Would he have gone through with it? Would Tom have convinced him to walk down the aisle, to keep walking this path, as he’d once thought he would? Or would he have made him see, before the wedding day, that it wasn’t right? Tom was never one to push, so maybe he wouldn’t have said anything, unless it became clear that Sam wasn’t happy. But he had a flash, then, of telling Tom that he and Jessica were engaged. Remembered Tom’s face, considering.

If you’re happy, I’m happy.

That’s all he’d ended up saying, but Sam wondered now if there was something more. If Tom had known, back then, that it wasn’t right.

He slid his hand out from under Jessica’s, reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear in a friendly gesture. “I’m sorry. I wish it was different. I wish I could’ve been the one to give you what you need. I wish…” He broke off. I wish I could love you sounded just a tiny bit harsh, didn’t it? Even if, on some level, he knew that he’d never loved Jessica deeply enough, never loved her in that way that made you hurt. Never loved her in the way he loved Cassie.

“You know what my dad says,” she said wryly. “Wishes won’t get you riches.”

He let out a huffing laugh. “Right. Though it’s not really that great a saying, I have to admit.” He sighed. “I don’t know how you can even consider forgiving me.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Who said I’ve forgiven you completely?” She laughed when he grimaced. “I think fifty percent forgiveness is about all you can hope for.”

“I’ll take it,” Sam said immediately, and Jessica grinned.

Then her expression grew more serious. “I’ve told you,” she said. “I had my own visions of that day, and I didn’t take into account that you’d just lost your best friend, that you were grieving, that you had your own demons. We were both being selfish, I suppose.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t recommend that you do it to anyone else, though—being left at the altar sucks.” She gave him a little punch on the arm, and he laughed, though the sound was weary.

“Noted.” He got to his feet, feeling odd now, sitting there. “Will you be OK?”

“Yeah. I think I will.” She stood too and they both walked automatically to the front door. “Will you?”

“Yeah,” he said. And one way or another, he would be. He’d figure something out.

“Think about what I said, OK?” He frowned. “About the climbing job. Because, well, following a dream, an ambition…Going after something you enjoy, it’s not flighty, Sam. Running toward, well, that’s different to running away, now, isn’t it?”