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“Since about nine. You were already out.”
“Diana and I went out to dinner. And then out to a club.” I frown. “You should have called. Someone should have told me—”
“You kidding?” He chuckles, nodding toward the driveway. “That was totally worth waiting out here for.”
I stand there for another long moment, dumbly. I’m still in shock. “You stopped answering my texts.”
The amusement vanishes from his face. “It was too hard.”
“It was,” I agree, offering him a sad smile. I knew I shouldn’t be writing him, shouldn’t be saying good morning and good night. I knew that keeping that connection wouldn’t help either of us move on in the long run. Still, it took everything in me to stop myself.
And now Jonah’s sitting in front of me.
“What are you doing here?”
“What do you think I’m doing here, Calla?” He sighs, shaking his head. “It’s not the same.”
“What’s not?”
“Alaska. You’ve ruined Alaska for me.” His tone is playful, and yet there’s a hint of accusation buried within.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble.
“Are you really, though?”
“No. Not totally,” I admit with a sheepish smile and a tiny spark of hope, because maybe I’m not the only one who has been unhappy. Maybe I’m not the only one who might have accidentally, unintentionally found themselves in love.
He holds out a hand. I take it without pause, allowing him to pull me into his lap. I fall against his hard body and can’t help the tiny sound I make. It feels even better than I remember it feeling.
Is this really happening?
Did Jonah fly all the way here, just to see me?
He hooks a hand around the backs of my thighs to pull my legs up, tucking my body closer to him, and then takes my hand in his, tracing the tips of my freshly filed and lacquered nails with his thumb. “Have you been—”
“Miserable.” I push his baseball cap off, letting it fall to the porch floor, and press my forehead against his. “Nothing’s the same here anymore.” Or at least, I’m not the same. Sure, I still go out with Diana and our friends, but I ghost the second I can, preferring to linger on the couch next to my mom and Simon, listening to them bicker in their funny ways. Diana’s drive to make something of Calla & Dee is still there, but I’ve been spending my time focused on my memories of Alaska, and my father, and Jonah—posting pictures that make me smile or laugh, and sharing the stories behind them, even if no one but me is going to read them. Simon says it’s therapeutic for me. Maybe it is, but I just want to keep those days fresh and alive in my mind for as long as possible, because I know I’ll never get them back.
I never wear makeup for my runs anymore and even when I do put it on, it’s with a lighter hand. And the jacket Jonah bought me hangs in the front closet. I reach for it every time I find myself needing comfort.
It’s ironic that no sooner had I gotten back to the city bustle that I was craving than I missed the simple calm and peaceful quiet that I’d just left.
Jonah smirks with satisfaction. “Good.”
I can’t stop myself from grazing the light stubble of his jaw with my palm and dipping down to press my lips against his, knowing that letting ourselves fall back into this routine will only m
ake our parting that much more agonizing.
But I’ll take whatever I can get, for as long as I can get it.
His tongue darts out to taste his bottom lip. “What have you been into tonight?”
“Just a martini.”
His eyebrow lifts.
“Three martinis,” I admit with a cringe. I was feeling the alcohol in the car, but oddly enough, I’m suddenly dead sober.
He groans, and smooths my hair off my forehead, his eyes roaming my face. “What the hell are we gonna do, Calla?”
