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“Hmm, we’ll see, but I don’t see you getting through the main course, which is why we should probably go for something more chilled like—”
“Don’t say it. I already spoiled you with it in London.”
“In-N-Out,” she finally says.
“Deal.”
It’s not like I don’t enjoy fast food, but Taco Bell never agreed with me, so I welcomed In-N-Out over it in a heartbeat. Jessa went on and on about how much she missed this place and all the bland dinners she’s had to sit through with Benedict’s family. To add to the whine she complained about all the questionable food she was forced to eat.
As much as I love conversing with her, it’s still hard to hear about her life with him. I smiled but kept quiet, letting her talk.
“I’m sorry,” she frowns, “I’ve been talking nonstop.”
“It’s fine.”
“Okay, so tell me more about Spain. There’s this restaurant I absolutely love that Ben…” she trails off, not finishing her sentence upon realizing she’s mentioning him again.
I lower my gaze, picking at my fries. Across the table, she reaches out her hand and places it on mine. “I’m sorry I keep bringing him up.”
“He’s your husband,” I remind her hastily.
Jessa retracts her hand with a distant stare only for me to notice the wedding band and engagement ring. She’s worn it every time I’ve seen her, but only now does it catch my attention, throwing fuel to a very burning flame.
“Let’s go,” she pleads, standing up from the booth. “There’s somewhere I want to visit.”
* * *
I park the car at the edge of the cliff as we both unbuckle our seat belts and then exit the car.
Just like old times, we climb onto the roof, my hand extending to Jessa to help her up. I sit behind her, wrapping my arms around her body as she leans back against my chest.
We gaze at the horizon and ocean from this secluded clifftop, admiring it quietly. I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve come here, always to escape life and just sit or talk.
“I love this place,” Jessa murmurs while taking it all in. “I never realized how much I miss everything about California until now.”
“It’s our home, where we grew up,” I remind her. “It’s not Manhattan, that’s for sure.”
“Manhattan is chaotic, although I do love it there. Just not as much as here.”
“A completely different lifestyle.”
“Yeah,” she mumbles. “It’s great for single people.”
“Sure.”
“Sure?” she questions, her tone pitched, which happens when she’s jealous. “You know what, don’t answer that.”
“Answer what? You haven’t asked me a question.”
I sense her biting her tongue, which never lasts long.
“Your answer of ‘sure’ sounds like you enjoy Manhattan because of all the single ladies.”
“Are you jealous? Is that it?”
Jessa tenses in my embrace, but I squeeze tighter until she finally relaxes.
“It’s just… you’re crazy handsome, and women look at you everywhere we go.”
