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“There it is again.” I tilt my head and study his face. I used to be able to read him so easily. Now when I look at him, I have no idea what he’s thinking.
“What?”
“I was afraid that night when you were here for dinner that Ryle would get the wrong idea.”
“What do you mean?”
“That he would think it meant you would always be here.”
“I won’t do that to you.” Truman shakes his head. “I don’t want to crowd you, Julie. I just want to see Ryle more.”
His words jab me like a punch in the belly.
“Stop talking,” I whisper. I feel him staring at me, but I take a few seconds to compose myself before looking back at him. “Ryle never said a word about it. But it bothered me.”
“That I was here?”
“That you were here.” I nod. “And that you never came back for dinner. That we had a nice night, that we almost felt like a family, and then you told me you wanted me to find someone to make me happy.”
“Can I talk?” he asks quietly and goes on when I nod, “I want you to be happy. Why is that a bad thing?”
“Which is it, Truman? You want me to be happy with someone else? Or you don’t?”
Truman scoots his chair back and stands.
“Are you trying to tell me that you do have feelings for Jerad?”
I sigh and cover my face with my hands. “No, Truman. I’m not.”
“Then why are you going to Florida with him?”
I stand, but my knees tremble.
“I’m not. Can we forget about the Florida thing for a minute?”
Truman’s face is a mask of confusion, but he nods.
“I’m trying to tell you I’m not gonna move on. I’m not gonna be happy with someone else.”
“Jules—” He stands, like he needs to be on his feet to argue.
“I still love you, Truman.” My voice shakes with my words. “And you’re sending me mixed signals, and things aren’t gonna work out, and I need you to—”
He closes his fingers around my wrist and pulls me toward him as he steps closer to me. I meet his eyes, as he lifts his other hand to cup my chin. He’s going to kiss me. Having him around that night for dinner isn’t going to compare to kissing him, to the way it’s going to hurt when he walks out.
But I close my eyes when his lips brush mine. It’s our first kiss since I told him I was pregnant. I want more, but I’m frozen with fear. Fear that he’ll turn around and walk out. Fear that he’ll do it again.
We stand close; his breath is warm on my face. He loosens his grip on my wrist, but he doesn’t let go. When I open my eyes, he’s watching me. Rather than kiss me again, he smooths his thumb under my chin.
“Julie.” He grinds my name out through clenched teeth and still manages to sound hopeful.
I have to end this now, but this is the first time in over six years that we’ve been this close. I take a minute to remember the curve of his cheek. The scrape of his stubble on my fingers when I touch his face. When I drop my hand and step back, Truman moves with me.
“No.” I rest my hand on his chest and shake my head.
“But—”
“It’s not that easy, Truman.”
