AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She glanced over her shoulder, her cheeks a rosy pink. She pressed her lips together, looking everywhere but me, then looked up at me through her lashes.
My heart dead stopped.
“I remember when this was all I’d ever wanted. Being here with you.”
I shook my head as if I hadn’t heard her right. What she said came across so personal, so intimate, and we were out here with everybody in town. I wanted to hold onto her words and replay them. Behind me, a kid wailed about his sister having a bigger cotton candy than he did. I couldn’t focus.
“We had a lot of good times here.” She looked at me, and I swore she heard my rambling thoughts. “I don’t want to be mad anymore, you know. It was hard to get over. You…were hard to get over.”
I racked my brain for something intelligent. “We’re up next,” was what came out.
Not what I wanted to say. Nope. But the order window was free, and the line had piled up behind us.
And I was a coward.
Jillian listed several things off the menu as if she’d had the order memorized. She looked at me. I still had a malfunctioning brain.
I managed to order my tostadas, but the noise in my head continued. Jillian telling me she didn’t want to be mad anymore was exactly the opening I’d been wanting since I caught sight of her again. No, that I’d wanted for years. I hadn’t been willing to admit it. Why hadn’t I tracked her down and apologized sooner?
“He’ll take a large diet.” Jillian pointed to the drink menu.
“Ah, sorry.” I’d been stuck in my head, holding up the line. And Jillian remembered my pop preferences. She remembered everything.
I fished out my wallet and handed over money. “I’ve got yours,” I told Jillian. The least I could do.
We moved aside to wait for our order. Jillian appeared oblivious to my internal torture and chattered about the sights in front of us. The marina, the boats, a massive, well-groomed dog with a little red bandanna at its neck. Kids swarmed the dog. The owners, a male couple, seemed to lap up the attention as much as the dog did. Jillian waited until the small crowd cleared and approached.
“May I pet your dog?” I heard her ask from a few feet away.
The man holding the leash smiled. “Of course! Benny loves the attention.”
Jillian knelt and held out a tentative hand for the animal to sniff. The dog dipped his big ole head right into her palm. “Here’s a good boy.”
After getting her dog fix, she returned, unearthing hand sanitizer from her bag. “I know, I’m a total fool for dogs. It’s like my number one To Do for when I get back. I’ve been swiping through shelter pics like it’s Tinder. Wait—that sounded bad. I meant like, pet Tinder. For adoption purposes.”
“Shocking,” I drolled. “I’m surprised you don’t already have a dog.”
She shrugged. “Too busy with school. I’ve rotated through roommates too, and you never know who might be allergic. Then there’s finding apartments that allow pets, plus the extra fees. It never felt like the right time.”
Our food came up. We gathered everything and wound through a sea of retirees and families gathered across the grass facing the marina. An older couple took mercy on us and scooted their cushy camp chairs aside to give us a small patch of grass to sit.
“These tacos are fantastic.” Jillian sighed in satisfaction.
I wish she’d look at me like she looked at that taco.
She did, you dope. The look she’d given me through her lashes was at least the equivalent of a single taco. I’d take it.
I focused on my food. A good distraction while I tried to figure how to apologize for a decade of ignoring her. Yeah, we’d last been talking about dogs, but I couldn’t stop my brain from going back to what really mattered.
Honestly, I’d figured Jillian would have moved on right away. At the time, I’d wanted her to forget all about me so I worked on doing the same. I’d decided to stop thinking about her, so I did. Sure, she drifted into my thoughts at night, in my dreams, and distractingly when I dated other people.
She was impossible to truly forget.
Back when we first broke up, my folks begged me to talk to Jillian. To apologize for bailing on our college plans. Bailing on us. But I couldn’t. She’d want answers. And I didn’t have them.
That was then. But what about now?
“You’re certainly contemplative,” Jillian remarked. “Or, is it a dude thing and there’s a bunch of static up there?”
