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“Yeah. My dad left it to me,” I state, wondering if he even heard the words over the pounding of my heart.
This draws his eyes back to me in confusion. “Left it to you?”
I nod. “In his will.”
A pained look crosses his face. “Jeezus, Kate, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
I give him a small smile. “It’s okay.” I glance over my shoulder at the structure behind me. “Six months ago. Massive heart attack.”
“And your mom?”
I roll my eyes as I turn back to face him. “She’s fine. Living in the new penthouse in New York City she bought from Justin Timberlake.” She sold the home she had shared with my father almost as soon as he was buried. Mother claimed she couldn’t live in the house anymore without him, but I think she just wanted to be closer to the action. Mother thrived on attention and the who’s who of New York City, and the family home they owned in a gated community wasn’t good enough for her.
His eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “Well, I’m still very sorry for your loss. I wish I had known,” he says almost absently.
I don’t reply, because, frankly, I don’t know what to say. Should I have called him? It had been more than eleven years since we had talked, and I didn’t want the first thing I said to him to be about my dad’s passing. Besides, I doubt he would have come to the services. They were in New York, after all. A long way from Rockland Falls, North Carolina.
“I would have paid my respects. He was always good to me,” Jensen says, the slight Southern drawl of his North Carolinian accent so pronounced. God, I’ve missed the sound of his voice.
“He liked you,” I whisper, the memories of my past threatening to make a revisit.
“He was a good man. Tough, but fair.”
Nodding, I sit there silently, trying to figure out what to say next. Again. There’s so much I want to say, yet I have no clue how to actually say the words. My mind is still reeling and my body humming with something that feels a lot like desire, though it’s been so damn long, I’m afraid I wouldn’t know what that feels like anymore. Yet, here I am, so close to the first boy I ever loved, and my entire body is alive. We’re sitting so close I can smell the mixture of sweat and soap off his skin. Instantly, I’m reminded of high school Jensen—the boy who played in the dirt but kissed me like I was the only girl on the face of the Earth.
I’m pulled from those thoughts by the vibrating of a cell phone. It’s not mine, since I left it sitting on the kitchen counter. Even though Charles agreed to the divorce, he’s not-so-subtly trying to remind me of how amazing we were together via text message. The problem is we never really were amazing or even great. Sure, we had our moments, but I truly believe we had both settled. He wanted the Stepford Wife, and I wanted what I had lost.
It didn’t work out for either of us.
Jensen pulls his phone from his pocket and glances at the screen. He goes rigid the moment he sees the message, his fingers hovering over the screen.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
My question seems to cause him more tension as his entire body tightens. He looks from the screen to me, as if he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do. “Yeah, uh, I just need to make a quick call.” I watch as he jumps up and heads back to where I originally found him.
The moment he greets the person who answers, I stand up and go to move away. His voice carries over the sound of the distant waves, though I can tell he’s trying to be quiet. “What do you mean you can’t find the baseball? I packed it in his bag.” He’s silent for a few moments as he listens to whoever’s on the other line. “Fine, I’ll run home and check.” Jensen ends the call and stares out at the water.
I should definitely move away as if I wasn’t just eavesdropping on his call, but for some reason, my feet are rooted in place. In fact, instead of stepping back, I find myself walking forward—toward him. Once I’m only a few feet away, realization sets in.
He’ll check when he gets home.
Meaning…someone needs something, something at his house.
Probably a house they share.
I don’t recall a ring on his finger, but that doesn’t mean anything. A lot of guys don’t wear a wedding ring, especially those around machinery or who do manual labor. While I had always prayed for happiness and love for Jensen, now that I’m staring at him in the face, the pit of my stomach feels like it fell to my feet. It’s an odd feeling knowing your life didn’t turn out the way you had hoped, but the one person you always wished would find a happy life has found just that.
Without you.
I swallow over the lump in my throat as he turns around. Since I had walked toward him, I’m standing uncomfortably close, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He slips his phone back in his pocket and grabs the discarded clipboard near his feet. “I need to go,” he says, yet doesn’t move a muscle.
Nodding quickly, I try to push back the tears that burn my eyes. I will not cry, I will not cry. “Of course. It sounds like your wife needs you at home.” Saying the words aloud burns my throat and pulverizes my heart.
“Ex-wife,” Jensen says, a bite in his tone.
My heart stops beating as I glance up at those impossibly blue eyes. “Oh.”
“Ashley and I have been divorced just over a year,” he says, pulling his phone from his pocket and swiping at the screen. I’m not sure what he’s doing until he hands me the device. When I glance down, I see a smiling Jensen holding a smaller version of himself. I instantly smile at the obvious love this father and son have for each other.
