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Jamie didn’t follow me. Didn’t try to call me. Didn’t ever apologize.
A couple of weeks later, we fell back into the same groove as before. Neither of us ever mentioned the conversation again.
Neither of us ever brought up him not loving me. We just kept on dating, kept on going through the motions.
I used to wonder if it was then, in that moment, that I began to shut off my heart to any future possibilities of love. However, there was a problem with that theory.
See, for my part, I kept on loving Jamie long after this.
Eventually, though, my heart did close off.
And then, no matter how many other guys I dated after him—including the man I married—I never let myself fall the same way I’d fallen for my first and only love.
But, then, I’d long accepted this.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sixteen Years Later
“Jemma. Wait!” Jamie called after me.
Two cigarettes dangled from my mouth as I stormed through downtown Portland. In my arm, I clutched my laptop to the side of my body.
I sauntered along the “island” where the Annex building came together to form the triangular tip before widening and expanding back. I passed Al’s—with chairs laid out on the sidewalk the way you might find in a Parisian café—and glided toward the diner where I did most of my writing when I was especially pissed off.
And, tonight, I was especially pissed off. Jamie had stayed with me the entire fifteen-minute drive here, sitting in my passenger seat as I crossed the Ross Island Bridge. He waited with me while I parked in one of the $5 after hours lots, and then proceeded to follow as I journeyed to my final destination. I’d been ignoring him, and I planned on continuing to do so.
The sign for The Roxy, a twenty-four-hour diner in the heart of the city, lit up in pink neon letters that popped against the darkening sky overhead. I leaned against the brick wall, puffing both cigarettes and exhaling a cloud of smoke in front of my face.
“Jemma!” Jamie cried, appearing into view in front of me. He still wore the collared shirt and slacks with the same goddamn sandals.
“Leave me alone, Jamie. I said what I had to say. I’m done.” I let out another cloud of smoke into the air. His body glowed through the smoke, the same glint as earlier outlining his body.
“You shouldn’t be doing that, you know,” he said. “Lung cancer.”
I laughed so hard I nearly choked on my cigarettes. Then, I pressed the filters to my lips and let out an exaggerated puff.
“Yeah well.” I let out another cloud. “Tell cancer I’m ready to go. If it wants to get here already.”
“Jesus.” Jamie swiped for the cigarettes, but his hand went right through them and tingled me as he grasped my mouth.
“Lol.” Like, I actually said lol as a word.
I shook my head and sighed loudly, putting the cigarettes out against the brick and then tossing them into a trash can in front of the diner.
“I’m going in now, Jamie. Goodbye.”
I didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, I entered into the restaurant which screamed Indie Portland. A pinkish-purple uplight filled the right side of the diner, the brightest lighting in the entire place. There was a wooden case full of merchandise—shirts, baseball caps, and mugs—and, in that same spot, the cashier also closed out tabs.
The black surfaces of the tables glowed purple from the lighting above, and every single object or person appeared to be a very deep pink, also from the lighting. On the left side, signed celebrity portraits covered nearly every inch of space above the benches and tables.
I headed to the very back and took a seat on the far-left side, setting up my laptop on the table as a male server with a narrow build in a Keep Portland Weird shirt walked over to me. I recognized him from the many nights I spent in The Roxy, pumping out words on other manuscripts. In fact, I’d done some of my best work in this place.
“Coffee, right?” he asked, already carrying a small black container and placing it on the table. He laid down a menu on the side of my computer. “Let me know when you’re ready to order.”
I poured myself a cup of hot joe, absentmindedly drinking as I stared down at the menu.
Per the norm, I grinned skimming through the quirky listing of food items. Especially their breakfast foods, which was what I almost always ordered here no matter what time of day or night I arrived.Gigabyte This,Egg-A-Mooby Muffin, andLatin Three-Wayomelet were among my favorites.
