Watching me from behind his dark lenses.
I suck air again, my throat tighter than it was before. “Okay, so, you obviously weren’t happy that I bid on you last night. And I get that. I totally do. I’m sure it was…a surprise. An…unpleasant surprise.”
I chew my bottom lip, fighting the urge to turn tail and run. The weight of his silent attention is an anvil tied around my ankle, dragging me to the bottom of the ocean.
This is even worse than I’d thought it would be, but I force myself to keep going.
I’ve made it this far, and I’m not a quitter.
“I just wanted to let you know it’s okay if you want to call it off,” I say. “I mean, I…” I swallow. “I didn’t mean to pry, but you know how small towns are…” I wave a hand in the air, including all of Bliss River in the nervous gesture, ignoring the fact that my heart is slam dancing in my throat.
“So, um, I…did some Googling last night and…” I curl my fingers into fists at my sides and will myself to calm down, pull myself together, and just speak from the heart. “I know about your wife, about what happened. I’m so, so sorry for your loss, Jake.” I thread my fingers together and squeeze tight, wishing I could give him something more comforting than the same words we always offer up in times of grief and loss.
But I’ve spent the past several months searching for those words and still haven’t found them. Or heard them from anyone else.
“I know this must be a really hard time of year for you,” I continue, “I totally understand if you want to back out. I’m still happy to donate the money to—”
“Did Jamison put you up to this?” Jake asks, his voice deeper, and even more compelling than I remember.
It’s the kind of voice that could sell luxury cars, hundred-dollar chocolate bars, and gazillion-thread-count sheets. The rich vibration brushes over my skin, making my raw nerves prickle with awareness.
“No. N-not at all,” I stammer. “No one put me up to anything. I just, I wanted you to know how sorry I am.”
Jake smiles, a hard smile that makes the afternoon feel colder. “Honestly, Naomi, I couldn’t care less what you’re sorry about.”
I blink, too shocked to respond. That was just so…rude. Jake’s never rude. Jake never says an unkind word to anyone. Ever.
But maybe he’s changed.
Or maybe he knows more than I assumed.
He did mention Jamison’s name.
What if Jamison told him? What if Jake knows that not only was I a coward who didn’t have the guts to end our three-year relationship face to face, but that I spent my last night in town in bed with his brother?
I mean, nothing happened. Jamison and I never had those kinds of feelings for each other. But we’d both been so drunk that night neither of us could really remember how we ended up in bed together.
But when I woke up the next morning and stumbled into the bathroom, all my clothes were on and my lipstick still in place. I’d asked Jamison what he remembered, and he’d sworn nothing had happened.
Still, he’d clearly felt weird about it.
So had I, even though nothing about the night had been premeditated. I’d only asked Jamison to meet me at the Hansens’ hunting cabin so I could give him the good-bye letter I’d written Jake. When he realized what it was, and that I was planning to leave without telling Jake good-bye in person, we’d fought. Fighting morphed into bitching about how much we both wanted out of Bliss River—Jamison was even more rabid to blow town than I was—which led to tossing back shots of cheap vodka.
Not long after, everything got fuzzy.
I was barely eighteen; Jamison was sixteen. We’d been young and restless and drunk and dumb.
When we woke up the next morning—heads pounding and mouths full of cotton—we’d both been horrified that we’d spent the night together, even though evidently all we’d done was sleep. Still, we both agreed it was best not to tell Jake. Ever. No matter what. We both loved him too much to hurt him like that, and he would have been hurt. Jake’s got a possessive streak, and a jealous one.
But maybe sometime in the past fifteen years Jamison changed his mind about keeping his mouth shut.
Fifteen years—it’s been fifteen years, woman! Even if Jamison spilled his guts, surely Jake wouldn’t still be mad about something like that. You were two dumb teenagers, not much more than children. And children do stupid, thoughtless things.
You’re not that person anymore, and you haven’t been for a long time.
You’re a grown woman who wants what’s best for you and Jake—peace and kindness.
Strengthened by my thoughts, I stand up straighter. “That’s fine,” I say, tipping my head respectfully in Jake’s direction. “You don’t have to care. I was hoping that we could be friends, but if we can’t, a civil relationship is fine with me. I just want to make peace and leave the past behind us.”