To Say Goodbye (19 page)

“Nope.”

“Bet me?”

“You’re on. What do you want to bet?”

“Hmm,” she said, twirling her hair. “If I win, you have to take me to see a chick flick tonight. My pick.”

“Okay, and if you lose?”

“And if I lose, we’ll see the gross action flick you two were raving about.”

“You’re on.” He shook her hand. He’d been hoping for a bet a tad more lascivious, truth be told, but he couldn’t be picky.

“You better eat up,” Stella instructed Sophia. “I do not want to see a nasty old actor. I need some good eye candy to look at.”

Larry raised an eyebrow at her. “Besides you of course, dear,” Stella said, wooing him with her smile.

Over the next ten minutes, Larry and Jackson’s dreams of guns and explosions waned as they watched Sophia devour every last morsel on her plate.

“I win.” She winked. “Sappy love story it is.”

Jackson pretended to be upset, to be forlorn. Deep down, he knew he was the real winner, getting to take this hot, burger-eating woman to the movies on his arm.

_______________

“That was such an amazing movie,” Sophia gushed as he pulled into her driveway.

“I know. It’s definitely in my top ten,” he joked. It hadn’t actually been too bad, mushy kissing in the rain scene aside. He obviously wouldn’t risk his masculinity and admit it, though.

“Oh stop. You laughed a few times.”

“At the cheesiness of it.”

She undid her seat belt, and he looked over at her, not quite sure how to handle the goodbye. He didn’t want to move too fast.

So when she turned to him, eyes twinkling, and said, “Do you want to come inside?” he was surprised—in a good way.

“Okay.”

He turned off the truck and followed her. As she rustled for the key in her bag, he put his hand on the doorjamb, feeling their closeness acutely. He could smell her soft perfume, feel her breath near him.

Stop it. Take it slow. Don’t ruin this
, he told himself.

“I’ll just be a minute. I want to take Henry out,” Sophia said. “Make yourself at home.”

He took a seat on the couch. Glancing around, he saw relics of Sophia’s life with Tim everywhere. Pictures on the mantel, pictures on the wall. Trinkets from their trips and vacations. Furniture they’d picked out.

I didn’t plan on this happening,
he said to Tim in his mind.
I promise I’ll take good care of her, though.
Jackson wasn’t a religious man in any sense of the word, but he’d hoped if there was an afterlife and if Tim could see them, he would forgive him.

He didn’t have too much time to think about it, because before he could second-guess everything, Sophia was back, settling on the couch beside him with two glasses of wine.

Henry clambered into his bed on the floor, a growth spurt perhaps making him more tired than usual. They lounged for a few moments by the empty fireplace, sipping on wine, reflecting on the evening.

“I had a great time tonight,” Sophia whispered. He looked into her eyes and saw something there he hadn’t expected. A need, a lust. A complete trust in him.

“Me too,” he said back, taking her hand in his. “Are you still okay with all of this? I don’t want to make you feel guilty or rush things.”

She set her glass on the end table, taking both of his hands in hers. “I want you to know I will always love Tim. He will always be right here,” she said, putting a hand over her heart. “But I know he’s gone. And I know he would want me to be happy. I’ve done a lot of thinking these past few weeks, a lot of rationalizing. I’ve tried to talk myself out of us, out of being with you. There are twenty reasons why this isn’t right, why we shouldn’t pursue this. There are twenty more reasons why we should. You make me happy. I feel empty when you’re not around. I don’t know where this is all headed or if it’s heading anywhere at all in the distant future. I do know life is short and fragile. We have to seize everything that makes us happy.”

He leaned in to punctuate her words with a kiss. He ran his hands through her hair, kissed her passionately, his heart leading the way.

Their kissing quickly intensified, the heat from their bodies smoldering between them. Their bodies grew hungry for each other, their fast motions and passionate touches leading the way to a path he knew all too well.

He didn’t want to stop, wanted to succumb to passion with her.

His conscience screamed at him to stop.

He pulled back, looking into her face, painted with confusion. “What is it?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“We can’t. I don’t want to do something you’ll regret.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. He waited for her to agree, to say he was right.

Instead, she leaned closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. “No regrets. I want this.”

He knew he should be the rational one, knew he shouldn’t let this continue. He worried she’d have guilt and regret swirling in her heart the next morning.

But God, she was so damn sexy, the way she was nibbling on her lip, the way she was looking at him as if he were the only man in the world.

“Are you positive, Sophia? I’m okay with taking this slow.”

Her only response was to slowly, meticulously pull his shirt over his head, her hands finding his abs within seconds. He groaned, knowing he was all hers.

He threw her back on the sofa, and they fell prey to the passion that had crept between them. He moved past the insecurities and the doubts, the fears of regret. When he collapsed into her later, burying his head in her neck, he felt complete.

He felt like the man he’d once been.

He felt like he never wanted to let go of this moment, of this woman, no matter how complicated the pathway to her was or would be.

JACKSON

A
s one would expect, the night that began at Red Robin and ended with Jackson and Sophia in each other’s arms had marked a crucial turning point in their lives, both individually and together.

For one, Jackson noticed an unarguably cheesy quality to his every move. Suddenly, he wasn’t so angry in the morning when the alarm clock went off, leaning over to his nightstand to check his texts first thing, smiling when he saw one from her. Work was no longer about escaping to a mentally neutral state—it was a time to think about Sophia, to think about the next time he would see her.

Even his family had noted a change in him.

“What the hell is up with your stupid grin?” Gretta asked him on the Sunday after his night with Sophia. “Who is she?”

“No one,” he denied, shaking his head, trying to look stoic.

“You’re not back with Chloe, are you?”

“God no,” he’d said.

“Bring her to dinner next week,” his mom chimed in.

“Guys, I haven’t even admitted to seeing anyone.”

“You don’t have to,” Jonathan added, joining the interrogation.

Jackson rolled his eyes, a smile flooding his face, contradicting his feigned annoyance. “Fine. I’ll bring her next week. Promise not to hound her, though, okay?”

“It’s Sophia, isn’t it?” his mom asked, savvy to her son’s life even when he was trying to be evasive.

“How’d you know?”

“I knew you were crazy about her from the first time you talked about her.” She winked. “Ask her what she likes for dinner, and get back to me.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“And I’m glad to see you happy, honey. She’s a keeper in my books already.”

Sophia and Jackson had become inseparable in the days following their commitment to one another. Breakfasts, lunches, dinners—they squeezed in time together whenever they could. They took Henry for late-night walks reminiscent of their Christmas walk. He took Sophia ice-skating for the first time, holding her tight so as to not let her fall. They went to new restaurants, new movies, and they went on another double date with Stella and Larry.

They tried to go to places she’d never been, tried not to tread on Tim’s old stomping grounds too often. He wasn’t trying to erase Tim from her life or to ignore the elephant in the room. He simply wanted their relationship to be built on new memories. He wanted Sophia to think about him without having memories of what once was.

Not that the memories didn’t creep in from time to time. Plenty of moments reminded them of just how tricky their relationship was, how time hadn’t quite healed all of her wounds.

_______________

It had been a simple date only three days after their sexual encounter that had reminded Jackson she wasn’t quite healed.

He’d expected some regrets, some tears the morning after their night together. Instead, he’d been met with a smiling Sophia, breakfast, and plans for the weekend. He’d been met with warm stares, soft kisses, and promises she was glad they’d committed to each other.

The tears came three days later in the middle of Café Amor, a small, romantic diner an hour outside of town.

They’d been eating some pasta and sipping on wine, talking about work, the weather, and her trip to Jackson’s family dinner on Sunday. There’d been no warning, no signs of impending doom. Her tears had come like a flash flood, catching him off guard and threatening to tip the delicate balance they’d found.

“I’m sorry,” she said, tears falling as she put down her fork.

“What’s wrong? Did I say something?” He was confused, racking his brain for any signs of triggers.

“No, it’s silly, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Tell me.” He reached across and put his hand on hers.

She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand before cautiously proceeding. “It’s not you. Really. I’m excited to go to dinner with you at your mom’s, I am. It’s just... talking about Sunday dinner with your family, being here together. It just hit me. I’m starting a new life without him. It used to be Tim across from me who would tell me we had dinner plans at my in-laws. He used to be the one to reach across and sample my plate. It’s not that I wish he were here instead of you. But, I guess in a way I do. I miss him. I’m sorry. I know this hurts you.” She balled her fist in her hair, the pain painting itself in her expression. She was clearly a conglomeration of mixed emotions, of confusion. Maybe even, regret.

He shook his head, squeezing her hand. “Stop. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. I know you still love him. I knew that going in.”

“I just feel awful. I feel like I’m constantly between the two of you. Which is stupid, I know. He’s dead. But I feel guilty for always bringing him up, for making you feel like you’re a rebound or second fiddle. And then I feel guilty if I don’t.”

“Hey, you don’t have to feel guilty. I knew what I was getting myself into. And I wouldn’t change it. Tim was my friend, too, you know. I don’t mind talking about him. We don’t have to pretend like he doesn’t exist. I know if he were still alive, you’d still be with him. I know that.”

She looked at him then, relief in her eyes mixed with sadness.

“I just want to feel better. I want to stop being haunted everywhere I go. I hate how I’m always crying. I’m always ruining these moments for us.”

“You’re not ruining anything,” he assured her. “Cut yourself some slack.”

Her face was solemn. Her eyes told him she was far away.

He paused before saying, “We can slow down, you know. If you feel like it’s too soon. I’m not rushing you.”

“I know. I just... I don’t want to feel like I’m sitting around waiting for it to be okay to be happy. I don’t want to rush, either. It’s just...”

“Messy?” He finished her sentence for her. He knew exactly what she was feeling. He felt the same contradictory feelings, the same back and forth of emotion. This wasn’t easy. It wasn’t conventional.

Looking at her face, spending time with her, he knew it was worth it, no matter what happened. She made him feel alive again. They were good together. They just needed to be patient with each other.

And most of all, with themselves.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being you. Being understanding. Helping me maneuver this. I couldn’t do this with anyone else. I wouldn’t want to.”

“Same here. You make me a better man, Sophia.”

“And you make me better, too.”

They went back to their dinners then, tears slowly drying as they talked about Henry’s crazy shoe-eating antics this week and his sister Gretta’s overt bitchiness that she should be prepared for.

There were no magical I love yous that night or a promise to forget about Tim. There was no wave of a magic wand to right everything.

He knew this would always be complicated, but it was okay.

He wouldn’t want to be anywhere but beside Sophia, tears and all.

_______________

“I
love
your sister,” Sophia said as they waved to his family and headed down the road back to her place.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, why? She’s straightforward.”

“Some would call it bitchy.”

“No, I like her. She’s just looking out for you.”

Jackson wasn’t so sure. Between Gretta’s comments about Tim and her discussion of some of Jackson’s less than lawful times during high school—vandalism incidents involving an enemy’s car—he was quite sure Gretta was just trying to ruin his life. Or at least tear Sophia away from him.

All in all, it had gone better than expected. Over a dinner of stuffed pork chops and mom’s homemade apple pie, Sophia had graced his family with her witty charm, her spunk, and her smile. His mom loved her from the first moment, talking hair and nails with her and promising to stop by the shop later in the week. Gretta, too, gave her the unwritten stamp of approval, complimenting her killer shoes and asking to see pictures of Henry.

Everyone was taken with her, which wasn’t surprising. Sophia was a perfect fit in his family. She was sweet enough to win over his delicate mother but sassy enough to stand up to the loudmouthed Gretta. She’d even won Jace over, playing Legos with him for a half an hour after dinner.

She was perfect.

“My family loves you already, I can tell. You’ve probably replaced me in the will.” He winced. “Sorry.”

“I’m fine. Please stop apologizing every time you say death or hint at it.” She glanced out the window, seeming peaceful. “It was nice to be there with your family. It felt right.”