Page 105 of Courage, Dear Heart

Laughter bubbles up, wild and unrestrained, spilling out in uneven bursts that turn into sobs. I press both hands to my mouth, tears streaming hot and fast, running down my cheeks like rivulets of joy and love. Tears should taste sweet when they’re happy. My shoulders shake, my body trembling as I gasp for air between the uncontrollable waves. My chest feels too tight, my heart pounding so hard I swear people out in the street must hear it.

Jamie spoke. He told me he loves me.

The thought loops in my mind, over and over, until it feels too big to hold. My chest aches, full and overflowing like my heart is trying to make room for every ounce of love and pride and gratitude flooding in.

I pull myself together slowly as the storm inside me begins to settle. Splash cold water on my face. My reflection in the mirror stares back at me, cheeks flushed, eyes still shimmering with leftover tears. I look different—lighter somehow.

I laugh again, softer this time, the sound unsteady but full of something new. Something bright.

By the time I step into the kitchen, Jamie is dressed and has already removed the cover from Daisy’s cage and she’s nibbling on a biscuit. His eyes meet mine, and myheart skips, the memory of his voice still echoing in my mind.

“I think we should have our special breakfast today.” My voice is warm, steady. But inside, I’m still marveling, still holding the fragile beauty of this moment close like a secret too precious to let go.

Jamie’s eyes go wide. He nods so fast, his hair falls over his face. He needs a haircut, but I hate cutting off even an inch.

I tap my chin. “I’m thinking chocolate chip pancakes with bananas and peanut butter sauce.”

His response is to run to the pantry and start pulling out all the ingredients I’ll need.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

We’ve done this together dozens of times. Sunday morning pancakes were CJ’s job. The one day a week I got to sleep in and the two of them would make me breakfast. A task I took over after he was gone. Pancakes tasted like sawdust after. I don’t think they’ll taste like sawdust today.

I connect my phone to a speaker and the first accords of “Sweet Child of Mine” fill the small kitchen. We dance as we prep everything together. Jamie adds extra chocolate chips when he thinks I’m not looking. I don’t say anything. This moment is a throwback to the time before. When the three of us would cook together and dance around each other, Jamie trying to help in the way all toddlers try to help. Making more of a mess than anything. I loved those moments. I treasured them. Never got mad over the mess and extra work. Now, looking back, I have to wonder if a part of me knew those days were numbered.

I blink away the moisture building in my eyes and singalong to the song. Daisy joins in with her screeches. Thank goodness we don’t have neighbors. They’d be banging on the walls if we did.

We eat sitting on the floor in the living room. Our plates on the coffee table and the TV playingHow It’s Made. Jamie is fascinated by how things work. We’re having a Sunday breakfast on a Wednesday and it’s perfect.

I check the time. Still have a little over an hour before I have to open the store. I collect our plates and leave Jamie to watch his show and head into the kitchen and start cleaning up. I’m about to wrap the extra pancakes to save for later when my phone buzzes.

Elliott’s name lights up the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hi. I’m downstairs. Can you let me in?”

I blink, caught off guard, then glance at the window as if I might see him through it. “Be right there.”

Hanging up, I stand still for a moment, my heart speeding up at the thought of seeing him. Jamie giggles at something on the TV and snaps me back. I push my doubts back and rush to the steps. I can’t wait to tell Elliott.

I unlock the three deadbolts and open the door, holding a hand up to stop Elliott as I step outside.

He frowns and steps back.

“Jamie spoke.” The words blurt out, bubbling with joy. “This morning.” I’m so giddy I’m bouncing on my feet.

His face transforms from worry into pure joy. Elliott picks me up and swirls me in a circle. “That’s incredible! Jillian, that’s amazing. Oh my God. What did he say?”

I laugh, breathless as he sets me down, and launch into the story, words tumbling out in fast bursts, almost trippingover each other intermixed with my unconfined laughter as I recount every detail.

Elliott’s smile grows wider with every sentence, and as soon as I finish, he pulls me close, his hands framing my face as his lips crash into mine. His tongue invades my mouth in a hungry kiss—heady, unrestrained, and filled with joy and heat. My body reacts instantly, matching his fervor, until the sound of a whistle from someone passing on the street reminds us of where we are.

We break apart, laughing, both of us slightly flushed.

“I’m so happy for you and Jamie.” His voice is softer now but no less sincere. He leans in and brushes another kiss against my lips—gentle, lingering, warm. “Hm… peanut butter?”

I laugh again. “Pancakes. I just made some. There are leftovers if you want.”

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