Page 83 of Courage, Dear Heart

She glances up, her cheeks turning pink. Then she smiles, and my heart tightens with hope and fear that she won’t have any more smiles for me after I tell her what I’ve been hiding all along.

We go back inside and I pace the length of my kitchen, a sleek expanse of marble and stainless steel that is now the stage for my confession.

Jillian perches on one of the bar stools, her legs crossed. She watches me with a frown like she’s aware of the turmoilchurning inside me.

The air between us is thick with something unspoken. There’s a boulder on my chest, which makes it hard to breathe. I know I can’t keep this from her any longer. Every moment I’ve spent with Jillian has made the truth harder to carry, but to keep hiding it is a betrayal far worse than what I’m about to confess.

I walk behind the counter, keeping it between us. “Jillian...” My voice is low and uneven.

Her eyes narrow on me, her expression soft but cautious.

I exhale. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What’s wrong?”

My hands fist on the granite top. “It’s about the building. Your shop.”

Her shoulders stiffen. There’s a shift in her demeanor—the guarded look she used when we first met is back and it breaks me. “What about it?”

I take a breath, trying to steady myself, but it doesn’t help. The words are like jagged glass in my throat. “It’s about the firm trying to buy your building.”

She blinks, her brow furrowing. “How do you know about that? I’ve never told you.”

Leaning on the counter, I lace my fingers together. “It’s my firm. My father is pushing for the sale.”

Her breath catches, but her gaze on me is unflinching.

My stomach twists. Here it is. No turning back. “My father tasked me with convincing the tenant to leave. To convince you to leave. I didn’t know it was you—not at first.”

She leans away from me as if I’ve physically struck her. “You knew? You knew and didn’t say anything?”

“Not at first.” The words rush out as iftheir speed could undo the damage. “I wanted to tell you. I didn’t know how?—”

“How long?” Her voice cuts through me, sharp and unyielding. “How long did you know, Elliott?”

I swallow. “A little over three weeks.”

“You knew before you took me and Jamie to meet Grace. You knew before we left, and you kept me in the dark about it.” She doesn’t yell, she doesn’t curse. Her voice is even toned and polite, and it’s a thousand times worse.

“I was going to tell you. I just—I didn’t want to ruin what we were building.” I sound pathetic and we both know it.

She stands abruptly, crossing her arms over her chest. “So you decided lying to me was a better option? Keeping this from me while we—while I—” She stops, her voice breaking. She turns her back to me.

This is it. She’s going to walk out and she’ll never forgive me. I take a step toward her.

She turns back to me, her face blank. “You know how much the flower shop and the apartment mean to me. How hard I’ve fought to survive, to make it a home for Jamie. And you’re working with the people trying to take it away from me?”

“I’m sorry. I know I should have told you sooner. I was a coward.”

She looks right through me. “Do you know how many sleepless nights I’ve had? Wondering if I’d lose my home? Wondering what would happen to me and Jamie if I didn’t have the shop?”

My stomach drops. The detachment, the distance, the cold aloofness cut deeper than anger and insults would.

“I wasn’t working with them.” I take a step closer. “And I’m not working with them now. I’ve been on your side even before I knew it was you. I hated the idea of forcing the sale.”

Jillian shakes her head. “And that’s supposed to make it better? You still kept it from me.”

“I didn’t want this job. I tried to refuse, but my father wouldn’t allow it.”

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