Page 56 of On the Edge

“I don’t think I realized it myself. But I suspect that’s why I put so much emphasis on getting married. I felt like every sacrifice would be worth it once we tied that proverbial knot.”

“And every time I put off the marriage talks, asked you to wait ...”

I nod in response.

“And then to show up to your hospital room and find Marco there, right next to you where I should have been—”

“You and your stupid fucking jealousy,” she hisses before she grabs the bottle of water she has stowed in the seat pocket in front of her and takes a sip.

“Jackson, you swore up and down that there was nothing between the two of you back then, but he was the first person by your side in the hospital and you’re together now. So how am I supposed to believe thatsomethingwasn’t going on. Maybe you weren’t cheating on me, but it was more than just friendship.”

When I told her what happened in the hospital that night, I left out the part about having my mom’s rings—it’s too pathetic to tell her I showed up with them and found Marco holding her hand. I hope to one day tell her the story of how my mom gave them to me on her deathbed, insisted they were meant for Jackson and only Jackson. But she is not ready for that conversation right now.

“You are ...” She trails off, the color rising in her cheeks and her eyes narrowing, “... so incredibly frustrating. I never once lied to you about me and Marco. You can believe me or not, but I have no reason to lie about it now. If I was cheating on you, or had feelings for Marco when you and I were still together, there’d be no reason for me not to admit it at this point.”

She does have a point, albeit a weak one. That betrayal is one reason I stayed away so long—knowing she and Marco had feelings for each other and she wouldn’t admit it to me. Even though it was a couple years before they went public with their relationship, that doesn’t mean there wasn’t something there before.But she dated people in between, a little voice in the back of my head reminds me.There was that pro soccer player, among others.

“Is that why you never reached out to me? Never made sure I was okay?”

“I knew you were okay. Your recovery was well documented on social media and in plenty of sports magazines, and Marco was with you in a lot of those photos. So why would I come back when I knew you were with him?”

“Oh my God, Nate,” she growls. “Iwasn’twith Marco. Not back then. We haven’t even been together for a year.”

“Right,” I say, as I rub the bridge of my nose where it meets my eyebrows.

What I don’t say is that I don’t think Marco is actually in love with her. That he doesn’t look at her the way I do, that I’m certain he loves her but that it seems almost platonic. She deserves to have someone who is truly, deeply in love with her. I want her to choose me, but even if she doesn’t, I don’t want her to choose Marco.

“Here you go,” the flight attendant says from behind me, and it’s a struggle not to tell her to go away. Her timing sucks. “Salmon for you,” she says to Jackson as she reaches past me to hand her a plate, “and the house salad and rolls for you,” she says as she sets a small salad and a plate with two rolls in front of me. “You sure you don’t want anything else?” she asks.

I don’t bother explaining that there’s nothing else on the menu that’s vegan. I brought some snacks with me too. I won’t starve. “I’m good, thanks.”

Jackson eyes me as the flight attendant walks away. “I ordered for you,” I tell her. “I couldn’t tell if you were asleep or not. Your choices were salmon or a pasta and meatball dish, and I know how particular you are about meatballs.”

She chuckles. Her maternal grandparents immigrated from Italy, and her mother is an amazing cook. “The things you remember ...”

“You’d be surprised how little I’ve forgotten.” It’s a distinctly suggestive comment, and by the expression on her face she’s noted that. There isn’t a single detail about her that I haven’t dwelled on over the past few years. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but sometimes it can make the heart grow obsessed.

She cuts up her food and takes a few bites before she says anything else. Finally, she sighs and tells me, “I don’t know how my reunion with my dad is going to go when we land. The fact that he’s been lying to me for years, and about something so important ... it’s just ... unfathomable.”

“He had our best interests at heart. He wanted you to be with someone who made you happy, and he wasn’t sure I could be that person if I couldn’t even make myself happy.” I don’t want to defend him, yet he was right. And Jackson’s relationship with her dad is a foundational part of who she is. Putting a wedge between them won’t help me win her back.

She scrunches her eyebrows together and I imagine that she’s mulling over her dad’s words.Her face shifts to confusion, then to a small smile, then her eyebrows are back together.

“You look like you are doing a lot of thinking right now,” I tell her.

“I’m just ... it’s like my brain is connecting a lot of dots together. Things make a lot more sense.”

“What kind of things?” I ask in between bites of my salad.

“Why you left. And maybe ...” She pauses again, like she’s afraid to go on.

“Maybe?” I prompt.

“And maybe why you’re back.”

“Jackson,” I say, pushing my tray table with my food away and turning toward her. “I’ve told you why I’m back, and I don’t intend to leave any room for misunderstanding. I came back for you.”

“But I’m with Marco,” she says, her voice barely a whisper.

---