Page 74 of About that Fling
Adam grabbed a few napkins left over from his pizza run last Friday. Christ, was that less than a week ago? His time at Belmont was flying by.
Jenna twisted a knob on the toaster oven and turned away, moving toward the small dining table near the window. He’d left the curtains open, letting Portland’s silvery lights spill through the room. The city sprawled out below like a sheet of black felt sprinkled with glitter.
“So I’ve been thinking,” Jenna said again. He turned to look at her and watched her move his pile of books and spreadsheets to an empty chair. “About my Aunt Gertie.”
“Oh?” Adam carried the plates to the table, his hand brushing hers as she began to unpack the canvas bag of food. He hadn’t expected her to start out discussing her aunt, but something told him this was only a segue.
Jenna looked wistful and so fucking beautiful his chest hurt. “I keep seeing the look on Gert’s face when she told me how hard she’d worked. How badly she wants this.”
“She does seem passionate about it.”
“I know. And I feel bad that I’ve been holding her back. That I’m the reason she writes under a pen name and hasn’t claimed any of the fame she’s worked so hard to earn. She loves what she’s been writing.”
“I could see that,” he said, not sure where she was headed with all this. “Your aunt seems like a very passionate woman.”
“She is. And even though I’m scared about what’s going to happen, I’m excited for her, too. I’m proud of her for going after what she wants. She hasn’t had an easy life.” Jenna nibbled her lip. “Her sister died young—my mother?”
“I’m so sorry.” His brain logged the fact that this was a rare moment of Jenna opening up to him. “What happened?”
“Cancer.” He watched her take a steadying breath. “She died when I was sixteen.”
“I’m so sorry, Jenna.”
She nodded, summoning strength for the rest of the story as she pulled out glass containers of pot roast and mashed potatoes and roasted veggies. “Mom always dreamed of becoming an author. Children’s books, not erotic romance. She had all these ideas and a plan for getting published. She was such a talented artist and so brave. I—I always wished I could be more like her. She took care of everyone, everything.” When she looked up, she had tears shimmering in her eyes. “I miss her so much.”
“Jenna.” He saw what a precious gift she’d just given him. This woman didn’t share her frailties with just anyone. “She sounds like an incredible woman.”
“She was.” Jenna bit her lip. “I hate that she never got to chase her dream. Being a children’s book author? And maybe because of that, I’ve felt pressure to throw everything I’ve got at my own work.”
“That makes sense.” He wanted to keep her talking, keep her sharing her story and herself. “Your mom sounds amazing. How far did she get with the children’s book?”
“She had her first one mostly finished. Drew all of the pictures and wrote most of the story. She even had an agent for a while, but that fell by the wayside when she got sick.” Jenna swallowed, her eyes getting misty again. “Even then, Mom kept charging ahead, refusing to let cancer beat her. I didn’t even realize how sick she was. She kept working on her goal right up until—” Her voice broke, and Adam’s heart ached for her. “Anyway,” she said, clearing her throat. “Mom always had everything under control. At least, until she didn’t.”
“God, Jenna.” He set plates on opposite sides of the table, anchoring napkins beside each one with a knife and fork. He felt hungry for the food, but even hungrier for everything she might want to share with him. For this rare flash of vulnerability she’d just offered. “I wish I’d had a chance to meet her. She sounds like a special person.”
“She was. I always admired how she held it together. Protecting Gert. Protecting me.”
There was probably a lot to unpack in those details, but Adam sensed she was reaching her limit on sharing. Unpacking the Tupperware seemed like the kinder move, so he helped her pry off the lids. “I’m sorry about your mom,” he said. “I wish she’d gotten to chase her dreams to completion.”
“Thank you.” Jenna looked up, the flash in her eyes signaling a subject change. “What do you want, Adam?”
He blinked. “The pot roast.”
She smiled and handed him the container. “I meant out of life. Your career, your relationships, your place in this world.”
“Pretty heavy discussions on an empty stomach. Give me a sec?”
She nodded as he filled his plate with mashed potatoes, piling it with two slabs of pot roast. He doused the whole thing with gravy while he thought of the woman who’d prepared the feast and the woman who’d brought it here to him. The woman missing from both of their lives whose loss touched them all in different ways.
He couldn’t imagine the pain Jenna must feel losing her mother like that.
She’d asked him a question, so he owed her an answer. He gave it some thought as he picked up his fork and dove into the roasted veggies. “I guess I want happiness.” He stabbed up a big pile of carrots and zucchini, wolfing half of it down before speaking again. “Stability. Some career milestones to be proud of.”
“I can respect that.”
He moved to the meat, cutting a thick hunk to chew while considering her question. “I want the career success, but mostly I want people around me who make me laugh.” He took another bite of pot roast. “More than anything, I want the ability to go to bed each night and think, ‘I made a difference for someone.’”
Drizzling more gravy on the meat, he forked up another bite and chewed as Jenna stood watching him. She hovered beside him, not taking her seat, seemingly lost in thought.
