Page 144 of Goodbye Again
I smile at her, letting her lead.
“Hi, Dr. Julia.” She smiles and throws her arms around me. She’s older now, of course, and as beautiful as ever. She squeezes me tighter, lingering in the embrace like we’re family. “I’ve missed you.”
“How have you been?” I ask as we pull away.
“I’m doing really well—did you hear?” I shake my head. “I graduate from SDSU next year.”
“Oh God, now I feel so old. I’m so proud of you. How are you liking it?” I ask.
“The best!” she exclaims, biting her bottom lip and glancing at JP. “Hey, I’ll let you two talk and I’ll catch up, yeah?”
JP nods. “Do not leave this room.”
She rolls her eyes and saunters off.
“Julia.” I turn toward the thick Italian accent and will myself not to crumble. “You came for our Jacob.”
I swallow the feeling rising in my throat. “I came for my mother’s nomination but JP is a bonus.”
She wraps me in her arms before I can shrug. “Amore mia, he’s missed you so.”
I clench my jaw and nod.I’ve missed him too.But I say nothing.
“Yes, he would fall into his thoughts and I’d ask him if he was thinking of that girl he brought home once that his father said he was going to marry.” She throws her head back and laughs. “That George wasn’t always the best at predictions.”
I hold my breath, avoiding JP’s gaze because I can feel it wrapped around my skin.
“Anyway!” she claps her hands together. “I am going to let you two catch up.”
Her eyes dance between us and she drifts into the crowd.
I nervously pull on my index finger. He notices and takes both of my hands in his, drawing me closer and closing his arms around me.
“Are you okay? I’m so sorry about your dad, JP. I wish I’d been there for you—”
“Shh—I don’t want to cry tonight,” he whispers over the top of my head.
“Right, of course not. I’m sorry.” I pull back, shaking my head. “Why didn’t you say anything the last time we were together.”
“Because I would have been a mess, and I didn’t want the last memory you had of me to be that,” he confesses with tender eyes.
“That’s a terrible answer,” I whisper.
“Would it have changed anything?”
“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully.
He swallows, taking a small step back and clasping his hands behind his back. He rubs his lips together and he’s acting so nervous and uncomfortable, it makes me want to scream.
“How’s the house?” he asks, changing the subject. Clearly, this isn’t the time, place, or moment to discuss his father’s passing.
“Just like I dream about.” I smile, and he nods.
“Has Washington been good to you?” He rocks on his heels, keeping his hands firmly planted behind his back.
“It’s been wonderful. How’s Chicago?”
He shrugs and opens his mouth to speak but is quickly interrupted by a man in a tailored suit and thick-rimmed glasses. “Jacob Chapman, I’ve been dying to talk to you all night!”
