Page 146 of Goodbye Again
His hand touches my cheek, and I sink into it despite the years apart. Despite the words we don’t say. “Exactly.”
I never truly believed the fortune teller but there was a part of me that wanted to. A part of me that kept waiting for someone else, maybe many more, that I would fall in love with and help me forget about JP. But I think what the fortune teller meant was, I would fall in love again and again, over and over, many, many different times. And most of them would be JP.
I pull his hand down. “I know what you’re saying.” I shake my head. “I got your note.”
His eyes narrow and widen until confusion takes over. “I... forgot about the note.”
“A lot of life has happened since you wrote it, so I understand how you could have forgotten. And now I’m realizing I didn’t need to find you again. I needed you to find me.” I let out a humorless laugh.
“Jules, you said no more. No calls, no contact—”
“I know what I said. We can’t run on memories and one-more-times, because that’s all we’ve ever done.”
He nods, dropping his hand to my wrist where he rubs my taco tattoo.
A tear drifts down my cheek and lands on his hand. “But I get it now. It’s simple. I fell in love with you, JP.” I pause to catch my breath, blinking away stupid tears and staring back into his beautiful green eyes and counting all four of the freckles on his cheek. “And you didn’t fall in love with me.”
“That’s not true,” he responds, tightening his hands around mine. “I was trying to find a way to give you the world.”
“I didn’t want the world. I just wanted you.” I let out a laugh through my emotions, ready to run from this party.
He steps closer though there isn’t much space left between us. His jaw pulses and his eyes swell with regret as his gaze bounces off the concrete and toward the sky.
“Why can’t you look at me?”
He drops his gaze to mine. “All I want to do is look at you,” he says, cupping a hand around my cheek.
The warmth of his palm travels down my neck, sweeping down to my belly. I blink heavily, willing the feeling away. It’s no use though. The ache between us—the golden thread weaving our souls together—pulls tighter whether I look at him or not.
“Then why does it seem like it hurts to look at me?” I ask all while wondering how pained my own expression must be.
“Because I fucking miss you.”
I swallow against his use of the present tense. We’re standing right next to each other, his hand on my face and the other on my waist. We’re so close I can smell his cologne and spicy warm scent that is so perfectly signature JP. If I tilt my chin up just barely and move my hand to touch him, I know he would kiss me. But the memory of goodbye echoes in the air between us.
“When do you leave?” he asks but it sounds like a plea not to go.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does.”
I relent. “Tomorrow morning.”
“What time?”
“Nine a.m.”
He chews on his thumb, contemplating logistics. I shrug, letting the unfortunate circumstances rest on us.
“It’s okay, JP,” I say, giving him the out. “It hurts less if we just walk away.”
“I want to get it right this time.”
I rub my lips together and collect all the self-preservation I possess. “Then you’ll have to prove it.”
I walk away without waiting for his response. He follows me and twists me around until I’m facing him in my cocktail dress and tired heart.
“Let me go,” I plead. “In every way. I won’t do this again. You think I will, but I won’t. We’re messy, you and I. Always something but never everything. So let’s just walk away.”
