Page 11 of One More Kiss

Jasmine

I frownedinto my whiskey as emotions swirled through me, cycling quickly between my chest and my mind.

“You’ve gone and done it this time,” I whispered to myself, huddling deeper in the wool wrap I’d grabbed from the backdoor hook before I settled on the porch.

With a sigh, I stared off into the darkness. Few stars shone, thanks to the clouds. The distant lights at the barn illuminated the building. After frustration and pity twisted around, I took a long sip of my drink. I wrinkled my nose at the burn of the alcohol. With a flick of my wrist, I dumped out the last few drops and the ice over the rail and into the flowerbed. Wouldn’t pay to get drunk—not with Christmas tomorrow.

Steve wanted to ignore me, ignore what we’d shared the night we’d spent wrapped in each other’s arms and again tonight, but I wouldn’t let him. Life was short.

Hell, I was closer to the grave than the cradle and now wasn’t the time to get tentative.

“Just going to have to up my game,” I said.

And I knew just who to ask to help me.

* * *

A little over a week later,Jenna’s eyes sparkled as the shallow dimple peeked out of her cheek. For the first time since her miscarriage, she seemed a bit like herself.

I’d asked her to come over while Cash napped. I’d fretted all during the holiday week, but now that New Year’s was behind us, I was ready to tackle my Steve problem.

Jenna had settled in my living room on the larger couch that faced the windows, her feet on one of the new rugs the kids had purchased for me. It was thick and luxurious, not something I’d have been able to afford on my own.

Her hair was up in a high ponytail and she had on gray leggings with an oversized purple sweatshirt. She wore a pair of fancy sneakers and her engagement ring and diamond studs that Cam had given her for Christmas flashed in the watery afternoon sunlight. She set down her glass of tea and a plate with a half-eaten oatmeal raisin cookie. She’d nibbled through part of it as I explained the entirety of the situation to her.

“I knew something was up with you.”

She picked up the cookie and took a big bite. I bit my cheek so I wouldn’t smile at her as I watched her eat with gusto. I shifted my tush on the smaller couch, aware this one didn’t get as much use. They were older now, but they were comfortable, and done up in a thick brown material that had survived Cam as a boy.

My house smelled of brown sugar and, faintly, of lemon and rosemary from the environmentally friendly cleaning products I whipped up every few months. The space was tidy and clean as always. Now that the kids were grown, I didn’t abide mess or dust.

“Steve won’t be glad you already figured out we’d ah…hooked up.” The words felt weird on my tongue and Jenna scrunched her nose, letting me know they sounded just as awkward.

“He seems to think he’s good at ‘covert ops’.” I rolled my eyes even as I used my fingers for the air quotes the girls liked to use.

Jenna giggled, and that sound brought joy to my heart. Jenna was an intoxicating mix of fragile and confident, and Cam hadn’t stood a chance resisting her. Not that I would have wanted him to. Jenna wasn’t easy—high maintenance, the kids called it—but she felt deeply and loved more wholly than nearly anyone, which made her perfect for Cam. My boy loved just as hard.

“You know I need to call in the rest of the crew,” Jenna said.

She flopped back on the couch, hands over her belly. She didn’t even realize how she was sitting—almost as if she was protecting herself from herself. Oh, this girl.

“They’ll be hurt otherwise,” she added.

I pressed my hands to my chest, right over my fluttering heart. “I know. But I’m worried Kate will judge me for wanting a relationship. And Aya will judge me for having…relations with her father-in-law.”

I blushed—blushed!—at my comments. Nothing sounded right.

“First, don’t ever say relations again. That was weirder than hook up.” Jenna crinkled her nose. “Just like I struggle with the term making love. Just…no.”

“I don’t want to call it whatever you do,” I said.

“Good because that’s weirder and grosser still.” She picked up her phone and sent a text.

I laughed. “I’ve been having relations longer than you’ve been alive.”

“So, you got the doing down, just not the lingo. And if Cam hears you, I’m not responsible for his conniption fit.”

“Noted.” My tone was drier than the hard-packed horse arena.

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