For good.
AS SOON AS MY PLANE TOUCHEDdown, before I even made it to baggage claim, I grabbed a Venti Iced Americano from Starbucks. Not sleeping the night before an early flight and seeing Jamie for the first time in over a year had been a mistake, and I was feeling a strange mix of exhaustion and nerves. I figured why not add caffeine to the mix?
Sipping from the bright green straw as I took the escalator down to baggage claim, I focused on my breathing. I thought of the hot yoga class I’d taken with Mona a few months before and tried to channel that frame of mind, and it worked — at least until I opened my eyes again and saw him.
God, Whiskey had aged beautifully.
He was no longer the boy I knew. His features had shifted, even in that short year and a half we’d been apart. His jaw was always the first feature I noticed, and it was even more pronounced now, framing the smirk that rested on his lips as he held up a piece of notebook paper that saidJUST Bin big, sloppy handwriting. I smiled, and it made him grin wider, flashing white teeth and bright honey eyes. I stepped off the bottom step of the escalator and we each took three steps until we were standing face to face. He dropped the paper to his side, and we both took our time drinking the other in. His hair was short again, styled, almost like River’s. He was dressed in dark jeans and a white v-neck t-shirt, but he wore a light-blue button-up over it. None of the buttons were fastened and it was cuffed at his elbows, showcasing toned forearms that told me without words that he was still surfing.
The barrel had aged him well, and even with the Angel’s tax, he’d only gotten better over time. He was still just as potent, stinging my nostrils and making my mouth water. But now, his flavors had matured, his color had smoothed, and I knew without hesitation that if I was brave enough to try to taste him and he was stupid enough to let me, I’d never recover.
My eyes found his again and he let out a short laugh, opening his arms wide. “Come here.”
I adjusted my carry-on bag on my shoulder and stepped into him, smelling the spicy oak of his shirt as he wrapped his arms all the way around me. Inhaling deep, I sighed into him, and I think we both felt it — like a piece of our soul had been found again. Like it was slowly melding itself back into place. “I told you not to come, I could have taken a cab.”
“I guess I still haven’t learned how to listen very well.”
“You have learned how to dress, though,” I said, my voice muffled in his shirt.
He chuckled, pulling back and grabbing my small bag from me. “And you learned how to walk in heels.” His eyes dropped to my feet and one brow quirked. When he looked at me again, I swore I felt a heat behind his gaze.
I swallowed, tucking away a rogue strand of hair. “That’s what happens when you dress business casual everyday.”
“I know the feeling,” he said, nodding toward the carousel with the bags from Pittsburgh. “I miss wearing basketball shorts or swim trunks ninety percent of the time.”
“And I miss tank tops and sandals.”
It was small talk. It was stupid. But we were treading lightly, testing the waters, feeling each other out.
Jamie grabbed my bag off the carousel, not letting me take it no matter how I argued, and then we were making our way to the parking lot. We didn’t say much, a few sentences of small talk, Jamie telling me which way to turn to find where he’d parked. Once we reached his Jeep, he loaded my bags into the back and opened the passenger seat door for me.
“Welcome home, B,” he said as I slid in. I wasn’t sure if he meant South Florida or his Jeep.
The problem was, something had changed since the last time I’d beenhome. Mom was no longer here, Jenna was, but she was out of town, and Jamie’s Jeep suddenly felt uncomfortable. I sat with my hands in my lap, trying not to be obvious about the way my eyes stuck on the evidence of another woman being in my spot. There was a hair-tie wrapped around the gear shift, a pair of women’s running shorts in the back seat, a small picture of the two of them tucked into the corner of Jamie’s dashboard. I didn’t sink back and kick my shoes off, planting my heels on the dash in front of me. No, I sat rigid, hands folded in my lap, and looked out the window as Jamie drove me to my hotel.
“You okay over there?” he asked as we made a left turn.
I nodded. “Just tired. Long night.”
Jamie didn’t say anything else until he dropped me off at check in.
“You sure you don’t want me to wait?”
He grabbed my bags from the back and sat them down in front of me. I watched as every muscle in his back moved with the gesture, and it took me a second to find an answer to his question. “No, it’s fine. I think I need a quick nap,” I lied. There was no way I was sleeping, but I didn’t want to have to spend more time with Angel than was required.
“Okay,” he conceded, though he looked a little disappointed. “Just remember we’re doing the rehearsal ‘dinner’ kind of early since Angel and the girls have to catch a flight out for their bachelorette. Can you be at the country club at three?” He shifted, running a hand over the back of his head. “I would pick you up then, but I kind of have to be there earlier, and I know you want to sleep so…”
“I’ll catch a cab over. Don’t worry about me, Jamie Shaw,” I teased, nudging him as I swung my carry on over my shoulder again. He seemed to relax a little then, and tucked his hands into his pockets.
“Never do.”
He didn’t make a move to leave at first. We stood, staring, our eyes saying more than our words as always.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “See you in a bit.”
With that, he rounded the Jeep and I turned, rolling my bag behind me. After I checked in, I collapsed on the cool comforter of the bed and let out a long, slow breath.
Here we go.
