I nervously rub the back of my neck, unsure of how to begin.
Sensing my discomfort, Gemma gently places a gentle hand on my forearm. “Hey, whatever you’re about to tell me, I promise I won’t get upset.”
Releasing a heavy sigh, I gaze into her deep blue eyes. “Do you still want to continue this thing between us? Or do you want the freedom to explore what else is out there?”
Gemma frowns, clearly caught off guard by my questioning. After a long pause, she lowers her gaze to the ground, as if afraid to speak the truth. “Would you be upset if I told you I want to see what’s out there… maybe meet other people?”
I take a step closer, my fingers tilting her chin up until our eyes connect once more.
“Gem, from the beginning, you’ve been crystal clear that what we have is only temporary. You never promised me more and I was on board with that. So the answer to your question is no, babe, I’m not upset.” I smile softly at her. “You’re young, beautiful, and full of life. You deserve to enjoy it. I’d never pressure you into anything you don’t want anymore.”
“You’re a good man, you know that, Jason?”
A soft chuckle slips from my mouth as I grin. “So I’ve been told.”
We hear the crowd counting down from ten, signalling that the New Year’s fireworks are only moments away. Seconds later, a burst of loud explosive sounds fill the air around us.
“Well, Jason, how about for old time’s sake? Want to ring in the new year with one last kiss?” Gemma teases.
A low laugh rumbles out of me as I shake my head, then I close the distance and claim her lips with mine.The kiss deepens, more intense and heated than anything we’ve ever shared. It’s not a final goodbye, as we’ll still see each other at work, but in that moment, it truly feels like the end of the chapter of our brief, beautiful, summer romance.
CHAPTER 17
Mila
April, 2023
I watch in fascination as Jake squeezes half a small tube of red paint onto one side of his paper, his tongue poking out in mere concentration. He swirls and dabs the thick colour with a paintbrush, then repeats the process with black and white paint, layering and blending until he’s completely satisfied. With careful precision, he folds the paper in half, pressing down to spread the paint with his fingers. When he slowly peels it open, a vibrant, symmetrical butterfly emerges, its colours mixed in a mesmerising display.
“Ta-da! Meet Bilbi!” he introduces, proudly revealing his artwork to me.
For the past hour, we’ve been gathered around the dining table, crafting a collection of unique butterfly paintings to match tonight’s insect theme—butterflies.Jake’s current masterpiece is that of his favourite species—the Cethosia Bilbis, better known as the Red Lacewing Butterfly.
Each painting was named after a specific breed, with Jake eagerly educating me on each one. By the end, we created twenty different butterflies from around the world, and now the dining table is completely covered in a vibrant display of patterns and colours. I have no doubt Jason will be pulling his hair out trying to find space to hang them all.
“That looks amazing, Jake! It’s almost like I’m looking at the real thing,” I say to him with my most encouraging smile.
He turns his painting around, examines it for a moment, and nods. “Yeah, it really does. And so do yours too,” he adds, giving my painting of a monarch butterfly a quick glance.
“Want to know something interesting, Jake?”
“Ah-huh.”
“I’ve actually got a tattoo of a monarch butterfly on my left shoulder blade. They’re my favourite. Do you want to see?”
Jake nods excitedly, his face lighting up with anticipation.
I tug the neckline of my yellow sweater down slightly, letting the strap of my camisole underneath slip just enough to reveal the bright orange and black butterfly tattoo—a symbol that has always held a deep and personal significance for me.
On my eighteenth birthday, the first thing I did was get a tattoo in honour of my father, who passed away from bowel cancer when I was eight. I already knew I wanted a monarch butterfly. My dad used to always say I reminded him of them—delicate and warm but bright, like sunlight on wings. And each time my mother, Skylar, and I visited his gravesite, monarch butterflies would flutter around us, like it was a sign directly from him.
“Woah! That looks so cool!” Jake beams. “My dad has one just like that on his heart, but it’s not as colourful as yours. He said it’s to remember my nanna forever.”
I’ve always been curious about the intricate markings on Jason’s arms and chest, wondering what they meant to him. Now that I know we both bear matching tattoos in honour of the parents we lost too soon, I feel an even deeper connection to him.
“Well this tattoo is also a way to remember my daddy forever,” I gently explain.
A sad look crosses his adorable little face. “Is your dad gone, like my nanna?”
