“I missed you.”
“It’s been two whole days.”
“I know.” Jake cupped Wes’s face, thumb brushing over his beard. “Practically unbearable.”
Wes wanted to pull him closer, wanted to kiss him properly, wanted to forget his father was twenty feet away, and the walls were thin and?—
“We can’t,” he said, stepping back. “Not here.”
“I know.” Jake’s expression was understanding, patient. “I just wanted to see you. Touch you. Make sure this was real.”
“It’s real.”
They sat at the table, knees bumping underneath. Jake pulled out his tablet—”For show,” he said—and they talked quietly. About the farm, the vineyard, and Diane’s peach orchard. About everything except what they both wanted to say.
An hour later, Jake stood to leave. “I’ll call you tonight?”
“Yeah.”
At the door, with Henry still in the living room, Jake squeezed Wes’s hand. “We’ll figure this out.”
“I know.”
Watching Jake drive away, Wes thought,We have to.
Wednesday morning, Jake got the call he’d been dreading.
“Marley.” Harrison, his boss’s voice crackled through the phone. “We need you back in Atlanta. Reports are due Friday, and I need you here to present them in person.”
Jake’s stomach sank. “I’m in the middle of?—”
“I know. Wrap up what you can this week and drive back tomorrow. You can return to Spoon next week if needed.”
“Right. Of course.”
He hung up and stared at his phone.
He texted Wes:I have to go back to Atlanta tomorrow. My boss wants reports delivered in person.
The response came immediately:How long?
Two days. Three tops.
Oh.
Jake stared at that single word, trying to decipher its meaning. Disappointment? Relief? Panic?
His phone rang. Wes.
“Hey,” Jake said.
“So, you’re leaving.” Wes’s voice was cold.
“Just for a few days.”
“Right.”
“Wes—”
