“I love you too, Jessie, and I’ve waited a long time for things to work out for us, but I can’t... I won’t wait anymore.” Robert choked before turning his back to her and folding his arms over his chest. “Have you accepted the internship?”
He looked over his shoulder long enough to see her nod.
“Then you’ve already made your choice.”
Pain ripped through her chest at the coldness in his voice. She wanted to cry and scream at him. She wanted him to beg her to stay—to make her choose him over her dreams. Wanted him to fight for them.
But he would never do that. He knew working at the Met was Jessie’s lifelong dream, and he would never ask her to give that up. Just like she could never ask him to leave Providence.
In stony silence, Robert cleaned up their meal. She wrapped her arms around herself, fighting the chill that filled the room despite the fire.
The thirty-minute drive home felt like an eternity. The powerful hands that had held hers so many times kept a firm grip on the steering wheel. He kept his gaze focused on the road, so Jessie stared out her window into the darkness, wondering if she would ever travel this road again.
When he stopped his truck outside her house, she shifted in her seat. “I’ll turn down the internship and we can get married, like we talked about. I love you that much.” A pinch of regret stole her breath.
Why did she have to choose between the two best things that had ever happened to her?
“I know you do, Jess.” He reached out a hand but stopped before he could touch her face. “And I love you too much to ask you to give up your dreams. You’ll never be happy if you settle and don’t find out what might have been. And I’d never forgive myself for letting you.” Then he got out and walked around to open her door.
She swiped at her tears as she slid down from the truck seat.
Robert swept her into his arms for a brief, tight hug, then released her. “Follow your dreams, Jess. Be happy and know that I will always love you.” Then he was gone, taking a piece of her heart with him.
She shivered as his taillights disappeared into the night.
Jessie looked down at the indiscernible image she’d drawn in her book, remembering the rush of long-forgotten attraction she experienced at the hospital yesterday when she first saw Robert again.
Coming home felt like Jessie’s only option, but now she feared it might be the hardest thing she would ever do.
* * *
Tires crunch on gravel outside,and Jessie bolted upright from the couch where she’d been resting. Heart in her throat, she crept to the window.
He didn’t find me already, did he?
She let out a sigh of relief when she recognized her mother’s blue Toyota Camry.
Jessie watched as her mom pulled a cardboard box from the back seat. She held the door open as her mom approached.
Sylvia hugged Jessie with one arm while balancing the box on the other. “I brought a few of your old clothes and things.” She set the box on the sofa, and Jessie stared at it as though it were a snake.
Do I want to know what’s inside?
“I brought some groceries for dinner, too. I’ll be right back.” Sylvia patted her arm before walking out the door.
The box pulled at Jessie. She couldn’t recall a single thing she’d left behind when she moved to New York. She’d been so torn when she packed, wanting the life that lay ahead, but not wanting to leave the life that lay behind. The way Robert had dismissed any chance of them working out one more separation between them broke her heart.
She lifted a soft, red sweater from the box. Robert had given it to her for Christmas the year before she left. “I love how it makes your eyes spark like little twin flames,” he had said. “It’s the same look you get when you’re angry.”
She’d punched his arm for that comment, but he’d laughed and pulled her into his arms. “It’s also the same look you get when you’re passionate about something.”
Jessie had been passionate about two things: Robert and her art. And she couldn’t have both.
She’d made the wrong choice, and she’d live with regret for the rest of her life.
She set the sweater aside, swallowing the pain of the memories. Smiling, she pulled out her favorite threadbare pair of jeans and two t-shirts. Robert had given her the first one, the second she’d borrowed from him to use as a nightshirt.
At the bottom of the box, she found the bottle of perfume he gave her for her birthday. She pulled the lid off and sniffed. The combination of flowers and fruit sent a warm flush surging through her as she remembered the way Robert often buried his face in the curve of her neck and inhaled.
