Page 107 of Brain Damage

I look up, trying to figure out to whom he’s talking. Then I realize that he’s talking to himself. Either that, or he’s talking to my door. I watch him as he turns around.

“I can’t leave,” he says, shaking his head. “There’s something I need to do first.”

He strides determinedly back across the room to sit down next to me. His eyes lock with mine, and before I can really process what’s happening, he’s leaning toward me. His lips are on mine. He’s kissing me. Jamie is kissing me.

Lord, it’s a nice kiss. It’s just the right amount of soft and passionate. Just the right amount of lip and tongue. Somehow, I feel like I’ve been waiting for this kiss my entire life. And the way that Jamie is kissing me, like he can’t stop himself, it makes me feel like he’s been waiting for this his entire life too.

When he pulls away, we’re both shaking.

Jamie stares at me, blinking quickly. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “But… I couldn’t leave here without doing that.”

If I could catch my breath, I’d tell him that I’m glad he didn’t.

“I was in a haze after I hurt myself,” he murmurs. “Everything was so disjointed, I couldn’t focus on anything. And then one day, I looked up and saw the most beautiful violet eyes I’d ever seen in my life. And it was like everything got clear all of a sudden.” A smile touches his lips. “You cured me, Charly.”

Okay, now he’s being melodramatic. “I don’t think I cured you.”

“You did,” he insists, picking up my right hand and holding it in his. “The whole reason I wanted to get better was so that I could get to know you. That’s all I could think of.”

“What about your son?” I remind him. “You wanted to get better for him too.”

“I love my son more than anything,” he says. “But I couldn’t even remember his name back then. All I could think about was you. Charly, Charly, Charly. And even though I’m better… I still think about you. All the time, actually. Like, the first thing I think about when I wake up is what you might be doing and how I want to see you. And when I go to sleep at night, I’m excited about seeing you the next day.”

“Jamie,” I murmur. “I know you think I have pretty eyes, but… that’s not really the basis of a relationship.”

“That might be the first thing I noticed about you,” he admits, “but it’s not why I’m in love with you.”

He didn’t just tell me he’s in love with me. This is just too unbelievable. This is a dream that I’m having where I’m going to wake up any minute.

“You have such a good heart,” he says. “I could see it that day when we were playing with Sam. When you get hurt like we did, it’s harder to conceal who you really are anymore. I know you, Charly. I know you really well, and I don’t want to be away from you.”

It might be the sweetest thing that a man has ever said to me.

Still, I can’t help but ask: “What about Karen?”

He frowns. “What about her?”

“She’s Sam’s mother,” I point out. Plus, she can walk, she can talk normally, and half her skull isn’t missing. And PS, she’s gorgeous. “And… I saw the two of you kissing in the hallway today.”

“Kissing?” He blinks at me. “Karen and I were not kissing. I promise you that. I mean, maybe I kissed her on the cheek or something. Like the kind of kiss you’d give your aunt. I’m attempting to be civil to her, you know?”

“You were with her for two hours…”

“We had to sort through a new custody agreement.” He rolls his eyes. “It took forever. I was pissed off about it, because I knew it was my last night here and I just wanted to get to your room—it was all I could think about. Believe me, we weren’t in there necking or anything. I have zero interest in Karen.”

I think he means it. Or at least, he thinks he does.

Jamie takes a deep breath. “Okay, I said what I had to say. Now it’s your turn to say something.”

Except I don’t. I just sit there, staring at him. There’s something in my throat that’s making it hard for me to talk.

Jamie runs a shaky hand through his short hair. “Please say something, Charly.”

I swallow down the lump in my throat. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.” He tugs at the collar of his T-shirt. “Something along the lines of, ‘Please kiss me again, Jamie.’”

I want him to kiss me again, don’t make any mistake about it. I can still feel his lips on mine, and my cheeks are still tingling from where he touched me as he drew me close. But here’s the deal: it occurs to me that, like me, Jamie has an entire life to put back together. He needs to focus on his career and his child. As much as I want him, it would be selfish to keep him from what he needs to do. I would be a distraction.