His Other Life

Chapter 28

TWENTY-EIGHT

GEMMA

July, three years ago

It was hot outside. For two weeks straight, temperatures had climbed into the nineties during the day, and to keep bills down, Cheryl refused to set the air conditioning lower than seventy-eight degrees in the apartment. This meant that on a day like today when Gemma was off work, she parked herself on the couch in front of a fan and moved as little as possible.

Cheryl didn’t seem as bothered by the heat. She had a new pep in her step since landing a job at the school district food service, distributing meals to families who were taking advantage of the extended summer service. Daytime hours and a purpose had vastly improved her mood, and thereby Gemma’s.

On this Monday afternoon, Gemma was on her laptop, having just ended an instant message chat with Jonah, when her aunt’s keys jingled in the lock. Jonah hadn’t been back since May due to his company putting a temporary halt on travel, and while the kiss had played on repeat in Gemma’s mind for weeks after it happened, now so much time had passed that she sometimes wondered if she’d imagined it. That’s why these conversations online were so important.

She stared at the last line he’d sent: Can’t wait to see you again. Hoping soon.

As Cheryl opened the door, Gemma snapped the laptop shut and put it aside.

“You haven’t moved since this morning?” her aunt asked. “It’s beautiful outside. If you stay in the shade, it’s not bad.”

“No thanks.” Gemma stretched. “How was work?”

“Busy. Margot’s daughter had her baby.”

“I don’t know who Margot is.”

Cheryl ignored her, set her purse on the counter, and disappeared into the bathroom for her daily shower.

Gemma sighed and opened the laptop again. Soon , Jonah had said. It couldn’t be soon enough. Right now, life was utterly predictable. Dr. Richards had opted to keep his whole staff employed by rotating them on fewer hours, which meant Gemma worked between twenty and twenty-five hours per week, always with Mondays off, and because everything was closed, when she was off, she was at home.

She’d tried getting into running, but the summer heat was less than ideal for such exertion. She’d attempted a sourdough starter and making her own bread but found it too messy—not to mention she kept forgetting to feed the thing. She did read still. Cheryl had bought her the Bridgerton series for her birthday a few weeks ago, and she’d devoured them, one after the other. The only problem was that they made her long even more for Jonah’s return.

She typed in his name in the search bar as she had so many times before. He wasn’t that active on social media, so the results were sparse, but there were a handful of images linked to conferences and the like that at least let her see his face. In one of the photos, he was with her . Isla.

Gemma enlarged the image and studied the lanky blonde. She looked cold, but in a beautiful, Scandinavian kind of way. Big eyes, well-defined eyebrows, a prominent cupid’s bow. Jonah had said she was a professor. At the mere thought, Gemma shrank into the couch cushions. To look like that and be smart? Not fair.

Before she could change her mind, she typed in another search, this time for Isla Gallagher . She’d resisted it all this time, perhaps sensing the quicksand that would mean stepping onto, but this time curiosity won out. And Isla was much more active online than Jonah. There were several social media accounts (all private), her university profile page, images from conferences where she’d been a speaker, and a couple of podcast episodes she’d been on—one about Degas and one on the very niche topic of figurine collecting. Gemma also found photos other people had tagged her in (that weren’t private), published research papers, and even links to old high school and college volleyball stats. It was interesting that Jonah wasn’t featured in any of the photos. Did that mean he’d chosen not to go to those events, or had he been the photographer? Or in plainer words—did it say something about Jonah’s marriage or not?

Gemma pressed her fingertips into the soft tissue beneath her ribs to stop the roiling inside. Ugh, this was exactly why she’d told herself not to go down this rabbit hole in the first place.

She was considering a new search to find out more when the messenger window popped open at the bottom of the page again. Jonah was back.

You still there? the message read.

Gemma hurried to close the page with Isla’s search results as if he’d caught her red-handed. Yes , she typed.

I just got word. I’ll be down there a week from Wednesday. Will you be free?

Finally, Gemma thought. Like a bird , she responded. Or I’ll have work, but my evenings are open .

Keep them like that , was his response.

Gemma flushed hot at the sound of a cabinet door slamming shut in the bathroom, followed by a curse, and then Cheryl opened the door and stuck her head out. “I left the groceries in the car. Can you run down and get them before everything is ruined? I still need to moisturize.”

Gemma glanced at the screen, but it seemed like Jonah was gone again.

“Fine.” She set the laptop on the coffee table.

“Thanks. Keys are in my purse.”

Jonah’s words flashed before her the whole way down to the sauna-like garage and the whole way up again. He was coming back. He longed for her. No matter what uncertainties she had about him and his wife, that had to count for something. People fell out of love, marriages ended—that was a fact of life.

“Put stuff in the fridge too,” Cheryl said when Gemma returned. She was walking around barely clothed with a towel still on her head, fanning herself. “God, it’s hot.”

“I keep telling you.” Gemma raised her brow and nodded toward the couch. “Use the fan.”

After she’d stuffed the fridge with milk, cheese, and lunch meat that was likely questionable after spending almost an hour in the hot car, she folded up the grocery bag and put it under the sink.

“Want some water?” she asked her aunt.

“Um, sure.” Cheryl looked up from Gemma’s laptop, which was still open on the table. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?” Gemma brought two full glasses over to the couch.

“You’re still talking to him?”

Gemma froze. Of all the bad decisions she’d made in her life, one of the worst ones must have been telling Cheryl about Jonah. They’d shared a bottle of wine one night, and Gemma had asked her aunt if she ever missed being in a relationship. Cheryl had never remarried after her husband Herb, Gemma’s mom’s brother, drank himself to an early death sixteen years ago. Before Gemma knew it, she’d admitted that she’d met someone but that it was complicated. And her aunt had guessed why right away.

“You’re seeing him next week?” Cheryl asked now.

Gemma scrambled to come up with a response, but the only one that appeared was the not entirely truthful one, “It’s not what you think.”

“‘ My evenings are open .’ ‘ Keep them like that ,’” Cheryl read aloud. “Sounds like it’s exactly what I think. You’re fawning over another woman’s man like some love-sick puppy who doesn’t know her place.”

Gemma pressed her lips together. She wasn’t fawning. They had a good time together.

“What happens when he leaves again?” her aunt asked, her voice creeping up in pitch. “When he goes home to his wife? Are you going to be sitting here on the couch on standby? And that’s without me even mentioning what this says about his character.”

“There’s nothing wrong with his character,” Gemma snapped. “We enjoy each other’s company, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Cheryl huffed. “For fuck’s sake, Gem. Have some self-respect. Don’t be like your mother and let a man walk all over you.”

Gemma cocked her chin up, the insult shutting down reason. “What’s that supposed to mean? She left my dad. She did the right thing.”

“After how many years of putting up with his crap? How much of her money going to bail for him? Of our money? God knows Herb could never say no to her.” Her expression softened. “After how many black eyes?”

Gemma looked down. She knew the stories, remembered the fights, but thanks to her mother leaving with Gemma when she was four, the violence had never physically touched her. “That’s not the same thing and you know it. She did the best she could.”

“I’m not saying any of it was her fault.” Cheryl adjusted the fluffy pink towel on her head. “I’m saying don’t pick the wrong kind of guy when you have a choice.”

“Jonah and my dad have nothing in common. Can’t you be happy for me that I’ve met someone I like. Who likes me?”

“Not when it’ll end in heartbreak.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know men.”

“He’s not like?—”

“Not like other men? Ha! Keep telling yourself that.” Cheryl stood and ripped the towel from her hair. “But whatever. I’m only your aunt. What do I know? See him, don’t see him…” She raised her hands in front of her. “Just… be careful. And whatever you do, don’t fall in love with him.” She marched off.

Love . Gemma’s stomach somersaulted, but she forced it to settle. Who’d said anything about love? She closed her laptop and ran her palm over the smooth cover. Of course she wouldn’t fall in love with Jonah. She wasn’t stupid, and surely she had more self-control than that. They’d get together, talk, have fun. That was it.

Cheryl didn’t have to worry, and when things calmed down tonight, Gemma would tell her as much.

Or better yet, she’d show her.

They met up in a park off the river nine days later after work. The late afternoon meant peak temperatures, but the worst of the heatwave had passed, and Gemma was comfortable in a light-yellow sundress as long as she stayed mostly in the shade. Walking those last hundred yards to where Jonah was waiting for her made her feel like a soda bottle that had been shaken before opening. What would she say? What would he say? Would it feel the same?

He sat on a bench, focused on his phone, but when she was twenty yards away, he raised his head and a bright line of pearly whites stretched across his tan face. His hair was lighter, sun-kissed and messy, and already her fingers itched to run through it. Yes, seeing him set off the same kind of joyous resonance deep within her as it had before. So far so good.

He struck a clean-cut figure in blue shorts and a light gray T-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders as he stood. “Hello,” he said, tucking his phone away as she approached.

She slowed a few yards away, not sure if she should go in for a hug or not. As much as they’d talked online, it had been two months since they’d seen each other in person, and who was to say they’d be able to pick up where they’d left off? Gemma wanted to—that much she was sure of—but what did Jonah want?

“You look gorgeous,” he said, letting his eyes skim over her. “Like a sunbeam.”

Oh, to hell with it. She walked into his space and reached up, and to her great relief, he welcomed her into his embrace without hesitation. He held her for a long while, and when he finally let go, he met her gaze straight on, hazel eyes made gold by the late afternoon light.

“Hi,” she said, trying to make her voice drown out her heartbeat.

He touched her jaw almost like an afterthought then let his hand drop to hers. “It’s been too long.”

She nodded. His lips were a foot away. All she had to do was bridge it and she’d be home again. But when two joggers passed them, she pushed the impulse away, chastised by the reminder that there were people around.

“Go for a walk?” she asked, tugging on his hand. “I’ve been in the office all day.”

He agreed, and they set off along the river.

“How long are you here for?” Gemma asked.

“Four nights. The company would prefer us to do all our meetings online, but it doesn’t work that way. I need to see my docs occasionally or they forget I exist. But it’s why I haven’t been back sooner. I wanted to.” His voice was sincere. “You should know that.”

“You made no promises,” she said. “And I understand. The whole world is upside down right now anyway.”

They walked in silence for a minute to a backdrop of children playing on a nearby play structure.

“Ah,” Jonah sighed. “I miss traveling. I don’t know how people do it—staying in the same place day in and day out. It makes me want to rip my hair out.”

“Would be a shame on such great hair.”

That won her another toothy grin. “Was that a compliment?”

“Yes.” She stopped and reached up to run her fingers through the strands at his temple. Soft and silky, like she’d known they’d be. “Very touchable.”

“Thank you.” He dug his front teeth into his lower lip and swung their clasped hands forward so he could kiss the back of hers.

His breath across her skin sent a ripple of excitement up Gemma’s spine. She started walking again. “So work is no good?” she asked.

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I mean, I always worked from home to a certain extent, but now that I know I have no choice, it’s much harder to contend with. Maybe it’s because Isla works from home too, so we share the space.”

Gemma forced herself not to flinch at the mention of Jonah’s wife so he’d continue.

“It used to be just my cat Ulysses and me, so I could sit wherever, but now we have to plan each day down to the hour almost. Who has a meeting when? Who gets the office? Who needs complete silence to grade papers?”

“I think I know the answer to that last one,” Gemma said, making her voice light.

“Yeah. I know I shouldn’t complain, but there’s definitely a difference between spending five hours together in the evening versus all waking hours.”

His words struck an elated chord inside Gemma. They shouldn’t; she didn’t want him to be miserable. But what he was expressing made it easier for her to picture a world where he got his happiness from her and no one else. Not that she was about to admit that aloud.

“That’s probably normal,” she said. “Maybe eventually you get into a routine. My aunt and I get on each other’s nerves quite a bit. Did I tell you she’s taken to cleaning the groceries? She literally puts them in the bathtub to wipe them down with a homemade cleaning solution, and then she cleans the tub.”

Jonah’s eyes widened. “Isla does too. Well, not the bathtub part, but she’s been stock-piling antiseptic wipes and cleans everything we bring home. I don’t get it.”

Another silence stretched. They’d made a loop around the playground and were now headed back toward the parking lot.

“I’m glad you were able to get away,” Gemma said eventually. Then she mustered up some courage and added, “For you and for me.”

He stopped and pulled her closer. “Are you?” he asked, voice low.

She did a quick scan of their surroundings. There were still people about but no one close enough to make her feel watched. She tilted her face up to his. “Mm-hmm,” she said.

He kissed her like he was parched and she was water, his hands sliding up her bare arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She clutched his shirt for purchase and parted her lips to allow him in, and when he accepted her invite, the world spun. With the pressure of his lips, the lush strokes of his tongue, his entangled caress through her hair, Gemma was launched into freefall, only staying upright but for her hold on him. His scent cocooned her and spiked the air like a potion designed to incite craving, and it was only with the greatest willpower she finally allowed him to retreat enough that they could again breathe separately.

Jonah’s gaze was wild and his lips flushed as he stared down at her. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, this time wrapping a finger around a lock of her hair and releasing it against her chest. Something pained swept across his face. “I want you so much,” he whispered with a puff of air. “I know I shouldn’t, but I do.”

She kissed him again, softer this time, resting her palm against his cheek. “Then have me,” she whispered back.

It was inevitable, this thing she felt for him. Fate.

And as they rode the elevator up to his hotel room a little later, she knew that even if, right then, someone would have told her he’d never truly be hers, she wouldn’t get off. She would take what she could get, whatever was on offer, and she would cherish it. And right now, the offer was paradise.