Chapter Seven Jamie
Chapter Seven
Jamie
Eleven months earlier
Two weeks had passed since May disappeared from Jamie’s life, and he was not okay.
He didn’t smile as much. Slept like shit. Didn’t feel like going out with friends, and even skipped Tuesday dinner with his mom. Regret followed him around like one of those rain clouds constantly hovering over Eeyore, a companion as pitiful as it was unforgiving.
The gravity of losing her hadn’t fully hit until the following morning, after the daze of such a perfect evening cleared like fog after the sun came up. He’d replayed the time spent with May with fresh eyes and a clear head, and concluded there was a good chance he’d met—and lost—his soulmate.
Exaggerated? Maybe. He’d have said so if anyone had asked him before that night. He wasn’t into fate or horoscopes or love-at-first-sight nonsense. He still hadn’t done the latter—hadn’t fallen in love with her—but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he could. That he would fall for her if given the chance.
If they had more time.
He’d found her attractive when he had noticed her at the bar and was obviously interested enough after hearing her laugh to put himself out there and talk to her. He’d had no idea it was only the beginning of something life changing.
In a single evening, she’d teased him, stood up to him, flirted with him, laughed with him, told him something vulnerable, complimented him, let him go first, asked him for a favor, fallen asleep with him, challenged him, trusted him, soothed him, and kissed him like it was her last day on earth.
They’d covered a year’s worth of ground in a few hours, and something told him they hadn’t even scratched the surface.
He’d never met anyone else like her, and he was desperate for more. The way she’d looked at him and touched him said she’d wanted that, too. Something was going on with her, but the way she’d kissed him ... He struggled to believe she’d left for any reason other than she’d felt like she had to. That she’d had no choice.
He should have asked for her last name, an email address, or given her his number. A social media handle ... For God’s sake, something! Because ever since that morning after, he’d been searching and hadn’t found a trace of a woman named May in Lincoln, anywhere. It was like she’d never existed.
Three weeks ago she’d been a stranger, and now he had a growing list of questions only she could answer.
What about white chocolate? Did she like that?
Did she have any siblings?
What was her theory about what happened to Malaysia Airlines Flight 370?
Had she ever seen a narwhal with her own eyes?
“Back again?”
Jamie did his best to glare at Gus, which wasn’t easy. The man was the friendliest person Jamie’d ever met. “You’re a bartender. I thought you weren’t supposed to judge people.”
Gus snorted. “That’s all bartenders do. We just hide it like damned professionals.”
Normally, Jamie would have laughed at that. Today, he barely cracked a smile.
Gus sighed and rested his palms flat on the bar top. “Still no luck, huh?”
Jamie shook his head.
“Sorry, man.”
Jamie had already asked, so he knew the answer. Still, he asked again. “You’re sure you didn’t catch her last name when she was here?”
“Since you picked up the tab that night, I never got a card from her,” Gus said. It was the same thing he’d said the first time.
“You didn’t ID her when she ordered? She looked pretty young.” He was grasping at straws, now.
Gus’s expression turned a bit pitying, which Jamie ignored. “I thought so, too, at first, and I almost carded her. But then I saw her eyes, and I knew that woman had seen more than twenty-one years of life. Looked like she’d seen a hell of a lot more than she should have by now, if you ask me.”
There’d been a few moments where Jamie’d thought so, too. Those beautiful gray eyes had been expressive and so damn pretty, but at times also held a deep sadness he wasn’t really sure what to do with.
“How about I get you a beer?”
Jamie nodded.
When Gus walked away, Jamie’s eyes slid sideways to the empty chair May had occupied two weeks ago. For a split second he wondered if he’d be better off if he’d never even spoken to her but just as quickly dismissed it.
Even if it made him miserable now, he’d remember that night for the rest of his life. He couldn’t find it in himself to regret spending it with her.
He just wished like hell he hadn’t let her slip away.