30. Miles
MILES
M y heart breaks for Jenna, orphaned at thirty-five.
She has no one left that she’s close enough with to guide her.
An overwhelming desire to step up grips me.
As I sit here, in her childhood room, holding her until her sobs become soft hiccups, my conscience screams at me.
Tell her what you know! And yet, I don’t, because I don’t think Jenna can take anything else today.
Every time I want to tell her, I am overcome by my own emotions about falling in love with her and knowing she’s choosing to leave.
It freaks me out. I don’t want her to stay because she feels like she has to, and knowing her, if she learns of any connection to her dad, she will feel obligated to.
Once she’s calm, we leave Pete at the house and go for lunch, but Jenna is quiet, undoubtedly mulling over her options.
“What should I do?” she asks, pushing her empty plate away and not bothering to hide the melancholy in her voice.
I push my lips together and meet her eyes, willing myself to put my own selfishness aside. “I think…you should do whatever will be easiest for you,” I say as calmly as possible.
“Is that selling it as is, taking what I can get, and running?” Jenna frowns thoughtfully.
“Is that what you want to do?” I ask, my throat tightening. I fight the urge to reach for her hand. It’s like we have some unspoken agreement not to let our personal feelings for each other weigh in on this decision she has to make.
“I don’t want to run away. It’s just, I have never really thought about what I want.
I haven’t had the chance the past few years, taking care of my mom,” Jenna admits quietly.
“But I really don’t know what I want or where to go.
I just feel like I need time to figure it out.
” Her eyes glisten with fresh tears. I reach across the table, catching one on my index finger.
“I don’t want you to run either, Jenna,” I murmur. I swallow the urge to confess my suspicions about her father again. “Let’s keep this conversation about the house. No other influences, okay? Before you got this news today…what were you thinking about doing?”
Jenna chews on her lip. “I guess I was thinking, let Danny fix everything, DIY the rest of the cosmetic stuff, and then…” She pauses, studying my face.
I open my palm on the table for her to take. Her hand in mind feels warm and reassuring. “Go on,” I urge with a little squeeze of her hand.
Jenna inhales sharply. “I still want to fix it up. I don’t want to sell it to someone who is going to tear it down,” she says emphatically.
Then, quieter, “But I was going to wait and see how we are before deciding to stay. And if I decide to stay, I have to think about my career. I can’t work for Joy forever, as fun as it is.
” Her expression is so hopeful, I want to grab her face, kiss it all over, and beg her to stay.
The fact that she is even considering it is a comfort to me and my vulnerable heart.
Relief floods my veins and something in my chest expands at her admission, as if I finally have reassurance that Jenna is in it with me.
She wants to see where this goes too. Tell her.
My brain won’t shut off. “Okay. How about this? Let’s take both things…
the house and us…day by day? Does that sound okay? ”
Jenna nods. “I think so.” Then she gives me a wistful smile. “Thank you, Miles.”
“Don’t mention it,” I say, then flag the server for the check, once again swallowing my secret.
I’m not surprised when my mother calls me shortly after I say goodbye to Jenna. She doesn’t usually call me during the workday, and that can only mean one thing—Nate opened his big mouth.
“Hey, Ma,” I say, tapping the touch screen on my car display.
“Miles, dear. I talked to Nate last night.” My mom wastes no time going in for the kill.
I roll my eyes, even though she can’t see it. “Let me guess, he snitched,” I say wryly.
“I wouldn’t think of it as snitching. Nathan is just worried about you.” A thing about my mom, she will always tell you that she doesn’t take sides, but when she calls Nate Nathan, she is definitely on his side.
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t need to be,” I growl, leaning back in my seat at a red light, closing my eyes as I grasp for patience. It must be a short light because the cars behind me beep. I glance in the rearview mirror—a middle-aged man is yelling and angrily gesturing with his hands.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble at him. “Mom, I will talk to Jenna in my own time.” I attempt to appease her.
“How do you even know it’s really her father?” My mother asks tentatively.
I sigh. “Because Mom. How many men have had a heart attack from exertion on Cove Beach in the last twenty-five years?” My patience is wavering.
“It is peculiar,” my mother admits. She’s quiet for a moment. “And you really care about this girl?” she asks cautiously.
“I really do, Mom, yes,” I reply emphatically.
“Then you have to tell her what you suspect. You can’t keep a secret like this, especially from someone you really care about.”
I know my mother is right, but the truth is, I don’t know how I am supposed to tell Jenna this.
I am falling completely in love with her.
Seeing her fall apart on the bedroom floor this afternoon shook something in me.
Jenna is my person. I have no doubt about that now.
But what if this information freaks her out and sends her running from Cape May for good?
Where does that leave me? It sounds selfish, but the moment has to be right.
“I will, Mom. I promise. It’s just a delicate thing to bring up.
And she is fragile right now. She’s been through a lot,” I say, turning the car into the office parking lot.
I’d love to use this as an excuse to hang up, but Mom is talking to me on the phone, standing on the curb in front of my office, clearly waiting for me.
“Why are you here?” I ask, immediately agitated.
I hang up the phone and get out of my car.
“This felt like it was too important to wait,” my mother says defensively.
“I’m going to kill Nate,” I mutter, starting for the door.
She stops me by putting both of her hands on my chest. “Now, no, you are not,” she says defiantly. “Nate isn’t in there anyway; he had an appointment. I just wanted to talk to you about this myself.”
“Well, come on then.” I let out an exasperated breath, motioning toward the door.
“I won’t keep you,” Mom says as she perches on the guest couch in the front of the office. “I just needed to give you my two cents, which is this: tell her . If you think her father saved you, you have to tell her. Because if she finds out on her own, it’s going to blow up in your face.”
“And how do you suggest I tell her, Mom?” I ask through gritted teeth.
For someone who couldn’t remember the guy’s name, she’s being awfully persistent that I blow up my entire relationship before I’m ready.
I need to channel the appreciative feeling I had for her just the other day.
I take off my jacket and hang it on the coat rack by the door, then walk back over to my mother and sit beside her.
“Just be honest. Tell her the exact moment you suspected it.” She pats my knee.
“What if she leaves?” I ask quietly. This is another feeling I have been trying to force down every time it threatens to paralyze me.
Fear. The fear that I am going to let myself fall for Jenna, only for her to break my heart into a million pieces like Erin did.
It’s so much easier to be a serial dater than to open myself up to the possibility of getting hurt again.
“Do you love her?” My mother asks.
I sigh and run my hands down my face more aggressively than I intended. “I think…maybe I do,” I admit. “God, it’s weird saying that out loud. Especially to you.”
My mother grins, no longer bothering to hide her relief that I won’t be a Casanova forever. “I have to admit, Erin broke your heart so terribly that I never thought you’d fall in love again. I’m kind of excited!”
At this, my guard falls slightly, and I crack a smile. “She is really great.” I sigh. “I will tell her. I just have to find the right moment.”
“You will.” My mom grabs my arm and hugs it to her chest. “You’re a good man, Miles.” She stands to leave and I think the conversation is over until she says, “Bring her over for dinner on Friday. I’d love to meet her.”
“Oh…Mom.” I hesitate. “It’s soon for that, don’t you think?”
“Not if you love the girl,” my mother challenges, folding her arms across her chest.
“Well, what if I haven’t talked to her about it by then? Are you going to blow up my spot?” I cock my head, raising my eyebrows at her.
My mother scowls. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She waves her hand. “I just want to meet the woman my baby is so taken with. Please, say you’ll come.”
I groan and stand up, ushering her to the door. I’ve had about all that I can take from this conversation. “Fine, Mom. We’ll be there,” I grumble.
“Six o’clock.” My mother turns and grins. She puts her hand on my cheek, and I bend down to plant a peck on hers.
“Bye, Mom.”
“Bye, Miles!” She singsongs over her shoulder.
There is no getting out of this one.