Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Fiona
My phone buzzed on the nightstand at eleven-thirty Tuesday night.
I’d been lying in bed for almost an hour, staring at the ceiling while Nash’s words from the graduation party refused to leave me alone.
You can’t build something real on secrets.
Every time I thought I was ready to tell Jasper about Charlie, my mind supplied another reason to wait. Better to tell him in person. Better after we’d defined whatever this was between us. Better when I knew exactly how he felt.
There would always be a better time if I kept looking for one.
I reached for the phone, expecting Melanie or maybe Josie checking in before bed.
Instead, Jasper’s name filled the screen.
Jasper: Settle an argument.
Despite everything circling through my head, I smiled.
Me: With whom?
Jasper: Myself.
Me: That sounds serious.
Jasper: Pancakes or waffles?
A quiet laugh escaped me.
Of course.
Me: Waffles
Jasper: Wrong.
Me: Then why ask?
Jasper: I wanted to know how disappointed to be.
I rolled onto my side, the conversation with Nash slipping a little farther away.
Me: Waffles hold syrup better
Jasper: Pancakes are softer.
Me: You’re oddly passionate about breakfast
Jasper: I’m imagining Sunday mornings.
My smile faded and I read the message again.
Sunday mornings.
There was something different about that phrase. Breakfast was pancakes or waffles and arguing because Jasper enjoyed being difficult. Sunday mornings were slower. Familiar. The kind of thing that happened often enough to become part of a life.
Me: With pancakes?
Jasper: With someone arguing that waffles are better.
My heartbeat changed.
He’d done it again. Offered something that looked almost casual until I stopped long enough to hear what was beneath it.
Me: Who?
Jasper: Haven’t decided.
I smiled despite the sudden tightness in my chest.
Me: Liar
Jasper: Smart girl.
I lay there looking at the words.
Weeks ago, I would’ve torn that conversation apart searching for another explanation. Jasper was flirting. Jasper was naturally charming. Jasper talked like that to everyone.
I didn’t believe those excuses anymore.
Me: Would there be coffee?
Jasper: Obviously.
Me: Mine better not be black.
Jasper: Cream and sugar.
My smile faded into something softer. He remembered everything.
Me: You’ve put a lot of thought into this.
Jasper: I’m planning ahead.
Me: For what?
Jasper: Sunday mornings.
My fingers went still.
There were no promises in those two words, at least not the kind either of us had spoken aloud. He hadn’t told me exactly what he saw when he imagined those mornings or how far into the future they lived.
He’d simply put me there.
That somehow felt more intimate than if he’d said something enormous.
I set the phone against my chest and stared at the ceiling. Somewhere in Nebraska, Jasper knew how I drank my coffee. He knew I’d argue for waffles. He knew my favorite flowers, which season I loved, and where I liked to sit when I wanted to enjoy the quiet.
Little pieces he was collecting, and now he was imagining a place for those pieces in his life.
Tears stung unexpectedly behind my eyes.
I hated that my first reaction to something beautiful was fear.
Because Jasper could imagine Sunday mornings with me only because he didn’t know everything yet.
He didn’t know about Charlie.
The thought sat quietly beside everything else, impossible to ignore now.
I looked at the phone again.
I’m planning ahead.
How could I let him do that while I was still withholding something that might change the plans?
I didn’t answer immediately. Eventually our conversation wandered somewhere safer, into music and his claim that the breakup songs on one of his playlists were romantic if I listened to them correctly. By one in the morning, I’d laughed at him enough that I should’ve been tired.
Instead, the house was silent and I was still awake.
My phone rested beside me now, screen dark.
Nash’s warning had been difficult enough when Jasper was only the man I wanted.
It was worse now that he’d started talking about a future.
I picked up the phone again.
There were a dozen ways to start this badly. I tried several in my head.
I need to tell you something that might change your mind.
Remember those Sunday mornings? You might want to rethink them.
Every version sounded like I was preparing him for something terrible.
Maybe that was because some part of me still believed my past was.
I swallowed and typed the question that had been circling since the party.
Me: Do you believe people can make the right choice and still feel guilty?
His answer came almost immediately.
Jasper: Yes.
I stared at it. No request for an explanation. No joke. Just an answer.
Me: Even years later?
Jasper: Especially years later.
My throat tightened.
I’d spent so much time telling myself that regret would mean I’d made the wrong choice with Charlie. Then I’d spent even more time telling myself I didn’t regret it, because regret sounded too close to wishing things were different.
Maybe guilt lived somewhere between those things.
Maybe it didn’t have to make sense.
Me: What if everyone else thinks it was right?
His answer took longer.
Jasper: That doesn’t always silence the part of you that hurt.
I pressed my lips together. He hadn’t asked what I’d done. Hadn’t told me the guilt was useless or that I needed to let it go. He’d simply made room for it.
Me: You sound like you understand.
Jasper: I understand guilt.
I stared at those words longer than the others.
For the first time, the mystery didn’t belong to me.
There was something in Jasper’s life I couldn’t see. Something behind the easy charm and constant jokes that he carried quietly enough that I’d never thought to look for it.
I could’ve asked. I didn’t because if I asked for his, I’d have to give him mine.
Maybe that was what trust looked like from his side too.
I sat up, drawing my knees beneath the blanket.
Me: I need to tell you something.
Jasper: Tell me.
My fingers hovered over the keypad.
This was the moment I’d been promising myself I was working toward. Charlie’s name could’ve been the next thing I typed. Then the rest: fifteen, pregnant, homeless, adoption.
Instead, fear closed around my throat so tightly I could barely breathe.
What if Sunday mornings vanished the second I told him?
What if Jasper’s careful way of looking at me changed into pity?
What if he stayed only because he felt sorry for me?
Me: I can’t.
The message left before I could reconsider it.
Jasper: Can’t or won’t?
I closed my eyes. He had a terrible habit of finding the real question.
Me: Not yet.
I waited for his response. Nothing about the silence felt patient while I was inside it. Every second gave me time to imagine frustration on the other end.
Then his response appeared.
Jasper: Then not yet.
I read it twice; confusion settled in my stomach.
Me: You aren’t angry?
Jasper: No.
Me: What if it’s important?
Jasper: I trust you to tell me when you can.
The tears came quietly this time. Not because I was relieved that he’d let me keep the secret. Because he hadn’t treated my fear like something I owed him an explanation for.
Me: You shouldn’t trust me that much.
Jasper: Too late.
I laughed, wiping beneath one eye. That sounded like him.
Me: You make this harder.
I wasn’t even sure which part I meant. Telling him. Not telling him. Caring about someone enough that his opinion could matter this much.
His answer took a little longer.
Jasper: I’m trying to make it safe.
My breath caught. I set the phone in my lap.
He said safe.
Not easy.
Not painless.
Safe.
There was a difference.
Jasper couldn’t promise me how he’d react to something he didn’t know. He couldn’t promise nothing would change once I told him. All he could do was show me that I was allowed to reach the truth in my own time.
Maybe that was what I’d needed all along.
Me: Thank you.
Jasper: Always, Cher.
I let the phone rest beside me and curled onto my side. Always was another word I could ruin if I examined it too closely; so for once, I didn’t.
I thought about Sunday mornings instead. About coffee and pancakes if he won the argument, waffles when I did. It was such an ordinary picture.
Maybe that was why it frightened me.
My life had taught me how to survive upheaval. I knew how to lose people, start over, make impossible decisions, and keep moving because there wasn’t another option.
I had no idea what to do with ordinary.
Or with a man who seemed to be offering it to me.
Jasper was choosing me because he wanted to. Not because a judge put my name on a piece of paper. Not because I was family and loving me had become part of the job. Not because anyone had asked him to rescue me.
He could walk away.
So far, he kept coming closer.
I pulled the blanket higher and closed my eyes.
I wasn’t ready to tell him about Charlie tonight.
But for the first time, the secret didn’t feel like a wall I intended to keep between us.
It felt like a door.
One Jasper had already promised he wouldn’t force his way through.
He’d wait on the other side until I was ready.