Chapter Thirty-Four JACKIE
Chapter Thirty-Four
JACKIE
Why did I ever buy this dress? It’s hideous. Wrong. Everything feels wrong.
And do I need that many shoes? Of course I do.
My brain’s spinning, tangled in the chaos I made, and I can’t seem to catch my breath.
He caught me off guard, that’s all. I gave him closure. He can go on his merry way.
So why is he still here?
God, the clothes are all over the place; this disorder is suffocating me.
It seemed like a great idea this morning. Pull everything out, spread it across the room, and reorganize the dressing room all in one go. Sort my life into neat little piles.
Are these two bags even different? Maybe I need a system. An app. Something to scan what I wear, track it. I could get the dev team on it next week. Smart tags. Color-coded categories…
Breathe, Jackie.
My brain is in full-blown panic mode. Grasping at anything to avoid this conversation.
His words stripped me bare, right down to the bone. Left no place to hide. Showed me once again that nobody sees me like he does.
Letting somebody so close to your soft center that they could touch it… is terrifying.
But Adam doesn’t grab it.
Doesn’t crush it.
He cups it with reverence.
And keeps it safe.
“Talk to me,” he says behind me, his voice low and steady.
“What’s there to talk about?” I croak out, hating how fragile I sound. “I’ve made a fool of myself. End of story.”
“No,” he says, firmer now. “This time the story doesn’t end because you’re scared, and I don’t know how to handle it. This time, we talk. I’m not letting you slip through my fingers again because I wasn’t clear enough.”
My stomach knots as I glance back, slowly turning toward him.
“What do you mean?”
His smile is so warm, his gaze an infinite pool of comfort, drowning out the maddening buzzing in my ears. He disarms me completely.
Adam shifts, like he wants to reach for me, but thinks better of it.
“First,” he says. “I want you to say it. To me.” His voice doesn’t waver.
I blink up at him, unsure of what he’s asking.
“What you told Eliza. And what the rest of the world found out before I did.”
Oh.
A searing flush licks its way up my neck, burning hot across my cheeks. My mouth feels like I swallowed a spoonful of sand.
But he deserves this. Honesty, at the very least.
Even if it guts me.
Even if he doesn’t love me back.
He stands before me, waiting. Open. A quiet kind of hope brimming in the lines of his face.
His unwavering support and steadiness give me the strength to make the words push past the fear. But there’s nothing I can do about the hot tears rolling down my cheeks.
It’s the first time I’ve ever let myself say it out loud.
“I love you, Adam.”
It comes out scratchy and uneven. But it’s true.
“I’ve loved you since you moved to New York, and I never stopped. Even when I wanted to hate you. Even when watching you fall apart felt like losing someone I wasn’t allowed to mourn.” I sniff, breath hitching. “I can’t stop.”
Silence pulses in my eardrums. Long enough for my hope to start withering into regret.
He nods once. “Good.”
“Good?” A humorless chuckle gurgles out. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“That I love you too. That you still own my heart, and I’m done pretending otherwise.”
He takes a step forward. Then another. Until he’s close enough that I can’t feel anything else but him. And all the chaos in my head quiets to a steady hum. A peaceful song my heart’s singing.
Still, that voice in my head, sharp and cold like my dad’s, won’t shut up. “But, I’m so difficult,” I whisper.
He chuckles, words catching with emotion. “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. It comes naturally. Like breathing.”
But the guilt is still there. Heavy. Lodged in my chest. It’s hard to believe he’d let go of everything I put him through.
“Don’t say that,” I murmur. “Not unless you’re sure.”
He shakes his head, emotion breaking through. “You walked away with my heart eight years ago,” he says. “You were my first love, Jackie. And your name will ghost my lips with my final breath.”
“I feel so guilty,” I choke out. I don’t know how to hold the love he has to give. His forgiveness. The way he looks at me like I’m everything.
He reaches for me then. His warm hand wraps gently around my wrist and tugs me to him.
“You could put me through worse,” he says, voice thick. “And I’d still love you. Always.”
His thumb rubs slow, reassuring circles on the inside of my wrist. “When I look at you, I see my future. Our family. A full life.”
I can only whimper, too scared to grab at this dream I never let myself hope for.
“Kids, Jackie. And you nagging me because I didn’t dress them in matching outfits.”
He hooks a finger under my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his. “Leave the past where it belongs. Let me be absolutely obsessed with you.”
He’s so close now, I’m breathing him in. My hand comes up to rest over his heart, feeling its thrumming match mine.
“Let me love you, Jackie. Will you let me?”
I’m still scared, but maybe love isn’t about winning or deserving. This is the moment I decide to sit in the fire, instead of fleeing it. To stay. To choose him. And to love.
There’s no other person in the world I’d rather stay with.
Our foreheads touch, tears streaming down my cheeks. Adam leans in, silently asking for everything I can give him. And for the first time, I don’t feel the need to run. I reach for his collar, anchoring myself to him.
And I answer him with a reckless, desperate kiss. A kiss soaked in years of longing, pain, hope, and finally, finally…happiness and relief.
I pour everything into it. Letting myself believe in the promise of the kind of love we both had to grow into to finally be ready.
And when he says my name, soft and certain, it sounds like I’m finally home.