since he came home.
“I’m sorry,” Jess blurted out.
“Sorry for what? Jeez, Jess, trying to follow you is like trying to follow the weather forecast. It changes every ten minutes.”
Her chest felt cramped and her cheeks hot. “You know, for being so … harsh when you came home. I just, I don’t know. I reacted poorly and was critical when I knew you needed a friend and not judgment.” She paused. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, truce? I realize I’ve been a bit…”
“Judgmental?” Rick offered up lightly, causing the soft blush on Jess’s checks to deepen.
“Yeah. That. It’s just … it was frustrating seeing you so angry. You have so much potential, Rick! I mean, just look at these paintings, for example, yet you waste it all on booze.”
He cupped his hands around his mug. “It’s my decision, Jess. When a person goes through something like I did, they need to get over it in their own time.” Rick paused, staring into his cup before continuing. “When you lose a part of yourself, there’s grief. Not even for what you physically lost, but grief over losing a dream, and knowing that nothing is going to turn out the way you planned. It’s having that choice taken out of your hands. The last thing I needed was someone telling me how I was supposed to feel about it or how I should handle it.”
She’d done that, and they both knew it. Jess felt torn. On one side, she realized Rick had to work through his issues in his own way, and yet she knew there were better ways he could have dealt with things instead of drinking and picking bar fights and passing out in the square. But sitting with him now, drinking coffee in his sunny little kitchen, she could be honest enough with herself to acknowledge that Rick’s drinking was not the same as Mike’s. That Rick was not Mike. Staring at his clear eyes, she almost wanted to tell him. Tell him about Mike’s alcoholism and what it had cost her. Maybe then he’d understand why she was so against his way of dealing with his problems.
But telling him was opening a Pandora’s box of issues she didn’t want to discuss—with anyone. She’d worked hard to overcome them. She’d worked hard to make something successful of herself.
It was easy enough to imagine the horrified look on Rick’s face if she told him everything that had gone on in her relationship with Mike. And once she opened that door there was no closing it. No matter what the counseling sessions or self-help books said, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that what happened with Mike was somehow her own fault. She should have been stronger. She should have left earlier.
“Let’s just forget about it, okay?” he suggested.
She left her own justifications out of it and was relieved to change the subject. “Consider it forgotten.” Jess paused uncertainly. “I’d like to be friends. For Abby and Tom’s sake. Clean slate and all that.” At Rick’s slow nod, she continued. “I guess I should be going, then. I’ve kept you long enough.” She stood, leaving her nearly empty coffee cup on the table.
He stood, too, and walked her to the door. She offered a weak smile as she went out and onto the step.
“Jess?”
She turned around to see him standing in the doorway, looking crazy sexy in faded jeans and an old T-shirt stretched out at the neck, his hair tousled and a day’s growth on his jaw.
“Don’t say anything about … about the painting, okay?”
“Of course not. Not if you don’t want.”
“I don’t.”
“Then your secret is safe with me.”
She wished he hadn’t asked. His work was so beautiful it should be shared and he should get credit for it. But that was his call to make, not hers. And she could be very good at keeping secrets.
Now she was holding two of his in her hands. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to garner his trust, and she wasn’t sure she even wanted it.
C HAPTER 7
The day of the wedding dawned crystal clear and cool, a
“I’m sorry,” Jess blurted out.
“Sorry for what? Jeez, Jess, trying to follow you is like trying to follow the weather forecast. It changes every ten minutes.”
Her chest felt cramped and her cheeks hot. “You know, for being so … harsh when you came home. I just, I don’t know. I reacted poorly and was critical when I knew you needed a friend and not judgment.” She paused. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, truce? I realize I’ve been a bit…”
“Judgmental?” Rick offered up lightly, causing the soft blush on Jess’s checks to deepen.
“Yeah. That. It’s just … it was frustrating seeing you so angry. You have so much potential, Rick! I mean, just look at these paintings, for example, yet you waste it all on booze.”
He cupped his hands around his mug. “It’s my decision, Jess. When a person goes through something like I did, they need to get over it in their own time.” Rick paused, staring into his cup before continuing. “When you lose a part of yourself, there’s grief. Not even for what you physically lost, but grief over losing a dream, and knowing that nothing is going to turn out the way you planned. It’s having that choice taken out of your hands. The last thing I needed was someone telling me how I was supposed to feel about it or how I should handle it.”
She’d done that, and they both knew it. Jess felt torn. On one side, she realized Rick had to work through his issues in his own way, and yet she knew there were better ways he could have dealt with things instead of drinking and picking bar fights and passing out in the square. But sitting with him now, drinking coffee in his sunny little kitchen, she could be honest enough with herself to acknowledge that Rick’s drinking was not the same as Mike’s. That Rick was not Mike. Staring at his clear eyes, she almost wanted to tell him. Tell him about Mike’s alcoholism and what it had cost her. Maybe then he’d understand why she was so against his way of dealing with his problems.
But telling him was opening a Pandora’s box of issues she didn’t want to discuss—with anyone. She’d worked hard to overcome them. She’d worked hard to make something successful of herself.
It was easy enough to imagine the horrified look on Rick’s face if she told him everything that had gone on in her relationship with Mike. And once she opened that door there was no closing it. No matter what the counseling sessions or self-help books said, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that what happened with Mike was somehow her own fault. She should have been stronger. She should have left earlier.
“Let’s just forget about it, okay?” he suggested.
She left her own justifications out of it and was relieved to change the subject. “Consider it forgotten.” Jess paused uncertainly. “I’d like to be friends. For Abby and Tom’s sake. Clean slate and all that.” At Rick’s slow nod, she continued. “I guess I should be going, then. I’ve kept you long enough.” She stood, leaving her nearly empty coffee cup on the table.
He stood, too, and walked her to the door. She offered a weak smile as she went out and onto the step.
“Jess?”
She turned around to see him standing in the doorway, looking crazy sexy in faded jeans and an old T-shirt stretched out at the neck, his hair tousled and a day’s growth on his jaw.
“Don’t say anything about … about the painting, okay?”
“Of course not. Not if you don’t want.”
“I don’t.”
“Then your secret is safe with me.”
She wished he hadn’t asked. His work was so beautiful it should be shared and he should get credit for it. But that was his call to make, not hers. And she could be very good at keeping secrets.
Now she was holding two of his in her hands. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to garner his trust, and she wasn’t sure she even wanted it.
C HAPTER 7
The day of the wedding dawned crystal clear and cool, a
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