“I thought I’d start off by telling you how sorry I am about the last couple of weeks. I never meant to confuse you.”
“I can’t seem to keep up with you. One minute you’re there, or you leave me flowers and notes, and the next you disappear.”
“You had my number. You could have called me.”
“I didn’t think you wanted me to.”
“Did you like the flowers and notes?”
“I loved them. I know I work a man’s job, and usually look like a guy—”
“You could never look like a guy. You’re beautiful, honey. Everything about you screams sexy woman, even in jeans and flannel shirts.”
He surveyed her with pure male appreciation. Her cheeks flushed at his blatant perusal.
She swallowed another bite, leaving her plate nearly empty. “Regardless, I’m still a woman. I like flowers and notes. I especially liked the rose you left on the roof.”
“You sit up there and think about us. Wherever I am, I think about you.”
Her eyes softened on him and she sighed. “I like it up there. You can’t beat the view.”
“We’ve shared a lot of history. It occurred to me today, standing on the roof, you’ve wanted to count on me for a long time. You haven’t been able to do that, even when we were kids.”
“That’s not true. You were there for me when we were young. You’d have been there when I had Hope if you’d known.”
“Let’s not talk about my mother. I don’t want to be angry tonight. What I’m saying is although we’ve always been close, there’s been a kind of disconnect between us because we haven’t been completely honest with each other. There have been things I didn’t know about you and you didn’t know about me.” He took her empty plate and set it on the coffee table along with his own. He took her hands and held them while he looked into her eyes. “Here’s the thing. I don’t want there to be anything about you I don’t know. I want you to know everything there is to know about me.”
“That’s going to take some time. I know a lot about you, Dylan, but it’s been eight years since we’ve seen each other. You’ve grown up. I grew up. Things changed. Maybe we’ve changed too much and what we had isn’t there anymore.”
His fingers slid into her hair at the base of her neck. He drew her close, his gaze locked on hers. His mouth fit to hers and her eyes fell closed and she fell into him. He drew the kiss out, letting her feel the connection between them pulse and build.
“You feel what we have just as strongly as I do.”
One side of his mouth cocked up in a grin when it took her that whole sentence to open her eyes again.
“We need a lifetime to know each other, and that’s what I want with you.”
He stood and pulled her with him. Moving around the coffee table, he pulled her down to sit between his legs. They faced the fire. He liked the way she settled against his chest without any reservations. He kissed the side of her head and gazed over her shoulder at the bright fire.
“Like I said, it’s going to take a lifetime. We have something special. I love you, Jess. I always have, and that’s never going to change.”
“I love you too,” she whispered.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and across her chest. She leaned her head down and rested her chin on his arm, watching the dancing flames snap and pop. The feel of his body down her back and his legs wrapped around hers made her feel safe and protected. Looking up through the skylights above them, night had fallen and the stars burned bright.
“I know you do. I’ve always known.” He kissed her temple and squeezed her to him.
“You said you wanted to ask me something. What is it?” She settled into him and continued watching the fire. His breath whispered against the side of her face, and he sat behind her enjoying the fire and the closeness he’d tried to build over the last weeks, but all he needed was Jessie in this arms.
“Will you take me to see Hope? I want to put flowers on her grave and tell her I love her. I want her to have both her parents visit her.”
She went to the grave often. She’d sit by the grave and talk to her. It always left her drained and depressed. The sadness of seeing her daughter’s name etched in stone and thinking of all the things she’d never see her daughter do or experience overwhelmed her.
“I’ll take you any time you want to go. I go several times a year, and always on her birthday.”
“Let’s go tomorrow. It’s Saturday. We’ll spend the day together. We’ll pick up Will after we go to the cemetery.”