Take You Back
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Release date: May 30, 2023
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Behind the book
Book Two of the Spring Hills 10-Year High School Reunion Series.
Author updates
Take You Back
Mel Walker
Prologue
Jada
I should be careful. I repeat the mantra in my head because careful is the last emotion running through my veins at this moment.
I’m riding a wave of euphoria and excitement, a victorious conclusion to the Spring Hills ten-year high school reunion. Not my reunion, but my brother Elijah’s. At the farewell brunch, he finally won the heart of the girl he’s been carrying a crush for forever, Kennedy Myers. It’s been a long, windy road for him to get to his happily ever after. He’s earned every step.
I was at the reunion as his plus-one. Only someone as sweet and kind as Elijah would have his younger sister tag along to his reunion. And it’s a good thing I was here because I took down the bully, Brett McAllister, legendary champion quarterback and hero to many. Brett had the misfortune of picking on Elijah. You pick a fight with one Stevenson, you get us all.
But that’s not the reason my heart is beating a staccato beat that has yet to slow down. My actions put me front and center of Spring Hills’ brand-new school counselor, Kai Daniels. Kai saw the madness of the reunion and immediately voiced what I had felt all weekend. Things need to change. I’d already volunteered to lead the reunion committee for next year for my good friend Lincoln’s ten-year reunion.
Which brings me back here to the reason my heart is racing. Kai informed me they’ve assigned him to be the staff coordinator for next year’s reunion. A joint need to get to work immediately pushes us to hop right in. Okay, maybe that wasn’t the only reason. I’m headed back to New York in a few days, and this may be my only chance to chase down the spark that is tingling between us. The ticking clock of my return plane ticket forced me to hurry. I’m sitting on a mauve-colored couch in his barely moved-in apartment a half mile from the town center.
“Jada, I hope you’re good with white wine. That’s all I have at the moment,” Kai says, stepping through his kitchen doorway, holding up two flutes of gold-tinted liquid. He steps around a stack of boxes, and I take it all in. Kai has lost the dark blazer he wore to brunch, his stylish European-cut white shirt with thin black lines showing off his thin physique.
My tongue runs across my lower lip, and I’m not sure whether I’m looking forward to a taste of liquor or the man. To say Kai is attractive is an understatement. African American, just over six feet tall, dark skin, with a freshly groomed beard, he’s the type of man that you can’t but help stop and stare at. I think back to the brunch and the reaction of every single woman and half of the married ones when he introduced himself. He was the only member of the staff that received catcalls. Part of the reason is that he is not a member of the geriatric club, probably just on the other side of thirty, but the larger reason for the catcalls is he is slap-your-mama gorgeous. Yes, you can call a man gorgeous, at least when they look as fine as Kai Daniels.
He slips down to the couch next to me, hand extended, offering me the stemware. The rim of the glass is embossed in gold, letting me know Kai is a man who appreciates the finer things in life. I brace myself and attempt to batten down the hatches for the tsunami on the horizon. When my finger brushes against his, an electric tornado swirls in the space between us. No way I make it out of here without regrets.
Our gazes lock, and I take my time taking a sip of the liquid trouble. I feel the slow perusal of his stare on my lips, watching me closely. It’s nice to be in the presence of a man that understands the beauty of a slow rhythm. I run my tongue across my lower lip and watch the twitch in the corner of his eyes. He tries to hide his reaction by tapping our glasses before taking a slow sip. I do the same, both of us refusing to look away.
He slides his glass on top of one of the unopened cardboard moving boxes that is serving as an end table for him. He’s only a week removed from moving from Chicago to Spring Hills for his new position at the high school. Barely enough time for him to get acclimated in time for the new school year, starting in a few weeks.
With Elijah and Kennedy seeking alone time, I looked for an escape, and Kai was more than happy to supply it. I recall my bold words to him just as the brunch was winding down. “You want to get out of here?” It took him less than a second to reply, and that was the first sign I knew we were headed for trouble.
We needed a quiet place where we could talk without prying ears. The options in a small town like Spring Hills, Illinois, on a Sunday afternoon, are limited. It was cute watching him gyrate through suggestions and me giving reasons each one wouldn’t work.
Closed—too crowded—nosy neighbors. I shut down each of his suggestions until it became obvious the solution. It was either my high school reunion hotel room with my brother’s room next door or here, his apartment.
“I love what you’ve done with the place,” I joke and wave a hand toward his exposed windows. I wouldn’t expect curtains or window treatments, but the three windows looking out toward the parking lot of the complex lack even blinds.
“Yeah, my sister is coming down next weekend to add a woman’s touch,” he says, his dark eyes locking on me, the subtle message not so elusive—he doesn’t have a woman in his life.
On the short walk to his place, rather than discuss next year’s reunion, we each talked about our past. Me, the small-town girl with a personality too big for this town, and he the big-city man interested in mentoring and guiding others.
The walk was too short to dive into why Spring Hills or what his relationship status is, but since he’d opened the door, I’m going to push through. “So, you didn’t stow away anyone from Chicago in your luggage when you moved?”
A soft chuckle escapes his throat before he takes a slow sip of wine. I follow the bounce of his Adam’s apple, the lines of his powerful jaw. This man is gorgeous from every angle. He lowers the glass, a slight shake of his head. “Free as the proverbial bird. How about you?” His eyelids flutter in my direction, the signs of interest obvious. We are communicating without words, an art most men fail to master until it’s too late.
But I won’t assume. I’m only twenty-five years old, still figuring out almost every aspect of my life, professionally and socially. I learned a long time ago that for me, I learn best by doing. My most important life lessons are when I am bold and take a chance, even if going in, I do not know how it’s going to play out.
Heat rises in my chest, his volley not unexpected. “I’m only in town for the reunion. Headed back to New York in a few days.” It’s a nonanswer, and I want to gauge Kai’s reaction.
“And is there someone waiting for you back in New York?” He delivers the question directly, like I would expect from a man like him. He’s mature, early thirties, maybe half a dozen years on me. Experienced, confident, and bold. All traits which I find attractive.
I lick my lips and let the question linger. His gaze locks on my movement, a flash of desire in his eyes before he mirrors my movement. We are two souls operating on the same page. “Not right now. Although for the first time in a long while, Spring Hills may be in the running again.” I lay the breadcrumb at his feet.
We are two strangers with an undeniable connection. “You know long-distance relationships don’t work out.” He steps around the breadcrumb, and I’m not sure if it’s because he thinks he needs to spare my feelings or something else.
“Who mentioned the word ‘relationship’?” I’m reckless with my question. Careful never stood a chance. I destroyed it the minute I stepped into this apartment with a man that looks like Kai.
“Do you understand what you are agreeing to?” His questions provide more answers than he intends. It speaks to a history, an understanding, of a man who’s been down this road before.
I nod. “You’re new to town. I’m only here for a few days. We have a connection. A mutual attraction and not that much time on our hands.” I knock down every obstacle most women place in front of a man. It’s been too long since I’ve thrown caution to the wind and just cut loose. I’m away from the hustle and bustle of New York. I’m back in Spring Hills, my hometown. A person like Kai doesn’t come this way that often. It’s as if the stars aligned for me, creating the perfect storm. A wonderful haze-filled hurricane named Kai Daniels.
The corners of his mouth tilt up. “Bold.” Another chuckle escapes his mouth. “I knew I liked you the minute I saw you.” He rises and extends a steady hand in my direction. I don’t resist and rise. I angle my head up to capture his potent gaze, a look of concern now spread across his face. “Just so there aren’t any misunderstandings, Jada, I need to hear you say the words.”
I pause as my heart pounds in my chest. Am I being short-sighted? My brother Elijah took over ten years to find his match in Kennedy. I just met Kai but already feel a connection I’ve not felt with any other man. But he’s right, long distances are the death of relationships. Besides, Kai has just arrived in Spring Hills. The last thing on his mind is starting a relationship.
I bite my lower lip, aware that he’s watching my every move. If I go down this path, I’m cutting off any chance of us having a genuine relationship. There aren’t any roads that take you from friends with benefits to happily ever after. The warning bell rings loud in my head. Careful.
The words are out of my mouth before the bell rings again. “Let’s just have some fun for a few days.”
His eyelids bat at me, prompting me to continue. To go all in with my commitment. With him looking at me the way he is right now, logic doesn’t stand a chance.
“No strings,” I add.
Kai repeats my words back to me. “No strings.” Our hands remain connected as he leads me through his apartment, down the hallway, past the bathroom, toward the bedroom.
I survey myself as I do whenever I’ve made a bold decision. My four questions. The ones I’ve developed over a lifetime of life’s lessons. Questions constructed in between tears hiding in a bathroom stall. Questions vetted with my closest friends after another failed relationship. Questions I force myself to ask before making major decisions:
Am I anxious?
Am I excited?
Is this the right choice at this time?
And the most important question—if things don’t work out, would I make the same decision given what I know at the time?
They are the four questions I always ask myself. These are the questions that have kept me sane over the last few wild years of my life. They don’t protect me from harm, but they keep me from carrying regret. A heavy burden that doesn’t allow you to learn and move on.
I pause and take inventory.
I’m anxious and excited; those are wonderful traits to have. It means this is something I’m curious about, I desire, and am looking forward to. Ever since Kai stepped to the podium at the reunion, I wondered what it would be like to be in his arms, my lips pressed against his. How could you look at him and not feel anxious and excited?
When I reach the third question, I pause. Is this the right choice for me now? I justify my actions by reiterating that I’m only here for a few days. If not now, when?
With three answers in the yes column, I think of the last hurdle—if things don’t work out. A no-strings relationship is still a relationship. And with relationships, as my history can attest, there are never any guarantees. I’m twenty-five and single, which means I’ve yet to have a relationship work out. I’ve taken lessons from each relationship, some revealing insights about myself but, unfortunately, most of them teaching me about traits of the guy.
Kai and I have just met, but I can sense that he is kind, cares about others, is experienced, and communicates. That’s more than most guys I’ve come across.
We step into his large bedroom, and Kai verifies my instincts are correct. “Are you sure about this?”
I feel the smile spread across my face as my shaky yes clicks to a strong affirmative. This feels right, and it’s what I need in my life right now. Secure in my decision, I relax. “I should be the one asking you that question. You’ve just arrived here, and I don’t want you packing everything up and following me back to New York after this.”
A sexy sparkle fills his eyes, the look of concern disappearing. He reaches for my other free hand. “I find a confident woman the most attractive thing on this planet.”
“That’s what I like about you, Kai. You and I are the same. Same page, same wants, and both are not afraid to go after it.” I don’t have ten years to wait to get what I want. Not when it is right here for the taking.
This is the right choice for me right now. I’ll figure out tomorrow—tomorrow.
Chapter One
Jada – Eight Months Later
“You’re leaving me?” I hate the sound of my voice. Whiny, insecure, needy, clingy, all traits I despise.
My brother’s laugh does little to relax me. In fact, it has the opposite effect. “Elijah, you can’t leave. I came to New York to be with you, and now you’re leaving me. Again.” I’m being overdramatic, but isn’t that what the younger sister is supposed to do when your big brother drops a bombshell that he’s moving back to our hometown, Spring Hills, Illinois? Middle of nowhere, small-town America, where I escaped and hadn’t fully unpacked yet.
The tiny, boring town we grew up in and which I returned to after college only to discover everyone had left me. Elijah chased an author career here in New York, and my parents opted for early retirement and moved to Costa Rica.
After six months of total boredom in my hometown, I followed Elijah to New York. We have a good thing going here. Had. He’s about to blow it all up.
“I’m not leaving you. I’ve asked you to join me and return home.” Elijah is the sweetest big brother in the world, and though it feels like a bombshell, he’s been dropping hints and leaving clues ever since his ten-year high school reunion eight months ago. Once he and his longtime high school girl crush, Kennedy Myers, finally became an item after ten long years, I knew this day was only a matter of time.
Elijah’s been burning through frequent-flier miles back and forth to Illinois so often that I’ve practically had our two-bedroom New York apartment to myself nearly every weekend.
Not that his absence has helped me find my place in this super-loud, super-expensive city that never sleeps. My first few months with him here held such promise. I’d tag along with his author friends and check out some of the best people-watching places in New York. The city is so different from our small town, and it excites me and scares me half to death at the same time.
The women are super confident, impatient, and know exactly what they want in life. The men. They are aggressive, demanding, and entitled. Traits that people from my hometown placed on my shoulders. In Illinois, they were easy to carry; in New York, not so much.
“Been there, done that. Wore the Rip Van Winkle pajamas to prove it.” I remind him I’d tried living in Spring Hills before. Six of the longest months of my life. Even with my parental units letting me live in our childhood home rent-free, it proved too costly to me. The price of boredom outweighs stress-free student loan payments and zero social life.
“Yeah.” His eyes sparkle with humor, my pain tickling his funny bone. “That’s because I wasn’t there. It’ll be just like here, except at an eighth of the cost.”
After I moved to New York, our parents rented the house to a sweet couple, LeAnn and Michelle. They’ve just notified our parents that they must move back to California to care for her ailing mother. When Elijah heard, he jumped at the opportunity to move back home. Our parents were aware of Elijah’s frequent travels back home and offered the house to him with a deal better than the one Peter Minuit got when he purchased Manhattan for twenty-four dollars. Take care of the maintenance and the taxes. That’s it.
I chew on my lips and weigh my options. There is no way I can afford this New York apartment on my own. Even now, Elijah picks up two-thirds of the rent, and it has little to do with the fact that he has the larger bedroom. Elijah has always looked out for me. He knows I’ve nearly paid off my student loans and that I’m focusing on expanding my public relations business. It’s my baby, and I owe it all to him. He was my first client. Over the last few years, I’ve gotten lots of traction in the independent author community and now have a roster of nearly two dozen authors from all around the country. I still work full-time at a PR agency, but the dream is to be on my own one day.
He stares at me with matching hazel eyes, as if expecting me to give him an immediate answer. The choices aren’t that difficult—stay in an expensive city that has flummoxed me to date with no support system or return to my hometown and have the money to invest in my business.
Maybe this time, it will be different. I’ll have my business funds to do things to stave off boredom. I’ll have Lincoln, Lucinda, and a half dozen other friends who never fled Spring Hills. I could sleep with the window open and drink in a serenade of crickets and the hoots of owls and not police sirens and drunks fighting on the street at two in the morning.
A half smile eases across my lips, and I see hope rise in Elijah’s eyes. And just as fast, it disappears. My lips flatten, and a bolt of anger shoots through me as I think of the one thing I won’t be looking forward to.
The man who I felt an instant connection with and spent some of the happiest days with over the last year. Also, the man who hasn’t called, texted, or reached out in six months. Kai Daniels.
The only proof of life I’ve received is a series of group emails from him as head of the Spring Hills ten-year reunion committee. Generic, impersonal emails, which I suspect he copied and pasted from last year’s committee and swapped out the names. Not even a P.S. Jada, I miss you embedded in any of them. And, for the record, I looked.
I raked myself over the coals for weeks after the time we spent together after the high school reunion. We had both agreed it was just a hookup. Yet it felt more like the start of something special. And I waited. Silence provided the answer to the question I was too afraid to ask out loud.
The days turned into weeks, which turned into months, yet the sting never fully faded. I should be immune to this point in my life. Twenty-six years old and yet to have someone utter those three magic words to me. Yet my chest burns, the low sting from embers that never died out. I know I shouldn’t carry this, especially after eight long months, yet I do.
Kai is just the latest in a line that is becoming too long.
I’m not ready to return to Spring Hills just yet. I still have one card to play. I scoop up my phone and shoot off a quick text. “Give me the night. I’ll figure this out.”
The buzz of the phone is expected. Kai may find me easy to ignore, but he’s not the only option. Especially not in a city like New York. A breathy laugh escapes my lips as I read the text, a confirmation that bolsters my confidence.
I tap out a reply and head down the thin hallway with a wave over my shoulder to my brother.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to change outfits.”
Elijah follows me to my bedroom, stopping at the doorway. I lift the hanger from the closest and press my most deadly black miniskirt against me. It’s a dress I never would have purchased in Spring Hills. The scandalous dress is too short, even by my standards, too daring, too everything. But the price of everything in New York is high. A dress like this is merely the cost of admission if you want to get noticed. Short skirts, designer shoes, daring tops, and handbags that cost more than a car payment are required to get a man to buy you a drink in this town.
I can buy my own drink, but it’s still nice to not have to.
“You look fine.” I can’t tell if Elijah’s words reflect his kind nature or his big-brother protectionism watching his younger sister develop into a woman in front of his eyes.
“You always say that,” I say, tossing the skirt on the bed, and begin digging through the closet for a matching top. I’m wearing my favorite pair of I’m not leaving the house jeans and a dark T-shirt. It is a fine outfit if one is planning on sitting on the couch and streaming romance movies from the Hallmark Channel all day. Don’t judge. Elijah is a romance author, and I handle his public relations. I justify it by calling it research. If only life was as simple as a Hallmark movie. A simple touch, undying devotion, no complications, and everyone guaranteed a happily ever after.
But life isn’t a sweet romance. It’s a get out of my way, I don’t have time, I don’t see you and don’t care about what you want roller coaster filled with characters that fool you time and time again. To survive in this world, you have to adapt. People don’t kiss you once and commit to staying with you for the rest of your life. You must put on that daring dress, go to that too-loud-to-hear-yourself-speak bar, and dive into the pit of over perfumed women and dig in and pray you can pull a prize from the scrum before someone else digs their clutches into him.
And even then, that’s only half the battle. He still has to want to stay.
“I’m not fine.” I hold up the lacy red silk top with the spaghetti straps, which I swore to myself I would never wear again. I hear the frustration in my voice and don’t pretend it’s not there. “You’re leaving. Nothing about this is fine.” I press the top against my chest and let a long exhale escape through my mouth. I project an air of confidence and boldness in front of nearly everyone but Elijah. He sees the real me. He knows me like a best friend.
A gentle hand lands on my shoulder, another one appearing over the other, reaching for the hanger. Elijah knows if I’m choosing red that I’ve reached a point of desperation. He takes the top from my hand and walks it back to my closet.
“How about this? One criticism I get from my female readers is that I dress my heroines the way a teenage boy would dress a Barbie doll.” Elijah steps in front of me. His eyes fill with warmth and kindness. A gentler soul doesn’t exist on this planet. “In the name of research, let me pick out your outfit.”
This is why I love my brother so much. He’s not overbearing. He doesn’t shout, scream, or demand things be his way because he’s older. He observes. He’s an empath. And he shows me in a million different ways how to show someone you love them.
It’s the reason I came to New York.
I plop down onto the bed and watch as he places my too-short skirt in the far corner of my closet.
“I’m thinking maybe something like this.” He holds up a long-sleeved turtleneck sweater that would hide every inch of exposed skin. The opposite of what I had in mind.
We both laugh, and I lean back onto my elbows and take in the moment. He shakes his head and returns to the closet. A smile spreads across my face, and I realize it may not be the worst thing in the world to return to Spring Hills.
It’s a small town, and it would be impossible to avoid Kai Daniels, the man whose mere existence will be a constant reminder that I’m not that special. But it’ll all be outweighed by being with my brother, the one person in the world who knows me best. And he tells me every day that I am.
And if anyone knows, it’s him. He’s my best friend.
Chapter Two
Kai
“Check in time, Kai. How is life in the land of milk and honey?” I stare down at my phone at my sister, Lillian, whose face is full of I-told-you-so smiles. It was a hell more than a blip to me. But I can’t tell her that. Not after what we both agreed to. I signed up for a deal, fully aware of what it meant. And now I have to live with the consequences.
I’m sitting at my desk in my apartment and run my hand through my too-long hair. “I miss Mr. Van. I still haven’t found a barbershop down here that can style a short Afro the way I like it.” As much as I tell my face to remain stoic, it doesn’t. A quick smile creeps across my face, giving away my deceit.
“If your first complaint is about missing that nasty-ass barbershop, then I know you must be living your best life.” She’s nearly right.
This year has been more than I could have envisioned when I left Chicago to become a full-time guidance counselor in the middle of nowhere.
“Principal Bonaparte has embraced me from day one. She’s given me a ton of leeway and has signed off on nearly every one of my proposals. She cares nearly as much as I do about the students.”
“Wow. That’s exactly what you needed. What you’ve always deserved.” Lillian knows the frustration I experienced in Chicago. A massive bureaucratic system that was jammed with tenured administrators who were more concerned with keeping low profiles and doing as little as possible than trying to innovate and focus on the needs of the most important element of the school system, the kids.
I spent three years lost in the system, designated a floater who bounced from school to school whenever counselors were out. Thirty-five different schools, not one assignment longer than five days. Never enough time to get to know the students. Never enough time to have any impact.
“Will you have enough counseling hours to sit for the certification?” Lillian reminds me of my mission. A goal I set, just like she had, just like our older brother, Amir. The three of us were all fed up with the dysfunction of our sweet hometown, Chicago, each of us devising a plan to take control of our destiny and escape.
“I will meet my hour threshold soon. Then the exam, and I’ll have an advanced certification that will put me in a position to really make a difference.” Lillian is aware of my master plan. The advanced certification gives me autonomy, the freedom I’ve always been seeking. “How’s Chicago treating you?
“As messed up as you left it,” she laughs. “When you explained to me you needed to leave, otherwise you might punch someone, I didn’t get it. I get it now. It’s like pushing a boulder up a steep hill and they’ve placed a brick wall in front of you.”
Lillian is an economist. To this day, I still do not comprehend what she does. But she’s damn good at it. She’s always working on a study or an analysis of some sort. Her clients pay a massive amount of money for these research papers that are used to influence political programs throughout the city. She, unlike me and Amir, still calls Chicago home, technically. We joke she lives in the Obama section of Chicago. The part of the city where the winter wind doesn’t gust, the sun is always shining, and crime is something you only read about.
“The current city administration ignored every one of my recommendations in my last study. I wrote it so that a five-year-old could implement it, but you know what we say?”
“There’s the right way.” I kick off our singsong call and response just like we did when we were teenagers.
“The proper way,” she returns.
“The decent way,” I fill in the line designated for Amir.
“And then there is the Chicago way.” We hide our shared exasperation behind laughs.
“It’s why I had to leave,” I mutter. Amir was the first to go. He’s landed well in Atlanta. His joyous updates provided me the proof I needed to know that it was okay to walk away and find fulfillment elsewhere. And based on what I’ve experienced at the school here in Spring Hills, I should have done it sooner.
“Enough about work. How is the love life? Have you found your future Mrs. Middle America yet?” She pivots to her favorite topic, giving her older brother grief about his single status.
“I’m here for the kids,” I deflect with my standard response, a statement not that far from the truth. Once the school year began, I focused all of my attention on getting to know the students, understanding their challenges, and how I could affect their lives.
“So, no future sister-in-law for me?” she jokes, and I shake my head. “What about that girl from the reunion? Jada. I’d never seen you gush so much about a girl in my life. I thought for sure…”
The mention of Jada’s name causes me to pause. Lillian isn’t wrong. Ten minutes after Jada’s plane lifted off, I called Lillian on my drive home. My heart had yet to return to earth from our farewell, and Lillian picked up on it immediately. “I don’t do long distance,” I cut her off before she gets her hopes up. Something I was guilty about that weekend. “She lives in New York. We were never going to—”
“I’m sorry.”
I hear the concern in Lillian’s voice. This is not her burden. “It’s fine. You shouldn’t feel sorrow. We had fun. That was all she wanted. That was all I wanted.”
“Are you sure that’s all you wanted?” Lillian asks the way only someone who knows me could. “I’ve seen you around lots of women, but I’ve never heard in your voice what I heard that day. Can you do something for me?”
I roll my eyes at the screen. “What? If I do this, can we talk about something else?”
“Absolutely.” Lillian goes silent for a beat, shifting the phone in her hand and leaning forward. “Humor me. Just look me in the eye and say her name.”
“What?”
“You heard me, butt head,” she chastises me like the bratty preteen she once was. “Say her name.”
“This is silly. I’m going to hang up.” A slow pounding in my chest starts, the beat increasing in frequency and intensity with just the thought of her.
“If you do, I’m going to three-way Amir and have you do it in front of him.” Lillian perfected the bratty-little-sister part years ago.
“Fine.” I take a deep breath and hold the phone steady in front of me. I lick my lips and take a short inhale. “Jada. Jada Stevenson.” I say the name that has been on the tip of my dream-filled lips every night. The woman that I couldn’t forget if I tried. And I’ve tried. “There. You happy?”
Lillian’s eyes flicker, and I can’t tell from the angle of her phone whether her eyes are pooling with water. “Are you?” She returns the question to me, along with everything it implies.
“I’ll be happy when I get my certification.” My deflection is slow and sloppy.
“Soon, a few more weeks.” I breathe a sigh of relief that Lillian didn’t call me on me avoiding her question. “I know you’ll find your happiness before then.”
I pinch my brows, not sure what she means. “How so?”
The corners of her lips tip up into a smile. “You’ve already forgotten, haven’t you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Reunion girl? You were a chatterbox back on that day.”
What did I say? I remember driving from the airport and talking for nearly an hour with Lillian. I rambled on and on, the excitement of spending a few days with Jada still reverberating through me. I never thought I’d find a connection like that in the small town of Spring Hills, of all places. “What are you talking about?”
“Reunion?” Lillian repeats the word, and I pinch my eyes shut. Jada and I are technically working together to plan the Spring Hills ten-year high school reunion, along with a committee of twelve. She is the designated student leader, and I am the faculty organizer. Just like last year’s reunion, she’ll be coming to Spring Hills for the reunion. We’ll have to spend time together again.
“And you think because I must work with her for the reunion, what, we’ll have a love connection? It doesn’t change a thing. She still lives in New York and isn’t interested in a relationship.”
A knowing laugh floats through the speaker on my phone, and I already know what’s coming. “Interesting. Did you notice in your response you never mentioned that you weren’t interested in a relationship? That makes two things that’s different this time.”
I know I shouldn’t. Lillian’s trap is obvious, but I fall into it anyway. “What’s the other?”
She bites her lower lip as if that could somehow contain the joy that is bursting to escape. “The way you say her name.” She blows a kiss toward the screen. “You keep working with your head up your ass as if that is what will truly bring you happiness when we both know what the actual answer is.”
I knew she’d hear it. I heard it too. Just saying her name conjures up feelings and emotions in me I’ve never felt. It’s the reason I’ve been paralyzed with inaction. The reason I haven’t called, texted, or emailed Jada. Those few days were special, and the last thing I want to do is have a cold splash of reality thrown back in my face. To have her remind me it was just a moment in time. A blip that barely registered in her life.
It was a hell more than a blip to me. But I can’t tell her that. Not after what we both agreed to. I signed up for a deal, fully aware of what it meant. And now I have to live with the consequences.
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