Page 33 of About that Fling (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #2)

J enna felt like hell.

It wasn’t just the memory of Adam’s expression as he’d moved past her out the door, his eyes flashing with awareness he’d just been thrown over for his ex-wife.

That was bad enough. But the sight of Mia sobbing at the kitchen table felt like a splintered Popsicle stick through her spleen.

“I feel like such a failure,” Mia sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue she’d already shredded to ribbons. “I had such high hopes for the counseling stuff, you know? But maybe I’m just not cut out for relationships.”

Gertie tucked a plate of pot roast in front of her and petted her hair. “There there, dear. I’ll just leave you two alone to talk?—”

“No, stay!” Mia caught the old woman’s hand in hers and gave a watery smile. “You’re like a mother to me, Gertie. A nonjudgmental mother who doesn’t berate me for my life choices or make me feel financially beholden to her.”

Gertie squeezed Mia’s hand and smiled. “You’re a dear. I wish I could stay, but I have a phone interview in ten minutes and I need to get ready. I know you and Jenna have a lot to talk about, so I’ll leave you to it.”

Jenna tried not to wince as Gertie gave her a pointed look, then drifted out of the room. Mia blew her nose again, blessedly oblivious to Gertie’s prodding. Jenna reached out and touched her friend’s arm.

“So you tried the nonviolent communication stuff with Mark?”

Mia sniffled again. “I tried to. Honestly, I probably did it wrong. I took home the worksheet and everything, but he just got mad. Said we should be able to talk to each other like normal people without needing a flowchart and printouts from my ex-husband.”

“You think that’s what it was all about? That Adam’s the one who presented the tool?”

“Maybe. I don’t think so. Honestly, things have been bubbling up for a while now. Way before the wedding. Before we got pregnant, even.” She grabbed a tissue and mopped at her eyes again. “Why am I so bad at this?”

“Bad at what?”

“At relationships. If you’d asked me three or four years ago, I would have told you I was just married to the wrong guy. Now—I don’t know. Maybe I’m the wrong guy.”

“Don’t say that.” Jenna squeezed her hand. “You’re a great guy. You’re smart and funny and beautiful and one of the kindest people I know.”

Mia sniffed again and crumpled the tissue in her hand. “You’re so sweet. I’m sorry I’ve been such an awful friend lately. I feel like it’s become all Mia all the time between us.”

Guilt zinged through her, sharp and searing, but she pushed it aside and rubbed her friend’s arm. “Hey, you’ve been there for me plenty of times when I needed you. That’s what friends are for.”

“Maybe. I feel like I’ve been so needy lately. It’s just—” She stopped, seeming to consider her words. “Do you think I made a mistake leaving Adam for Mark?”

All the blood drained from Jenna’s head. She felt dizzy and a little sick as she balled her hand in her lap under the table. “What?”

“I don’t mean I want him back. Adam, that is. I guess what I’m asking—” She shook her head. “Hell, I don’t know what I’m asking.”

“Try!” The word came out more harshly than she meant, and Mia leaned back in her seat. Jenna softened her voice and tried again. “I mean, tell me what you’re thinking. I want to understand.”

Mia sighed. “I guess when I chose to leave my marriage, I felt like I was doing it for the right reasons. The relationship was broken, and there was no way to fix it. But learning all these new communication tools, and now seeing how hard things are with Mark ...I don’t know, I guess I’m wondering if I didn’t try hard enough with Adam. ”

Jenna swallowed, trying to keep her throat from closing up. “You want another shot with Adam?”

“No! That’s not it at all. But it’s like art history.”

“What?”

Mia looked down at her hands as she spread her fingers out on the table.

“When I was in college, I took a bunch of art history classes. I needed credits for arts and culture, and the classes fit around all the courses I needed to get my nursing degree.” She took a shaky breath and kept going.

“I went to most of the classes, and I memorized big chunks of the textbook so I could ace the tests. But I didn’t really appreciate it.

I didn’t sit back and enjoy the pictures or learn the stories behind the paintings.

I didn’t really absorb the way the art made me feel because I was so busy memorizing so I could pass the class. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes,” Jenna said, her voice barely a whisper. “I think I do.”

Mia’s shaky smile said she felt pleased to be understood.

“So it’s not that I want to go back and take art history again.

Not really. I guess I just wish I’d done it differently the first time.

Spent less time taking notes and more time looking at the pictures.

Done less cramming for tests and more standing in art galleries just admiring the paintings. ”

Jenna swallowed, wishing she knew the right thing to say here.

Wishing there were some magical guidebook she could consult.

“No one gets relationships right on the first try. We probably never get it right, when it all comes down to it. All we can do is take the lessons we’ve learned and keep moving forward. ”

Mia nodded and buried her hands in her lap. She studied them for a moment, then met Jenna’s eyes.

“Have you ever wanted a do-over in a relationship?”

Jenna bit her lip, too unsure to speak. “I—I don’t know.”

“With Shawn, for instance. You said you had dinner with him last Friday night. How did it feel to be back together like that?”

“Weird,” Jenna admitted. “Familiar. Easy. Sometimes comfortable, sometimes really, really awkward.”

“Yeah. I know that feeling.” Mia rubbed a thumb over a line in the table. Her nails were chipped and chewed down to nubs, and Jenna felt an ache in her gut. “Do you think there’s any chance you’ll get back together with him?”

“With Shawn?” Jenna looked up at the ceiling. Honestly, the answer was no. But hell, maybe Mia had a point. Maybe she’d given up too easily, or hadn’t had the right tools, or?—

“He’s been calling,” Jenna said. “Once last night, and again this afternoon. He says he wants to talk. That’s it, just talk.”

“You think he means more?”

Jenna nodded. “I think so.”

“So maybe this is your chance to get it right this time. To not make the same mistakes again.”

“Maybe so,” Jenna said, closing her eyes.

But it wasn’t Shawn’s face she saw in her mind. And when she thought of regrets, that relationship was the furthest thing from her mind.

Adam glanced at his watch as the elevator doors opened onto the tenth floor of his hotel.

It was after eight, so he really should think about getting dinner.

He’d left Jenna’s place in such a hurry that he’d barely heard Aunt Gertie chasing him down the driveway, urging him to come back so she could fix him a Tupperware container of pot roast and mashed potatoes.

“I’m fine,” he’d insisted, smiling down at the old woman. “I’ll just grab something in the hospital cafeteria. I need to go back there anyway.”

“But I promised you a home-cooked meal,” she’d insisted.

“And I promised you free legal advice. If we both break our promise, we cancel each other out, right?”

He’d been trying for a lighthearted tone, but Gertie had just looked at him with sadness. “I’m sorry, Adam.”

He wasn’t sure exactly what she felt sorry for, but he shook his head anyway. “Don’t worry about it.”

He probably should have gone right back to the grocery store after that, but he couldn’t resist the siren call of work.

He’d returned to the hospital and spent several hours sifting through documentation.

Though the talk of a nursing strike had quieted down, the tension still bubbled hot beneath the surface.

One of the union reps had started passing out protest stickers for staff to wear on their name badges, and the landfill had turned up more illegal waste.

Intentional, someone suggested, though Jenna had worked magic to keep it out of the press.

She’s damn good at her job. Damn good at covering things up so everyone can go about their business like nothing’s wrong.

Adam sighed as he stepped into the hotel hallway and started toward his room. He couldn’t fault her for it. He’d known from the start who she was. Well, maybe not from the very start. But even now, knowing everything, he wanted her still.

He also wanted that damn pot roast. Hell, he could still smell it. He probably should have taken Aunt Gertie up on her offer. Maybe that takeout place down the street would have pot roast, or maybe he could grab a TV dinner with some half-decent mashed potatoes, or maybe?—

Maybe Jenna would be sitting in front of his door with a giant bag of leftovers?

He blinked twice, making sure he wasn’t imagining things. She must’ve heard his footsteps, because she turned and hit him with the full force of those bright blue eyes.

He watched as she stood up in slow motion, unfolding herself from a tangle of limbs and disheveled hair.

She held up a white canvas bag, the cartoon dog on the front of it looking cheerfully out of place in the dim hallway.

Her face broke into wobbly smile that made Adam feel like someone slugged him in the gut.

He stood frozen, still far enough away that he could run if he wanted to. Still far enough she had to raise her voice to call out to him.

“I don’t want to say I’m sorry, because I feel like I’m forming a bad habit here,” she called. “Of showing up at your doorstep all weepy and remorseful and trying to apologize for the way I’ve acted around you in front of other people.”

Somehow, Adam found a way to make his legs work. He took a few steps toward her, then several more until he was standing close enough to feel the warmth of her body.

“It’s okay,” he said, breathing in the scent of Jenna and the pot roast, not sure which he craved more.