Page 106 of Balancing Act

Before Jamie could find a response, Sarah glanced back toward the beam. “Lily’s lucky to have you here,” she said. “She needed someone who thinks like her. That was never me or Beth.”

Jamie, relieved at the change in subject, nodded. “Yeah. I was her once so I get it.”

Sarah nodded, pausing. “I know. And you turned out alright.”

Jamie snorted, shaking her head. “Debatable, but thank you.”

Sarah smirked slightly. “You did and I’m not in the nature of doling out compliments, so take that for what it is,” she said, her tone quieter now. Then, as smoothly as she had arrived, she straightened, shifting back into that lawyer-like composure. “I’ll get out of your way. Just wanted to check in.”

Jamie nodded once, watching as Sarah turned toward Lily, who had finished her set and was walking over.

“Ready?” Sarah asked.

Lily nodded, pulling on her sweatshirt. “Yeah. Can we stop for food on the way home?”

Sarah glanced at Jamie. “Want to come?”

Jamie hesitated but shook her head. “I’m good. You two go ahead.”

Sarah didn’t push. She gave a simple nod before looking at Jamie one last time. “See you around.”

“Bye, Jamie! I’ll call you and Mom tonight before bed.” Lily waved as she and Sarah headed toward the exit.

Jamie let out a long sigh as she watched them go, Sarah’s words still circling in her mind: Beth doesn’t rush. That’s what makes her easy to love. And hard to lose.

Jamie didn’t think Sarah had meant it as a warning.

But it felt like one.

TWENTY-THREE

BETH

Beth barely glanced up when she heard the front door open and close. She recognized Jamie’s footsteps instantly—the steady thud of sneakers against hardwood, the brief pause near the entryway, the quiet exhale. But she didn’t go to greet her. Not this time.

If Jamie wanted to talk to her so badly, she would have to come to her.

Her hands worked methodically, wrapping a print in crisp tissue paper before sliding it into a shipping tube. The studio smelled like ink and cardboard. The rhythmic motion of packing orders usually grounded her, but tonight, irritation sat heavy in her chest. Jamie had walked out on her earlier, avoided her text, and now she was back like nothing had happened.

Beth tightened the twine around the next package a little harder than necessary.

She heard Jamie moving through the house—pausing, maybe listening for her—before the sound of her footsteps neared the studio. A moment later, Jamie appeared in the doorway, her dark eyes scanning Beth’s workspace.

She didn’t look up from where she was working as she braced herself for awkwardness, but a faint rustling caught herattention. She lifted her head and noticed the takeout bag in Jamie’s hand.

“I come bearing takeout and an apology,” Jamie said, her voice soft and rueful as she leaned against the door frame. Brown curls tumbled over her shoulders, and her body seemed relaxed, more comfortable than she had been earlier.

Beth was unable to help the way her lips twitched toward a smile at the sight of Jamie, which Jamie took as permission to enter. She set the takeout bag on the worktable before stepping closer and reaching for Beth’s hands.

Beth let her take them, enjoying the warmth of their fingers intertwined.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” Jamie said, her thumbs brushing over her knuckles. “For shutting down and for running. I got scared, and I defaulted to what I always do. But I don’t want to keep making that choice.” Her voice carried the certainness Beth had learned was so Jamie when she really decided she was doing something. “I know it doesn’t serve us. I know it doesn’t serveme. And I’m working on changing that pattern.”

Beth blinked. She hadn’t expected Jamie to come back with that kind of honesty. She had expected to have to convince Jamie to see her point of view, to beg her to understand, but not this.

“Jamie,” she started, searching her face.

Jamie offered a small, self-conscious smile. “I’d love to tell you more about where my head’s been recently,” she said.