Page 32 of Curious Hearts (The Healing Hearts #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Jessica paced the length of the Victorian’s living room, phone pressed to her ear, grateful for the quiet moment to collect her thoughts.

She’d left work early, ostensibly to prepare dinner, but really to have time to process the London offer and what it meant for her future—for the future she’d begun imagining with Ali.

“I can’t believe they’re offering you London,” Vikram said, his voice tinged with amusement. “The universe has a peculiar sense of timing.”

“It’s not funny, Vik,” Jessica replied, though a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. Their friendship had always included this easy banter, even during the brief period they’d attempted dating in college. “This is a huge promotion... Everything I worked for.”

“You sound thrilled.” Vikram chuckled. “Not.”

Jessica paused by the bay window, watching the late afternoon light play across the garden. Mr. Darcy had claimed his favorite sunny spot on the window seat, regarding her with his usual imperious stare.

“I should be. It’s the logical next step.”

“But?”

“But...” She hesitated, the word hanging between them. “It’s complicated.”

“Ah,” Vikram said, a hint of smugness coming into his tone. “The animal doctor.”

“Ali,” Jessica corrected, unable to keep the warmth from her voice. “And yes, she’s part of it. But it’s not just her. It’s the house, the cats, this whole life I’ve— inherited . I was supposed to be serving my six months of cat servitude before selling the Victorian and moving on, but now...”

“Now you’re behaving like a love-sick teenager,” Vikram finished for her. “Have you told your mother yet?”

“God, no. There would be no conversation. She’d be around here packing my suitcase within the hour! ‘Jessica, darling, you must go. This is what makes all the investment your father and I placed in you worthwhile.’” Jessica mimicked her mother’s voice and Vikram gave a hearty laugh.

Jessica sank onto the window seat beside Mr. Darcy, who surprisingly didn’t move away. “What would you do?”

“Me? I’d take the London job in a heartbeat. But then, I’m not in love.”

The word struck her with physical force. “I didn’t say I was in love.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s all over your voice when you talk about her.”

Jessica opened her mouth to object, then closed it again. Was it that obvious? And if it was obvious to Vikram thousands of miles away, how had she not acknowledged it to herself?

“Even if that were true,” she said carefully, “it doesn’t change the fact that this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The kind of position people spend entire careers working toward.”

“True,” Vikram agreed. “But consider this: there will always be another career opportunity. The right person is considerably harder to find. Trust me, my own situation is complicated.”

“That’s unexpectedly romantic coming from you. And complicated in what way?”

“Too long and boring to go into now but look, the Jessica Taylor I knew at Yale would have packed for London yesterday. But maybe you’re not that person anymore.” He paused and then spoke again, his tone more teasing. “Maybe you’ve lost your killer instinct. This woman has declawed the tiger.”

“Then who am I?” The question emerged more vulnerable than she’d intended.

“I’ve no idea but you better get that figured out before your mother gets wind of it.”

Jessica sighed, leaning her head against the cool glass of the window. “Thanks for listening, Vik. I honestly have no idea what I’m going to do.”

She was so absorbed in her conversation that she didn’t hear the front door open or the soft footsteps in the hallway.

It wasn’t until Ali appeared in the doorway, keys still in hand, that Jessica realized she was no longer alone.

Her heart jumped at the sight of Ali’s slightly confused expression, wondering how much she might have overheard.

“Vik, I need to go,” Jessica said quickly.

“Is that her?” Vikram asked, his voice dropping conspiratorially.

“Yes. I’ll call you later.”

“Jess, I’ll be back in town later this week. It’s my father’s seventieth birthday. We can talk more then, okay?”

“Yes, okay. Look, I have to go.” She ended the call with unusual abruptness, setting her phone face-down on the side table.

Ali stood there, a bright smile attempting to mask the uncertainty in her eyes. “Hey, sorry if I’m interrupting. I was going to let myself in,” she said, indicating the key in her hand, “but the door was ajar, so…”

“No, you’re not interrupting,” Jessica said too quickly. “It was just Vikram. He needed some advice on his non-existent love life.” The lie came too easily, a symptom of managing her parents’ rigid expectations.

Ali’s smile dimmed slightly. “The ‘eligible bachelor’ your mother invited.”

“That’s the one.” Jessica stood, moving toward the kitchen, guilt making her restless. “We were just catching up.”

Ali followed her. “That sounded like a pretty serious conversation. Is everything alright?”

Jessica paused, caught between honesty and hesitation.

She wasn’t ready to discuss the London offer, not until she’d sorted through her own thoughts.

Telling Ali might force a conversation she wasn’t prepared to have, might even make Ali pull away to protect herself if she thought Jessica was leaving.

And that potential distance was something Jessica didn’t want to risk, not when she was already struggling with the decision.

“I’m fine,” she assured her, busying herself with gathering ingredients for the soufflé. “Just a busy day. Quarterly reports, client meetings, the usual chaos.”

Ali’s expression suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced, setting her bag down on the counter. “Jessica, I heard you say you didn’t know what you were going to do. If something’s wrong, you can tell me.”

Jessica’s hands stilled over the ingredients. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. Just some work decisions I’m weighing.”

“But you talked to Vikram about it,” Ali said, her voice carefully neutral.

The observation hit its mark. Jessica turned to face Ali properly, recognizing the hurt beneath her composed expression.

“It’s different with Vikram. He’s... he understands the career side of things.” The excuse sounded hollow even to her own ears.

“And I wouldn’t?” Ali asked quietly.

“That’s not what I meant.” Jessica ran a hand through her hair, frustrated with her own inability to navigate this conversation. “It’s complicated, and I’m still processing it myself. I need to think it through before I can talk about it.”

Ali studied her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Okay. When you’re ready to talk, I’m here.” There was a note of resignation in her voice that made Jessica’s chest ache.

Seeking to change the subject, Ali brightened with visible effort.

“Anyway, I have something that might take your mind off work. I’ve made significant progress on the grant presentation for the hospital board.

We’re in the final stretch, and Fenna thinks it’s even stronger than last year’s.

I’ve a couple of revisions on the way we frame the data which I can pick up with her in the next couple of days, but we’ve almost got it nailed. ”

“That’s wonderful,” Jessica said, genuine warmth spreading through her chest at Ali’s evident enthusiasm despite the tension between them. “Tell me about it.”

As Jessica measured ingredients with precise attention, Ali leaned against the counter and outlined the improvements she’d made to the presentation—stronger data visualization, compelling case studies, targeted responses to the questions that had given her trouble last year.

“The only challenge,” Ali admitted as Jessica separated eggs with practiced care, “is we don’t have the major donor we did last year. Vivian’s contribution made a significant difference in our budget projections. Without that, the grant becomes even more critical.”

Jessica nodded, guilt blooming in her chest. Normally, she would have immediately offered to help, to reach out to her network of wealthy clients who might be interested in supporting Ali’s foundation.

But the London offer loomed in her mind, making any promises feel potentially hollow.

How could she commit to fundraising for a Denver-based foundation when she might be across an ocean in a matter of weeks?

“I’m sure the board will see the value in what you’re doing,” she said instead, hating how inadequate the words sounded.

Ali paused, watching Jessica carefully. “Usually this is where you’d offer to connect me with half a dozen potential donors from your client list.” She said it lightly, but Jessica could hear the question beneath.

“I—I’ve been so busy with work,” Jessica replied, focusing intently on whisking the egg whites. “And I know you’ve got this covered. You’re more prepared than last year, and you breezed that.”

Jessica folded the chocolate mixture into the egg whites, only then remembering the gift waiting in her purse. The timing felt wrong now, but she’d planned this evening so carefully.

“The soufflé needs about twenty-five minutes in the oven,” Jessica said, pouring the mixture into ramekins.

“I’ll put them in once we’ve had our main.

It’s just a caramelized onion and goat cheese tart, I’m afraid I didn’t have time to make the mushroom risotto I’d planned.

Would you mind setting the table while I finish up here? ”

While Ali arranged place settings in the dining room, Jessica slipped upstairs to retrieve the blue leather box from her purse.

Her fingers traced the velvet lid, uncertainty washing over her.

Was it wrong to give such a meaningful gift when her future plans were suddenly so uncertain?

But to withhold it felt equally wrong, as though she was already pulling away.