Page 41 of Curious Hearts (The Healing Hearts #2)
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“And now I’m alphabetizing my spice rack.
This is what rock bottom looks like,” Ali announced to Chairman Meow, who watched her frantic kitchen reorganization with his characteristic one-eyed judgment.
“I don’t even cook. These spices expired before The L Word was still the coolest thing on TV and now look at it. ”
She placed the cumin next to the coriander, then immediately switched them back, unsatisfied with either arrangement. Her hands wouldn’t stop moving, burning nervous energy.
“This is completely normal pre-heartbreak behavior,” she continued, now color-coding her coffee mugs for no rational reason. “Very dignified. Very mature. These are healthy coping mechanisms.”
Chairman Meow yawned, supremely unimpressed.
“Don’t give me that look,” Ali said, pointing the mug at him accusingly. “Not all of us can process emotional distress by napping twenty hours a day and occasionally knocking things off shelves.”
The truth was, she was babbling to avoid the fact she’d fallen catastrophically in love with Jessica Taylor.
The kind of love she hadn’t felt in years.
The kind that was so intense it threatened to hollow you if it wasn’t returned.
The kind that was about to be tested by three thousand miles of ocean and a career opportunity that no sane person would turn down.
A wave of nausea rolled through her stomach, and she pressed her hand against the cool tile of the countertop, waiting for it to pass. Her phone chimed with a text from Kristi: Status update? On a scale from “mildly anxious” to “washing the cat,” how are you holding up?
Ali glanced at the blender, toaster, and coffee maker she had, in fact, just arranged in ascending height order, then toward Chairman Meow, who raised his tail in the air and left the room. The cat was definitely telepathic.
I have achieved peak emotional stability, she replied. Everything is FINE. So fine I’ve invented a new organizational system for my sock drawer.
Ah, so you’re at “complete meltdown!” came Kristi’s immediate response. Wine and ice cream on standby. Call if you need emergency best friend services.
Ali smiled despite herself, grateful for Kristi’s understanding. She’d downplayed her feelings when they’d talked earlier, using humor to deflect the onslaught of emotion. But Kristi knew her too well to be fooled.
“Seventeen minutes,” she told Chairman Meow, checking her watch for the dozenth time. Seventeen minutes until Jessica arrived to deliver the news of her decision. The moment Ali had been dreading since the moment she’d made her leave on Saturday night.
Moving back to the living room, she resumed her circuit, plumping pillows that were already plumped, rearranging books that were already perfectly aligned, picking up cat toys that Chairman Meow immediately batted out of her hand as if to say, “Leave my chaos alone.” The house was spotless.
“The real question,” she said to the cat as she retrieved a catnip mouse from under the bed, “is why I’m cleaning for someone who’s about to break my heart. Like, ‘Sorry I’m moving to London, but hey, nice throw pillow arrangement?’”
Her attempt at humor fell flat even to her own ears, the words tightening her throat with a wave of vulnerability.
She’d spent the day rehearsing supportive responses, reminding herself that they’d barely begun whatever this was between them in readiness for the final confirmation of Jessica’s departure.
“It’s fine,” she told Chairman Meow, who had followed her to the window where she now stood watching the Denver sunset.
“People have long-distance relationships all the time. We could do the whole airport reunion thing, running toward each other in slow motion like in the movies.” She paused.
“Except I’d probably trip and face-plant before reaching her because coordination isn’t my strong suit. ”
The cat made a sound suspiciously like a snort.
“Okay, so maybe long-distance is unlikely to work,” Ali admitted, more to herself than to the cat.
“New relationships rarely survive international separation. We’d have video calls that grew increasingly awkward, visits that felt more like vacations than real life, gradual drifting as our daily experiences diverged.
But hey, at least I’d have fancy London souvenirs.
Maybe one of those red telephone booth piggy banks. ”
Her forced lightness collapsed under the weight of reality, and she pressed her forehead into a plumped cushion. “Damn it,” she whispered. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to fall for someone with a five-year plan that doesn’t include me.”
The doorbell’s ring sent a jolt of adrenaline through her system. She checked her watch, exactly seven p.m. Because of course Jessica Taylor, even facing major life transitions, would be on time.
“Okay, showtime,” Ali told Chairman Meow, who was already making his way to the door, as though he too was now emotionally invested in the potential outcome of the evening. “Whatever happens, I will be supportive and mature and not at all emotionally catastrophic.”
She smoothed her hands down her jeans, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
Jessica stood on the porch, her dark waves falling over her shoulders, wearing a blue summer dress that made her look unachievably elegant.
For several seconds, Ali’s body lost the physiological capacity to breathe.
But Jessica’s expression gave nothing away.
Damn, she’d never take on this woman at poker!
“Hey there,” Ali said, her carefully rehearsed supportive speech dissolving into awkwardness.
“You look amazing. Very London-ready. Not that London has a dress code. Though maybe financial districts do? I don’t actually know the sartorial expectations of international banking.
” She stopped, mortified by her own babbling. “And I’m talking too much. Come in?”
A smile flickered across Jessica’s features as she stepped inside. “Thank you. Something smells amazing.”
“Thai food,” Ali replied, closing the door and leaning against it, needing the support more than she wanted to admit.
“I didn’t cook so nothing to be frightened of.
It’s from that place you like. I thought.
.. well, I wasn’t sure what tonight called for, but hunger is a universal constant, right?
Even during major life transitions. Not that I’m assuming anything about your decision.
Which is totally yours to make. Without pressure.
From me or anyone else.” She pressed her lips together, physically stopping the nervous flow of words.
“Ali,” Jessica said gently, a hint of amusement softening her features.
“Sorry,” Ali winced. “Turns out anxiety makes me even more verbally incontinent than usual. Do you want to sit? Or a drink? I have wine, or I can make coffee, or?—”
“Could we talk first?” Jessica asked, her expression shifting from light to somber. “There’s something important I need to tell you.”
Here it comes . Ali’s stomach twisted painfully, but she managed a nod. “Of course. Let’s sit.”
They moved to the couch, Ali perching on the edge as if prepared for quick escape, Jessica sitting beside her with characteristic grace. The short distance between them felt simultaneously too close and impossibly far.
Ali swallowed back the burn in her throat. Was now a bad time to throw up?
“I’ve been thinking about London,” Jessica began. “About what it means professionally, personally. About what I want for my future.”
“It’s an amazing opportunity,” Ali said automatically, the supportive words she’d rehearsed finally finding their way out. I can do this. The prick of tears made her blink rapidly. “Everything you’ve worked for.”
“Yes,” Jessica agreed, her gaze steady on Ali’s face. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me. Walter, the board, my parents. The logical next step...”
Ali nodded, her fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on her jeans. “You deserve it. All of it.”
“The thing is,” Jessica continued, her voice softening slightly, “I’ve realized something important these past couple of days.”
“What’s that?” Ali asked, steeling herself for the goodbye that was surely coming.
“That I don’t want it.”
Ali heard Jessica say the words but couldn’t process their meaning. She stared at Jessica, certain she’d misheard.
“You... what?”
“I turned down the London position,” Jessica said, her voice steadier now. “Today I told Walter Hamilton that while I appreciated the offer, I’ve decided to remain in Denver.”
Ali felt as if the floor had dropped out from under her, her mind spinning to catch up with this unexpected information. “But... why? It’s everything you’ve been working toward.”
Jessica’s expression softened, vulnerability replacing her usual composure. “Because what I want isn’t in London. It’s here.”
“Here?” Ali echoed, unable to take on board this reversal of everything she’d imagined, everything she’d been dreading.
“Here,” Jessica repeated, her eyes never leaving Ali’s. “In this city. In that ridiculous Victorian house with seven cats who’ve somehow become family. And...” she paused, taking a breath that seemed to require courage, “with you. If you want that too.”
The words penetrated Ali’s shock like an ice bath after a too-hot sauna. “You’re staying?” she asked, her voice unnaturally high. “You’re actually staying? In Denver? Because of cats and that old house and... me?”
“Yes,” Jessica said simply. “I’m staying.”
Ali’s brain short-circuited. “But—London. Your reputation. Your career.” She was reduced to sentence fragments, her usual verbal fluency gone completely.
A small, amused smile curved Jessica’s lips. “Making them bullet points doesn’t change my decision.”