Page 92 of June: Jess' Story

“What?” I ask, stunned.

“Tally was an accident from a one-night stand, and he was just trying to do the right thing. But they were miserable. Both of them.”

“You’re sure?”

“The day she died, she was leaving him. She was moving out.”

My world tilts on its axis.

Here’s the thing about a snapshot, a photo: it’s one dimensional. My favorite photo of Alex has always said the obvious things to me. About who he is. About what he must have felt. I assumed it was all grief. Notguilt.

Re-examining the picture, I can see it’s more guilt than grief. I think back to all the moments where I’d super-imposed a filter of Alex loving Amy over our interactions. Moments where I would have gone further, I would have been braver, but I heldback because I saw him as a one-dimensional widower who could never love again.

I never saw the man who maybe was in love with me, and if I look back, I think maybe he was.

I shrug anyway, though, because bygones are bygones. What’s done is done. And to think we could come back after allthiswould be ludicrous.

The front door to the cafe opens, and my weak little heart beats double time before flatlining.

James strides into the cafe and nods over at me. “I’m ready when you are,” he says.

Brit looks between the two of us, confused.

“Yeah, so I anticipated this morning going differently,” I begin to explain. “Eden and I are supposed to fly to Taipei City this evening. James was my ride to the airport.”

“James, I mean this in the nicest way, but please get lost. Well, get a coffee and something to eat on my tab, and then I’ll see you later,” Brit says to the teen.

“Yes ma’am,” he replies breezily, then gives a fake salute before heading over to the counter to order.

“You are not going to Taiwan. I forbid it.” Brit physically and metaphorically puts her foot down.

“Brit, I’m running out of options. I can either go live in my mother’s apartment and work some shitty jobs and roll the dice on custody. Or, I can go live with ‘the dads’ and suck it up and at least know I’ll never have to worry about losing custody.”

“Uh-uh. No,” she says vehemently. “I can’t accept that for either of you. So no. You’re going tostayand work for me and Liam. You’re going tostayin the garage apartment until you can afford-slash-find your own place. And I will help you find and pay for the best family court attorney. And Damian will help, too.”

“Okay?” I say feeling uncertain.

“Okay?” She echoes me back, an eyebrow cocked.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she says, then leans over and gives me a hug.

TWENTY-SIX

Jess

When Caleb walks through the door, solo, my heart breaks again. It’s in a less severe way than it was earlier, but it’s there.

I walk over to him, noting for the second day in a row, he’s come correct, aka not dressed like a Gen Z wannabe. He’s got on black jeans and a gray sweater and sneakers. Completely normal, respectable Thanksgiving Day outfit.

“Hey,” I say, offering him a cranberry Aperol spritz. (Carly’s making, not mine.)

“Hey,” he says a bit bashfully, if not sadly.

“I can’t take the job.”

“I know,” is all he says back.