Page 27 of Loss and Damages

“You knew Leo hated how your family did business. You knew it and didn’t change. He didn’t talk about it much, but when he did, he couldn’t hide how much you and your father hurt him.”

I want to scream a retort. I want to tell her that what my father and I do is none of her fucking business, and what Leo did or didn’t approve of was between us.

I want to say something, but just as I open my mouth, a huge crow lands on the balustrade near our table and looks between Jemma and me, his dark eyes glittering.

His wings are the darkest black, blue in the sun that’s beginning to dip beyond the horizon.

To my utter amazement, Jemma lifts a fry out of her basket and offers it to the bird. He hops over and gently takes it in his beak.

“This is Edgar,” she says, her voice soft and sad. “He’s looking for Leo. They were good friends.”

“Leo made friends with a crow?” Now I’ve heard everything.

“By accident. One evening, we were sitting out here just like this, and Edgar landed on our table. Gave me a heart attack, but not Leo. He laughed and offered Edgar a piece of bread, which he took, naturally. After that, it became something of a tradition whenever we ate here. I think Edgar brings the food home to a family.”

“Why Edgar?”

“After Edgar Allan Poe. One of Leo’s favorite authors.”

Edgar, not finding Leo, takes flight, and Jemma sips her wine.

I force myself to pick up my burger and take a bite. This is all I’ve had to eat today and my fight with Jemma isn’t the only thing that’s churning my stomach.

Halfway through our dinner, Edgar comes back and lands in the same place on the balustrade. Jemma feeds him a piece of chicken she set aside, and after he flies away, we never see him again.

The waitress brings the check, and Jemma grabs the tiny clipboard and shoves a credit card under the clip. “Leo and I took turns paying.”

I scowl. “Leo let you pay?”

“I wanted to. It meant something to me. I’m sure you get tired of picking up the bill because everyone assumes you will and can afford it.”

“I can afford it.”

“That doesn’t give other people permission to be rude and use you.”

“I hardly think if Leo paid for your meals he’d think you were using him.”

“He never told you about me, and I’m beginning to understand why. You’ll never be able to appreciate what we had.”

The server returns and sets her receipt on the table.

She shoves it into her purse and asks, “Are you ready to go?”

I drink the rest of my beer and follow her down the creaky steps we used to come up. The streets have emptied, the city visitors finally on their way home. Only the people who live in Hollow Lake remain, shopkeepers nodding to Jemma as they close their stores for the evening.

We have the path near the lake to ourselves and we head toward her cottage the same way we came, but I don’t hold her hand this time.

Maybe she’s right. We’re too different. I’m obviously not like my brother who feeds birds and reads macabre poetry, something else I didn’t know about him.

I fear I could talk to Jemma every day for the rest of my life and learn something new about Leo every time.

But I want this woman who walks silently beside me, her braid coming loose, her lips curving into a smile as ducks and their babies float by us searching for their own dinner in the cattails.

I want her quiet, her peace. I want to wake up to her and bring her coffee in bed.

I want to sit on her porch and listen to her stories while we drink blackberry wine. I want to watch her paint.

I want what Leo had, but I want more.

I want the more that for some reason, he didn’t take.

I don’t know what those reasons were, and I’ll never know why he didn’t claim this beautiful creature as his, but I’m not stupid and I’m not timid. I’ve always taken what I wanted, the consequences be damned.

Only these consequences will consist of Jemma’s heart, and maybe mine, and I’ll have to be careful. I won’t let what I do behind my desk be an issue.

We’re silent until we reach her porch. “Invite me in, Jemma.”

She pauses, her foot on the step, and she stares at the wood. “You know what will happen if I do.”

“I know.”

“I don’t sleep around.”

“I know that too, but I don’t make promises I won’t keep. You may not think I have integrity, but I do, in business and in my personal life. I’ll try my best, Jemma, but you can’t blame me if I fall short. I’m not Leo and you can’t expect me to be.”

She turns to me, and her eyes...I can’t say they’re empty because they’re not.

They’re full of something I can’t describe.

Pain, but more than that. Acceptance, maybe, that this thing between us won’t go away and neither of us wants it to.

She doesn’t, or she’d order me home without thinking twice.

I don’t, or I would leave without being told.

I need my mouth devouring hers. I need her body writhing under mine. I need her hands in my hair, I need her gasping my name.

I need to claim her in a way Leo never did. Not to have something he didn’t, but simply because I’m falling, just a little bit more every second I’m with her.

She finishes climbing the short set of stairs and opens the door half way.

I don’t move and let her decide.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Yes.”

Leaning against the doorjamb, her foot propping the storm door open, she says, “I thought you didn’t make promises you can’t keep?”

I trot up the stairs and block her between the door’s frame and my body. Caressing her cheek, I let her read my face, read the intent in my eyes.

At least this way I can say I never lied.

I never said one word at all.