The Birthday List(64)

My lungs heaved as I tried to fill them with air.

Cole’s hands smoothed away the hair that had fallen onto my cheeks, pushing it back behind my ears. “But we’d better slow down.”

He was right—we should slow down—but I missed his lips. I wanted them back so badly I nearly cried.

Because that was the best kiss I’d ever had in my life.

My entire life.

No man, not even Jamie, had ever kissed me with that much passion.

A surge of emotion exploded in my chest and came out of my mouth as a sob. Between the intensity of the kiss and the realization that I’d just broken free from my husband, I couldn’t contain the cry that followed. Or the one after that. Or the tears welling in my eyes.

I slapped a hand over my mouth as the first tear fell. And when the second dripped down my cheek, Cole pulled me into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” I cried, burrowing my face into his shirt.

I was sorry for crying after our incredible kiss. I was sorry for ruining our intimate moment. But mostly, I was sorry that I wasn’t sorry for kissing Cole.

I was letting Jamie go.

And it broke my heart all over again.

“It’s okay,” Cole whispered into my hair. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Let it out.”

With his permission, I didn’t try to fight the pain. I cried into his shirt, wetting his shoulder with my eyes and damp hair. I soaked up the comfort of his arms until I was strong enough to stop.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into his shirt before leaning back and wiping my eyes.

He placed his palm on my cheek. “Never be sorry.”

“I don’t regret that kiss. Please know that. It’s just . . . hard.”

“I know.”

I looked up into his eyes, so kind and compassionate, and nearly cried again. He was a dream. How had I found a man who was so understanding and patient, who saw me so clearly? It was nothing short of a miracle.

I inhaled a shaky breath, holding it for a long moment as I reined in my emotions. When I blew out the breath, I let my shoulders collapse, then stood tall.

I hated crying in front of others. I hated feeling weak and pathetic. I hated that I felt so out of control of my emotions. For five years, I’d felt out of control, and every time I started to take back that control, it so often ended with me in tears.

I was exhausted. The tears were exhausting.

I didn’t want to cry anymore. I didn’t want to be sad anymore. I didn’t want to hurt.

When would it go away? When would I find the strength to put the pain in the past and stop letting it tarnish the present?

Disgusted with myself for ruining what had been a magical moment with Cole, I shook my head. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Look at me,” he ordered and my eyes went to his. “No apologies. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. A couple of tears are no big deal.”

I scoffed, waving my hand at his shirt. “I was bawling, Cole. That wasn’t just a couple of tears. You’re practically soaked. I don’t think that constitutes being strong.”

He stepped closer, his palm again finding my cheek. “Crying doesn’t make you weak, Poppy. Sometimes, it takes more strength to let go than it does to keep it all inside.”

I didn’t know if that was true, but the words felt wonderful as they settled in my heart. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

His hand fell away from my face and I motioned toward the hallway. “I’d better go.”

“Okay.” He followed me into the living room where I grabbed my purse and backpack from his camel leather couch. “Are we still on for the paint fight on Sunday?”

“Yeah. I’ve got everything ready to go. Molly, Finn and the kids are going to be there. And you’ll finally get to meet Jimmy.”

“I can’t wait.” He escorted me to the door, opening it up so I could step out onto his porch.

The red brick exterior of his house was trimmed with white. The square pillars around the porch were thick and adorned with gables. A weaving vine snaked up the far corner to the second floor. All that was missing were two white rocking chairs and this porch would be the perfect place to watch children play in the front yard.

“See you Sunday.” Cole bent down and kissed my cheek.

“Bye.” I stepped outside but paused, looking over my shoulder. “Thank you.” I swallowed hard. “Thank you for kissing me. For being the one.”

His eyes softened. “It will always be me.”

I hope so. I gave him a tiny smile before turning and walking to my car. With a quick wave, I pulled away from the curb and drove straight home. But instead of taking the shower that I’d planned, I went inside and flopped on my bed. Then I grabbed Jamie’s picture off my nightstand.

I stroked his face in the frame.

His smiling face, frozen under the glass, soothed the ache in my chest. Jamie would never want me to be sad. He wouldn’t want me to be alone. If he couldn’t be here with me, then he’d want me to find happiness.

I knew it down to my bones.

I set down the frame and dug into my purse next to me on the bed. With Jamie’s journal and a pen in hand, I flipped to his Jell-O page and checked the box.

We’re almost done, Jamie. Just a few things left to do.