Page 177 of Last First Kiss

He grins. “Positive.”

Her shoulders relax. “Good. Can we talk?”

Jordan gestures toward the chair facing his desk. “Please sit.” While she does, he walks around to his own chair. “Are you okay?”

A beat. She sucks in her cheeks, searching for a response. Finally, she says, “I am. Because of you.”

“Because of the champagne?” Jordan tries in a teasing voice.

She snort-giggles. Yep, definitely the real Amy.

“That too.”

She wrings her hands. Her left hand lacks a big, glittery engagement ring. Jordan summons a neutral expression while she thinks.

“Thanks for what you said that night,” she gets out.

“Amy, I don’t know if anything I said was appropriate—”

“It wasn’t,” she cuts in, smiling. “But I needed to hear it anyway.”

“From me?” Jordan hedges. He’s not her best friend. Just the wedding planner. Well, hewasthe wedding planner.

“Fromanyone,” she exhales. “It was like everyone was sitting around, watching the car crash happen. No one tried to prevent it.”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

She stops him again. “I know. But you helped. I’m glad I called off the engagement.”

“You are?”

Amy sits back, crossing her legs. “I didn’t want to go into a marriage feeling like… I was losing myself.”

Jordan rubs the back of his head. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. That it happened that way.”

“Me too.”

He wishes he had something better to offer. Something comforting. Inspirational. But he’s starting to believe heartbreak doesn’t want words. It doesn’t want platitudes or motivational quotes or by-the-book solutions.

It wants you tofeelthe pain, the loss.

If you never experience the ache, how will you ever heal from it?

“Anyway.” Amy shakes out her shoulders like she’s done feeling for the moment. “I’m going to Korea. To see my harabeoji.”

A smile plays at Jordan’s lips. “Yeah?”

She nods happily. “My mom doesn’t have to like it. But I’m doing it anyway. He deserves to see me. Even if he won’t remember.” Her eyes lower. “I deserve to meet him because Iwillremember.”

“You do,” Jordan agrees softly, sadly.

She looks up. Her mouth opens, like she wants to say something but is hesitant. Jordan doesn’t want to guess what it is. Instead, she says, “Sam apologized.”

“He did?”

Amy hums, fiddling with the buttons on her jacket. “He’s been begging for a second chance.”

“Have you,” Jordan starts, wary, “taken him back?”