Page 79 of Beautiful Small Things

“She called her Jem,” Callan says with a wide smile.

I can’t help but laugh. “I owe that kid of mine, big time.”

“Agreed,” Callan replies. “It’s still emotional for her, though.”

“Of course.”

“Marcus, don’t make it worse,” Callan warns. “I know how your mind works.”

“What? I wasn’t thinking about anything.”

Callan looks at me with disbelief across his face.

“OK, maybe I was thinking I should go in there and throw her over my shoulder,” I shrug.

“I’ve barely forgiven you for hooking up with her in the first place,” he says. “Give her time.”

I shove my hands in my pockets and look down at the ground. “How’s she doing?”

“Not bad. She feels a little bit like she let us all down. So don’t go in there and make it worse.”

“I would never do that,” I exclaim.

“You’d never do it purposefully. But you’re the guy who broke her heart. So you need to keep your opinion to yourself.”

“Got it,” I say through gritted teeth. Everyone knows I never wanted to break her heart. We were put in an impossibly difficult position, and I did what I thought was best. It still hurts to hear.

When we walk inside, I see Colby and James sitting on the couch under a blanket, sipping tea. They are giggling about something. James has red, swollen eyes, but she doesn’t look like a woman who gave up her dream recently. She looks… relieved. She looks beautiful. She looks like my future wife.

James stops talking when she sees me and gives me a half-smile. She’s probably expecting me to put my foot in my mouth, which is definitely in character.

I want to go to her and hug her, tell her how fucking glad I am that she’s back, and take her home with me. But I don’t know how she’s feeling about me these days, so I try to play it cool.

“Hey,” I say as I walk into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. I’ve already had enough coffee today but want an excuse to hang around in her space a little longer.

“Hi,” she says quietly. “Did Callan call you?”

“He texted me and asked me to come over.”

She nods slightly. She’s likely feeling so many emotions right now. Not the least of which is embarrassment.

“It’s wonderful to see you,” I say.

“You, too,” she says softly, her face peering over her large tea mug. It’s then I notice her knee propped up on the couch and topped with an ice pack.

I round the kitchen island and reach her in a few short strides. Standing over her, I take in the woman before me. She has to start over, again, and it breaks my heart. I look at her knee, and she sheepishly smiles up at me.

“May I,” I ask, requesting permission to look at it.

She huffs out an exasperated sigh but nods.

I sit beside her, carefully remove the ice, and inspect her swollen knee. “Does this hurt?” I ask as I gently palpate the area.

It feels like fire when my fingers touch her skin. She flushes, indicating she feels it, too.

“Not really,” she shrugs. “It’s sore, but I’ve been icing it.”

“That’s my girl,” I tell her, “but whoever did this wrapping job was crap.”