Love at 11 - By Mari Mancusi Page 0,46

overwhelming sadness as I contemplated his situation. Man, this Ecstasy was making me way too emotional—pity stabbing at my heart. I felt so bad for him. Here he was, the most wonderful guy I’d ever met and he was stuck with a woman who completely didn’t appreciate him. Didn’t worship him as he deserved.

I hadn’t realized I was crying until he reached over and brushed away a lone tear from my cheek with his thumb. The gesture was gentle. Sweet. Made me want to act completely irrational and fall into his arms. Before I could act on such an impulse, he continued.

“We got into a huge fight when I took this job in San Diego,” he said. “She told me I was a loser. That I was giving up my dream.” He grabbed a rock off the ground and threw it into the fire. “But you know what? It’s her dream, not mine. I’m still doing what I want to do. I’m still a photographer. Sure, local TV news isn’t as glamorous as Hollywood …”

“Understatement alert!” I said with a chuckle.

“… but it’s a steady paycheck. And I like San Diego, too. It’s non-pretentious. Peaceful. You could raise a child here.” He snorted. “Not that she probably wants children anymore. Pregnancy might force her to eat once in a while.”

“I hope you don’t mind me asking this,” I interjected, the drug making me brave. “But why are you marrying her? You sound like you’d rather face a firing squad.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes, I’m honestly not sure. But I can’t call it off now. Everything’s been paid for. Deposits can’t be returned. Her dad’s spent a fortune. How can I just walk away?”

“Jamie, once you’re married it’s going to be a lot worse.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Can’t you talk to her? Figure out what’s going on? Maybe go to counseling?”

He sighed. “No. Yes. I don’t know.” He leaned back against a boulder. “I don’t know why I even told you all that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We’re friends, remember?”

“Friends.” He smiled, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from my eyes. “It’s so hard to be your friend, Maddy.”

My heart caught in my throat. What had he just said? He groaned and leaned back on his rock. “Sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t say things like that. It’s not fair.”

“It’s okay,” I replied, hardly able to breathe. “I mean, we have to be honest with each other, right?”

“Honest?” Jamie raked a hand through his hair. “You want honest? How about the fact that you’ve been driving me absolutely crazy these past few weeks.”

“Crazy?” I repeated slowly. “Like in a bad way or a good way?”

“Maddy, you haven’t left my mind for two seconds since the morning we slept together. You’re like a sickness I can’t seem to shake. And in some ways, I’m not sure I want to. You make me laugh. You give me encouragement when it comes to my writing. You’re supportive and sweet and beautiful and I’m crazy about you and I feel fucking horrible about it. Especially when I’m talking to Jen. I mean, I hate the idea that I’ve betrayed her. Once with my body and over and over again in my mind. She deserves better than me.” He slammed his fist against his knee. “God, this is such a nightmare. I don’t know what to do about it.”

“I-I had no idea,” I whispered, my insides doing flip-flops ‘til I felt like I was going to puke and it had nothing to do with drugs. I couldn’t believe it. All this time I had tried to keep things friendly and not fall in love, never knowing he’d been struggling with the same thoughts and feelings as I.

He looked over at me. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, his eyes beautiful and sad. “I told you it would be better to keep my mouth shut.” He sighed. “It’s just … well, I sit here and look at you and all I want to do is kiss you. To make love to you. To possess you in every way possible. But I can’t. I can’t do any of it.” He closed his eyes and tipped his head to the sky. “If only I’d met you three years earlier. Or something.”

I reached over and placed a hand on his knee, wanting to comfort him but having no idea what to say. My own thoughts whirled like dervishes in my head. I knew if I leaned over and pressed my

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