Dropping Gloves (6 page)

The thing was, I still wasn’t sure how to feel about it, myself. I mean, yes, Jamie had told me he couldn’t really bear to be my friend anymore. That sucked. It hurt. It made me want to punch my pillow as much as it made me cry into it.

But he’d also said he loved me.

Maybe he hadn’t realized he’d said it, maybe he hadn’t intended to let me know how he really felt about me, but I had definitely heard it come out of his mouth. It wasn’t me imagining things. It wasn’t me wishing for something so hard until I convinced myself that it was real.
Not when I still love you as much as I ever did
. Those were his exact words. They might as well have been branded on my brain because I doubted I would ever stop hearing them filter through my mind.

He loved me.

He loved me, but it hurt him when I kept leaving. Totally understandable. Completely made sense. I mean, hell, it hurt
me
every time I left, and it wasn’t just because I was leaving my family. It was because I was leaving him, too.

I’d dated a few guys over the last few years, and every single one of them had been a mistake. Derek had pushed me into it, and I’d told myself that if I couldn’t be with Jamie, I could still be with
someone
, and maybe I’d come to love one of them as much as I loved him. Or even more than I loved him. I suppose that was what I’d been hoping for, but what had really happened was so far from my ideal that it was laughable.

But Jamie loved me. And I loved him. And I was pretty sure I’d fucked up any chance I might have once had of being with him. Now I had to figure out what I was going to do about it. It was only fair for me to give him what he’d asked for, to stop trying to be his friend when it so clearly caused him pain every time I left.

But what if I didn’t leave again?

The idea was crazy. I mean, singing and acting were the things my life was supposed to be about. I’d been studying vocal technique since I was a child. I’d taken acting lessons starting in my early teens. My parents had put me in a private high school that was known for the performing arts. I’d gone to Hollywood, gotten the representation of the best entertainment agent out there, landed my dream job, and started what should have been a long and lucrative career.

Should have been.

Probably would have been, if not for the fact that I’d already screwed myself over on that front after yesterday’s conversation with Derek. I honestly wasn’t sure what I was going to do now, but I didn’t
have
to leave. I could stay here. With Jamie. I could do whatever it took to make this work, if he would give me one more chance. I could figure out a new direction for my life and be sure it included him.

Yes, it would mean leaving behind all that I’d thought I wanted. I’d been learning that sometimes life had a funny way of showing you that what you’d once thought you wanted and what you really wanted didn’t always line up. In fact, sometimes they were complete opposites.

I didn’t yet have a plan as to what I would do from here, but there was no point wallowing in my bedroom anymore. I was on my way to join the rest of my family when there was a soft knock on the door and Dani’s voice saying, “Katie? Can I come in?”

I opened the door, pasting a smile on my face even though I knew she wouldn’t buy it. Sure enough, she furrowed her brow in concern.

There wasn’t any reason to let her worry about me, especially since we had less than twenty-four hours left before she’d have to drive back to Seattle, so I drew her in for a hug. “I’m okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Well, you’d better put some makeup on to hide your crying if you want Dad to believe you.” She stepped back and shut the door, then headed into my bathroom. When she returned, it was with a tube of concealer in her hand. “Let me help.”

I sat on the edge of the bed and allowed her to perform her magic tricks on me.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

I did as she ordered, and she smeared some of it on the sensitive skin all around my eyes. “Would you think I was crazy if I said I was going to stay in Portland?” I asked. “Instead of going back to LA?”

She took a moment before answering, going back into the bathroom for something else from my arsenal. “You’re not going to get any acting gigs around here other than community theater work,” she finally said once she returned and started putting foundation on my skin. “But would that make you crazy? No, I wouldn’t say so. I think it would just mean you’re reevaluating what’s important to you.”

I nodded and let her dust powder and bronzer on my cheeks.

“Are you thinking about staying because you’re over the whole Hollywood thing, though, or is it because of Jamie?”

I shrugged, popping my eyes open so I could look at her. “Maybe both? Is one a better reason than the other?”

“I guess that depends on you and what you decide to do with yourself, doesn’t it?” She added a bit of blush and handed me a tube of mascara. “A bit of mascara and some lip gloss, and you’re good as new.”

I got up and went into the bathroom so I could see myself. “Thanks, Dani.”

“Don’t thank me for that. It’s what sisters do.” She grinned at me in the mirror, hitching a hip against the doorjamb. “If you want to know what I
really
think, though, I think you would be crazy to leave again.”

“Why do you say that?” I tossed the mascara tube back in my kit and rummaged for my favorite lip gloss.

“Because if you can still get this worked up over Jamie, there’s something there worth fighting for, and you’re not an idiot. You know what’s really important in life.” She backed out of the bathroom. “You’ll figure it out. You’ll make the right choice. See you out there in a few,” she said just before leaving my room.

I was pretty sure I had already made my choice. Now I just needed to figure out how to implement it.

I spent the
rest of the weekend with my family. Dad had to leave for team practices and things like that, but otherwise he hung out with us girls. We had meals together, talking and laughing, all the while wishing that Luke could be here with us, too. Ever since I’d left for Hollywood, it was extremely rare that we were able to have the whole family together. It made me yearn for the old days, when we were kids and griped and complained all the time about being forced to be together.

The three of them were plainly curious about what had happened between me and Jamie, but none of them pressed for details. I would probably talk to Mom after a while, once I knew what I was going to do, but I wasn’t ready yet.

Late Sunday afternoon, Dani packed up her bag and gave us all hugs, and then she got in her car to make the drive back to Seattle. That was when I remembered about my appointment with Dr. Oliver the next day, and my panic started to creep back in. At least I’d been able to keep it in check while she was here. There was no good reason to let anyone else worry. Hell, there was no good reason for me to worry.

I couldn’t sleep Sunday night, even though I knew the results of my tests wouldn’t come back right away. Some of them might not come back for a week or more. That knowledge wasn’t enough to stop my anxiety from ratcheting up to the nth degree.

As I was coming to expect, I got up to find Mom puttering around in the kitchen while Dad sat on a barstool with his iPad propped up in front of him. Mom poured a fresh cup of coffee and handed it to me when I came in.

“Thanks,” I said, going to the fridge for some half-and-half.

Mom took out a pan and set it on a burner. “I can make a veggie omelet if you want.”

“I’d be happy with a bowl of Cheerios.”

“You should have a solid meal,” Dad said, glancing up from the video playing in front of him.

I grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl and raised my brows at him. “How about oatmeal and fruit?”

He’d been insanely vigilant about everything I put in my mouth since my diagnosis years ago, thinking that maybe if I only ate organic foods, nothing processed, I could stay healthy. No doubt there was some truth to it, but he took it over the top sometimes. His mouth screwed up in something between a grimace and a scowl, but he went back to watching the screen.

Mom went into the pantry and came out with the oatmeal. “Want me to come with you today? I could—”

“I’m a big girl, Mom. I don’t need you to hold my hand when they stick the needle in my arm anymore.” As many times as I’d been poked and prodded over the years, I didn’t really feel the tiny pricks when they went in to draw blood and the like anymore. Or at least not as much as I would have before having cancer. They’d even put a port in me and left it for months, when I was getting chemo. I’d had to have surgery for them to implant it, and then they’d done another procedure to remove it once I was cancer free. A brief stick to give them some blood was no biggie compared to all that.

Mom looked miffed, though. She nodded and kept quiet, but that was only further proof that I’d hurt her feelings. If she wasn’t talking, there was no doubt it was because she didn’t trust herself to speak without blowing up about something.

I finished making my oatmeal and sat down next to my father.

He finished off his coffee and shut down the iPad. “Better get out of here.” He pushed back from the bar and kissed me on the cheek. “Tell me everything later.”

“There won’t be anything to tell for days.”

“I know.” He winked before heading over to kiss Mom, as well. “Tell me anyway.”

Once the garage door had closed behind him, Mom took down a wineglass and opened a bottle of her favorite merlot. “Want some?”

“At this hour of the morning?” I shook my head.

“Might help steady your nerves.”

Which was definitely the reason she was getting started this early. She had always loved her wine, and she tended to break it out for just about every occasion. I gave her a wry smile. “How about when I come home?” I suggested. By then, I would definitely need something.

“All right.” She swirled the wine in her glass, staring at the circular movements of the liquid.

I got busy eating my breakfast while ruminating. I still felt like an ass for hurting her feelings. And when it came right down to it, no matter how much of an old pro I might be at letting doctors poke and prod me, she was still my mom, and I would always need her to hold my hand. So I reached across the bar and took hers, squeezing until she met my gaze. “You want to come with me?” I asked.

“Are you sure?” she said, the words gushing out of her like a pent-up breath of air. “Because I know you’re an adult now, and I don’t want to invade your privacy or anything, but I really just—”

“Finish your wine and let’s get ready,” I cut in. “But I’m driving.”

Mom smiled so wide she could have been the Cheshire cat’s twin. “Good. Then I can have some more before we go.” She grabbed the bottle and topped off her glass.

I finished my breakfast, showered, and dressed. Mom was waiting for me in the kitchen by the time I finished getting ready, another glass of wine in her hands. She finished it off, and we left together.

My doctor’s appointment went exactly as it always did. The phlebotomist drew several vials of blood. I talked with Dr. Oliver about everything going on with my health. I didn’t think my headaches and stress and being tired lately were worth mentioning, but Mom interjected to let him know. I glared at her, and she raised a brow at me in return.

He just nodded and marked a few things down on my chart, not acting as though that were anything to be concerned about. Once we got through all his questions, he shook my hand and told me someone from his office would be in touch in about a week so we could discuss the results.

And that was that. As usual, it really wasn’t anything to have let myself get worked up about.

After I checked out at the receptionist’s desk, Mom and I headed home, and she poured us both a glass of wine.

“Thanks,” I said when she handed one to me.

She sat next to me on the sofa and tucked her feet up beside her. “Now that that’s over and we’re alone, want to tell me what happened with Jamie?”

I’d been afraid this was coming at the same time as I was impatiently expecting it. My tears started up almost immediately, and I settled in to lay out for my mother everything that had been going through my head since Saturday afternoon.

“Well,” she said once I’d recounted every detail, including my thought that I might stick around Portland. She refilled both our glasses and set the empty bottle down on the coffee table. “You know your father and I will be behind you, whatever you decide to do, right? Your dad may not always like the decisions you make, but he respects your right to make them, and he loves you no matter what. We both do.”

“I know that.”

She grinned and held up her glass. “Then you should also know that there’s no one who would be happier than your father if you stick around and give it another go with Jamie.”

“What?” My mother had to be on something to say anything of the sort. Dad had hated everything about the thought of me being with Jamie. If he could have his way, he would keep me and Dani both under lock and key until we were forty. Mom was losing her mind if she thought he’d changed his tune on that.