CHLOE BAKER'S LOST DATE

Chapter Seven: Hell, No

The kiss lasted the right amount of time, and not long enough at all.

My hands made their way around his neck and his settled on my waist, firm and strong. Our mouths parted briefly, his warmth breath mingling with mine, his tongue against my teeth, his fingers grazing the patch of skin above the top of my jeans that was revealed as I rose up on my toes. And then we broke apart, both of us startled that it had happened at all.

"Jack," I said as I opened my eyes.

"Chloe." Jack kept his hands in place on my hips, partially in contact with my skin. "I ... I need to tell you something."

A chill went through me though I was still warm from the kiss. I took a step back. "You have a girlfriend."

"What? No. No." He ran his hand through his hair. "I don't have a girlfriend."

My heart was racing. "You're married?"

His eyes went wild. "No."

"What then?"

"I should've told you right away in the diner, but—" Jack's phone rang in his pocket, a snippet of a song I couldn't immediately place from a musical. "I need to get this—that's my mom calling."

"Of course." I stepped away, my mind whirring. If he wasn't with someone else, what could it possibly be? He was gay? No, that didn't make sense. He was dying? No, that was—

"Mom?"

Mamma Mia! That's what the song was.

I walked down the bridge, not wanting to intrude on his privacy. I could still make out the tone of his voice, and it sounded like anguish. His mother was calling with bad news, worse news than Jack already knew. I had a flashback to that awful moment when I was told Sara was dead, that I was never going to see her again. We weren't going to do any of the things we planned, silly and small, big, and important. It wasn't a feeling I wished on anyone. I shivered in the sunshine and wrapped my arms around myself, a poor substitute for Jack's embrace.

"Chloe," Jack said, coming up behind me moments later.

He was pale, his eyes troubled. "Are you okay?"

"I have to go. My mom, it's bad. She might not ... That was my dad calling."

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked you to show me around the park. I feel terrible."

"It's not your fault, neither of us knew. But I have to go. I'm so sorry." He reached out and hugged me quickly, then released me. "I have to go."

I met his gaze. "Don't think about me. Go."

Jack bent his head to mine and kissed me, his lips a light brush against mine. "Today has been great," he said, and then he was gone.

After Jack left, I wandered around the park for an hour, thinking over our day together, trying not to linger on whatever it was that Jack wanted to tell me. Mostly, I tried to enjoy the sunshine and the feeling of possibility. Because that's what Jack represented, I decided—potential.

I only let it go that far. I wasn't thinking that I'd met my future husband. I was too jaded for that, and no matter how many rom-coms I read and recommended, that wasn't going to change. I knew how easily possibility could turn to disappointment, could fade into indifference, could melt into nothing.

But, oh, the hope that it would be different this time! That's what love starts with, isn't it? The wish that this is your person? Someone to have and to hold through good times and bad, through sickness and health, till death did you part. There's something to those ancient words—a promise, a dream, and maybe, for some people, a reality.