Breathe Again Read Online Free PDF

I’d wanted it.
    “To be honest,” Jackson said, interrupting my thoughts of
abandoning him. “I really never had a backup plan. I always kind of just knew
that this was what I wanted to do. And I knew that I would do whatever it took
to get here.”
    I didn’t say anything right away. I was too busy trying to
convince myself that what he said didn’t matter, though I knew deep in my soul
that it did. Apparently I was quiet for a little too long, because Jackson
decided it was time to start asking the hard questions. The ones I wasn’t yet
ready to answer, even to myself.
    “So, if you didn’t move here to bake, why did you?” he asked,
looking directly at me. This guy did not play around.
    I shrugged, trying not to let my anxiety show. “I guess I
just needed a change of scenery.”
    “Did you come with someone?” I could almost see the question
in his eyes. I hadn’t really let myself believe he was interested in me. Why
would he be? But why would he be asking if he didn’t really want to know the
answer? I guess the real question was whether or not I wanted to give him the
answer.
    I licked my lips, glancing back up at him. “No,” I said
firmly. “I’m all by myself.” I tried not to emphasize that last point too much.
He didn’t need to know the dirty details.
    “Wow,” he said. “That’s brave.”
    I let out a humorless laugh. “It sounds much more exciting
than it is, really.”
    “Do you like your job?” I couldn’t really fathom why he would
want to know, why he would care. I almost refused him an answer again, but the
look in his eyes was genuine. Earlier in the conversation, and on Saturday, it
was like he was almost teasing me, but not anymore. Definitely not anymore.
    “Not particularly, but I should. I should be grateful for
having a job at all.”
    “Why don’t you apply for a job that you would like to do
somewhere else?”
    I smiled sadly. “It’s not really that easy,” I said quietly.
    “I’m never a fan of doing something you don’t like,” Jackson
said, obviously unconvinced.
    I didn’t say anything after that, just finished my glass of
wine, and Jackson let me. Eventually we started talking about everything else:
The party on Saturday, after the cake fiasco. My cream puffs (apparently even
Jackson had tried them). His newest movie, which he was going to Europe to
promote soon.
    For some reason, that last fact made me sad. I had no right
to be sad; as it was, I was lucky just be sitting there then. I had no hold on
him, and I shouldn’t have had any expectation that I would see him again. Or
that he would want to see me again.
    When the sun started setting, and we’d been sitting together
for over two hours, the waitress stopped by with the check. Even they closed
early on Monday nights.
    “How do you like LA so far?” Jackson asked as he pulled the
check toward him. I frowned and reached for my purse. I wasn’t about to let him
pay for my wine. This wasn’t a date. Well, it was supposed to be a date, but
most definitely not with him.
    I shrugged, reaching across the table to grab the check, but
he swatted my hand away. I glared at him again, and he just laughed. Again.
    Finally, resigned, I leaned back in my seat and crossed my
arms. “Well, it’s not Kansas,” I said, “which is definitely not a bad thing. I
haven’t really had a chance to explore the city yet, but I’m sure I’ll like it
when I do.”
    “You’ve been here for seven months and you still haven’t been
to the beach? Or Hollywood? Or Disneyland?” he asked, shocked.
    “Not really,” I said, taking the final sip from my glass. “I
typically stay in the general vicinity of my apartment.”
    “Which is where?”
    I motioned around me. “Right here. I live in the loft above
the bakery.”
    “Oh,” he said, surprised. “I mean, it’s a quiet neighborhood,
sure, but it isn’t too far to West Hollywood or Santa Monica. Haven’t you been
to either?”
    “Not really. I don’t have